#procrastinating writing the next chapter by drawing this

[snackleggg]

Made another lil comic for my Star AU. This one is from chapter 2 of the fic.

Koschei ended up looking kinda weird but otherwise I think it's good.

[epikhightechnology]

Life is unfair cause wym i have to go to work tmrw instead of staying home w this guy

[last-hourglass]

I am,,,,,,,,, scheming……,,,,,

[karllost-mymind]

Some Gar and Aph(Connie) hanging out.

And me not remembering how to drAw or phOto

Closeup ⬇️

[fushitoru]

chapter 3: the manor a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n krnfeknfkejrn i was so tired writing this chapter but used it to procrastinate on the reports and papers i have to write for internship/reports (wtf is quantum physics anyways). ty as always to @/sinn-clair for being the best beta reader <33333

Dear readers, 

Apparently, last week, there was an altercation in Lady Itadori’s drawing room involving Lord Gojo, Miss Itadori, and a dog. The dog was the victor. 

Furthermore, If one is to trust the betting books, then Lord Gojo shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.

As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.

Duchess Gojo will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be⸺ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess. 

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman⸺a work I have long heard whispers about but never fully encountered until now. Her words, as bold as they are revolutionary, have struck a chord deep within me. She speaks of the education and independence of women, of our capacity for reason and our right to be regarded as more than mere adornments to the lives of men. Her arguments are so meticulously crafted, so unwavering in their conviction, that they have compelled me to reflect on my own circumstances.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

I cannot help but wonder if there will ever come a time when these two worlds might reconcile⸺the status quo and that of what the book articulates. When women might be both respected and fre

Before you could finish writing in your diary, you suddenly heard frantic footsteps down the hallway, leading closer and closer to your door. Nobara bursts into the room, and you look up at her in confusion and, partially, dread. Nobara wouldn’t be bursting into your room unless there was someone who absolutely couldn’t see what you were doing in your past time.

Before she could catch her breath, she wheezed out, “Your mother.”

You quickly hopped into action with practiced and routine movements. Lunging for the floorboard that had hollow space beneath it, you moved it so you could place the book and your diary underneath and quickly hide evidence of you reading scandalous and radical works.

Just in time, it seemed, as your mother walked into your room to see you on your bed.

She squinted her eyes in suspicion. “What were you doing?”

You averted her gaze. “Nothing, just daydreaming, Mama.”

Usually, she would prod further into the matter, but it seemed as if she was too excited for that. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed, “I have just got an exclusive invitation for you! One that could secure you a very good match.”

You gave her a quizzical look as she walked closer, sitting at the foot of your bed with an expression of barely contained glee. “We shall be visiting the Gojo estate in Kent!”

At the mention of his name, your left eye twitched, though your mother remained oblivious. “Indeed, Mama? As is every other lady in London, I presume.”

“No, no,” she replied, waving your quip away with a dismissive hand. “We are to arrive at the Gojo estate before the house party.”

Your heart sank, dread pooling in your stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no. A sudden pressure gripped your chest, and you found yourself clutching at the bodice of your dress as if to steady your racing heart. “Before the house party, Mama?” Your voice, despite your best efforts, came out higher-pitched than usual, though you tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Whatever for?”

“To secure an advantage, of course!” she replied with a bright smile, as though the matter were the simplest thing in the world. “The Gojo family has extended a personal invitation for us to stay with them for a few days prior to the event. It is plain to see⸺he is quite taken with you. Even that dreadful Lady Whistledown has noted as much.” She smiled indulgently, reaching out to gently smooth a stray lock of your hair. “It is your natural grace and charm, my dear, that has made you the season’s diamond.”

As your mother continued to speak, the twisting in your stomach began to intensify, morphing from nausea into something sharper, something more akin to anger. You kept nodding, trying to maintain a slightly pained smile, but the thought of spending time at the Gojo manor, in such close quarters with him, became increasingly unbearable. The memories of your recent encounters⸺his biting remarks, his mocking gaze⸺were still fresh in your mind, and the idea that you were being pushed toward an engagement with him made your skin crawl. But you knew better than to express your true feelings to your mother.

“That is… unexpected,” you managed to say, choosing your words carefully. “Are you certain this is a good idea, Mama? Perhaps we might appear too eager and ward off other potential suitors, lest they mistake me as claimed by Gojo?”

“Nonsense!” she replied with a dismissive laugh. “If all goes well, you’ll be announcing your engagement at the house party itself!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hardly breathe as the full weight of what she was saying sank in. An engagement. To Gojo.

You almost felt faint, but as the initial shock wore off, it was replaced by a simmering anger. How dare he? How dare Gojo make a game of this, toying with you as if your future was nothing more than a sport to him? And how could your mother not see that she was playing right into his hands?

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the anger was bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “But, Mama, what if he does not wish to marry? What if he simply enjoys… toying with people?”

Your mother’s expression softened as she reached out to pat your hand, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “My dear, you are overthinking this. Men like Lord Gojo may seem playful and insouciant, but they are ultimately driven by duty. A man in his position knows the importance of finding a suitable wife, and you⸺my darling⸺are just the woman for the role. You are intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. He would be a fool not to see that.”

Each word only fueled the fire of your anger. Duty? Suitable wife? You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her expectations press down on you like a suffocating blanket. But beneath that weight was a growing resolve, a refusal to be treated like a pawn in some grand game of power and prestige. Gojo might enjoy playing with others' lives, but you would not be his plaything.

You gave her a pained smile. “If you say so, Mama…” you replied, the anger now evident in the tightness of your voice.

“Of course, I do!” she declared, rising from the bed with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, we must begin preparations immediately. There is much to be done before we depart.”

As your mother closed the door, you stormed over to the floorboard, whipped open your diary and prepped your quill to furiously write: 

Lord Gojo is a most intolerable wretch. Though his outward appearance might deceive many, there is an endless well of impurities within his character.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

Were Sukuna here, I daresay he would assist me in disposing of the body with great enthusiasm.

While the Gojo dinner table was stocked with the finest of meals⸺that deserving of a wealthy dukedom, of course⸺Satoru found himself eyeing one dish of all⸺the scones.

Observing his mother and father, who were engrossed in deep conversation, he realized he could make the move. As discreetly as he could, he stocked his plate with many of the treats. The cook, bless his soul, knew how to make scones exactly right: soft, yet hard around the edges that have Satoru drooling when he takes a bite in to get a burst of flavor. He discreetly tucked a few sweets into his pocket for tonight’s work session on some Gojo business, thinking himself subtle.

Satoru could continue writing endless love poems in his head towards his chef’s scones, But Lady Gojo, ever watchful, noticed his little scheme. She arched an eyebrow, her tone teasing as she remarked, "Satoru, darling, it astonishes me that you remain so fit with such a fondness for sweets."

Without missing a beat, Gojo flashed his usual charming smile and responded, “Perhaps it is because I am kept on my toes constantly by you, Mother.” His parents shared a laugh at this, clearly amused by his playful banter.

The Gojo dining fell into a comfortable lull once again, sounds of forks and knives scratching against porcelain plates. The silence was better, Satoru believed. Because he knew he was not going to be pleased at what his father had to say to him next, judged based on the thoughtful look he adopted while staring at Gojo. 

“And how fares the season, Satoru? Have you made any progress?”

Satoru wanted to groan so bad, but instead, he straightened in his seat, the smile on his face now simply a facade. “I am confident all will proceed as expected, Father,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.

Duke Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something amiss. “Are you sure about that?” he probed. “You know very well, Satoru, that your inheritance of the title is contingent upon securing a wife and producing an heir. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

The weight of his father’s words hung in the air, pressing down on Gojo with the full force of expectation.  Would it be eccentric if I decided to scream to the heavens right now?

Before Gojo could even formulate a response, his mother, ever the one to steer the conversation, interjected with a delighted exclamation. “Oh, it’s all handled, my dear! Did you not hear? The diamond of the season is arriving a week early to our manor in the countryside!”

All thoughts of screaming himself mute vanished as his mother’s words piqued his interest. Now, this was interesting. You? Spending time with him, under his roof, with no escape? The idea alone was enough to spark a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Satoru almost started cackling maniacally at the thought of pestering you until you broke that oh-so-perfect and uptight demeanor of yours, until you were reduced to exactly what you were: an unruly and highly emotional know-it-all.

One could say Satoru was very bitter about the losses he had bore for that horse race.

As a self-assured smirk started to creep up Satoru’s face, Duke Gojo blinked, surprised by the news. “A week early? That’s quite unusual,” he remarked, turning his gaze back to his son.

Satoru offered a sweet smile. “Yes, unusual indeed.” He knew his parents were well aware of the marital implications of such an arrangement, and he could feel their eyes on him, gauging his reaction.

But Duchess Gojo, satisfied with her announcement, continued with a gleeful smile. “I daresay, it’s all coming together perfectly. Even matchmakers could not have planned it better.”

Indeed, Mother! The prospect grew more delightful with each passing second, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin. You were in for quite the week, and he would relish every moment of ruining your composure.

Yuji leaned in closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Sister, did you perhaps neglect the chamber pot today?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “Your expression is quite telling.”

 The carriage, though spacious, felt suffocating with the tension hanging in the air. Your mother sat by the window, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as gleeful scheming regarding your imminent week at the Gojo manor. You, on the other hand, simmered with barely contained fury, with a pinch of nausea, your thoughts consumed with how you would confront Gojo at the ball you were all headed to. Yuji’s scrutiny only added to your irritation, his amused yet concerned face a stark contrast to your stormy mood. Across from you, Choso couldn’t suppress a snicker at Yuji’s comment, clearly enjoying the exchange.

You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “Yuji, if you do not cease your incessant prying, I shall see to it that you regret ever opening your mouth!”

Yuji flinched, visibly startled by your outburst. His confidence wavered as he stammered, “I⸺I meant no harm, sister.” He quickly extended his elbow to you, his movements almost robotic in their sudden politeness. “Please, allow me to escort you inside.”

You ignored the offer, your focus already elsewhere. The moment the carriage came to a stop, you heaved yourself off, stepping into the entrance. Grand revelry was before you; many suitors and young ladies were present, necks glittering with diamonds and hands adorned with gloves. Roving your gaze around, you saw him.

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze locked onto Gojo, everything else fading into the background. A sleazy and handsome grin on his face, definitely talking about some useless nonsense. 

Like a bull seeing red, you marched forward with determined fury, your sights set solely on him. He stood there, the picture of nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm heading his way. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your anger propelling you forward with each step. Yuji and Choso exchanged confused glances as they lingered by the entrance, unsure of what had just transpired.

As you closed the distance, Gojo finally noticed you, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But there was no time for his usual banter; you were ready to confront him head-on, no matter the consequences.

“What have you done?” you roared, striding towards Gojo. His head turned slowly, an amused and condescending smile creeping across his face. “I know this is⸺”

“Miss Itadori,” a voice hissed, dripping with offense. You turned to see Miss Yuki glaring at you. “Lord Gojo and I were in the midst of a very private conversation.”

You blinked, realizing that in your anger, you had entirely overlooked Miss Yuki’s presence. Though inwardly rolling your eyes, you knew it was best to maintain decorum. You curtsied in apology. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yuki. I shall leave you both to continue your conversation.”

As you stepped back, giving them respectable space, Miss Yuki side-eyed you with a sharp “hmph!” before turning back to Gojo with a flirtatious smile.

“So, my lord,” Yuki began, her tone coy, “what type of woman would be to your liking?”

Gojo scratched his chin, feigning deep thought as he prepared his response. “Well, Miss Yuki, I would imagine she must be intelligent, accomplished, and⸺” He paused dramatically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a slow, deliberate drawl, “⸺and beautiful.”

You suppressed a sigh. Does he never tire of that tiresome gesture? It’s grown exceedingly dull.

Yuki’s pleased grin widened. “And what level of intellect do you find satisfactory, my lord?”

“Well,” Gojo mused, “I would prefer a lady well-versed in calculations. I often find myself making errors in my ledgers late at night, and a wife who could assist would be most valuable. Moreover, I would enjoy engaging in debates on scientific matters.”

Is he seeking a wife or an accountant?

The unusual nature of his request clearly left Yuki taken aback. She blinked, her smile tightening. “Indeed, Lord Gojo, these are rather...uncommon expectations for a wife.” Yuki then hesitated, glancing around as though searching for an escape. “Well, my lord, as intriguing as this conversation has been, I fear I must take my leave. My mother has been awaiting my return, and I would not wish to keep her waiting.”

She curtsied with a strained smile, clearly eager to extricate herself from the awkward situation Gojo’s peculiar standards had created. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly turned and made her exit, leaving you alone to confront Gojo, who now had an amused look on his face, as if he had purposefully answered that way to ward Miss Yuki off.

You pointed your finger at him, wagging it accusingly as you hissed, “Gojo, I know this was one of your ploys.”

He let out an exaggerated groan, and he dropped all flirtatious pretenses he had adopted when conversing with the other lady. “Ah, yes. Please, by all means, heap more blame upon me for things entirely beyond my control. I derive immense pleasure from being the target of your needless and misdirected fury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

With a strained smile, he sighed. “It seems our mothers have taken it upon themselves to orchestrate this entire charade.”

Your hands flew up in exasperation. “I cannot believe this! I would sooner perish than marry you, and heaven help me if I were ever to bear your children!”

“Spare me the theatrics,” Gojo replied, shaking his head as if amused by your outburst. He inclined his head slightly, gesturing toward something in the distance. “We are being observed.”

You followed his gaze and saw, across the dance floor, both of your mothers trying—albeit poorly—to appear inconspicuous as they exchanged furtive glances and whispered behind their fans.

You huffed in frustration, turning back to Gojo. “This is absurd.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. “But would it be so terrible to bear my children?” he murmured, his tone teasing yet somehow serious.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you refused to let it show. You straightened your posture, meeting his gaze with as much poise as you could muster. “I can’t think of far worse fates, my lord,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words.

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly undeterred. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine.. You felt a slight tremor of awareness course through you, and despite your best efforts, a hint of warmth crept into your cheeks.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur. “You seem flustered, Miss Itadori,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “I must admit, the idea of a future with you is… intriguing.”

Flustered and at a loss of witty remarks, you stammered, struggling to find your voice. “I⸺I hardly think that⸺”

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had this sultry expression to them, one that you didn’t need to ponder more than one second to know had no good intentions. 

With that, he released your hand, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your cheeks aflame.

Gojo ⸺ 1, You ⸺ 1. 

Choso crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Mother, why are we departing a week earlier than the rest of the ton?”

The carriage rocked gently, the luggage rattling with the motion. You slumped in your seat, weary from the long hours of travel, your thoughts drifting to the comfort of a soft, fluffy bed. Your mother, noticing the beads of sweat forming on your brow, handed you a handkerchief before turning to respond to Choso. “Well, my dear, your sister has caught the eye of Lord Gojo, and his mother has personally invited us to arrive early so that we may become better acquainted.”

Your eldest brother frowned, while Yuji stared vacantly out the carriage window, enraptured by the sheep present on the farm you were passing. “But why should we do so?” Choso pressed, his tone firm. “It is not as though Sister is lacking in suitors. Why should we entertain Lord Gojo’s interest above all others?”

Even in your heat-induced lightheadedness, your attention was drawn to Choso’s defense of you. A flicker of hope ignited in your chest; as the viscount, Choso held considerable authority over your mother, and he could potentially influence the matrimonial decisions made on your behalf.

“Lord Gojo is the most eligible bachelor of the season,” your mother insisted. “We would be foolish not to seize such an opportunity.”

Choso retorted quickly, “And Sister is the most eligible lady of the season. She is the diamond. If Lord Gojo’s eligibility rests on his title, would we not do better to pursue a match with Duke Nanami?”

You silently cheered Choso on, hoping he might sway your mother’s mind away from the ridiculous notion of a match between you and Gojo.

But your mother was not easily deterred. “I am quite set on Lord Gojo, Choso,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Your sister seems to have formed a rapport with him, and this is about more than just titles. We must also consider her inclinations.”

Both your mother and Choso turned their expectant gazes upon you, awaiting your response. Flustered and unwilling to directly oppose your mother, you swallowed nervously and nodded. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”

The remainder of the ride was marked by the satisfied smile on Lady Itadori’s face and the glowers⸺yet paired with concerned glances⸺from Choso.

The slowing of the carriage and its turn onto a smooth pathway roused you from the gentle lull of travel. You blinked your eyes open and glanced outside. A magnificent flower bed greeted you, a sea of blues ranging from the palest sky hues to deep indigo. But what truly stole your breath was the manor itself⸺more a castle than a mere country home. Its grandiose structure rivaled Buckingham Palace in regality, with elegant blue spires and stately beige stone walls that seemed to stretch towards the heavens.

The carriage came to a complete halt at the base of a grand staircase, where Duchess Gojo stood waiting, surrounded by footmen and maids all dressed in coordinated baby blue livery. As the carriage door was opened, you, your mother, Choso, and Yuji stepped out into the warm afternoon air.

“Lady Itadori!” Duchess Gojo descended the stairs gracefully, her arms extended in greeting. Your mother met her with an equally warm embrace.

“Your Grace,” your mother replied fondly, her face lighting up with familiarity. The duchess then turned her gaze towards you, her smile gracious and welcoming.

“And this must be our diamond,” Duchess Gojo said warmly, her eyes twinkling.

You offered her a polite smile and curtsied. “Miss Itadori, Your Grace. I am deeply honored by your hospitality.”

She waved off your formality with a flick of her hand. “The pleasure is entirely ours, my dear. We are delighted to have you with us, and I do hope that you and my son will find ample time to get better acquainted before the house party.”

You returned her smile, though unease stirred within you. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Choso and Yuji introduced themselves with the same practiced politeness, and after the formalities were concluded, the duchess clapped her hands together. “Come now, let us take tea. You must be quite fatigued from your journey. I shall have the staff see to your rooms so you may rest after.” She directed the servants to unload the luggage from the carriages and then motioned for you all to follow her into the manor. “To the drawing room!”

As you crossed the threshold into the manor, you were struck by the sheer opulence surrounding you. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold and blue detailing, and the walls were lined with endless portraits of the Gojo family. Your gaze was momentarily drawn to a portrait of Lord Gojo himself. The artist had rendered his eyes in a cold, oceanic blue—quite unlike the electric blue intensity they held in person. The painting failed to capture the vitality, and perhaps the insufferable smugness, that characterized his gaze.

You quickly looked away before anyone could notice your lingering stare, hurrying to catch up with your family as you reached a grand set of double doors. Footmen stood at attention as Duchess Gojo led you into a drawing room, elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and laden with trays of sweets.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the duchess urged, gesturing towards the seating. She and your mother settled at a small table near the door, while you and your siblings gravitated toward the couches in the center of the room, where a tempting array of desserts awaited. As you sat down, maids swiftly arranged teacups and began pouring the tea. Yuji and Choso took seats across from you, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of interest—or lack thereof—in the proceedings.

“So, Miss Itadori,” You looked across the room to look at the duchess, who was leaning further to grab at her teacup and take a sip. “How do you find this season?”

“I find the suitors of this season very pleasing and kind, Your Grace,” you sat up fully, placing the scone you were eating down to fully face the duchess. “It has been a very extravagant season; I hope to continue my search to find a suitable match for myself.” Duchess Gojo nodded. “An admirable pursuit, of course. Is a love match what you are searching for?”

Her question hung in the air, and in that instant, you felt the weight of every gaze in the room fall upon you. The most searing of them all, though, was your mother's. You could feel it like a prickling heat against your skin, a silent reminder of the expectations that had been laid out before you long ago.

A love match. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting into a knot of uncertainty. The very idea of love seemed foreign to you—elusive, abstract, something that belonged in novels rather than in the practical world of arranged marriages and alliances. Love was not what you had been taught to seek. No, your upbringing had been grounded in duty, decorum, and the quiet understanding that marriage was a contract, a union of convenience rather than passion.

But how could you say that aloud? How could you tell the duchess—tell anyone—that your dreams did not include the fiery passion of a love match, but rather the comfort of a peaceful arrangement? Your throat tightened, and the words that had once seemed so simple lodged themselves in the back of your mouth, refusing to emerge.

Your mother’s eyes bore into you, filled with unspoken expectations. You knew what she wanted to hear: that you were pursuing love, that you were open to it, that you were the ideal picture of a hopeful young lady seeking her romantic equal. But that wasn’t your truth. Your truth was more complicated, filled with desires for stability, understanding, and a life unburdened by the chaos that love so often seemed to bring.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat almost deafening in the sudden silence of the room. What were you supposed to say? How could you balance the delicate line between honesty and propriety?

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it nearly impossible to find your voice. The tension swirled within you, an unrelenting force that made you wish you could simply disappear. What if they could see through you? What if, with one wrong word, they uncovered the truth of what you really wanted—a marriage that was practical, peaceful, and devoid of the complications that came with love?

But that wasn’t something you could admit. Not here. Not now.

You forced a polite smile, hoping it hid the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before the weight of the room could settle further, the heavy double doors swung open with a soft yet deliberate creak. Every head turned in unison, and the air seemed to shift as your savior, Satoru Gojo made his entrance.

His attire was impeccable—a finely tailored waistcoat of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light just so, paired with polished boots that gleamed as if they had never touched the ground. Yet, despite the formal attire, there was an air of disarming casualness about him, a kind of effortless elegance that made the room's grandeur seem almost insignificant by comparison.

His damp hair, still tousled from what must have been a recent bath, added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. Droplets of water shimmered at the tips of his white locks, catching the light as he ran a hand through them. The scent of his cologne, rich and intoxicating, seemed to announce his arrival to you even before he spoke.

He strolled in with an air of ease. “It seems that our guests are finally here!” He moved with an easy grace, crossing the room in a few long strides, bowing slightly to the duchess and your mother before turning his attention to you. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary, a playful glint in his eyes as if he could sense the internal battle you had been fighting mere seconds ago.

“Miss Itadori,” he greeted you with a smile that could have melted the iciest of hearts, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Your mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Ah, Satoru! Come, sit with us.” She motioned to the spot next to you with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you and Miss Itadori sit together?”

Choso’s sharp gaze followed him with a hint of suspicion, but he made no objection as Gojo accepted the invitation, seating himself beside you with an infuriatingly confident smile. Yuji and Choso remained on the opposite couch, observing the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and caution.

“Well then,” Gojo began, grabbing an obscene amount of scones to heap on his plate, “I was just at the 

archery range earlier today. Quite the exhilarating sport. I find it sharpens the mind as much as the aim.”

Yuji, ever the admirer of feats of physical skill, leaned forward with interest. “Archery, my lord? That sounds remarkable! I must admit, I’ve always found it to be one of the noblest of pursuits.”

Gojo leaned back into the couch, resting one arm casually behind you on the backrest, his posture the very picture of relaxed confidence. He smiled at Yuji’s enthusiasm and continued, “Archery has long been a favored pastime of mine. It requires precision, patience, and an understanding of balance—qualities I find both necessary and rewarding. I've dedicated many years to perfecting my skill with the bow.”

He paused, allowing a slight, reflective smile to touch his lips. “In fact, just last month, I competed in the annual tournament at Her Majesty’s estate and managed to hit the bullseye in every round. Some of the other competitors remarked that it was almost unnatural, but I assure you, it is merely the result of countless hours spent at the range.”

Yuji’s eyes widened with admiration. “Every round? That’s incredible, Lord Gojo! Your dedication must be unparalleled.”

Gojo shrugged with mock humility, though his eyes glinted with pride. “It’s all in the discipline, really. Once you understand the rhythm of the draw and the release, it becomes second nature. Of course, the challenge is in maintaining that focus while under pressure. But I’ve found that to be the most exhilarating part—especially when the crowd is watching.”

Yuji nodded fervently, clearly enthralled. “I would love to see you in action, my lord! Perhaps you could give me a few pointers one day.”

Gojo chuckled, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before returning to Yuji. “Ah, I’m sure you’d take it quite well, Yuji. Perhaps we could all visit the range together during your stay here.”

 The nonchalant arrogance in his voice, paired with the image of him lording his skill over others, irritated you. You couldn’t resist a small quip, your tone light. “Oh, indeed, Lord Gojo. Your accomplishments are so profound that I fear I might believe you are telling tales. Of course, I wonder with all this focus on archery, do you leave any time for pursuits that require a bit more… finesse?”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they met yours, his gaze sharp with understanding. Yet, rather than take offense, he allowed a playful smirk to curl on his lips, his voice laced with teasing intent. “Ah, Miss Itadori, archery indeed requires finesse, I assure you. But perhaps you’d care to test that claim yourself? I’d be more than happy to provide a demonstration.”

As he leaned in closer, you found yourself all too aware of his presence. The scent of his cologne, a warm and intoxicating blend of vanilla and tobacco, filled the air between you, making it difficult to maintain your composure. His face hovered just near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

“In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I’d wager that with a little practice, you might find yourself hitting the mark with more than just words.”

His proximity made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Despite your resolve to remain composed, the effect of his closeness and the quiet intensity in his voice left you momentarily at a loss for words.

Choso, sitting across from you, gave Gojo a sharp look. Meanwhile, Yuji was practically beaming at the prospect of an archery lesson from the lord himself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice more controlled than you expected, though there was still a slight quiver in it. “But I’ve found that words can be just as powerful, if not more so.”

Gojo smirked, his gaze lingering on your face as if savoring the moment. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel the weight of it, pressing against your own resolve. But you wouldn’t allow him to see just how much he affected you—at least, not yet. 

Despite the warmth in your cheeks and the flutter in your chest, you held his gaze, meeting his playful intensity with your own determined calm.

However, your mother’s voice broke through the spell. “Oh, Your Grace, might we have a tour of the manor sometime?”

Duchess Gojo, clearly delighted to show off her home, nodded eagerly. “Of course! There is a pavilion overlooking our garden where we can play pall-mall, and the library is quite extensive.” Your interest piqued at the mention of the library, and you made yourself a mental note to explore where it was.

Then she turned her gaze towards you, her expression growing more conspiratorial. “And as for Miss Itadori, Satoru has promised to give her a personal tour of the grounds tomorrow after she takes rest today.”

You stiffened at the suggestion, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo lean in slightly, his mischievous grin widening as he whispered, “I’ll be sure to make it… thorough.”

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless thoughts kept you tossing and turning, denying you any hope of finding solace in slumber. The events of the day had left you drained, and after the conversation in the drawing room, you had collapsed into the plush, inviting bed. Sleep had claimed you almost instantly. But now, in the dark silence of the night, you awoke with a start, your mind refusing to quiet. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t escape the whirlwind of thoughts that stirred within you.

The prospect of the coming days loomed over you, a storm of anxiety brewing. Spending time with Gojo, of all people? Your mother’s insistent push for this potential marriage was unbearable. How could you possibly tell her that you despised the man? The mere thought of being bound to him in matrimony was a nightmare⸺marriage itself was daunting enough, but to an arrogant, loquacious, and insufferably self-assured man like him? It would be nothing short of Hell on earth.

With a frustrated sigh, you rose from bed and rubbed your face, trying to dispel the fog of sleeplessness. Perhaps a visit to the manor’s library⸺the one mentioned during tea⸺would offer some distraction. Grabbing a lantern, you slipped out of your room, treading softly down the stairs and into the main hallway. You moved with the caution of a thief; your mother would surely not approve of your nocturnal wanderings. Her voice echoed in your mind, sharp and reprimanding: “Good things never happen in the dead of night!”

As you opened the library’s grand doors, a soothing fragrance enveloped you⸺the scent of aged paper mingled with a hint of vanilla, a fragrance unique to this room. But what truly took your breath away was the sheer size of the library.

Bookshelves lined the walls, rising two stories high, creating a space that could easily have served as a grand ballroom. Cozy nooks beckoned you to sit, while further exploration revealed tables and armchairs tucked away behind towering shelves. It was a bibliophile’s paradise.

Your eyes roved over the multitude of volumes: ancient ledgers, personal family records, scholarly works on politics, astronomy, and the sciences. Though you did not often indulge in scientific pursuits, you found them fascinating whenever the opportunity arose. One book in particular caught your eye:

Observations on the Planet Venus.

Drawn to the back of the library, you found a large window offering a stunning view of the garden and pavilion, bathed in starlight. You couldn’t resist the allure of the table beside it, where you settled in and began to read.

“The planet Venus is an object that has long engaged my particular attention. A series of observations upon it, which I began in April, 1777, has been continued down to the present time…”

Time slipped away as you became engrossed in the text, the lantern’s light flickering softly as you pored over the meticulous observations and calculations. Your hands were soon stained with ink, evidence of the notes you had been feverishly jotting down on scraps of parchment you had found in a supply cabinet. A good hour or two had passed before you finally leaned back, stretching your tired muscles. You rested your head on your arms, intending to close your eyes for just a moment. Soon, you found that your sleepy brain forced you to reflect and muse upon your life, as a mind often does at three.

What a pity it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Gojo. If only he were different, you might have lived in this manor, with its perfect library, forever. You could imagine it: waking in the mornings in your fluffy bed, sharing the latest discoveries in astronomy and medicine with your handsome husband…

Truly, what a pity. Your sleep-deprived mind began to conjure an image of this imagined husband—tall, nearly Gojo’s height, with kind eyes and lips that would kiss you gently awake each morning (unlike Gojo’s snark). You envisioned banter over breakfast, late-night rendezvous in the library, and tender embraces in bed…

Before you could delve deeper into your fantasy, the sound of footsteps jolted you back to reality. The tread was deliberate, too similar to your mother’s for comfort, and panic flared within you. Your mind, already muddled with exhaustion, conjured the worst possible scenario—your mother finding you here, in the library where you had no business being at this hour.

Memories of her discovering forbidden books in your childhood flashed before your eyes, and your breath quickened in fear. Rising as quietly as you could, you pressed your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound, creeping toward a bookshelf to hide. But the footsteps drew closer, relentless in their pursuit. You felt like prey, cornered and desperate.

Getting out of your chair as quietly as you could, you squeezed your eyes shut and put both of your hands over your mouth so you didn’t start making audible gasps that would let the person know where you were immediately. Softly⸺but panickedly⸺walking towards a bookshelf, you hid as you traced the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. You tried to walk away from the sound, but it seemed like the person was listening intently for your movements. You couldn’t help but think you were like prey, cornered and desperate.

However, it was all for naught; your heart sank as you realized you had ended up in an alley of bookshelves that were up against the wall, essentially creating a dead end for you. The steps got closer and closer, and you drew yourself closer and closer to the wall. Your eyes was still shut, but you could hear the steps around the corner, coming closer and closer. 

The footsteps were merely a few feet away from you, and in a moment of sheer panic, you blurted out, “I am sorry, Mother⸺”

“Excuse me,” came a voice that was decidedly not your mother’s. Your eyes flew open to find none other than Gojo, his blue eyes alight with offense. “Do I resemble your mother in any way?”

You blinked, struggling to process the sight before you. He was holding a quill, ink, and a stack of notebooks that resembled the ledgers you had seen earlier, along with a plate of scones that looked absurdly sugary.

“I—” you stammered, taking a sharp breath to compose yourself and paused, looking at Gojo⸺who was shooting you a petulant frown⸺take a big bite of his scone. “Your tread was uncannily similar.”

He paused, chewing on a scone with a sulky expression, while you averted your gaze in embarrassment.

When he finished chewing, he cleared his throat. “You must possess rather poor hearing to mistake a man of my stature for a lady.”

You shrugged, still flustered. “Perhaps you have an unusually light step.”

An awkward silence settled between you as Gojo took another loud bite of his scone. You hastened to break it. “It is quite late; I must take my leave. Good night, my lord.”

You bowed your head slightly and moved to leave, but before you could slip past him, he blocked your path, suspicion narrowing his gaze. “What business do you have in the Gojo library at this hour?”

“Nothing of import,” you squeaked.

At the not-very-innocuous tone in your voice, his eyes narrowed further. “Your tone suggests otherwise.” He leaned in, his gaze sweeping over you with exaggerated scrutiny. Noticing the ink stains on your hands, he quipped, “Were you tampering with important records?”

Your heart raced, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong to suspect you⸺what else would a lady be doing in a library at this hour? It was a no-win situation: confess to reading a book and risk your mother’s wrath, or be accused of something far more serious.

It was best to come clean. “I was merely reading a book,” you confessed. “I can show you precisely where I sat and what I was doing.”

Gojo’s expression softened, but he quickly continued his theatrical suspicion and hmmphed. “Of course. I must be certain that no mischief has been afoot.”

You led him back to the table where you had been reading. He sat across from you, depositing his supplies onto the table with a flourish and leaned back, crossing his arms. Ever the investigator, he watched as you retrieved the book. It bore no resemblance to the Gojo ledgers, which had the telltale blue cover and Gojo insignia, which consisted of six eyes. 

Upon seeing this, he nodded in acknowledgment. “You are exonerated.”

At that, you sighed and clutched your chest. For a moment, you contemplated pleading with Gojo to keep your late library visit secret from your mother but you shot the idea down for two reasons. First, you would never lower yourself to plead with Gojo, and second, Gojo⸺ever the insufferable man⸺would definitely make sure to mention it to your mother and further exacerbate the issue. 

As he began arranging his ink bottles and quills, preparing to work on his ledgers, you took a moment to observe him. He was dressed in casual attire, loose-fitting trousers and a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. Slut.

It took you a moment to realize that he was settling in at your table. You frowned. “I beg your pardon, but this is my spot.”

Gojo looked up from his work, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “My dear, this is my library. Thus, it is my spot.”

You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it in frustration. He was right, after all. The entire manor was his. Your silence seemed to amuse him, as he returned to his ledgers with a smug smile.

Now, you didn’t really know what to do⸺should you go back to your room, or should you stay and continue reading the book? In your indecision, you continued to flip through the pages of the book, particularly because you wanted to finish the conclusion section before going to bed. But you soon felt his gaze upon you, the sound of his quill slowing down.

You didn’t look up. “Might I suggest you cease staring at me? It is quite improper.” “What? Why would I do so? To watch you peruse a tedious romance novel?”

“This is a book on the state of the art of astronomy.” 

“Indeed? I confess, I am surprised.”

Your irritation flared and you whipped your head up to glare at Gojo. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I was under the impression that young ladies’ interests lie solely in matters of the heart.”

“So, in addition to gossiping, you are also prone to narrow-minded assumptions?”

Gojo scoffed. “Narrow-minded? It is a simple observation. Both men and women often indulge in fanciful notions of love.”

You scoffed. “Ah, so you hold yourself above other men. What are you, God?”

Gojo ignored your remark. “Those who read such frivolities are seldom engaged in serious thought or the appreciation of true art.”

“Romance allows one to experience love and joy. Does the prospect of happiness through art truly horrify you?” You stood, glaring at him. “Unlike you, my lord, ladies such as myself cannot frequent dubious establishments such as brothels to seek out lovers. Our reputations and futures are at stake.” Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. “To deny women the solace of love is cruel. It is our only refuge in a world that forces us into unwanted marriages!”

When you were done ranting to Gojo, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Truly, this man could bother you like no other; only your siblings have caused this much heat on your face due to anger. The only sounds in the library was your rushed breathing, from anger.

Gojo scoffed. “You truly think too much.”

You offered a sharp scoff. "And you, far too little. Even Sukuna Jr. possesses more emotional intelligence than you."

"Do not compare me to that wretched creature," Gojo retorted.

You gasped in disbelief. "How dare you speak of Kuna in such a manner!"

"Then perhaps you should keep him from fouling the air around me!" he snapped.

A sly smile crept across your lips. "He merely knows whom to guard me against."

At reference of That Night, Gojo sighs exhaustedly. “Do you find trouble with the judgments I made that night? None of that was meant for you.”

“Are you quite serious?” You were in disbelief. Does he truly feel no remorse? Frustrated, you ran a hand over your face. “Your words may not have been intended for me, but they were no less cutting. I cannot abide such arrogance, my lord.”

Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of indifference. “Arrogance or simply honesty? I merely spoke the truth as I see it.”

“Your so-called truth is nothing more than disdain wrapped in wit,” you snapped, feeling your temper rise again. “You speak as though your opinions are infallible, as if you alone have the right to pass judgment on others.”

“I only say what others are too afraid to voice,” he retorted, his tone cool. “If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. But I will not apologize for it.”

“Of course not,” you said bitterly. “An apology would require some measure of humility, and that is something you clearly lack.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing more clipped. “I fail to see why my opinions should trouble you so much. Perhaps you are simply too sensitive.”

Your anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Or perhaps you are too blind to see the harm your words cause. You claim to be honest, but what you truly are is cruel.”

“Cruel?” Gojo’s voice was sharp now, his composure slipping. “For speaking the truth? For refusing to coddle those who cannot handle it?”

“For refusing to consider the feelings of others!” you countered, your voice rising in frustration. “Not everything is a game or a joke, my lord. Your words have consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not.”

A tense silence fell between you, each of you locked in a stubborn glare, neither willing to yield. Finally, you shook your head, the weight of your frustration pressing down on you. “I cannot do this,” you muttered, turning away. “You are utterly impossible.”

You began to walk away, but Gojo’s voice cut through the silence. “Running away so soon?” There was a hint of something in his tone⸺something almost like disappointment⸺but you dismissed it.

You paused, glancing back at him with a hardened expression. “There is no point in continuing this conversation. You refuse to see reason, and I refuse to waste any more of my time on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and left the library, your heart pounding with irritation and anger. As the door closed behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness in your chest. 

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n gojo the type to hit ur g spot every ti---WHAT WHO SAID THAT?

anyways yes we r getting (sort of) freaky in the next chapter (gojo busts in his pants seeing reader's ankles /j)

gojo when reader thought he was her mama

also tysm for all the asks, and comments, and love you guys have shown me. super motivating that you guys are enjoying the story and propels me to write more <3

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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[siampie]

Risk and Reward||Chapter 9: Like Real People Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Just fluffy moments between you and Matt.

Warnings/tags: lots of fluff and a hint of angst.

A/N: Sorry for the late update, life had been hectic lately. And also been dealing with some face pain due to a wisdom tooth. Commentaries and reblogs are greatly appreciated.     

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

Song the title is referring to:

I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, the bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging? What did you bury

Before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask and neither should you

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

The soft music filled your apartment while you hummed, swaying lightly, to the song. Enjoying one of those rare moments where you felt in the mood to cook a full meal for yourself. The pan singing as the freshly cut vegetables were frying in the hot oil. You added the broccoli to the stir-fry you were cooking, your eyes caught sight of the numerous drawings on your fridge. They had been made with love by your nieces and nephews. Your goddaughter, now 6, were also learning how to write now. So, of course, some of drawings were now accompanied with love notes.

“Je t’aime, Marraine.” (I love you, Godmother.)

The words were misspelled, and she still needed to get a grasp on grammar. But every time you read the words; you felt your heart swell with love. And the few times she came to visit you, she was proud to see her pictures on your fridge. And she and her siblings, and her cousin, drew more of those stick figure, knowing their arts would find room on your fridge and walls.

The shrill sound of your ringtone pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, you’ve reached the procrastination hotline. Please hold…indefinitely.” You answered the call.

“How many of those do you have?” Your sister’s voice came from the other end of the line.

“As many as I need.” You shot back. “So, what’s up?”

“I need to vent,” she declared.

“About?”

“Our brother; Henry.” She dramatically sighed.  

“I’m listening,” you puffed out a long breath.

“So, you know how he decided to let mom have access to his kids,” she started. You hummed, “well, now, his in-laws are getting involved and asking me, why don’t I want mom anywhere near my boy?”

“How is that any of their concerns? It’s your kid, you get to decide who’s in his life or not. Why are they getting involved?” You asked quite angrily, you never liked your brother’s in-laws. They were quite nosy people, always wondering when you were going to have kids, while your own father just let you live your life at your own pace.

“Oh, that’s not even the best part,” Ann continued. “They think it would be beneficial for my son to meet his maternal grandmother. Can you believe that?”

“I can believe they haven’t been hit enough in their lives, that I can believe.” You replied, your sister chuckled. “No one cares what they think. Axel is your son, and you are his mother. If you don’t want our mother to meet him, it is your decision. And frankly, bad parents don’t get to be grandparents. So, I’d say don’t let her meet your little boy.”

“Thank you,” she exclaimed. “I thought I was going crazy over here.”

“You’re not, don’t worry,” you reassured her. “And I’m fairly certain, Dee would agree with me.” You killed the fire under the pan, “what did Henry say to that?”

“Nothing. As usual.” Ann scoffed, “Didn’t defend my decision or even tried to explain to them why I wouldn’t want that.”

“It doesn’t need explaining, they know our story. It’s quite understandable why you wouldn’t,” you leaned your elbows on your counter. “Do you want me to give him call?”

“No, it won’t be necessary,” she told you. “I just needed to know I wasn’t alone in this.”

“You’re not,” you assured her. “Just to let you know, if you do decide to let her see little Axel, I won’t be mad. I’ll support you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I know,” she sighed. “Would you?” she questioned you, “would you let her in?”

“No,” your answer was firm. “Never again. Do you want to let her in?”

“No,” Ann was a firm as you in her answer. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “Don’t let them get into your head. They’re not your in-laws, so, their opinions don’t really matter.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “So, whatcha doin’?”

“Cooking some stir-fry, and then some netflix and chill—or maybe some video games, haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh, come on!” Ann groaned, “It’s Friday night, you’re single. You should be out there having fun, meeting new people. Do this for me, let me live vicariously through you. Please!”

You huffed out a laugh. She had yet to know about Matthew. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share him with your family, you did. You wanted them to know about the new man in your life. You wanted them to share in your happiness. However, you were just very protective of your relationship with Matt. You wanted to keep him for yourself a little while longer.

But this was your sister. Your first ever best friend. It didn’t seem fair to hide it from her. Not when she came to you first, after she had said yes to her, then, fiancé.

“Well,” you started, “it’s been a very long week. And I didn’t feel like socializing tonight.”

“Typical,” Ann snorted.

There was a knock on your door. “And who said I was single?” Your feet made no sound as you quietly walked towards your door.

“You have a boyfriend!” She squealed, “tell me everything.”

You shook your head while pulling your door open, revealing Matt on the other side.

His tie was loose and crooked around his neck, his dark and soft locks, a mess on his head. A grin was plastered on his face, your lips tugging up at the corner, mirroring his.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted you. You caught the smell of Josie’s stale beer in his breath as he leaned in to rest a soft kiss on your lips.

“Hey, Matty.”

“He calls you ‘sweetheart,’” your sister’s voice rose from your phone, reminding you that she was still on the line with you. “What’s his name?”

“Matt,” you answered quickly as Matt let himself into your apartment. “I’ll be right with you, okay?” He nodded with a smile, shedding his coat.

“So, that’s you meant by Netflix and chill, uh?” You sister teased,

“No, I genuinely meant Netflix and chill,” you hissed at her as you watched Matt sit down on your couch.

“No one means Netflix and chill when they say Netflix and chill,” Ann told you. “It’s what my husband and I get up to when baby’s with grandma.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “I don’t need to hear about that. Absolutely not,”

“Alright, sorry,” she chuckled. “I’ll let you join your beau, but first tell me the basics. What’s his name? What does he do in life? And how hot is he? And most importantly, how long have you been dating?”

You looked up, your eyes landing on the back of Matt’s head. “Alright, basics,” you turned around and leaned against your counter. “His name is Matthew Murdock. He’s a lawyer and has his own firm. He is blind and very—very hot. And sweet as honey. And it’s been—almost four months.”

“Almost four months? And you kept it from me?”

“Says the girl who only told us she was pregnant at the six months mark?” You reminded her.

“It’s not my fault, the props I needed to make the big announcement took too long to be delivered.” She defended herself, “when do we get to meet him?” Ann questioned excitedly.

“Not yet, I don’t want you to scare him away.”

“We won’t, I promise,” your sister said, her voice going a little higher.

“We’ll see about that,” you snorted. “Look, I gotta go. My boyfriend’s over.”

“Okay,” she retorted. “Go Netflix and chill, ‘all night long,’” she sang the last part.

“Alright—bye bye.” You said before hanging up.

You put your phone on the counter, heaving out a deep breath. You had not lied to your sister, you didn’t feel like socializing with anyone that night, so, you opted out of your usual hangout at Josie’s. You walked up to the couch where Matt had settled in, waiting for you patiently. Leaning over the back of the couch, you put your arms around his shoulders and laid a kiss on his cheek. His hands came up, his fingers wrapping around your forearms.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” you started, “I’m very glad to see you but aren’t you supposed to be at Josie’s with the others?”

“I’ve been looking forward to spend some time with my girlfriend, and she doesn’t show up,” Matt said quietly.

“I did warn you,” you told him, one of your hands raking through his hair.

“I know,” he gave a pleased hum, “I thought I skipped on the hangout and come and find you here,” your lips tugged up at the corner. “I just missed you,” Matt admitted, pulling your arm away from around his shoulders, to rest a kiss on your wrist.

A soft smile made its way onto your face, “I missed you too.” His lips found yours, kissing yours in a weird angle over the back of the couch. You pulled away, “do you want some food? I cook a really mean stir-fry. Or so, I’ve been told.”

You later found yourself lying in bed, with Matt’s nose buried in your neck. His body was draped over yours, not crushing you under his weight. His weight on top of yours felt comforting, you loved feeling the way he was relaxing under your touch. You wanted to ravish him here and there, but you were enjoying this cuddle session too much to put a stop to it, in favor of mind-blowing sex. One of his hands found its way under your shirt,

“Long week?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you replied in the same manner. “My workload has sort of doubled, I also had to go to meetings. Too many if you ask me,” you explained, your hand rubbing up and down his spine. “I just wanted to enjoy a night to myself, without having to socialize with anyone.”

Matt kissed your collarbone, “sorry, I’ve ruined that for you.”

“I’m not complaining,” you smiled softly. “And you haven’t ruined anything. I had a few hours to myself staring at a wall, which was truly relaxing,” your lips found his brows. “And you’re not anyone, you’re Matt. My ruggedly handsome boyfriend,” a small giggled escaped your lips.

He moved off of you slightly, and you whined at the move. He leaned on his elbow, facing you, his sightless eyes staring at your chin. “Stare at a wall?” His brows were scrunched up.

You giggled again, he smiled at the sound, “yeah, stare at a wall. Technically, not for hours and it wasn’t really a wall. But I do stare at nothing at times, and let my mind wander to the confines of the universe.” You finished with a solemn tone.  

“The confines of the universe, uh?” He laughed, “what does that entail exactly?”

“Well,” your hand ran up his arm, “it’s just another way to say daydreaming really.”

His hand slid higher under your shirt, “what were you daydreaming about?”

Your face flushed in embarrassment; the top of your ears heated up. You usually didn’t share the object of your daydreams. It was in your opinion too intimate for anyone to be let in, and also, you didn’t want them to judge you for it. You’d rather tell him something about a really embarrassing experience than to share what they were about.

You started toying with the short sleeve of his black shirt, “nothing really interesting. It’s just, you know—” you shrugged up one of your shoulders. “—stupid stuff, nothing too important,” you cupped his face, your thumb running across his cheek, rough under your fingers. “And that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”  Matt smiled at you.

“The point was that daydreaming is really relaxing and resting. It’s like my brain shut off, but not completely. My mind can just wander aimlessly and it’s beneficial—for the health.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “should I try it then?”

“You should,” you replied. “Studies showed that people who ‘practiced’ daydreaming have better control over their emotions, have more empathy and are naturally better problem solvers.”

“You read a study about daydreaming?” His eyebrows went up.

You barked out a laugh, “yeah, I looked it up.” You bit down on your bottom lip, “you think I’m weird, don’t you?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you are weird. I know you are,” you slapped his shoulder. Matt burst out a laugh. “It’s part of your charm.”

“Huh, uh,” you nodded.

“Truly, it is. Next to your voice,” he laid a kiss on your throat, “to your laugh,” another kiss on the corner of your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat. “Your weirdness is one my favorite thing,” his lips brushed against your temple. “It’s very entertaining.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Very much.”

He dove for your neck, and started peppering kisses, down your collarbone, up your neck, before attacking your face. The action sent you into a fit of giggles. Being spurt on by your laugh, Matt kept on doing it. Conversation about your daydreams, or your weirdness completely forgotten. Especially when the peppered kisses turned into something more passionate and heated.

You were nearing the four months mark in your relationship with Matt. You often wondered how you’d gotten so lucky with this man. Everything seemed so easy with him. You, who needed alone time to recharge your social battery, found that you didn’t really need one with him. It was the complete opposite, spending time with Matt, recharged your social battery even faster.

Spring was slowly fading away, making room for Summer. The rising heat in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen had a way to irritate people. Walking to work with Amelia, had given you a glimpse into how quick and prone were to anger. All because of the rise in temperature. You didn’t truly mind it, although, at night you did leave a fan on, and slowly wore less and less clothes to bed.

“There isn’t even a lick of wind,” you complained to Amelia. “We should have taken a cab.”

“To go to Josie’s? You’re out of your mind,” Amelia snorted. “Don’t be such a wuss, it’s not that bad yet.”

“What do you mean yet?”

“I mean it’s only the beginning, and it’s going to get worse.” Amelia patiently explained. “It’s not for the weak.”

“Thanks that’s really helpful,” you said as she pushed the door open. “The coldest beer you have, Josie, please.” You almost begged the woman, sitting down on the stool.

“You’re so dramatic,” Amelia huffed out a laugh. “So, weren’t you suppose to meet up with lover boy tonight?”

“He cancelled,” you nodded, turning your stool to face Amelia. “He’s still working on his big case. Needed to tie up some loose ends.”

“When’s the court date?” Amelia questioned; Josie pushed your beers towards you.

“Not for another month,” you retorted. “But you know court case takes a lot, and they need to make sure that they covered all their basis. So, they won’t have any surprises when it comes to trial.”

“You did a deep dive on this, didn’t you?” Amelia cocked up of her eyebrows.

“Not exactly deep dive, but I did look it up,” you gave her a sheepish smile. You took a sip of the cold beer, “That feels so good.”

“You are so not surviving the summer,” she joked.

“Oh, I will. Just to spite you, and Summer.”

Your window was cracked opened slightly, in hopes you would feel some breeze to alleviate the heat. You lied down on the cold floorboard, staring at the ceiling. He had cancelled again that night. His latest case was more complex than he had anticipated. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you understood. But adding to the cancellations, his absences on Fridays at Josie’s had also become more frequent. It wasn’t unusual. He had been unavailable on some Fridays, in the beginning of your relationship, working on opening statements. And you had often popped in to visit him, and fell asleep on his couch while he did so.

It wasn’t unusual.

And yet, you couldn’t help but feel that Matt was probably pulling away from you. Maybe that was the moment the other shoe would drop. Maybe you were right, everything with Matt was too good to be true.

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[cantareincminor]

I just caught up with Orpheus (while procrastinating on drawing my own comic) and I only have one thing to say 😐

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA *loud screech in the middle of the night*

Thank you for creating that work of wonderful writing ❤️❤️❤️ I'm really looking forward to see how it will end 😊

Ahhhhhhhh it’s amazing just to get an ask from you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story. Is the loud screech due to the Desmond mansion chapter or the Underworld chapter? Or the promise of Shopkeeper opening a can of whoopass?

There will be 57 chapters in total including the epilogue. We are not far from the end. I’m in the process of rereading the whole story to make sure the epilogue fits well. I already have withdrawal symptoms from the story being over :( so I started a little spinoff series to cool down.

I can’t wait for the next installment of Doppelgänger either! Or anything else you’re working on!!

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue”

[DOODLES AND DRAWINGS]

So, in the last couple of days, I’ve been experiencing some mild writer’s block while progressing with the next chapter of DMTMYHB.

Rest assured, it’s about 60-65% finished if we exclude grammar and editing, so if I’m lucky, it’ll be out sometime along next week if I have the energy. Night shifts all fucking week.

In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy some scribbles and drawings I’ve been procrastinating with.

- Yours truly, WWW.

This is what I personally imagine Reader/“Cross-Hairs” looking like as I’m writing. Helps with some visuals, y’know? (Ignore the weird angles of her eyes in the second one plz)

Context: Buggy wanted to ask you something in private, only to discover you were engrossed in a conversation with Shanks. Fuck ‘im.

Gol D. Rogers’ Legacy: the Next Generation of Pirates in the New World.

Reader/“Cross-Hairs” — (former) Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates and the Beast of the East.

“Red-Haired” Shanks — Captain of the Red-Haired Pirates and one of the Four Emperors.

Buggy “The Clown” — The Genius Jester, The Flashy Fool, Captain of the Buggy Pirates.

Gol D. Could not have been any prouder, and is currently cheering on them from the grave.

Ah, young love ❤️ (… hope nothing bad happens to them…)

And there you have it! What I’ve spent the last few days working on, both sober and otherwise. Have some more doodles I might post at a later date.

If any of you have any fanart you wish me to put up on the page, regardless of what it is, I strongly encourage it (if you feel like it).

- WWW.

———

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu , @carpinchootaku , @ay0nha , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lokiscure , @internationalsuper-spy , @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat , @machinema7k , @shuujin , @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314 , @autumn-slaves . @marvelouskatie , @floristoflillys , @dizzyenby, @redpool , @deliri-yum22 , @aemondsb1tch , @ackroxia , @gayandfairycore , @knightsfavoriteprincess , @asterizee , @aamethyst23 , @lizzie1107 , @cyberwears , @heylookliisten , @f41k47, @beep-beep1 , @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts , @rayleeya , @timeladyrikaofgallifrey

(If you want to be tagged for this story or content related to it, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

[fadingdaggerr]

close to home

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: continuation of a piece of home now set in mid-late season 4 when brienne is searching for arya and sansa, about a year and a half since the first chapter.

warnings: got s3-4 spoilers, canon typical violence but mostly in conversation, descriptions of injuries and death (brief), the classic lesbian ‘dancing around each other’

note: i told ya it would be slowburn :) sorry for the slow updates, college sucks and i am so behind because i keep getting overwhelmed and procrastinating

the news the king joffrey’s demise spread across the kingdoms with fury. little birds of your own running to send you word, quick hands tying notes to the bird. when a raven reached the camp, larkin was bobbing and weaving through the crowd. the red seal meant trouble, the kind that would likely cause the vein in your forehead to bulge and you to probably break something.

running into the tent, he comes to a screeching halt, a meeting progressive in front of him. your eyes look at him, he waves the notes, red seal on display. you wave him over frantically, meeting pausing just as fast as larkin entered.

commander-

the king is dead. poisoned. not sure who yet, but lord tyrion blamed. lady sansa missing. more to follow. suggest a move north.

- eoin

you read the note aloud, silence followed, everyone stunned. the glass to your right was thrown against the ground. this meant war was coming. winter was already drawing closer, but bloodshed was soon to come. the lannisters would never let this go.

eoin knew well of what move you’d make, you began the move north. it was slow, a complicated path to ward off unwanted followers. the weeks grew long, the desperation you felt for another raven was palpable. the further north we traveled, the harder it was word easily and discreetly.

orion brings a scroll, red wax, cloud pressed in.

commander-

your lady knight is leaving king’s landing within the week, looking for ladies sansa and arya. lannister man gave her a sword. moving north with a squire.

- rahim

the second you read the words ‘lady knight’ in fast., messy handwriting, your hands gripped the parchment a little tighter. a squire? had she been knighted, had they rightfully acknowledged her at last? you opt to ignore the use of ‘your’ in front of her nickname. instead you write a response, adding updated travel routes that will be followed, as well as advising the use of coded messages from now on. the scroll was passed to orion with directions of a new bird to land towards the east side of the city.

—

leaving the tavern with podrick and the wolf-shaped bread from hotpie left brienne with some semblance of hope. she could not save lady catelyn, but she could fulfill her promise and protect her daughters. if she ever found the bloody devils.

“where to now, my lady?” podrick asked, despite knowing the answer.

“north. if sansa fled, she’ll go somewhere familiar, to someone she trusts,” brienne was certain, and podrick nodded. he had only been under her service for a short time, but he had already gained large amounts of respect for her.

so north they went, and went, and went. brienne had been slowly teaching podrick to sword fight. he was nowhere near being able to defend himself, but the spirit was there. when the practice was over, they’d eat in silence. brienne wiped off her small knife, tucking it next to the horn that stayed in her storage. she hadn’t unraveled the sheathed dagger that was carefully knotted around the horn, afraid of acknowledging it, but keeping it near.

two months into her travels, she is awoken while stars still paint the sky. she rubs her eyes, growing slightly, she almost falls back asleep, assuming the noise was podrick or imaginary. but there it is again.

she sits up, hand automatically falling on her weapon. a blaring, deep in the woods. it’s far away, so the sound just barely reaching her ears. one more faint sound, then silence. and it remains. she lays back down, shaking her head to toss away the distractions. ‘probably some locals,’ she muses to herself, before falling asleep once again.

another month passes, and brienne swears she is being watched. she’s positive it isn’t her squire, he minds his business, and his stares don’t feel this imposing. a rustle in the trees above her caught her attention, but she saw nothing, she assumed it was animals of the forest. she looks around, but there’s still nothing. no one. she’s going crazy, is all she can think. ‘all this stark ladies business has driven me mad!’

—

a younger man in your company, dorin, comes rushing through the crowd, he’s walking, although very fast. he gracefully dodges each person, bumping into no one, uttering no words as he slithers between them.

he silently approaches you as you’re sitting on your desk. he likes to give people a scare when he can, but you notice him, turning and catching him off guard.

“what can i do you for, dorin?” you say without looking at him, smirking to yourself as you look a potential supply routes.

he clears his throat, “i spotted a tall woman, blonde. accompanied by a man, quite a bit shorter than the woman, with brown hair. a horse for each. and quite the fancy sword on her hip, but i could only see the hilt. not well given my altitude, still it looked beautifully crafted.” dorin’s reports always had perfect detail, he had climbing expertise, and he didn’t ask question as to why you had him survey the woods. he was perfect for the job.

“thank you dorin, that’ll be all. send ragnall to me on your way out,” you say diplomatically, hiding the giddiness that filled your chest.

“you called?” ragnall stood in the entrance.

you swing so your legs dangle off the desktop, “yes. gather two others and please nicely escort the travelers one hour east to of our camp. nicely. got it?” you raise and eyebrow.

“yes, commander,” he grumbles, hoping for something more exciting, but heads to follow orders. you jump off the desk, and move just outside the tent.

“boy!” you call out, hands cupped around your mouth. less than twenty seconds, and larkin was headed to you, stopping just before you. “ready two cots and make way for two horses, we got visitors in two,” and he’s off. and you’re patiently waiting in your tent, hands twisting and pulling at each other in your lap.

—

brienne was washing up when she heard podrick yell for her, she is quick to come to his aid. sword drawn, she stands protectively in front of podrick.

“what is your business here?” she asks, eyes stern and angry.

“lady brienne, we’re here to escort you to camp,” ragnall speaks first, hoping she’ll recognize him best. her sword immediately slides back into her scabbard.

the entire walk back to the camp her hands were sweating. she explained to pod meeting you with jaime, and how she found out about the skyforth. he listens carefully, and she’s careful not to talk to much about you. she does mention you’re from tarth, and that it was nice to know someone from there, easily explaining away any overflowing joy.

she saw the tents growing closer, the guards closest the opening moving to make way for everyone and the horses. her eyes darted around for the largest tent, with the large table and the desk you sat on instead of at. their horses were taking over to the others with a quick promise of their belongings being brought to their own tent. podrick looked to her for confirmation, she assured him it was okay, she trusted these men and their commander.

ragnall led her to the tent she had she looking for, her eyes unblinking as they approached. they stopped as ragnall lowered his head to enter the tent to announce their presence. she heard your voice say something, but couldn’t make it out. still, she bit back a smile, podrick did not notice.

ragnall’s arms opened the curtain. she took a breath and steadied her mind quickly, ducking into the tent, podrick behind her.

you. all black attire as she had assumed was your typical choice, your cour cloak was draped across a chair. you looked less imposing without it, but she knew that was not the case. you’re deadly, just like her, fierce like her, angry like her. but she knew you were soft underneath, she had seen it with larkin and a little with herself.

brienne. clad in castle armor, only lacking lannister lions on the pauldrons. a lion’s head pommel on her sword mad your fingers twitch, questions filled your head. all of them became fuzzy when your eyes moved to her face. her hair was lighter from the sun exposure of travel, freckles blooming on her cheeks. you took in a deep breath.

“brienne of tarth,” you step forward, arm extended to shake. she does so quickly, smiling gently.

“commander. let me introduce you to my traveling comp-” she hears him clear his throat behind her, “my squire, podrick.”

he sticks his arm out to you with a smile, but you speak before him, “podrick payne.” you shake is arm, chuckling at his shock of you knowing his name. you knew of him, your little birds had told you all about pod. and by just looking at him, you liked him already, he’s much better than not-so-pompous and thinks-he’s-pretty.

“it’s nice you have you back, lady brienne. and with a squire no less. have your talents finally been appreciated by the crown?” you ask with genuinely.

she lets out a dry laugh, “no, they haven’t. the armor and sword were a gift, to help me keep my promise to the late lady catelyn.”

“i was heartbroken to hear of her death. we only met once, but she was a kind and fierce woman. i pray to the gods for her and her children,” you look at the floor as you speak, then to brienne, “does your new sword have a name?”

she smiles, excited to speak of her new weapon, “oathkeeper.”

“a good title for both you and your sword,” she’s too stunned to respond, “hungry?” podrick nods happily.

—

podrick asks you loads of questions, most of which with a full mouth, you happily answer. after a minute, your eyes widen, dropping your fork as you scramble from the table. brienne’s thoughts catch up with yours. larkin. she hears your usual call for him.

before you’re even back at the table the boy is running in, faster than lightning. he had a huge, goofy smile on his face. brienne was shocked to see the boy a whole head taller since she had last seen him, no longer such a little boy.

“lady brienne!” he yells excitedly, almost running to hug her but sticks with sticking his arm out quickly. she returns it her equal passion.

“how are you larkin? how’s your training going?” she asks with real, genuine curiosity. you watched with a soft smile as he spoke with excitement, talking about everything and anything. brienne listened intently, nodding and asking questions. podrick noticed your smile, but only got half the reason.

“he your son?” he asks, no food in his mouth this go around.

you’re about to speak when you’re cut off by larkin, “pretty much.” your heart almost explodes in that moment, you won’t cry, you can’t, not until you’re alone. your nose twitches, and you grab your cup and large drink. brienne takes note of your rapid blinking that pushed back a wave of tears.

“um, larkin. you didn’t introduce yourself to podrick here, he used to squire for lord tyrion,” you change the subject to save your ego. podrick looks to brienne, who looks at you. how did you know that? she hadn’t told you that.

“wait, for the i-” now is your turn to cut off larkin.

“aye! don’t call him that boy, he doesn’t like it,” you look to brienne, “i know everything. little birds, you know this,” you read hers and pod’s faces easily. larkin had a million questions and so many things to say, and podrick was matching his enthusiasm.

“go show podrick the practice yard, he’s learning to sword fight as well,” you say, “you can talk all you want down there, give him a tour.” they leave immediately, even twice his age, pod had a childlike air about him.

there was tension in the silence, brienne wanted to break it, “how have you been?”

i swallowed and took a deep breath, “we’ve been traveling north, trying to stay as far away from the mess in king’s landing as possible. larkin told you about training, it’s just been moving i guess.”

“not what i asked. how have you been?” she leans towards you.

you can hardly look at her, “would it be bad to say ‘i have no fucking idea’?” you rotate the glass in your hand.

“no, i understand. i have been in the same position as of late,” she honest in her words. she’s felt a hole in the center of her chest all her life, one that felt like it was slowly filling in your presence.

“it’s good to see you again, brienne of tarth,” your eyes look into hers. she looks back.

“it’s good you see as well, no name of tarth,” she jests. “i believe i was promised your name upon our next meeting.”

“and i recall saying ‘maybe next time,’ did i not?” you get up from the table. she follows.

you walk down to her tent, giving her space to remove her armor, she knew it wasn’t necessary here. she kept her sword close, grounded by the security and weight of it against her hip. she emerges in her dark linen pants and blue tunic, and you’re sure her eyes couldn’t get any more blue. you kept your staring to a minimum, turning to continue the stroll. brienne stayed behind you for a moment, watching you now. your hair longer, not bothering to cut it while you traveled, the new scar on the back of your neck, disappearing underneath the collar of your shirt.

when she reached your side again, she took a second to take in your profile. the bags under your eyes visible, eyes straight ahead, jaw set. the world had been cruel since you last met, she could see that much. wooden swords clashing together broke her attention, seeing podrick and larkin practicing together. you and brienne both chuckled at larkin’s noticeable higher skill.

you kept walking, letting ‘the boys have their fun.’ you sat at the fire pit, brienne sits on the same log as you this time. you. it’s sit in comfortable silence now. she feels your staring, eyes fixed on left ear. your eyes traced the shell, where there was a light scar from your first encounter. she turned to face you, you look away, facing the fire once again.

“i like it, you know. the scar. it’s a nice reminder,” she says.

you laugh, “you like that i threw a dagger at you?”

“not at all. i like that i won’t forget meeting you.”

you liked this as well, a permanent reminder of you with her. you only wish you had more that memories to remember her. you relied on memories of the flames lighting up her face, orange fire making her turn golden. you thought about her often when you couldn’t sleep, which seemed to be most nights as of late.

“you seemed to have accidentally left something in my stores,” she jokes.

“i was wondering when you’d mention that,” you sound nervous, and you continue quietly, “i was hoping you may hear the horns one and respond.”

it all made sense. she had heard you a month ago, calling, sending word to others, it was a call to bring others to you. to bring them home. she didn’t mention it, not wanting you to know she had failed you.

“i found my way regardless. how did you find me?”

“dorin. he’s quite the climber,” you watched her face twist, then fall. she had felt herself being watched the last time she was here, she never thought you’d have spies in the trees. you messengers in the capital being so well hidden made more sense.

“i’d gotten word of a certain lady knight leaving king’s landing, with a squire, no less. we were already headed north, as were you. i hoped our paths would cross, and maybe i willed it myself,” your voice is happy, but you still don’t look at her. she didn’t want to admit that your words had her heart racing, that you made her weak.

“i’m glad you did,” and you both just enjoy each other’s company.

supper comes, and podrick and larkin return, sweaty and covered in dirt. larkin stands next to the table as podrick moves fo sit down.

“were you raised by pigs?” you question. “go wash that shit off you before either of you sits down in one of my chairs,” larkin is quick to run at the aspect of sitting with everyone. brienne tilts her head towards podrick, he turns and follows the other boy.

“and they say women are the ones that who need orders to follow,” brienne says, and you laugh heartily. she bathes in the sound, a sound she caused. she wanted to hear your laugh again and again, and even more after that.

you look at her from across the table, face unreadable, “will you leave tomorrow?”

if her heart wasn’t already racing, oh gods would it be running for it’s life. she suppresses a shakiness that is migrating from her hands to her voice, “i think pod and i are quite weary from our travels, we may stay an extra night. just so we’re well-rested, of course.”

“of course,” you smile.

—

in the morning hours, brienne is greeted with a sight that almost tears her lungs from her chest. you were dressed down, no longer in your uniform. instead, black pants and grey tunic rested upon you, tunic untied at the top. your hair was wet, dampening the collar of your shirt. a dagger was still tethered to your thigh, you were never without one it seemed, an extension of you. you looked calm, peaceful even. no one else was awake, you had no responsibilities right now.

she approaches you, hoping you wouldn’t catch her admiring you. your content face grows a smile, crinkles around your eyes deepening. brienne was beautiful. no one could convince you otherwise, if they disagreed they must be blind, or dense, or both. she’s wearing a darker blue tunic, making her eyes look brighter. the sapphire in her irises encrusting your heart.

“good morning, commander,” she says slyly.

“good morning, lady brienne. sleep well?” you meet her halfway, only about a foot of space between you both. you smelled like honey and pine.

“best sleep i’ve had in months, truly. this is the first bed that hasn’t been made of leave or reeked of piss,” she says dryly, humor evident in her eyes.

“i’m glad. last you were here, you couldn’t sleep. i guess it’s because you’re no longer around strangers.”

“definitely not. except for you, i still haven’t got your name,” she wants to know, no, needs to know. she wants to say your name, to think of you more than just ‘the commander.’

you wanted to hear her say your name, but years of hiding had made your skin thick and your distrust in people thicker. you trusted her, but not the rest. “soon,” is all you say. she takes this answer, knowing she wouldn’t get another for a while.

you move away from her, eyes still on her face. she followed as you began walking, all the way to the tree line. you looked at her, silently asking if she wanted to come with you. she nodded, she thinks she’d follow you anywhere.

walking in the woods with you was peaceful. the crunching of sticks beneath you, the wet leaves dampening the sound of your footsteps. everything is quite, light, pretty. brienne feels like she left her stresses behind her at the tree line, all her doubts were in the tall grass. she stands behind as watches as you move slowly, crouching behind a tree, your movements carry no noise. she tries to move closer, but you look at her sharply, and she stays still. she watches you move quickly, hand going to your ankle, dagger out and thrown quickly. a large bird falls from branch across the stream.

you spring up from your spot, quickly and expertly crossing over the stream on slippery stones to retrieve the bird. you come back the way you left, holding up your prize to brienne, a satisfied smile on your face.

“breakfast for two, m’lady?” you ask with a bow, then begin walking. she laughs at your words, following you back to camp.

“how could i say no to that?”

getting back to camp meant getting back when everyone had risen. podrick was with larkin again, both shooting arrows into hay bale targets, both missing miserably. the bird was grabbed by a man who strolled by, yelling ‘gimme an hour’ over his shoulder. the camp was lively, brienne smiled to herself. it felt like home.

—

nightfall reached the camp, different groups stay around the different fires. the chatting, laughter, and music carried brienne around as she searched for you. after breakfast you had disappeared to discuss future plans with the leading men of skyforth, leaving brienne to fill the time without you. she wished she could have gotten more time to see the green of the forest paint your face. she almost wished you had been unsuccessful in your hunt, selfishly wishing she could have wandered beside you for just a moment longer. what has gotten into me?

she sits at fire, losing herself in the flames. she watches the dancing of light a little longer, feeling someone’s presence. she doesn’t have to look to know it’s you, but she does anyways, just to see you. you look at her just as intently, sitting to her left.

she meets your eyes, one concealed in darkness, the other shining in the fire’s light. she looks back to the flames. your eyes stay on her, she feels them searching her, the attention crawling on her like a gentle ladybug. her feels ears warm as she feels your eyes stay there, she blames it on the fire. that is until she sees a hand slowly rising to the shell of her ear. your fingers graze over her scar with a feather-light touch, the scar you put there. you were so gentle, brienne almost thought she was imagining it. she turned and look at your face, lips turned down, crease between your eyebrows prominent. you were ashamed of yourself for hurting her, no matter what she said earlier.

brienne’s hand comes to grab the one by her ear, holding your hand to display your scarred knuckles to her. she could she little ones around your fingers, faded and old, likely from your days before being a master of the dagger. she liked those ones, but the deeper ones, she hated.

“ask whatever you want,” you spoke softly, “i can feel your mind working, can practically see it too.”

her thumb runs over your knuckles, a question in itself. you answered, “most are from fighting, first one was when i was was taken from tarth, last was about two months after you parted. i try to keep my distance, but sometimes i’m impatient.”

she laughs lightly, trying not to break this quiet moment. she’s already about to burst at the seams from holding your hand, and you’re in the same condition in your own mind. you’re so focused on not shaking, that your haven’t stopped staring at her eyes in the orange glow. they were crystalized sapphire seas gifted to her, the only one worthy enough to be trusted.

“which one was the worst?” brienne asks, her voice is careful. you wince are the thought, pulling your hand from hers to move your cloak away and lift your tunic. just below your left ribs was a large, jagged scar, it was clear that the injury had been deep. brienne resists the urge to trace your scar as you did hers, her hands twitching.

you lower the tunic back down, “we got raided four years ago. assholes just went straight for the kids, so i threw myself in there. got four out of five down, last one got me with my own blade, took it from my back.” you take a deep breath, “he went for the kids, so i took the knife out and slit his throat. larkin and two others had to carry me out to the healers. they were just little babes, they shouldn’t have had to do that.”

brienne places a hand on your knee giving it squeeze, “they were able to save you because you saved them. they know you’d never let anything happen to them.” your hand sits atop hers and squeezes back, a silent ‘thank you.’

“i may ask you anything?” she clarifies, already knowing what she needs to know. the only thing she had been thinking about for a year.

you lean forward ever-so-slightly and whisper, “anything.”

“what’s your name?” she whispers back, she almost feels like she’s learning your deepest, most damning secret.

you close your eyes and huff a laugh through your nose, you knew she’d ask. you look back up to answer, but a large gust of laughter bursts your bubble. you’re both suddenly aware of other people moving closer. drinking hour has begun for the men, and the children are playing pretend with the practice swords. podrick was sitting with everyone, pretending he hadn’t been watching you and brienne every now and then, only being able to you slightly around her shoulder.

as everyone’s approaching the fire, you whisper the answer she’s being dying for. she reads your lips, going to test the name on her own tongue. your hand covers her mouth, free hand making a shushing motion, laughing behind your finger. you can feel her grin beneath your hand and it overwhelms you. you quickly take away your hand.

podrick sits himself on a log near you both, brienne’s eyes snap to him and are practically screaming ‘not a word.’ he just takes a sip of ale. ragnall brings you and brienne each a drink. he bends down to speak to you quietly, his words only traveling to your ears.

“don’t get too attached, commander. she’s here for bed and meal, nothing else. she’s leaving tomorrow and war is brewing,” you shove him harshly away from you, and he walks away, knowing you’d tell him to ‘piss off’ anyways. you visibly deflate, but take a strong sip to drown his words. brienne is enraged by him taking your smile so quickly, how quickly doubt clouded your eyes from his words. she wants to ask, but you shake your head.

“it’s nothing, he’s a killjoy,” you say as if it were nothing, but the shake of your leg gave you away. you press you palm into your knee to still it’s motion, brienne is confident she now despises ragnall. she’s not the only one who notices your mood plummet, because before she can even think of what to do, larkin jogs over.

“commander, could we do dagger practice? i want to learn throwing in the dark,” he tugs the sleeve of your upper arm. you stand immediately, arm wrapping around him shoulder.

“pinch me i’m dreaming,” you say as you squeeze the boy into you, hugging him tightly as he laughs, “did i just hear that you want to throw daggers? willingly?” you pull away and pretend to inspect him, angling his head is odd directions as he laughs, “are you sure you aren’t a witch, a shapeshifter?”

brienne watches the scene before her with a smile. how easily your spirits were lifted by someone you loved, especially this parental love you felt for larkin. she could never make you smile this much, she knows that larkin is the only one who can, but she wants to get close regardless. podrick watches brienne look at you, he finds himself sad for her that they have to leave in the morning. he knows there’s something more, and he knows brienne will ignore it as long as possible.

larkin begins to drag you, your voice carries over your shoulder, “you two coming or not?”

the four of you go to the targets. your demeanor changes from parent to teacher quite quickly. podrick attempts to throw into the target as well, missing terribly, while larkin’s land on the outer rings. yours create a horizontal line, one in the middle and one on each side. brienne throws a single dagger, she hits the target towards the bottom, but ‘at least hit she hit it,’ as pod grumbled put it.

larkin headed off to bed as the sky became devoid of light, podrick went for another drink and to warm by the fire. this left you and brienne at the targets. she watched you throw dagger after dagger, each hitting its destination as if you were moving it with your mind. you had covered the target almost completely, none of the daggers touching. she walked with you to retrieve them all, helping you silently.

“what did ragnall say to you?” she asks, breaking the tense silence. you paused for a moment, then continued.

“nothing of importance. he’s all work, no fun,” you grunt as you pull the center dagger out. the ones in the center were deep, some were down to the wood in the middle of the targets. “i’m sorry, i just… he’s an ass, and he knows how to make me cross,” is all you can say.

“i’ve got my own one of those,” brienne jests, trying to lift the mood.

“ah yes, but he’s all the way in king’s landing. mine is practically up my ass every time i think about sitting down,” you point a knife at him from across the camp, pretending to throw it, “prick.”

she laughs at your childish behaviors, “i think we should head back to everyone else.”

you roll your eyes, “and i think that if i’m within five feet of that ferret, i’ll choke him. i’ll stay right here.” brienne barks a laugh at your words, moving to grab a torch off the side of a nearby tent to light the small fire pit by the targets.

“would anyone question you for doing so? you’re the commander,” she says with a joking tone.

“probably not, but don’t tempt me, lady brienne. i have very little self-control,” you say back, sitting down next to the fire. brienne’s mouth shuts quickly, and she moves to sit with you.

she blames the heat rushing to her cheeks on the flames once again. she grows brave and responds, eyes coming back to your face, “maybe i should continue then.” she smiles at your eyes lighting up.

brienne’s mouth moves faster than her mind, “what did you mean the time we saw each other?”

your eyes fell to your lap, “i said a lot of things, be more specific.”

“that you know your own thoughts,” she wants to how if you see her the same as she sees you, all encompassing.

“stories people make up, men make up, when they feel small, are nothing of importance. i’ve met you, spoken to you, seen you,” your words make brienne feel a little sick, “so far the only truly thing they’ve said is that you’re tall, and from tarth. two things!” she looks at her hands, her mind raging against her.

you lean and grab her hand, “you are not a beast,” she looks at you, “or ugly, or any of that shit they dare say about you. they’re intimidated by you, you’re powerful and alluring,” you’re speaking from your heart it seems, “if you asked me, i would say you’re quite beautiful, perhaps handsome even.”

brienne tried not to think about it much as she fell asleep. she definitely didn’t think about you holding her hand and calling her beautiful and handsome. or the shy smile you gave her that made her heart squeeze in her chest, breath shaking with each exhale. or how you held her hand for an hour until you got up to smother the fire. or how you walked her to her tent and said goodnight to her quietly, like it was a secret message from you to her. or how you looked back as you walked away, lingering there for a moment.

—

the next morning, you stare at the roof of your tent for gods know how long. if you didn’t leave the tent, she wouldn’t go, right? of course she would, she has an oath to keep, a you tell your selfish mind. you rise, putting on your uniform, the weight of your cloak holding you together.

once you step out of your private tent, larkin is by your side in minutes. he’s quiet, much like last time. you had both grown fond of brienne, and he now had a friend in podrick, making this goodbye harder. your arm sits around his shoulders, muttering to him as you walked around to get breakfast.

larkin’s mood lifts upon seeing his new friend, jogging over to pod and talking animatedly. brienne was sitting a bit away, lost in thought as she ate. you looked her for a moment, taking in the sight of the morning sun casting a dream of light across her face, lighting her up like an angel. you moved to go sit with her, grabbing a pear from the center of a tablet you passed. you sit across from her, and bite into your snack as you wait for her to notice you.

brienne here’s a soft crunch near her, head rising until her eyes meet you. tired eyes, pear in hand, hair still down, you were quite a sight to her. she just smiled lightly while looking at you, you returned it. neither of you spoke, just sitting together, enjoying the last moments before she departed.

you feel eyes on you, turning to see ragnall with pointed eyes, staring holes into your skull. brienne sees your brows furrow, hand going to your ankle. before she can even say ‘don’t,’ a dagger flies through the air and buries itself into the beam he’s resting against, only a hair above his head.

“pay mind to your own business, ya owl-looking fuck. blink once in a while, won’t you?” you seethe, and brienne sees a similar anger from the first time she met you and smiles to herself. the men around ragnall laugh at your comment, one pulling the dagger out and bringing it to you with a ‘nice one.’

brienne finishes her food as you slowly finish your pear. you leave the food tent walking towards the horses, and she follows behind you. your hand comes up to the face of a light brown horse with white splotches across him, he nibbles at you hand in greeting. you grab a folded parchment, grabbing her hand and placing it there, palm flat over it.

“these are preliminary travel routes. they’ll probably change, but you’ll probably still be able to track us down. if- if you wan- if you needed to,” you pull your hands away, locking them behind your back.

brienne looked at the parchment, then you. her voice is soft, “thank you. maybe one day it won’t come to tracking each other down.”

“maybe there will be a time where we travel with each other instead of away,” you almost mumble. brienne’s heart almost couldn’t take it, the way you stared at your feet while you spoke and fluttered your eyelashes. gods, i hope so.

“maybe,” she says back, eyes never leaving you.

saying goodbye to you was going to be harder than last time, she didn’t want to say anything. she wishes she had left before you woke up, so you wouldn’t be able to see the homesickness in her eyes as she got further from you. she lead her horse to the front of the camp while you lead podrick’s, eyes catching each other’s every now and then.

larkin was with podrick, listening closely to whatever he had to say. you looked to brienne, “use the horn, will you? if i start following you now, you’ll never get rid of me.”

she smiles at your words, her voice speaks lowly, “who said i was opposed to that?” your brow raises, eyes looking directly into her. you’re about to comment back, but podrick and larkin make their way over.

you settle for, “goodbye, lady brienne,” you turn, “podrick. safe travels to you both, may we see each other again soon.”

she and podrick hoist themselves onto their horses. she looks at you, her eyes raking over your face, you had hardly slept either it seems.

“thank you, commander,” she smiles tightly, “i’m sure you’ll find a way to keep an eye on us.”

you laugh, “who says i don’t already?”

you approach her horse, petting him gently and you speak to brienne, “i mean it, use that horn if there’s any trouble, if you need anything. even just a meal and a bed, doesn’t have to be battle. please, just… just use the damn horn.”

she leans closer to you, “i promise you,” you’re trying so hard not to faint from the closeness, “and i don’t break promises.”

i said slowburn did i not? also if anyone else would like to be tagged in part 3 (there might be a part 4) just leave a lil comment on here :) feed back appreciated, love ya

tags: @another-unoriginal-username @the-bagel24

[fiery-emblems]

While procrastinating drawing the last panel (!!!) of my next comic chapter I was playing with a dress-up game on my phone and accidentally created a daughter.

Silly random but I think she's cute! Someone who writes fanfiction go ham and write about Ike and Soren's homunculus test tube daughter.

Sidenote: I usually just use dress-up games to create outfits for my daughter cause she's the cutest. Look at her

[unma]

Thoughts of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley?

idk why it took me so long to answer this, but I remembered that this was sitting in my inbox just now so I might as well. I'm going to assume you came here because you wanted to hear my actual thoughts on the game in good faith and not so you could find someone new to harass.

I like the game and really want to see what happens next. I love how dysfunctional both characters are, and it's fun to see awful people be put in awful situations and do awful things to survive. Especially when they're surrounded by equally awful people (and demons too I guess).

The hate over the game was stupid and was basically just people going "I can accept cannibalism, murder and demon summoning, but I draw the line at incest," which is frankly hilarious and one more reason I simply don't touch twitter anymore. Incidentally, you could probably dig through my posts and find an old one of mine where I opined that the game wasn't going down the incest route after chapter 1... That aged like milk, lol.

All in all, I wish the dev well. Nemlei didn't deserve being harassed off the internet, and I wish I could play the rest of their games. I actually had their itch.io page open at the time, so it was a shame to suddenly see it go blank. Oh well, that's on me for procrastinating so much.

I'd ramble on more about how I love the game's deep exploration of themes, and- actually, scrap that. I'm coming back in 5 minutes and I'll write my thoughts over both of the characters under the cut.

Ashley is pure evil. Is what I would say if I was someone who believed any person could be distilled down to those two words. No, she is very clearly a product of her downright terrible upbringing, and her downright obsessive love for Andrew is shown time and time again to be a product of her emotionally isolated childhood in which Andrew was the only one who ever gave her love. He was the only person who actually treated her like a person. Anyone with that kind of childhood is bound to end up at least a little maladjusted, so Ashley as a person is not unrealistic in the slightest. Her sabotage of Andrew is also rather clearly a method to ensure he will never leave her, even if he reassures her time and time again that he would never do so. Ironically, as her visions show, it may be her own obsessive actions that cause him to finally abandon her, which is just the most delicious flavour of ironic tragedy indeed.

Andrew is a coward. Through and through. I feel for him constantly, but he truly, truly, needs to learn to say no to Ashley. Or, well, he should've learnt to do that before she forced him into their current position. And yet, he's not malicious or actively evil. He's passively evil, in fact, though using the word 'evil' feels like hyperbole. He's consistently trying to never make a choice, and hoping he can simply pass on all responsibility to Ashley. And while I get where he's coming from, given everything they do and go through, he doesn't realize that not making a choice is still a choice, and he still did commit many of those deeds even if at Ashley's behest. At first, I wanted to pretend like he was completely innocent in the games, but it really doesn't take a genius to realize he's completely wrong about how responsibility works.

I'd say more, but it's been a while since I've watched Manly's playthrough of the games. My memory is rather fuzzy now. But feel free to ask more questions if you'd like.

[niyama-art]

For many months now, my main productive procrastination method for when I really should be writing the next chapter of Quiet in the Jet Black (watchesverse 2) has been to draw a poster for Through All the Watches of the Night (watchesverse 1). Except now I've finished that, so I gotta come up with a new watchesverse art project.

text/title-less version under the cut:

[myulalie]

Writing procrastination game

Thanks for the tag @thehollowone16!

1. What's the name of one of your Wips?

Men Like Us (Daredevil, Matt Murdoch/Vladimir Ranskahov), I had the idea as I brainstormed and I really want to keep it.

2. Describe a Wip in the format of __+__=__

A/B/O + Celebrity AU = it’s 5pm somewhere tour (Shadowhunters, Malec).

3. What tags/warnings will one of your Wips need if you share it?

Bad Friend Scott (Teen Wolf, Sterek), but I’m trying to redeem him! I often use the canon typical violence tag as a warning otherwise.

4. Alternative title to a Wip?

OCAU (Shadowhunters, Malec) is actually titled It’s 5pm somewhere (run up to me) I just kept the name of the doc x)

In the same vein “TMI” and “Skyrim” (Shadowhunters, Malec) used separately to refer to the same fic The Mortal Instruements: Skyrim ^^’

Malec: The DUFF (Shadowhunters, you guessed it) is also a good one but I haven’t came up with a title yet. Batman AU (Shadowhunters, Malec) which is actually not a Batman AU? lmao

5. Which Wip are you most likely to update/finish next?

My Teen Wolf Sterek fic for Fandom Trumps Hate seems to be gearing up to be the next complete fic but who knows!

6. What is one of your Wip's document title, not its name but what you have it saved as?

Good luck with this one: DWS!MP (Teen Wolf, Sterek).

7. Post any sentence from your Wip?

The Sheriff position is elected after all.

Plot twist is it not for a Teen Wolf fic (Stargate SG-1, Sam/Ba'al) x)

8. A scrapped idea from your wip?

There was a verbal fight with Alec early on in Skyrim and Magnus running off and ending in a different part of the map that @spark-draws and I scrapped because it would fit better later in the story ^^

9. What's a story you'd love to write but have yet to start?

So many! I’ve actually posted a lot of my old wips these past few months as part of my “WIPS Wrapped for Christmas” challenge and most of the short ones are out now.

I really want to get to Mummy!Magnus soon so it’s on top of my list because it’s not a multi-chapter, or so I believe so far ^^

10. How many Wips are you actively working on?

Usually just one at a time, although sometimes I take a break to write a palate cleanser (or several) before picking up my main WIPs.

11. Is there a scene you're struggling to write right now?

Yes actually! I’m rewriting a scene from Teen Wolf season 1 when Chris and a couple of hunters corner Derek at the gas station to intimidate him but I don’t want to just retell canon so I’m struggling to find the right angle to make the scene feel new and interesting.

12. Not a question but a second kudos!

Tagging: @foodsies4me, @limnall, @lastlymatt, @polarnacht1, @sterekxhale and anyone else who feels up to it!

[headfullof-ideas]

Something a little different here. I’ve been working on various stuff for the story, like redesigns, actual chapters, timeline plots, Headcanon and storyboard doodles, and other stuff. I’ve also been trying to figure out that future stuff, with the Next Gen stuff, trying to figure out what story I’d tell if I even decide to, what the kids would look like, and all that jazz. While scrolling through Pinterest I found a Draw the Squad, and immediately thought of some of the existing kids that I’ve already designed and developed…and so procrastinated on all of the actual story stuff I was in the literal middle of doing to draw that instead.

Some of them are a little wonky, as I kinda rushed it, but these are the next generation of Nekton kids that i’ve spent nearly the entire time I’ve been into The Deep designing and developing as characters. They’ve gone through a lot of concepts and variations, but this is what I’ve permanently settled on. I’m posting this merely to see if anyone is interested in learning about them, as I’m still a little on the fence due to teasing about actually going through with writing a Next Gen installment of the story(that I haven’t even FINISHED yet). I kinda don’t wanna say which Nekton sibling each kiddo belongs to, as I kinda want people to guess

Also some closeups

[shadowynn]

(preview of yandere!vampire!cult!poly!ateez au wip below the cut!)

merry christmas and happy holidays!! in honor of this festive time of the year, I was hoping to do a short christmasy drabble with in love and lore, but am sorry to announce my procrastination has gotten the better of me to the point it’s just not getting done, at least not in time for this christmas.

speaking of in love and lore, I have hit a rough bit of writer’s block, so I’ve taken a short break to just clear my mind and enjoy the season. the last thing I want is to force things and come to hate writing it. I’ll be visiting my family this week, but once I’m back home, I’ll be back to writing. I have a few ideas floating around in how I want the next chapter to go, and hoping for the next chapter to come out mid-January at the latest.

however, I would like to give you all something, so I have decided to give you all a short preview of a wip that hit me like a storm this past week. It’s based off the movie 1BR on Netflix, with the inclusion of vampires because I just couldn’t help myself. Keep in mind, that this is a very early wip and that it’s still in major development. with that also being said, I do not plan on making this work as big as a project as in love and lore. More as just a series of drabbles and scenarios. like there will still be a plot, but not the world building that my other work has. but who knows, maybe as it develops, it’ll get there.

so, without further ado, I present to you a preview of… The Paradigm Complex

“So, what do you think?”

You were startled from your thoughts at the voice that spoke up next to you. The seat beside you that had previously been empty now occupied by the sweet-talking man who had been your tour guide for the day - Yeosang if you were recalling it correctly. It had surprised you how young he was when you had signed in for the open house earlier that afternoon, and you were once again struck by that very same thought as he plopped down next to you, head propped up by the elbow that rested against the table. 

“It’s very nice,” you replied, eyes once more taking in the scene around. After touring the available unit for the first half of the showing, you had been brought to the center of the complex that was used as a community center. The outside area was enclosed by the building around it and included everything from a garden and greenhouse to a swimming pool and grilling area. “And the community also seems very nice and safe.” 

You referred to the young boy currently sitting in your lap, content with drawing on one of the backs of the application you had been given at the end of the tour to fill out. You didn’t know anything past his given name, Junseo, but he had become attached to you when you noticed him crying on the ground near the garden. While the others in your group had swept their eyes right by the sniffling child, you had approached him, rustling through your purse for the bandages you kept when you noticed the cut on his knee. His mother had thanked you profusely when he led you to her, too busy tending to another part of the garden to notice what had happened. And though you had left him with her, it didn’t take long for him to return to you, preferring your company over the other kids milling around while his mother worked. 

You thought it strange, but the wave the mother sent you when she saw him with you told you she didn’t mind, making you wonder just what sort of community there was here for her and the others to be comfortable with letting their children run free. 

It was just another factor that told how nice this place was. Everything about this place was nice. Nicer than any place you had ever lived in before. It was perfect, everything you could wish for, but-

“But…” As though he had read your mind, the man finished your train of thought, a hint of a smile tracing his lips as his eyes traveled to the papers you had left blank up to this point. The only markings on them from the scribbling Junseo had done along their backs. 

“But it’s a bit out of my price range, I’m afraid.” 

A bit was an understatement; the place was double what you could afford. You had known that going in though. The Paradigm housing complex had made a name for itself within the past few years as one of the most prestigious and highly exclusive apartment complexes in the city, and you had known the price for the available unit would be high above your budget. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from signing up for the open house the following weekend when you noticed a few spots were still available. It wasn’t often a unit became vacant, the last one had been nearly a year ago, and the timing had been impeccable. 

You weren’t really looking for a new place to live. You had one in the south end of town with your boyfriend, and yet, that hadn’t stopped you from looking at available housing in the city on your laptop late at night when he was still at ‘work’. You wanted out. You had wanted out for months since you had first caught wind he was cheating, and still cheating, but it had always seemed so impossible. You were still finishing up your last year in school, and even with working enough hours to be considered full time at the bookstore, you could barely afford your half of the rent. A fact he readily reminded you of any time you wanted to leave him. As much as you hated every time he said it, he was right. You needed him. Unless you were willing to sacrifice your own safety and move into a shitty unit in a sketchy part of town, you were stuck where you were. You needed him and he knew it. 

Perhaps it was because of this that you had come out today. He had been scheduled for a weekend shift at the hospital, leaving you free to come to the open house without him questioning you on your whereabouts as you left. The Paradigm was a life you could never afford, and yet, it was nice to escape reality for a few hours. To sit and imagine what your life would be like if you hadn’t landed yourself in such a sticky situation. And yet, you hadn’t expected the stab of melancholy that had hit you as you had roamed the studio apartment available for rent, nor as you sat here in the courtyard with the pleasant buzz of the complex’s current tenants as they roamed through the area. 

“Does that mean you’re looking for a place on your own, then?” he asked, attempting to blow the piece of hair the wind had cast in front of his eye. 

“Myself?” You asked, not quite fully understanding which way he meant his statement and feeling a tad panicked at the thought of leaving your boyfriend to start afresh on your own. Was that something you could really do? “Uh, yeah, it would just be me.” 

“Well, if you ask me, it doesn’t hurt to still apply. We’re always more than willing to negotiate prices for the right person,” he hummed, fingers tapping against the table. “Though it would probably be best if I grabbed you a new copy. Junseo doesn’t seem too keen on letting yours go at the moment.” Junseo looked up at the mention of his name, and matched the goofy smile Yeosang sent his way. 

“That’s very kind of you, but even then…” You turned your face away, fighting the blush the embarrassment your current situation brought. Despite attempting to dress up for the event, you still stuck out from the other people who had signed up. The designer clothes and handbags a stark contrast from your thrifted outfit. Hell, even Junseo had nicer clothes than you to run around the garden in. “To be completely honest, I just really wanted to get an inside peek of this place. I knew I can’t afford to live somewhere like this at the moment, but I thought it might be fun to just see what it would be like.”

You resituated Junseo’s position in your lap, taking in the people milling around the grounds. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm. The perfect day to spend some time outside and enjoy what remained of the summer. You could see yourself fitting in well here. Helping out in the garden in between playing with the few children roaming the grounds. Maybe even take a dip in the pool to cool off from a hard day’s work before lounging in a nearby lounge to soak up the last of the summer sun. 

It was just too bad that was a lifestyle you couldn’t afford on your own. Not while you were still in school and struggling with bills and debt as it was. 

“But you are currently looking for a new place to live, right?”

“It’s not an immediate necessity at the moment, but yes,” you nodded, “if given the opportunity, I would move in a heartbeat. Not just here, but anywhere. As long as it was safe and something I could call my own.”

“Then fill out an application.” He ruffled around in his bag, pulling out another application and pen and pushing it towards you. “I’m close with the owner and can put in a good word for you. Just fill it out, list the rent you can feasibly pay at the moment, and we might be able to work something out. After all, we’re much more concerned about quality than quantity here at Paradigm.”

“You would do that?” Your eyes widened, wondering why on earth this man would do that for you when the rest of your group would be willing to pay twice the starting rent just for the opportunity to say they lived in the most exclusive complex in the city. “Why?”

“I like to think I have a nose for good people,” he smiled, fingers tapping against the application, “and you’re a good person, y/n, I can smell it. So, come on, Junnie,” he reached for the boy on your lap, ignoring the pout that crossed his lips as he took him from your hold, “let’s get you back to your mother so the pretty lady can fill out her application.”

He left you at that, but only made it a few feet before he was stopped by a nearby couple that had been in your group. By the glance they sent your way, you could tell they had overheard Yeosang’s mention of putting in a good word for you and hoped to earn a similar feat for themselves. After all, it didn’t matter who the first person to apply for the unit was or who was the highest bidder when it came to the Paradigm. You didn’t get to choose whether or not you lived here. They chose you. And a good word from the tour guide was exactly what you needed to get in. Not wanting to stick around for the conversation, Junseo wriggled his way out of Yeosang’s grasp and made off in the direction of his mother with one last toothy grin in your direction. 

You turned to the second application he had handed towards you, twirling the pen in your hand as you mulled the decision over. None of it made much sense in your mind. Why would they select your application when there was hundreds of others that would willingly pay triple what you could? But even if that was the case, what did you have to lose by following through with it? If it didn’t go through, and you weren’t selected, you’d still be exactly where you were now. In a shitty situation, but no shittier than it already was. And on the tiny chance it did go through, well, your entire life could change. You would have that fresh start you had been yearning for so long. 

That and, well, there was something charming about Yeosang. It didn’t slip your notice that he had called you pretty in passing, and though you knew it was just the way his personality seemed to be, you still felt a pull towards him. He was someone you felt you could get along with. Someone you would enjoy getting to know and become friends with if you only had the chance to. 

So, before you could give it too much thought and talk yourself out of it, you pulled the application closer towards you and began writing. 

~

You weren’t the type of person to pick up unknown calls, but something about the number that flashed on your screen as you waited out your lunch break in your car seemed familiar. You didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not after all the shit you had dealt with the first half of your shift, but your finger still hovered over the accept button as you quickly searched your brain for whose number it could have been. Thinking it might have been your doctor finally returning your call for a refill you had been waiting on or even possibly a call on one of the countless job applications you had been filling out the past few weeks, you grudgingly accepted. Figuring it was better to get it over with now instead of living with the stress of what it might be the rest of your shift. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this y/n l/n?”

“Um, yeah.” You shifted the phone in your hand, trying to place the familiarity of the voice on the other end. Was it finally a call back from one of the job applications you had put in? “This is y/n.”

“This is Kang Yeosang from Paradigm. I’m calling to let you know that your application for unit 617 has been accepted.”

“Wait, are you being serious?”

You couldn’t hold back the gasp his response elicited, sure this was some sort of joke being pulled. Despite Yeosang’s promise of putting in a good word for you, you had never expected anything to come of it. Not when you had followed through with his suggestion and wrote down the actual amount you could feasibly pay for the place. And though you had held on to some hope something would come from it, you had never truly expected to hear from them again. 

“I can assure you, I’m quite serious,” he chuckled. “I talked with the owner about your application and he was willing to accept it with a few added stipulations I would like to discuss with you if you have the time.”

“Oh, okay.” 

You did your best to hide your disappointment, fearing the worst. Despite Yeosang’s insistence they were willing to negotiate on pricing, you should have known they wouldn’t just willingly drop the rent by half for you just because he had felt pity for you. 

“You see, one of our administrative assistants recently put in her resignation and we’re in need of a replacement. When we looked over your application, we noticed the address of your current residence and place of work are on the other side of the city and figured you would likely be in need of a job with a shorter commute if you were to move here.”

The dread which his earlier statement had caused was slowly being replaced with excitement once more as he continued to speak, eagerly hoping he was beginning to allude to what you thought he was. 

“We’d like to extend a job offer towards you here at Paradigm, which if you were to accept, would cover the cost of your rent plus a biweekly stipend to cover any other expenses you might have.”

“And what exactly would the job entail?” you asked, trying hard to cover the shock his reply gave you and trying just as hard to not let your hopes get too high before you figured out exactly what it was he was offering you. There had to be a catch; the offer was just too good to be true. “I’m finishing up my last year of college online, but I would still need some flexibility in my schedule.”

“Oh, it would just be your typical administrative work. You’d mostly be assisting myself and the other managers here at Paradigm and we’d be more than willing to work around your class schedule,” Yeosang replied without skipping a beat. “When you have time, I’ve sent an email to you that includes a detailed description of the job, alongside the logistics of your pay and housing for you to look through so you can have a clearer idea of what you would be signing up for if you were to accept.”

You were silent, unsure of what exactly to say. What could you say? Everything you had wished for the past few months was finally being extended towards you. A new job, housing of your own, and most importantly, a way out of the toxic relationship you had been stuck in for so long. All of it. Everything you dreamed of for so long, now within reach. 

There had to be a catch, right? It couldn’t be as good as it seemed, right? So what was it? A whole new life in exchange for your soul?

“I know this is a lot to take in, so don’t feel as though you have to accept anything right away. Read through the emails I sent you and just give us a call back sometime within the next two weeks with your answer.”

-

and that is a very rough start to my new project. feel free to let me know what you all think and if this is something that you would be interested in! once again, I hope you all had/have a wonderful holiday/Christmas season. :)

[writers4life]

Advice For New Writers

Writing is the long game. I've been passionate about writing for around ten years and I'm still a beginner, but I have some useful tips I've picked up that ACTUALLY help you write. So in no particular order...

1. Stop thinking your writing is fragile.

You might have the best idea of your life and jump in full steam ahead, when suddenly you see someone online criticising a genre, or your friend says "sci fi isn't my thing" or you decide that no one will like your book, that it's too tropey, or something like that, so you completely ditch the idea and move on to something new. This isn't going to help you write! You can never write something that everyone likes, so focus on writing something that you want to write for whatever your reasons are. There are some people who like romance, some people like historical fiction, etc. You can't listen to everyone. If you decide you don't like something about your story, CHANGE IT. You're the author, you get to make decision, and change and edit things, and that's fine. Just keep working on it.

2. Write from life doesn't mean write your autobiography.

Most writers will have had people tell them "write what you know," or "draw from your own experiences," and this can be really annoying. When you want to write an epic high fantasy and your relative tells you to "write what you know" it's not very encouraging. But I have a different take on the advice. Rather than writing a play-by-play of your real life, or writing about something mundane that happened to you, take the metaphorical and abstract instead of the literal. If writing about your real life isn't working, instead write a fictional version of something. Example: instead of writing about the event you went to where you hung out with one person because neither of you liked it, write about a character finding friendship when another character is also struggling during a fantasy apocalypse. Change the setting to fit your novel, then take the bones of the thought, the feelings or the interactions, and put it in your story. This will help you make it more real and human, or elf if that's your jam.

3. Keep a journal.

Planning your novel with a word doc dedicated to it and specific plot points can often be stressful because of the pressure to get it right. So instead, keep a journal in which you can write about anything, including your novel or story. This way you can explore ideas and write anything related to them, and get in a creative state where you're more free to brainstorm. You can also write about your life here and use this to feed your writing, by taking bits of your life that you wrote down and translating them to your novel.

4. Break it down to small tasks.

It can be hard to beat procrastination, and sometimes the best way is to break it down into simple tasks. People tell you this all the time, like "break it down to small tasks, just write a chapter and then you'll have one more chapter," but that's not helpful when you're a grade A procrastinator like myself. I mean REALLY SMALL tasks. Just think of a sentence in your head for the next part of your novel, and write it down. Just write at least one word.

That's all folks. Happy writing!!