#reading it over again like a month later now for this extra notes post

[cryptfile]

☆ Loveseat, [ Carmen Berzatto AU ]

SUMMARY — After being in a relationship with Carmen, you cannot help but being extra judgemental when it comes to food.

WARNINGS — i’m currently rotting in hell, meaning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, +18 content, there’s a lot of, cursing, choking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of food and eating, hair pulling, fingering.

SIDE NOTES — This is my first post here, so hope you guys like it. English’s not my first language so if there's any mistakes in advance, i’m sorry. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me! I’ll leave my inbox open so you can suggest more characters! This takes place in an alternative timeline for own my liking, enjoy! x

Lately, Carmen Berzatto was not sure how he managed to get you.

To be completely honest, most of his friends seemed to wonder how he managed to pull the tattooer that adorned his hands with cool designs being that shy, however, when you started texting him photos of your daily food stating it was complete bullshit — He knew he had you in for a long time.

He would explain himself it was something casual at first. A few texts every now and then, swimming between a wave of bad jokes and tension he was sure he was imaging as he read through the texts you send at least twice, then, he would know he’d win you over with food.

Maybe that’s when you became so judgemental at first, after trying the lasagna he made for you after being so tired from working all day long, something else just snapped, even when he was done being near the fire, not even wanting to look at a plate ever again: He managed to spoil you with something good to eat anyways, making you moan in pure pleasure after craving some good food all day.

Of course it was important, can you even blame him?

He was not very vocal about it, hell, it was hard for him to even admit it even after being with you almost six months, but he loved the way you reacted to all his stuff. Even if it was something simple like scrambled eggs or regular pasta with plain butter, it was the way you groaned and grab the spoon licking the silverware clean, showering him with praises after when he was so used to be miserable in the kitchen.

“Open up,” he says before feeding you with the spoon. It was one of those nights where he was trying new stuff at your place, keeping you up till late seated on the kitchen counter close to him as he cooked, opening your mouth just to give an allegedly meaningful critique. “Any thoughts? Feedback?”

It was a wild ride for sure. A turbulent one as you closed your eyes all suddenly, the image burnt on the back of his head when you groaned savoring the taste like it was something else.

“Dunno,” you admit later on, trying to think on anything bad to say — “Need to have another bite before giving an honest answer.”

He smirks in response, repeating the same action just to hear you speak again. Being with you was something similar as his cigarette breaks, escaping from all the stress he usually gets in his life.

Silence again.

“Well fuck, you have me here. Maybe needs some more salt,” you think out loud. Almost trying to say something bad out of force as you knew he wouldn’t stop until he got an brutally honest answer. “The combinations of flavors though is really breathtaking, you outdone yourself this time. Could tattoo this risotto on me, no questions asked.”

Salt? He takes a bite himself almost immediately.

“It doesn’t need any more salt” he replies furrowing his brows in response. “We’ve talked about this sweetheart…”

“You wanted me to be a critique,” you admit almost offended, letting out a light chuckle before stealing the spoon from his hand in one swift movement. “I'm, being indeed, sincere here."

God. It was those moments that made him catch his breath, how the minutes passed slower and everything else seemed to blurry around the two of you. He cannot deny it, cause he loves the snarky responses, the way your mouth wraps around the spoon in a way that made him so devastated at the sight, head spinin’ with the thought of the things he already did to you, the memories that he seems to cherish so deeply.

He cannot stop either when his fingers toy with your hair, the strains sliding smoothly through his fingers. You seemed to enjoy it too, cause it's all it takes to make you forget about the food, leaning into his touch.

"Since when you became my main critique, hm?” he asks, placing himself between your tights as he invaded your space with nothing but pure confidence in his cooking skills. He knew for a fact, it didn't need any more salt. "Made you so spoiled you are a new expert here, baby?"

“Well, it’s your fault anyway" you defend yourself, narrowing your eyes at his words. "You're the one who spoils me rotten, always feeding me nice tasty stuff, keeping me up till’ late trying new things. I’m what you taught me to be, cannot blame for being a good critique. It is what it is."

"So you're blaming me for being a caring partner?" he cannot hold the laugh back, pulling on your hair almost enough to make you look at him. “S’that what you’re implying here?” 

“Would never even dare to” you admit all innocence bitting the inside of your cheek, and Carmen swears you’re doing it just to get in his brain, to control every action in that twisted brain of yours, and he cannot stop himself to fall every time, pulling on your hair slightly rougher this time as he towers over you. “Just implying that you’ll ruin food for me forever if we keep this up.” 

“Not seeing what’s the problem with that” he simply replies as he stared at your expression, how the simple act of your head tilted backwards made his blood boil, the exposed skin of your neck pulling him like the polar opposite of a magnet as he looks down at you — “Don’t really care.”

He’s clearly enjoying that. The sudden proximity as his left hand travels through your side, gripping onto your tight as he gives a light squeeze, tracing invisible patterns against your warm skin that contrasts so much to the chef’s usual cold hands. 

He cannot possibly have enough of you as you melt into his touch, in the very edge of turning into a mad man as he grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you in a demanding kiss, tongue-tracing over your lower lip, almost asking for a formal invitation to finally invade you, his breathing colliding against your skin, holding you in place as he suffers from a burst of pure adrenaline. 

His hands betray him in no time, drawn by the sounds you make when he’s nibbling on that nice curve on your neck, allowing his hand to glide over your soft skin just to end up in your inner tights, fingertips just barely touching as he just watches over you, the sight of you being just enough, that nice smell on your skin when he kisses your neck, your perfume being all around him… it’s getting to him.

He quickly becomes all so vocal, when he’s finally reaching the fabric of your shorts and his touch leaves a burnt sensation behind, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Gonna’ ruin it f’ya, baby” he says in a low voice — “Looking s’hot all bothered already just for a few kisses, cannot help but spoil m’girl.” 

Of course he fucking loves it. He loves how he knows exactly how to make a mess out of you, touching just the right places, concentrated in your pleasure as he drags the velvety fabric of your shorts to the side, making you crave the touch of his fingertips before finally slide them beneath the fabric of your underwear, lips parted as he finally touches your entrance, taking his time with you.

“God, you’re so wet f’me already, so damn warm” he says in a low whisper, making you talk in between your erratic breathing words that don’t seem to mean anything.

It’s so good. The frantic feeling washing over him as his fingers move in circles over your clit, the almost unnoticible wet sounds filling the air of the kitchen as he places soft kisses in that very spot where your shoulder meet the curvature of your neck. He just knows exactly what he’s doing. How to get under your skin, how to make you run out of breath, and he simply grew attached to it, to the way your skin feels so smooth against his fingers and you act up minutes before beggin’ for more.

And when he finally buries two digits in your cunt — God fucking damn.

He cannot keep the facade, blue eyes drinking the sight of you in as you moan, hips moving against his palm watching how his fingers dissapeared in you, pumping slowly at first, enjoying the way your walls wraps around his fingers, the words that came out of your opened mouth in pure desperation.

“Bear,” you would say in an unsteady breathing “O-oh fuck yes, yes baby, please don’t stop, please-”

The hand who pulled your hair before now tightens around your throat, and he can see you smiling like you’re in fucking paradise before he presses against that nice spot in the side of her neck, cutting the suministration of air to your lungs slightly. Always so eager, making him try new things together even when he was used to an relatively calm, almost non-existant sex life when all his focus was on the restaurant, insisting on trying new things that he end up loving.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me, taking me so s’good” he praises you for a moment, obliging you to look at him when he talks “Lettin’ my fingers fill you up like this, a mess already.”

“That’s it baby, move those pretty hips, need you to keep fuckin’ y’self.”

Lewd sounds, his tight grip on your neck, your hips arching to find that perfect place for him to hit and it’s all it takes for the chef to bring you closer and closer to the edge, fingers curling inside your soaked cunt, moaned sentences that in his ear are only adding up fuel to keep flexing his muscles for you, to keep on stimulating you.

“Gonna cum,” you let him know, but he’s quickly shaking his head in disapproval — “Carm, please, need to-”

“You can hold a little longer, princess” he coos, his grip on your throat almost making you stop breathing completely. Fuck. Your vision becomes dizzy, and for Carmen, the view is nothing but pure delight in front of him. Your shirt raised over your stomach, you pretty little face all disorted thanks to the thrill, parted legs just to give him more space to work with, fighting for some air. He’s so damn greedy about it, knowing he’s the only person who can get you like that. “Hm, stop squeezing me like that baby.”

He chuckles lightly, your hands gripping into the edge of the counter, raising one leg over the table as you try to do what you’re told, to please him every single time. He’s torturing you, and you cannot blame him cause you made him like that, just like he spoiled you with food. All those times whimpering in his bedsheets, asking all shy if he can choke you while pounding into your cunt, cheeks red while riding him, whispering things about how thick he feels inside, how he’s stretching you out so nicely, made him confident enough to know exactly what you like.

Carmen Berzatto is a caring boyfriend after all.

“S’okay, sweetheart” he says moments after, placing soft kisses on your face, your skin glimmering against the lights of your kitchen, a light layer of sweat as you closed your eyes tightly — “Cum baby, let me feel you” he talks you through it, words coming to his mouth so easily now, the sound of his tone so raspy it makes you arch your back as you finally let yourself go, riding the orgasm and making it last as long as you can, your own pleasure being your only priority as his digits bury themselves in your cunt, pressing against your neck to make it more difficult for you, to fill your eyes with tears as you loudly moan his name.

He holds you place, the mess he made out of you in such short time, eyes following the way your body shakes in the glimpse of ecstasy, fingers still pumping inside you but at a much slower pace, knowing you’d be sensitive now, lips swollen, messy hair and ruined mascara.

“Willing to admit now i’m right?” he ask in a low voice, letting you breathe as he was still afected by you — “That it doesn’t need any more salt, smartass?”

You hum in response, chuckling at his stubborn remark, your hands gripping into his arm just to dig your nails in his tattooed skin, almost begging him to let you breathe a second.

“Get up,” he says, not harshly enough to be a command, but instead, a plea. “Bend over the counter baby. M’not done with you yet.”

And even being so sensitive, you cannot help but comply, looking at your boyfriend through half-lidded eyes cause yeah, he made you a spoiled brat in terms of food, but you have definitely broke something else when it came to the intimacy he was now into.

Or maybe you just loved being his main critique.

[morbethgames]

The Final Part of Chapter 4 Mostly Is Now Live!

So, you guys are probably wondering what the mostly is about. Simply put, there’s a subroute in the final part that I still need to write. Not very long, it won’t be too big of a deal later on, but this scene was blocking me hard. After working on it for 2 months straight I just wanted to move on. Needless to say, if I had to write one more set of variations for how the PC fights the suspect, I was going to go insane. That being said, it is all mostly there. There’s simply one greyed out option is all. I’m going to come revisit this scene when it’s more fresh to me again and when I don’t have to push myself so damn hard and force myself to write it. Along with the final part, I’ll probably be adding a bit more variation to it in general. But, now that that’s out of the way, let me get to the patch notes!

Patch Notes:

Added most of the rest of Chapter 4, which includes another Text Box Investigation Scene!

Added an unlockable extra story of Ryder’s PoV before the after funeral scene.

Multiple gender variable mistakes have been fixed.

Fixed a mistake where Alvarez and Ryder were being referred to as ‘mommy’.

Added a small dialogue variation to Ryder’s train scene where, if you’ve already talked to Alvarez, the PC won’t ask Ryder to clarify details about Alvarez’s age.

Added a small dialogue variation to the talk with Hawks in Dennis’ Office where, if the PC didn’t answer the phone for their brother in Chapter 2, it will reflect that choice.

Fixed the error on my part where the hoplite in the painting in Hawks’ office was being referred to as ‘Roman’ instead of ‘Greek’.

Fixed a bug where, if you chose to talk to Lance first on the train, it wouldn’t give you the option to talk to a second person.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me while I’m pumping this stuff out! It feels like such a weight off my shoulders to be able to just moved on from this scene, and to give myself the room to just come back to it later. Expect the Patreon to pick back up to two posts a week again as I get to start writing all the in between stuff for Chapter 4.5! If you like this story, and you want to support either me or this story, head on over to my Patreon where you can get an early look at extra stories, audiobook readings of this story and other IF’s, original short stories with original characters, and so on.

Patreon Link ←

We’re getting close for sure everyone. Hopefully, bare minimum, by the end of the year, this story will be completed. I’m excited, scared, and worried all at the same time.

Thank you all again so much for sticking with me.

Stay Brilliant, -Vi

Demo Link: https://dashingdon.com/play/morbethgames/the-bureau-wip/mygame/

The Bureau forum page: https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-the-bureau-chapters-1-3-550k-total-words-updated-03-14-2024/99993

[weirdkpopgirl]

Simple Pleasures | Jeno Imagine #13

Title: Simple Pleasures

Genre: Fluff...lots of it lol

Warning: mildly suggestive towards the end

Word Count: 835

Author's Note: Again, I apologize for how long it's taken me to update on here. College has been keeping me pretty busy this month (and I will continue to, I'm afraid). But I managed to write this little scenario over the past few days. I also have a new Haechan fic that I plan on posting in the near future. So please look forward to that! Thank you for reading ^ ^

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Quiet evenings have always been your favorite. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose to take its place, the day’s dishes were neatly stacked in the dishwasher, ready for their nightly cycle. Freshly folded laundry was tucked away in the dresser and closets, organized for the week ahead. After a soothing shower washed away the weariness of the day, you let your hair air-dry. Now, two hours later, it’s finally dry as you lean back in the swivel chair at your desk. 

You didn’t need to touch the long hair cascading over your shoulders to know how silky smooth it was. Freshly washed hair was one of those simple pleasures you’d grown to appreciate as you matured into a young adult. And as it turned out, your husband Jeno seemed to love it even more.

The soft creak of the door caught your attention, and you turned your head to see him quietly step inside. Even though he’d just come home from work, the sight of his oversized hoodie with a print of a white cat and black sweatpants told you he had already freshened up at the company. According to him, it saved more time for you. Not that you complained otherwise.

With just a foot in the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to your hair. A familiar warmth spreads through your chest, though he’s done every time, without fail. Jeno was always affectionate— he’d find any excuse to hold you, kiss you, or simply be close. But there was something about your freshly washed hair that made him borderline obsessed.

“Hey babe,” His deep voice was soft, laced with that playful tone he often used when he was about to be extra clingy. 

Though the compliment made your cheeks flush with warmth, it didn’t stop you from getting up and walking over with open arms. “Hey Honey,” you said back.

As soon as he was within reach, your arms naturally slipped around his waist. His strong arms wrapped around you in return, pulling you into his chest. Your shoulders relaxed as you melted into his embrace, feeling his nose gently nuzzle against the top of your head. One sniff was all it took to bring a smile to his face.

“You smell amazing,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper into your hair.

His voice was muffled as he buried his face deeper into your hair, making you giggle. “Thanks, you always say that.”

It still surprised you sometimes, remembering how Jeno didn’t like the scent of red ginseng before you got married. But after moving in together, it grew on him quickly. He’d often say he liked the fragrance far more than the taste of the Korean root.

“Only because it’s true,” he said with a confident grin.

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you pulled back just enough to meet his gleeful gaze. A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers gently threaded through your hair, brushing against the nape of your neck.

Trying not to let his touch be too distracting, you hummed. “Well if you love the scent so much, maybe you can join me in the shower next time.”

The tone in your voice was innocent, which perhaps made the playful glint in Jeno’s eyes spark even more mischievous. His lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Oh?” his voice dropped, sending your heart racing. “You want me to shower with you, babe?”

Your face turned a deeper shade of red as you realized how your suggestion sounded to him. “T-that’s not what I meant!” you stammered, stepping back in an attempt to escape his arms.

But Jeno held you firmly in place, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction a little too much. 

“Mm-hmm, sure. But now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m not exactly against the idea,” he teased, though you caught a hint of sincerity in his words.

The you from those first few months of marriage would have shied away in this moment. Honestly, you could say the same about Jeno and he’d agree. But two years of marriage had made you two a little more bolder.

Glancing up at him, you leaned in a little closer so that your noses brushed against one another. “Maybe…I don’t hate it either.”

The way your voice lowered in a soft murmur, made Jeno’s heart pound even louder than yours. His eyes darkened slightly and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. 

“Well then,” he whispered against your mouth, “I’ll hold you to that next time, babe.”

The feeling of his lips left this lingering heat, a silent promise of the many kisses yet to come that night, and forever really. As your lips met again, you couldn’t help but smile while his fingers tangled in your hair even more, making your heart feel light and full.

Among all of your simple pleasures, freshly washed hair held a close second, but Lee Jeno was undeniably your favorite.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[fandomrose]

Neuvillette - confession.

This was supposed to be a simple and cute confession scene following my previous neuvie fic. It's fluff and angst now.

You don't need to read the previous neuvie fic to get this one but there are references and more understanding of the reader and neuvies current relationship.

^--- here is the link. (I hope it works)

But yea like I said- angst and fluff. Heavy on the readers personal issues and Neuvillette's status. I won't spoil any more.

Anyway hope you enjoy. Love you 💙

You'd gotten a letter on your most recent trip to Liyue through Chenyu Vale.  An urgent invitation to speak with Monsieur Neuvillette. You looked over the letter again wondering what urgent matter he could possibly want to speak to you about. 

You didn't usually leave Fontaine but you were in debt to a certain tea loving living wall of muscle, and had decided to take some commissions to make the most of the trip. He had liked the tea when Clorande and Neuvillette had gifted him some a while back. When you returned to Fontaine to gift the tea Wriothsley, ever the observant one, had noted the letter, paused for a few seconds, smirked and said, "you have nothing to worry about." Then shooed you on your way. Which was odd since he always asked to have tea for longer whenever you visited.

You make it back to the surface after delivering tea to Wriothsley and immediately to the Palais Mermonia. Neuvillette had become a good friend of yours over the past few months following the end of the Prophecy. The evening in his office, comforting him when he finally broke under the pressure after Furina left made you fast friends, creating a stronger bond than you'd ever expected to have with the Iudex. 

You begin to feel nervous as you approach the Palais Mermonia, feeling a sense of excitement and dread. You had begun to grow affectionate towards the Iudex, one of the reasons you'd taken extra commissions in Liyue was to get out of Fontaine to, 'set your head straight', as you'd put it. No way you could have a crush, of all things, on Neuvillette. 

He was the Iudex and you, a humble adventurer. And is he even interested in romance? Never had a discussion on the subject came up between you, and he was always so busy. You sigh and shake your head, getting ahead of yourself and assuming things would only make things worse. You decide to just keep your emotions bottled where they could never hurt you or, more importantly, him. Because that had always worked for you, yes, definitely.

Your steps slowed as you walked into the Palais, feeling nerves get the better of you. One moment from turning back and getting to more intense bottling, Sedene skipped over to you, halting your near escape. 

"Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette has been expecting you. Please, this way." Sedene began leading you to Monsieur Neuvillette's office, your shoulders involuntarily slumped in defeat, your plans of running away thwarted.

"How was your trip to Liyue, friend? I've never been but I hear the weather is lovely this time of year." 

"Ah it was a good trip, the weather is lovely and the commissions I took on were fairly simple, Chenyu Vale is quite peaceful. They also had lovely sweet tea cakes, I would have brought you some but I had no space in my pack."

"Ah it's no trouble at all, but please do bring some next time. I do love trying new cakes. Anyway here we are, Monsieur Neuvillettes office. See you later, friend."

Sedine gives the Melusine signature wave and shoos you into Neuvillettes office. Your heart beats oddly quickly and you tell it to stop.

You walk slowly into Neuvillette's office hoping he doesn't look up from his paperwork. Unfortunately for you as soon as the door closes behind you he perks his head up and smiles at you. You feel your heart shudder gleefully at the sight, and once again, you tell it to stop. 

"Hello, its good to see you. I trust you got my letter?" Neuvillette stands and walks to one of the sofas by his desk. "Come, sit. I'm thankfully done with work today so we can chat about your trip for a while. I ordered some lovely ice water from the clearest lake in Snezhnaya for us to partake in." He sits, and you knew you were too far gone when you noticed your eyes trailing after the way he crossed his leg over the other, then the way his hand patted the space next to him.

You swallow the thick saliva that had gathered in your mouth and hurry to sit next to him so you didn't appear as out of sorts as you were. If he noticed he didn't show it and you were grateful for that.

"You haven't spoken much yet. Are you feeling okay? I know I said this meeting was urgent but if you need to rest, by all means, it can wait."

Your mind was swirling so much you didn't even notice you hadn't said anything yet. You clear your throat in an attempt to focus.

"Ah well, I am tired but I can stay and chat for a while. Thank you for thinking of me, but I'll be okay."

"Hmm" He didn't seem convinced. "Well if you say so. But if you do, at any point, feel too tired to continue, do let me know. I wouldn't want to push my dear friend just because I'm happy to see them again." Neuvillette's voice was soft but firm at once, almost feeling like a command rather than a suggestion. 

Relief and hurt prick your heart at the word friend. You tell you heart to stop being annoying and confusing. "Thank you Neuvillette but I'm sure I'll be fine. I do want to catch up with you as well. It's been a while since we last spoke. Did I tell you I went to Chenyu Vale for a few commissions outside of Fontaine for the first time?"

"I believe you did mention it shortly before you left. Did I tell you that I visited around the time of lantern rite a few months ago? The weather there was lovely that time of year, cool but not cold and that water, crystal clear. Such beautiful scenery. Was it to your liking as well?"

"It was, it’s beautiful there. The grass feels so different to run through there. And the people are so much more relaxed than they are here. Even though I was doing commissions it felt like a holiday in some ways." You started to feel relieved that this was the direction the conversation was going in, like normal and normal was good. 

"That's wonderful, I'm glad you had a wonderful time and I hope, even if you were doing commissions, and favours for our dear friend Wriothsley He did tell me about the bet you lost-" Neuvillette chuckled and the sound rattled the frayed nerves of your heart. "I hope you got to have some rest. I did notice the um- uptick in the amount of commissions you've been taking-" Oh no. Was the only thought in your mind after that statement followed by an internal sigh of relief at his hext words as incorrect as his assumption is. 

"If you are in need of funds I am happy to assist as your friend."

"No no, it's not funds. I just wanted a little time away from Fontaine you know? It'd been a while so I thought I'd excuse my trip with some work, you know how it is." 

There was still a slight frown on his face at your words. "I do understand, but wasn't it you who said if we need a break we should take a break from work as well? Please, I know this is something we both need to work on but you shouldn't work if a break is needed." It was such a soft, friendly, scolding as expected from Neuvillette. It made you smile.

"I know, I know I just had some things on my mind that's all, I needed a distraction and even my holidays have never been 'relaxing' by other people's standards, I don't like just sitting around." 

"Even so, rest is important, as you yourself said to me."

"Don't worry Neuvillette, I took care of myself and did less commissions than I usually would have done."

"And another thing-" He took a breath and turned more in your direction giving you a goblet of water. "-you said something was on your mind. Is it anything I can help with, unless you've sorted it." He tilted his head a little with a very mild look of concern. He was becoming more expressive over time as small as it seemed the process was visible to see. 

Your feel your face heat and your heart beat quicker, your body responding to the source of the issue without your permission. "Ah- no, no I'm alright. I mean the issue isn't quite sorted but I'll be fine now." You nod in what you hope is a convincing manner. However, Neuvillette raises a disbelieving eyebrow. 

"I don't want to push but for some reason I don't believe you" Curse him for getting good at sarcasm. 

"It- well it's not really anything you can do for me- or anyone for that matter I just have to sort it for myself." You look down and away from him nervously. The conversation getting too close to your self-proclaimed 'forbidden topic' 

"Can you not at least confide in me?" His voice carried a small amount of hurt in it and you recalled the night he spilled his heart to you, a relative stranger at the time. Only having met a handful of times with no deeper conversations before then. Of course it was still vague and there are things about that night that still confuse you but he did open up. And now you are friends and won't do the same, you can see why he'd be upset. Not enough for it to rain... yet. 

"I-" You sigh, not really knowing what to do from here. Do you confess and potentially ruin an amazing friendship? Or lie and possibly do the same. "It's hard, Neuvillette. I'm not used to the situation I'm in."

He nods, understanding that at least. "But you understood my situation so I'm willing to understand yours." 

Ah of course, he's far too kind. It's hard to not feel touched by his care. Even if that's not quite what you wanted right now.

"... Neuvillette.." Another look at his face made you pause, your heart pounded and the longing in your chest almost caused it to hurt, especially at the look in his eyes. Concern and something else you hadn't seen before and before you could stop yourself the words flowed from your heart like a stream.

"I love you, that's what the problem is." 

You look down, your heart pounding and eyes closed not being able to face Neuvillette after the confession but not being able to leave either.

If you'd looked at him you would have seen his shocked face, flushed cheeks and ears, wide eyes and open mouth. No other time had he made such a strong expression. And to his ignorance the clouds had brightened but rain trickled from them in a growing amount. 

Time passes in agonising silence with neither moving. The sound of the rain echoing in your ears and making you doubt your very existence. As far as you were aware rain meant negative emotions and the steadily worsening storm made you think the worst. 

Tears of your own streamed down your cheeks as you couldn't take the silence. You abruptly stand from the seat ready to leave and hide away for a while. "I'm sorry." You croak just before a large hand holds your wrist.

"Don't" you freeze at his voice. It was commanding and almost desperate. "Don't go.. I just needed to process what you said."

"It's raining.." You respond 

"What about the rain? What does that tell you?" Mild confusion in his voice made you just as confused. You still couldn't face him with your response.

"You're upset aren't you. I've upset you because you aren't interested and you don't want to hurt me so-"

"No, good heavens no I'm not upset. The rain is just.. strong emotions not negative ones."

"What then, if you aren't upset?"

"I'm.. happy- I think"

You turn to his eyes wet with unshed tears. "You think?" You say back confused.

"I think-" He repeats looking deep in thought and concern for you. "It's hard to fully understand since happy doesn't cover it all. I feel deeply affectionate towards you in a way I haven't experienced and I certainly didn't expect to feel for a human. The uncertainty comes from that knowledge to- you are human with a human lifespan. As you know I am a dragon sovereign, with a much longer life span. Would you really be okay being with someone like me?" 

Your shoulders shake at the reminder. More reasons why you shouldn't be together. "I should be asking you that. Would you really be okay with the knowledge that I'll grow old and die in your arms." 

You feel the air grow heavy and hear the rain battering the windows and immediately feel guilty. The air is tense as the pause grows until it almost becomes unbearable.

"I will bear that pain if I can experience the joy of having you at my side." Neuvillette's voice cuts through your thoughts and renders you speechless. 

"Please, there is nothing I won't do to make your life happy and comfortable."

"T-hat's .. I'm.. I'm not worried about that I know you would but.. do you really care so much you'd be willing to endure losing me?"

"I do." His voice rang simple and clean. It felt like your soul shook at his words. The words of someone accepting wedding vows at a confession. 

He stepped closer, still mindful of keeping to boundaries. 

"I love you" another simple sentence filled with more emotion than you'd ever heard him muster before and you couldn't help but respond in kind, feeling as though you might break your own heart if you spoke with any dishonesty.

"I love you to Neuvillette."

A true, wide smile breaks on his face and your heart pounds at the sight. 

"I don't know if this is moving too fast-" He begins, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "But may I-" I sigh and the rain pounds harder for a moment.

You patiently wait for him to gather his wits. 

"May I kiss you?" He finally asks softly, bringing his face close to yours.

"You may Neuvillette." You whisper, wanting nothing more in that moment. 

As his lips meet yours tenderly your thoughts are no longer on your relationship's tragic end but the beautiful beginning.

[lavender-long-stories]

Writing Advice: Getting Words on a Page

With the 75k word count in November and 90k in August, I have been asked questions like how do I keep focus and what do I do when I get stuck. I am going to compile all the advice I have.

Over the last few years, I have posted 700k+ words of fan fiction and have been posting 3 to 6 chapters every week for the last ten months. This is not how to make your writing better. This is how to get words on a page. 

This is not all my original ideas. This is just a collection of things that have worked for me.

I am not sure I am the person to tell you how to make your writing better, but if people want my thoughts on that. I can make that post too.

When inspiration strikes, write like wild. 

If you have the time and you are bitten by the writing bug, keep writing anything while you are in peak form. You will thank yourself later when you feel like you can’t write everything. I have done the extreme version of this where I have a month (four chapters) written ahead of almost everything on my post schedule (you don’t need this), but this was really nice after I brunt out after finishing out the 90k challenge I destroyed myself with in August.

Write in little pockets of time.

You don’t need to sit down and write for two hours. Write 100 words here and 500 there. It will all add up. When I was struggling at the end of the 75k, I would just open a doc every few hours and write half a page until I got distracted and tried again later.

Change your font.

If you are struggling to edit or even just find yourself drifting while writing, change your font. It helps trick your brain into paying attention. (I like doing a mono font like Courier when I need writing vibes. It looks typewriter-y)

Take a shower. 

Not just for shower thoughts, being clean and fresh helps with focus

Get dressed.

I love being comfy, but something about getting dressed makes me feel like I am working and should finish my task. Extra points for it being fun. (Maybe cosplay a pirate or something.)

Move Locations.

Desk, kitchen table, bed, outside: changing location helps move you out of a brain rut.

Handwrite notes.

I take most of my notes on notion, but when I am struggling with my plot, I write out notes by hand, starting with what happened last and continuing from there, writing even things I know will happen. Then I transfer this to my digital notes so they are easier to move around in order, AND a lot of time, I add details when revising them to digital. Double power.

Always, always write down your thoughts and keep them.

Some of my most popular stories came from me rediscovering a 2 am thought that I wrote down six years ago. Keep a notepad next to the bed if you have to.

Change POV

If something is not working in a scene, maybe it is who you have reacting to it. Try switching POV. It helps you think of the scene from another perspective.

Watch a show in your genre.

I watch a lot of the silliest KDrama’s and get lots of romance ideas. Maybe I didn’t think of sending my character to a park or trapping them in a sky lift. Maybe I should add a stalker that sounds fun.

Take your bathroom breaks.

You should always drink lots of fluids and remember to take your bathroom breaks because the brief moment of walking away always gives me an idea.

Skim through the story and make notes on what HAS happened, not just what will happen.

This helps more with my style of having next to no plot outline. Need your next plot point and don’t know where to go? Remember that time they did x? Let’s build off that. This helps intertwine the plot without losing things.

Just read the story back.

You don’t always need to make notes, but sometimes just reading from the beginning can make you pick up on a detail that was unimportant at the time, and you may not even have meant to put in that could have a lot more meaning now. Then, you can call it clever foreshadowing.  

Explain your problem or the scene you are struggling with out loud.

It doesn’t have to be to someone. It could be a glass of water. This is called ‘rubber ducking. It’s a programmer term (hello, that is my day job). Restructuring your problem in a way you have to articulate it most of the time makes the solution come to you.

Try focusing on the scenery.

If you can’t get a scene to work open with the weather or how the floor is creaking under step, give the world a new feeling. How does the person feel about the weather or the temperature of the room? 

Can’t figure out what is wrong? Rewrite the chapter from scratch. 

Open a new doc and rewrite the chapter from memory. I do this a lot in the beginning of a story that didn’t quite hit the way I wanted it to. I will start the chapter from memory and skim the old one to ensure I didn’t miss anything important. Can’t do it from memory? Read a paragraph and write that from memory. 

Take a left turn.

Sometimes, if you can’t go any further, go back a sentence, a paragraph, a scene, a chapter, and just make a different decision. Turn left instead of right. Change how someone reacts to an argument. It opens a whole new lane to go down.

Excited for a scene that is in the future?

Write it! You don’t have to use it word for word in the future. Sometimes, you can copy and paste it in, and sometimes, you can just rewrite it, and you lose none of those thoughts you originally had.  Writing it might remind you of something that needs to happen first to help you get there.

Have more than one story you are working on.

I don’t think you need to be working on four+ stories like I do, but having something to switch to when your brain really isn’t feeling your main is a great way to keep you writing. Call it productive procrastination. This is the REAL reason I have so many stories uploading.  (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Other Somewhat Related Advice

Context Switching

I work on multiple projects at a time, and I tend not to mix them up because they have a different vibe to me. It feels like stepping into each world.  If you are struggling with context switching between stories, I suggest finding a song or making a playlist that gives you that story’s ‘vibe’ and keeping a link to it in your writing folder or snagging a section of your story that captures the vibe you are going for and keeping it off to the side to reread when you need to switch.

Don’t edit the same day you write.

You’re not going to catch errors. Your brain is too familiar with what you wrote. Also, I recommend Grammarly or another grammar checker for all your missing comma and period needs. (Word, Docs, and any other text editor simply won't bully you enough.)

If you hate editing, don’t leave yourself with a painful amount of editing.

When people ask me how I edit my work, how many passes I take, etc, I tend to disappoint them. The short answer is one read-through (after using a grammar checker).  I learned a LONG time ago that as much as it would be nice to write a bunch of dialog and then tell yourself you will go back to add all the actions or write without quotes because it takes time, you will save yourself a lot of time and pain if you learn to write it correctly the first time and then editing won’t be as much of a chore. I have been writing for years, and I am used to how I write and edit. If you are newer to writing, give it another pass or two, but try to shift some of that work to the writing process, not the editing process.

Make yourself an editing cheat sheet.

Make yourself a doc or a notion of words you notice you use too much or common words you misspell when writing.  I usually make one when I get back and do a post edit (when the story has been up for a while and I get back with fresh eyes and edit it). Reading through your old work and find things that you don’t like or don’t want to do anymore is a great way to build this list and improve your writing.

Now go write.

Got any advice for me? Reblog and tell me.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 8: The Woes of Womanhood (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 8: The Woes of Womanhood

With the return of Prince Daemon, and Princess Rhaenyra, the Red Keep braces itself for the inevitable implosion of scandal once more.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Nothing of note, except longgg chapter ahead. Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra interactions ahead!

Word Count: 7.1k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: hello all! i'm sorry for this very late and much needed update to se zaldrizoti' prumia, which is why this chapter is longer than usual haha. my exams are finally over and i'm on break now, so i will be devoting myself to writing more all the way till school starts again.

also: i added in an extra rhaenyra and reader interaction at the end of chapter 7. it's not crucial to the understanding of the plot, but it does explain why rhaenyra is significantly more civil with the reader in this chapter, so do check it out :) if you're lazy to go back and read it, here's a separate post i made of it! happy reading!

p.s. check the a/n at the end for some future plans I have for this fic :)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon’s Conquest, 5 months later 

The persistent cries of a babe echoed throughout the Queen’s chambers, and the wet nurses and nannies watched with pity as Alicent attempted to soothe a wailing Helaena, to no success. “Shh, it’s alright, Helaena. Don’t fuss, please,” Alicent implored softly, looking a little close to tears herself. 

The doors to the nursery opened quietly, and you stepped in, concern etched on your face upon hearing all the crying. The skirts of your dark red gown swished as you walked, alerting the people in the room to your presence. Stark relief was painted on their faces as you walked over to Alicent and she handed Helaena wordlessly over to you. You adjusted Helaena in your arms, cooing at her softly, “There, there, little princess. Ry iksos sȳrī, dōna dārilaros.” Gradually, Helaena started to calm down, staring up at you with wide purple eyes as you sang a soft lullaby in Valyrian to her. When her eyelids finally fluttered shut, you gently placed her back in the cradle, rocking her a few more times for good measure. 

Alicent was sitting in her bedchambers adjoining the nursery, head bent, looking weary. Nonetheless, she shot you a smile as you entered the room quietly, moving to pour her a cup of tea. “I fear sometimes I would be bereft without you” Alicent’s voice was soft, as you walked over to her, handing her the cup of tea. “I would feel like a hollow shell without you.” 

“Don’t say things like that,” you comforted her, “You know you’re doing the best you can.” “And yet, I can barely soothe mine own daughter who is only five moons old,” Alicent bit her lip, cradling her cup of tea. You could tell from the nervous bobbing of her throat that she wanted to pick at her nails again, which was why you brewed her the cup of tea. She was unable to pick at her nails if she was holding something hot. And so it had become habit for you to hand her a cup of hot tea whenever she was distressed like this. 

“Not everyone is born to be a natural at parenting, Alicent,” you consoled her. “And babes are difficult to understand, much less comfort.” “I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, if I cannot even be an adequate mother to my own children, how do I even bear the title of ‘Mother of the Realm’?” Alicent sighed, looking downcast. “My children are more taken with you than they are with me. It is a little disheartening to see.” You inched closer to her, and she placed one of her hands in yours, another holding onto her teacup. You squeezed her hand gently - another strange habit that the two of you had unconsciously developed. It reminded you so much of Rhaenyra, and your thoughts wandered to her, and how she was faring on her marriage tour. 

In truth, apart from Helaena, Alicent was still mulling about the conversation with her father nearly six moons ago. Though Otto had not brought up the subject in earnest again, Alicent had noticed Otto’s visits to her apartments increase over the past few moons. His visits, which were already quite frequent, had built up to a daily occurrence, with Alicent uncomfortably glancing at her father as his green eyes rested on you whilst you bustled around, serving the both of them or soothing Alicent's children. Alicent was compelled to do something, anything, to warn you of her father’s deepening interest in you, but with Helaena’s birth and her still acclimating to the duties of a Queen, as well as her uncertainty over her father’s intentions, she had kept mum. 

“You know,” Alicent’s voice startled you out of your train of thoughts. “You would make a great mother someday. Should you wish to marry, of course.” “Are you chasing me away from your service, my Queen?” you teased her playfully. Alicent’s eyes widened with panic, “Oh no, I was just mentioning- since you are wonderful with Helaena and Aegon and-” You squeezed her hand lightly, “I was just jesting, Alicent. I know you meant it as a compliment.” Alicent’s shoulders loosened slightly, as she laughed. “Oh. Forgive me, Y/N. My mind was occupied. But I really do mean it, you know,” she said earnestly. You smiled at her, though it did not reach your eyes. Your thoughts were still consumed by the conversation you had with your father at the Kingswood. The past six moons have been devoid of any correspondence from your father, something you would have greatly relished all those moons ago. Yet now, it only served to make you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff, unsure when you would plummet. You shook it off, not wanting to feel the unpleasant crawling feeling under your skin whenever you thought about your father. 

“In truth,” you began quietly, “I already am a mother.” Alicent looked puzzled. “I do not know whether I will be fated to be a mother of my own children in this lifetime, but in my view, you are like a daughter to me, Alicent. So in a way, I already am a mother.” Alicent’s eyes grew misty, as she said quietly, “I feel you are akin to a mother to me as well, Y/N. Words cannot express my gratitude towards you for your guidance over the past few years.” You smiled, moving to brush one of Alicent’s loose strands of hair out of the way. 

The both of you were interrupted by the sound of a soft knock at the door as another lady-in-waiting of Alicent’s, Lady Eliza Butterwell, a shy maid of fourteen entered the room and curtsied. 

“I apologise for the disturbance, Your Grace. But the King has called for the court to gather in the throne room.” Alicent’s brows furrowed. “Whatever for?” Her next words shot an odd thrill through you, one that you haven’t felt in several years. “Prince Daemon has returned to King’s Landing on Caraxes, Your Grace. With a crown.” 

The way to the throne room was swarmed with courtiers, but you were fortunate enough to find yourself as one of the spectators at the front. You caught a few faint whispers as you walked into the throne room, "Daemon..." "The Triarchy, all dead..." "The Myrish have never been more humiliated!" "At last, my ships can travel through the shipping lanes without fear of being attacked again..."

You played with the rings on your fingers nervously as you watched Viserys sit himself on the throne, his expression brooding. He afforded you a small nod when he glimpsed you in the crowd, to which you replied with a small bow of your head. Your eyes were so busy watching the entrance however, that you failed to notice the watchful gaze of Otto Hightower on you. His gaze soon turned away when Viserys caught him looking at you, his lips pressed together. 

It all came to an end however, as the crowd quieted, and the distant clink of armour could be heard. Your eyes were narrowed and your eyebrows furrowed as Daemon swaggered into the hall. Your eyes were drawn to his now shortened hair, and a crude makeshift of a crown seated upon his head. You could sense a change in him, and not just in appearance. 

Your lips turned downwards as Daemon sauntered too close to the throne, and was met with the sword of a Kingsguard to his abdomen. The fool. Your eyes narrowed even further when Daemon lifted a beaten hammer at Viserys, seemingly in challenge. 

“Add it to the chair.” A loud clatter reverberated through the room as Daemon dropped the hammer on the floor with a flourish. You had to bite back a smile. The years have not tempered his flair for the dramatics. 

The tension was palpable between the two brothers as Viserys stared at his brother, trying to decipher his true motives. “You wear a crown. Do you also call yourself King?” “Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me: King of the Narrow Sea.” So they really did prevail in the end. You smiled slightly to yourself. Of course Daemon would miraculously manage to reverse the odds. But you felt bolts of alarm going off in your head as you registered Daemon’s words. The fool, is he meaning to challenge the King? Has war clobbered him such that he has lost all his wits? 

“But I know that there is only one true king, Your Grace.” You loosened a subtle sigh of relief as Daemon genuflected in front of Viserys, taking his crown off. “My crown and the Stepstones are yours, Your Grace.” 

The court watched with bated breath, as Viserys rose from the throne, climbing down the steps and standing before Daemon. 

Daemon registered a movement at the corner of his eye, and turned to meet the distrusting glare of Otto Hightower, which Daemon returned with equal venom. So, the leech still lives. How unfortunate. His gaze then trailed over to a familiar figure clad in dark red. 

You.

Violet eyes met yours, and he let his eyes trail lazily over your figure. He noted the coil of tension in your muscles as you observed the proceedings. His lips quirked up into a smirk, and you narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Daemon noticed, concealing a chuckle, which seemed wholly inappropriate at this moment. He directed his gaze back to Viserys, staring back at him unflinchingly as he scrutinised Daemon for any ill intent. Brother, really? Daemon wanted to scoff when he saw Viserys glance at that cunt of a Hand. Do you distrust me so? 

“Rise.” Daemon got to his feet, looking at Viserys as he clapped a tentative hand on Daemon’s shoulder. He has grown more haggard through the years, Daemon noted with concern, his eyes trailing discreetly to the leather gloves Viserys now wore. Has marriage not been treating you well, brother? What have those cunts done to you while I was gone?  

You applauded with the rest of the court as Viserys swept Daemon into a stiff, but genuine brotherly embrace. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched Viserys escort Daemon out of the throne room, and Daemon shot you an arrogant smirk as he passed you. Subconsciously, you felt the lightest you had been in these three years.

It was a refreshingly cool day and the air was abound with a celebratory mood as the court gathered in the gardens for the “small” feast heralding Daemon’s return. Dressed in a cream gown with a ruffled off the shoulder overlay, your gauzy dusky orange skirt overlay billowed slightly in the cool breeze. Your cream skirt was embroidered with gold swirls faintly reminiscent of roses, which matched the golden belt inlaid with seven large rubies Viserys had gifted to you recently. A golden rose dangling off a chain hooked on the belt glittered in the sunlight. 

Viserys was holding court in your small party of four, consisting of you, Alicent, Daemon and him. Otto stood away at a respectful distance, likely out of disdain for Daemon than by choice. 

“No, no, no, no, I will not revisit this debate. You were always Mother’s favourite,” Viserys declared heartily. His gloved hands were resting on both Daemon and your shoulders, as he chattered to Alicent happily. “Our mother, she had no regard for customs, traditions or rules. And I sadly, was no great warrior.” Viserys sighed as you and Daemon shared an amused glance. “Lady Primrose was always partial to you though, brother,” Daemon pointed out. Viserys chuckled, “That’s because you nearly drove the poor woman up the wall with your antics. Or should I say, the both of you did,” he wagged a finger at the both of you, expression accusatory yet his eyes were smiling and full of warmth. 

You and Daemon exchanged identical smirks. “Well, if you weren’t always such an-” you were cut off as Viserys clapped a hand over your mouth, and Daemon sniggered at your indignant expression. “Ah, I thought the passing years would have cooled your temper, Y/N,” Viserys chided. Daemon lifted his eyebrows in mischief, “Indeed, byka zaldrizes. It has been three years, and you are still as hot-headed as ever.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, “Only because you deserve it, Your Grace.” 

“Now you know why the two of them nearly drove Y/N’s mother to madness when she was raising all three of us,” Viserys laughed to Alicent, whose expression was courteous, yet taut with awkwardness. She felt supremely out of place in the midst of your reminiscing, and you shot her a sympathetic smile. Daemon’s eyes followed your every move, even as he made a jape at his brother, “Come now, brother. Do not absolve yourself of any responsibility. The three of us all had our fair share of rebellion.” “I never said I was absolving myself of any responsibility,” Viserys joked goodnaturedly, clapping Daemon’s shoulder. “Though the fact remains that the two of you made up the bulk of trouble caused in the Red Keep.” 

Your eyes widened slightly when you saw someone enter your conversation. Rhaenyra tried to look subtle as she sidled into the gap between you and Alicent. Viserys didn’t notice, still chattering happily to Daemon, but you saw that Alicent had a similar expression of surprise. 

“Congratulations on your victory,” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at Daemon, seemingly ignorant of the reprimanding glare Viserys was now levelling at the unexpected appearance of his daughter. Viserys released Daemon’s shoulder, moving to take a heavy swig from his goblet. Daemon shot you a look that clearly said: whatever happened here? You discreetly tilted your head in a ‘I’ll explain later’ motion, and Daemon redirected his attention back to Rhaenyra. “Thank you, Princess.” 

The ensuing silence had never felt more painful. “Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn’t yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor.” You bit your bottom lip at Alicent’s very obvious attempt to thaw the stifling atmosphere between the five of you, and at Viserys’ mocking expression of disbelief and concentration. “Would you like to see the tapestries?” Viserys could barely contain his mirth, and Daemon had tilted his head downward to muffle his laughter, while you looked disapprovingly at the two of them. “He has no interest in such things!” Viserys guffawed, clapping Daemon’s shoulder, oblivious to Alicent’s crestfallen expression. 

Daemon felt a glare upon him, and he looked up to see your frown as both brothers were in stitches. He smirked at you, clearly amused by your protective mothering of the young Queen. 

Ah, my little rose, caring too much for others, as always. Daemon mused to himself. 

“I’d like to see them.” Viserys’ expression immediately turned into one of barely veiled irritation. “Well then, you should not deprive yourself.” You winced at his snappish tone, as Rhaenyra shot him a cold smile. “I shall enjoy them alone.” 

You were about to excuse yourself to go after her, when Viserys clapped a hand on your shoulder once more, ordering a servant to refill your wine goblet. Alicent gave you a nod which conveyed her understanding, and she excused herself from the group, heading towards the bench where Rhaenyra was brooding after being chastised. Viserys was all too happy to see her go, directing you and Daemon into another conversation about your late mother and Prince Baelon, as well as your shared childhood. 

After a rather taxing conversation with Viserys and Daemon, you managed to excuse yourself as Viserys was occupied with some courtiers eager to curry favour with the King. Heading to the Godswood for some reprieve, you exhaled in relief when you found the clearing to be void of any presence. At long last, some peace. You closed your eyes and felt the summer breeze caress your face gently, smiling happily. 

You heard an infernal clearing of a throat behind you, and you reluctantly turned around to meet Daemon’s twinkling violet eyes, his lips turned up in his signature smirk. 

“Seven Hells, must a lady kill to have some peace for a minute?” you grumbled. Daemon chuckled, moving closer to you. “Having killed as much as I did in the Stepstones, I would say you do not need to resort to such drastic measures, byka zaldrizes.” 

You rolled your eyes in mild frustration, “I suppose it would be far too impolite of me to ask for you to leave me in peace, then?” Daemon smirked as he loomed over you, his eyes scanning you shamelessly again, like he did three years ago in the throne room when you first saw each other after so many years, “Court etiquette would deem it so, byka zaldrizes. But if I recall correctly, you were never one to ask when it came to me.” 

Vexed, you made a beeline for the tables set in the open corridor that was shaded by a trellis creeping with wisteria flowers. Daemon followed, watching you like a hawk as you loaded a plate high with lemon cakes, strawberry tarts, currant compote, gingerbread and figs. Daemon leaned over your shoulder and snatched a strawberry tart from your plate, grinning as you whirled your head around to glare viciously at him.  

You ventured to sit beneath the Godswood tree, setting your plate of treats on the ground, and crossing your legs in an unladylike manner. Daemon smirked as he watched you: this was a familiar sight from your shared childhood. He unhooked his scabbard which Dark Sister was sheathed in from his belt so that he could sit down next to you and lean back against the trunk of the Godswood. He secretly tried to make off with a lemon cake, but you smacked his hand away, causing him to lift his hand to his chest with a wounded expression on his face. You dipped a gingerbread into the currant compote, munching on it. 

“You’ve changed, you know,” Daemon remarked, finally successfully thwarting your attempts to stop him from pillaging from your platter of sweets and lifting a lemon cake to his mouth. You offered him an exasperated look, yet he could detect the faint hint of fondness in your glare. The both of you had been like this since you were children, always sneaking off with lemon cakes and strawberry tarts from the royal kitchens and huddling under the Godswood, giggling and munching on your stolen goods until you were discovered by the servants.

“I could say the same for you,” you eyed his new haircut. “You always used to have a preference for longer hairstyles.” “Well, that was before someone decided to cut off my hair during my sleep once,” Daemon snarked, running his hand through his hair. You snorted, “You can’t still be hung up on that, can you, my Prince?” “How can I forget the only girl who was foolish enough to use Dark Sister in such a manner?” “I believe the word you were looking for was audacious, my Prince,” you smiled winningly at him. Daemon only rolled his eyes, reaching over to snatch the strawberry tart you were holding in your hands, causing you to let out a sound of protest. 

The two of you sat in silence in the Godswood for a while, as you nibbled on your sweet treats. “In all honesty,” Daemon’s head snapped up in interest. “I think I’ve changed little over the years, but so much simultaneously.” You eyed the fig in your hand with despondence, “Do I sound foolish?” 

“Yes,” Daemon answered, causing you to chuck a grape at him, which he caught with annoying ease. “Seven hells, let me finish before you resort to violence, byka zaldrizes. I think you sound foolish, yes, but I happen to think you have changed a great deal. And for the better.” 

You mockingly gaped at his last remark, “A compliment from the Rogue Prince himself? Have the Seven Hells froze over?” Daemon narrowed his eyes, moving to smear currant compote on your gown, but you squealed and darted further from him. “Curb your disbelief, will you?” he scoffed, taking a bite out of his gingerbread dipped in currant compote. “It’s not just the hairstyle I fashion that has changed, you know, byka zaldrizes.” 

“Well,” you mused, “I suppose you do seem changed by your exploits in the Stepstones. More mature, perhaps, to a minute extent.” Daemon raised an eyebrow, “Coming from you, that is high praise, byka zaldrizes.” 

“I thought you might still be irate, or disgruntled after Viserys unnamed you as heir.” Daemon snickered slightly under his breath, remembering how wroth he was when the messenger from his brother came. “Well, they say time heals all wounds, byka zaldrizes.” You smile weakly at the mention of the word ‘time’, recalling your father’s ultimatum. “Let’s hope you can refrain from causing any more trouble this time then.” Daemon’s face twisted unpleasantly, “You mean, if that cunt of a Hand doesn’t decide to slander my name once more.” 

“Speaking of, you seem quite…close to the new queen, hmm?” You heard the displeased edge in Daemon’s voice as he refused to address Alicent by name. How childishly Daemon-like. “I’m her chief lady-in-waiting, Daemon. Is it not natural for me to be close to her?” 

“This is different,” Daemon leaned forward, eyes alight. “You care for the girl, don’t you? Far beyond the limitations of devotion that a lady-in-waiting has for her queen.” You looked at him, unimpressed. “I do not see how that is any of your business, but yes, I do. Alicent is akin to a daughter to me.” 

Daemon gave a snort of gravelly laughter, “You ought be careful, you know. Your maternal instincts might incite some trouble for you some day.” You bristled, “She’s a young girl, Daemon. As someone who is older than her and used to court machinations, I would consider it an obligation to acclimatise her to her new role. Being Queen is no easy feat, you know. Unlike being a Prince.” Daemon smirked, “And yet, you would not be in this position had I not opened your eyes to your fragile political standing a few years ago, did I not?” You rolled your eyes, taking another lemon cake. “If you are expecting some gratitude, I would regret to inform you that your hopes are gravely misplaced.” 

“I never expect anything from you, byka zaldrizes,” his smirk widened as he observed you while you nibbled on the lemon cake. “Truth be told however,” Daemon’s voice carried some genuineness, though he attempted to disguise it, “I am…pleased you took my advice to heart. Not a great many deal of people do.” You were mildly taken aback by how sincere he sounded: perhaps the Rogue Prince had a soft spot after all. “Well, it was sound advice,” you admitted, trying to sound pained. “Which was unexpected, coming from you.” 

“Perhaps you should admit that I’m a better influence than you think I am,” Daemon teased. You rolled your eyes, “Now, now, let’s not get a moment’s victory swell up your ego.” “Oh, I’ve won plenty of victories, byka zaldrizes,” Daemon snarked back, smug, “I dare say I have enough cause to be as proud as I am.” “Says the one who lost in a contest of arms,” you muttered under your breath. Daemon raised an eyebrow, flicking your forehead. “Ow!” you scowled, “What was that for?” 

“A reminder that insolence will not be tolerated in front of your Prince,” he grinned evilly at you. You narrowed your eyes, dipping a finger in the currant compote and moving to smear it on his forehead. Irritatingly, Daemon’s reflexes were much quicker than yours, and he caught your wrist with ease, tugging your hand towards his mouth to lick the compote off your finger while you shrieked. “That’s disgusting!” you sputtered out. Strangely, you felt a warm, rolling sensation at watching Daemon sucking the compote off your finger…however, you soon gagged at the thought. 

Daemon looked pleased with himself as he released your wrist, “I prefer not to let food go to waste.” You huffed, “I was wrong. War has not matured you in the least.” 

“Well, most of the court is terribly lacking in maturity anyway.” Daemon shrugged, leaning back against the trunk again. “Speaking of, how have you been faring in this court of vipers? Has your father finally found someone who is sufficiently tolerant of your impudence to marry you off to yet?” 

Your face visibly fell at his last question, causing Daemon to frown slightly. “Have I misspoke?” Daemon cursed himself after that last question. ‘Why do I care?’ He thought to himself. He studied your dispirited expression. ‘I don’t know why…I can’t stand seeing her like this.’ His memory trailed back to the day of that blasted tourney, where he swore he watched your heart crack into two. 

He never wanted to see that expression grace your face again. 

“The question of…marriage,” you spat out that word with such distaste. “Is a complicated one. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must marry before the year ends, or face being disinherited and disowned by House Tyrell.” Daemon was never a man to be shocked, but now he looked positively dumbfounded. “Surely you’re jesting?” Daemon thought back to his vague impression of Lord Matthos: the man had seemed kindly enough, albeit he always looked much older and weary for his age, which could be attributed to your infamous temper and tendency to reject any prospective marriage matches he tried to make for you. But still, Lord Matthos cherished you, his only surviving child. Or so Daemon thought. 

You shook your head despondently, “How I wish I was.” You sighed, your head drooped. ���I thought…after so many years of resistance, my father would have finally given up on me. But it seems I was gravely mistaken,” your voice was resigned. “Laughable, is it not? You tried to warn me three years ago to save me from this fate, and I thought I had avoided it.” 

Daemon let out a jagged laugh. “Responsibilities are hard to evade, byka zaldrizes. Even as a Prince, I was forced to wed for the sake of duty.” You turned to face him, and he was taken aback to see the tears glistening in your eyes. “But you can evade them,” you pointed out quietly. “You could mount Caraxes at any time, fly to Dragonstone, King’s Landing, Essos, or wherever else to avoid your wife. But me?” You choked out a laugh, “I’m just a woman, Daemon. I have no dragon, or even a cock.” Your voice sounded bitter. “I always envied you for that. You men of the realm have more liberties than you give credit for. You can go wherever you please, fuck anyone you please, and to no consequence. I wish I could do the same.” 

Your words suddenly brought Daemon back to a memory of his childhood that he had long buried. He was nearing his 14th nameday, and he had finally convinced Viserys to sneak out with him for a night of revelry and debauchery in Flea Bottom. When he and his brother had returned to the Red Keep just before the hour of the bat, he had found you in his chambers, arms crossed and anger creasing your features, demanding an explanation of his whereabouts. When you had learnt that they were mucking about Flea Bottom, your face had turned indignant. 

“Why had you not asked me along?” your words surprised Daemon, and he guffawed. “Y/N, I’m not sure if you realise, but Flea Bottom is not a place for girls like you,” Daemon said bluntly, moving to fling himself on his bed. “And why not?” you raised your voice. Daemon had levelled an unimpressed look at you. “You’re a lady, Y/N. Ladies shouldn’t be seen in places like Flea Bottom. Now go away, you’re giving me a headache.” Daemon flopped his head into the pillows, groaning at the creeping hangover as a result of the amount of strongwine he had drank this evening. He thought you would just huff and go back to your rooms, but he was surprised to hear your next words tinged with hurt. 

“But…” you chewed on your lip. “You never even told me you were going. You tell me everything, even if I don’t want to listen.” Daemon had let out a groan of frustration, “And? Did you really want to hear that I was going to fuck some whores on the Street of Silk?” He heard your gasp, and it only solidified his belief that you were trying to nag at him like some prim, proper lady your mother was always training you to be. “I thought not. Now fuck off, I need to sleep.” He buried his face in his pillows, so he didn’t even notice when you left. 

It was only until you left that he realised he had brought back some cakes for you that he never had a chance to give to you, since you avoided him like the plague for the next few days. 

So that’s why you were mad at him. Realisation dawned on Daemon. It wasn’t because you were chagrined by his frequenting of brothels, it was because you felt hurt at being excluded. The three of you had used to do nearly everything together, and Daemon had considered you like a little sister after his mother’s death, though from the way the two of you bickered and roughhoused with one another, you were more like another brother to him instead. But something had changed after the first time he had paid a visit to the Street of Silk, and without him knowing it, he started treating you like a woman instead of his closest companion.

 He looked back at you. You were hugging yourself now, face despondent as you thought about your bleak future ahead. He suddenly felt the urge to embrace you, to wipe the gloom from your features. Yet while his heart willed it, his mind did not. So he could only take a deep breath and say in an unusually gentle voice, “I understand what you’re going through. I…” he struggled to get the words out. “...I’m sorry.” You turned your head in his direction, slightly disconcerted by his apology. “What for?” 

‘For you being a woman, for you being helpless to your fate.’ He tried to formulate a response. ‘For not being able to do more to help you. For everything.’ 

“For your situation,” he managed to choke out in the end, though they were not the words his heart wanted so desperately to say. You gave him a small smile, your eyes distant with sadness, “I never thought I’d hear you apologise…but thank you.” Although it is useless in preventing my fate. 

Daemon was internally frustrated with himself at his failed attempt at getting his emotions across, and at wiping the gloom from your face. Unsure of what to do, he picked up another strawberry tart and offered it to you. Dumbfounded, you opened your mouth and he gingerly fed you the tart. Despondent, yet utterly mystified, you studied him carefully, but his face gave nothing away. In the end, you dismissed this as just Daemon behaving unusually again. It was only normal after the bloodshed he had seen in the Stepstones…right?  

Despite your own predicament, it seemed relations in the Red Keep were taking a turn for the better. Over the past few months, Rhaenyra had gradually patched up her estrangement with Alicent, much to your delight. Rhaenyra had even warmed a bit to Alicent’s children, though she still regarded Aegon with a bit of disdain - you weren’t quite sure if it were due to his position as Viserys’ only son or because of Aegon’s tantrums. Helaena seemed to be comfortable around Rhaenyra however, always silent and content whenever Rhaenyra picked her up. While Viserys was still notably displeased by Rhaenyra’s abandonment of her marriage tour, he appeared fairly resigned by his daughter’s wilfulness. 

It was due to Rhaenyra’s warmer relations that you found yourself in the company of Rhaenyra more and more these days, like now. You were engaged in a game of cyvasse with her, although you were losing quite badly due to Rhaenyra’s aggressive play style. 

“I win!” Rhaenyra exclaimed with delight as she captured your last remaining key piece. You groaned, but smiled good-naturedly at her. “Well played, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra laughed, “Tis only your first time playing. You held up rather admirably in my opinion, but your defence needs more work.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you smiled, reaching over to pour yourself another cup of tea. Elinda Massey, one of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting, entered the room to deliver a parchment to her, and Rhaenyra frowned as she opened it. 

“What is it?” I questioned. “A summons from Father,” Rhaenyra sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “It appears a few lords, notably Jason Lannister,” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “Have been inquiring about my prospective matches yet again. Father wishes to reopen talks of marriage when we break fast tomorrow.” 

You eyed her sympathetically, “I’m sorry, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra snorted, “Whatever for? Jason Lannister is the one who needs to apologise for being such a brash, brazen fuckhead.” 

“Rhaenyra!” You doubled over with laughter at her description. Rhaenyra crossed her arms. “Tis true, is it not? If only the Lannisters had as much wits to spare as they have gold.” You tried to contain your laughter, “I can see your uncle is rubbing off you.” Rhaenyra smirked, “Well, I should hope not. Did you hear about his latest exploits?” You smiled ruefully, “How could I not?” Daemon was never one to stray far from trouble for long, and war had not tempered his lusts in the slightest. He had taken up with his old companions of the City Watch, drinking in taverns, bedding whores, and the like. You were not wrong to say Daemon had not matured, but you didn’t know the full story. 

Rhaenyra stood up and walked to the window of her room, sighing as she clasped her hands behind her back. “Sometimes, I do wish I could be more like my uncle.” “An absolute scoundrel?” You answered, walking up to her and offering a goblet of Arbor gold. She smiled and took it. 

“A man. With an abundance of freedom to spare despite the fact he is married.” You raised your eyebrows, this sounded eerily similar to your conversation with Daemon under the Godswood a while ago. 

“It’s not just his freedom I desire,” Rhaenyra looked pensive. “Were I born a man, this bother of a marriage tour would never have occurred in the first place. There would be no call into question about my legitimacy and suitability for the throne due to my gender. And-” Rhaenyra struggled to contain her frustration. 

You gave her a sad look. Of course you understood what she meant, you had wished that yourself.  

“I hate to confess this but…” Rhaenyra bit her lip, “...I’m afraid of what the path of marriage has in store for me. I do not want to end up like my mother - I’ve seen enough of how she suffered in her tenure as Queen, trying to give Father the heir he so craved. I do not wish to just be some broodmare for my husband.” 

“Sadly, we are women, Rhaenyra,” you reminded her solemnly. Rhaenyra huffed in exasperation, draining her goblet with one huge gulp, putting it down on a nearby table before pacing around her room. You watched her in commiseration. “I almost forgot to ask - how is…your situation faring?” Rhaenyra asked delicately. You sighed, “About as well as you’d imagine. I must either live as a nameless commoner or as a married woman in two moon turns.” Rhaenyra circled back to you to take your hands in hers and squeezing it tightly. “Have you told my father yet? Perhaps he can arrange a betrothal for you, or convince your father to change his mind.” You gave her a close-lipped smile. “I wouldn’t want to trouble Viserys in this way. He is busy enough as it is.” And you still couldn’t resign yourself to the fate of marriage just yet. Nightmares had been plaguing you more incessantly nowadays, all either of being married off to some lord who was old and balding or someone whom you despised, of Aemma’s various miscarriages and her eventual death in childbirth. More oft than not, you would wake up in the middle of the night with cold sweat. 

Rhaenyra flashed you a sympathetic look, squeezing your hands so tightly in hers that they were growing numb. “In any case, I will be here for you, whatever you may choose.” You bowed your head in gratitude, “Thank you, Rhaenyra. But I couldn’t possibly, I wouldn’t know how to repay you.” 

Rhaenyra waved her hand dismissively, “Father always says you are family. And you are like a mother to me, especially after Mother died. Dragons look out for their own kind.” Your eyes grew misty at her words, as you murmured your gratitude under your breath. 

You noticed Rhaenyra looking out her window wistfully. “Is there something else on your mind?” You inquired. Rhaenyra turned to you, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Y/N, you’ve been to the city before, have you?” You looked puzzled at her question. “Yes, my mother had chaperoned me once, but it’s been a few years since that. Why do you ask?” 

Rhaenyra looked deep in thought. “In my governance classes with my tutors recently, they had been stressing on the importance of knowing the people of the land you're about to rule. Granted, they were talking about nobility, mostly, but I’ve always been curious as to the inner workings of the lives of the peasants.” You couldn’t hide your surprise. “The peasants?” Rhaenyra looked sheepish as she dropped your hands. “I’ve never really been to much parts of King’s Landing apart from the Dragonpit and the Red Keep. It gets a little boring after being cooped up in here for so long, you know?” An uncomfortable expression creased your features: Rhaenyra sounded like an exact mirror of your young self, eager to explore, to have fun. But now, you were grown, and much more cautious. 

“You could ask Ser Harrold to bring you around the city,” you suggested, but Rhaenyra looked opposed to the idea. “Then when people see me coming, they’ll think of me as the Princess and scrape away like subservient, mindless goats. I want to catch a glimpse of their lives, of their true thoughts about me as heir.” “So you mean to go alone then?” you looked unsure, but Rhaenyra nodded eagerly. “That would be the plan, yes.” Her face suddenly became a bit more serious and thoughtful. “It might be my last chance to sneak out for adventure. Once I am married…I do not think my future husband will be very approving of this notion.” 

You were quiet for a while, before you spoke up again, a sudden enlightening occurred to you, “Rhaenyra, you know…marriage need not be an end to indulging your desires.” Rhaenyra gave you a perplexed look. “What does that mean?” “You’re not just some highborn woman, Rhaenyra,” you took her hand, eyes twinkling. “You are the Princess. The heir to the realm. Even your husband will have to submit to you in the future as your king consort, will he not?” Rhaenyra was beginning to see the light in your logic, and her face lit up, though it dimmed again as she spoke, “But my father…I cannot guarantee that he will not rebuke me if I step out of the line..” You considered her words carefully, “That may be true…but so long as you don’t bring shame to the kingdom, and keep your exploits discreet, you will still be able to retain some level of freedom to pursue your desires.” 

Understanding was beginning to dawn on Rhaenyra, as the gears in her head began spinning. “You might be right.” She lifted her head in pride, “I am a Targaryen Princess, and heir to the throne after all. What should I have to fear about the opinions of others?” You squeezed her hand gently. “So you see, marriage might not be the end to your freedom as you thought. You are a smart woman, Rhaenyra. Do not let marriage confine you.” You were excited yourself. You didn’t have the same power Rhaenyra would have over her future consort, but still, you hoped that with Rhaenyra as an example, mayhaps there can be greater liberty afforded in marriages for highborn women, including yourself. 

Feeling confident of your own words, you looked into Rhaenyra’s violet eyes and smiled, “Always remember that you are the blood of the dragon, Rhaenyra. As heir to the throne, you have more advantages and liberties than most ladies of the land could ever hope for. Leverage them wisely, and be smart about your privileges to carve out the life you want to live.” You went silent, before adding, “Aemma would’ve wanted you to.” 

Rhaenyra’s face was suffused with a rosy glow, both at the prospect of regaining some semblance of control in her life, and at your mention of her mother. Aemma was always a soft spot for her, evident by the ruby falcon necklace Rhaenyra had taken to wearing everyday without fail. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, Y/N,” Rhaenyra smiled gratefully at you. “It is good to have someone of the same mind as I am here in this Keep.” She squeezed your hand in gratitude. “Out of everyone, I understand most of what you’re going through.” You smiled motherly at her. “I would do anything to help you fulfil your desires. Always remember that I’m here for you.” 

Meanwhile, concealed amidst the secret passageways in Rhaenyra’s apartments, a cloaked figure listened intently, a smirk tugging on his face as he listened to the discussion between you and his young niece. 

It appears my niece has a desire to see the city, hmm? 

I think I can make that happen. 

In the morrow, you were trying to calm Aegon in Alicent’s solar as he threw a tantrum, protesting today's choice of breakfast: which was porridge. When you heard faint footsteps and the sound of the door to the solar opening, you looked up, pulling a smile on your face while trying to prevent Aegon from grabbing his plate and smashing it. That smile faded however, as you took in Alicent’s grim appearance. You soon learnt about the reasoning behind her upset expression, and you gritted your teeth, feeling like smashing up a plate yourself. 

Daemon. 

That fucking cunt. 

Translations: Ry iksos sȳrī, dōna dārilaros. - All is well, sweet princess.       

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Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301​ @hc-geralt-23

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: And that's chapter 8! Chapter 9 should be released sometime next week, and Act 1 will conclude at Chapter 10.

Also, I've been thinking about setting up a writing Instagram account, where I will post regularly on my daily progress on my fics as well as behind the scenes of my fic writing (e.g. my mental breakdowns over writers' block, sketches of character's outfits and advanced previews of upcoming fics). Let me know if you guys will be interested in that in the comments!

Additionally, I've also been thinking of publishing one shots of Daemon and the reader's childhood as well as alternate realities of how the fic could've gone if some characters had made different choices. This will be after the completion of Act 1 of course, and I already have some ideas hehe so stay tuned!

As always, thank you for reading this far! Let me know what you thought about this chapter 💕

[floralcyanide]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part Three

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took.

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it.

AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

warnings: brief descriptions of murder, nsfw, beginning signs of obsession and yandere behavior, perhaps an innuendo at the end who knowsss...

word count: 976

author's note: I am so sorry for the wait!! I got sick this past week with something?? and had to go to the hospital and all that jazz. fun times. I also wrote this instead of working on my finals because I make good decisions, obviously. I'm sorry it's short, but the next chapter will likely be long because things might happen... hmmm.... also enjoy a look inside Roman's head in this chapter. I might do more of that if you all like it!

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Pretending to be an adoring fan of Cotton and getting him to relax was all too easy. Getting him to panic, though? Even easier and twice as fun. Cotton and Roman’s brief yet daunting conversation over the phone gave Roman that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slaughtering Cotton and his little blonde girlfriend was bringing back that urge- that desire to kill that had been for so long shoved away. It had taken residence in the back of Roman’s mind for years now, only to bare its teeth again at the thought of anyone harming you. 

You, Roman thought as he plunged his knife into Cotton, you are so special. I hardly know anything about you, but I know you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I did this for you, Y/N. You thought I wouldn’t hear that he spilled coffee on you? Burned you? Then got a little too close to you? Cotton is not a good guy, Y/N. He’s not a nice guy like me. I can take care of you and love you.

Roman somewhat cringes inwardly at how obsessive he is becoming over you. But he can’t help it. He’s got mommy issues, after all. He serves Cotton one final blow that sucks the light out of his eyes quickly. Roman sits on his knees momentarily, wiping the blade clean of blood before standing back up and hurriedly leaving the apartment. 

It’s dead silent in Roman’s condo as he lays in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling blankly. His hands are resting on his chest as he focuses on his breathing, trying his best to fall asleep. But it’s been two hours with no avail. Roman’s mind begins to wander to you like always. It’s only been a month of knowing you exist, but it’s been an excellent month for Roman. Other than him realizing that killing off Cotton could mean bad things for the movie. But at this point, he only cares about his own film because you’re in it, even as an extra. However, he’s asked John Milton about a dozen times already if you could have a role, and he’s said no every time. Roman won’t give up on you, even if he has to kill someone else. Maybe he’ll go for Jennifer or Angelina since they have good roles. You deserve those roles more than they do, in Roman’s opinion. 

Eventually, Roman falls asleep, and the following day rolls around all too soon. He clambers out of bed once he realizes he’s got about 20 minutes to become presentable and get to the studio. Roman runs a wet comb through his hair before hurriedly brushing his teeth, searching his closet for a button-up in your favorite color. He figured that out quite easily, as you often wear the color. After spitting out the toothpaste and pulling the shirt on, Roman examines himself quickly before bolting out of his condo. Traffic is, of course, hellish on the way to the studio, but Roman makes it a reasonable time. He’s about 10 minutes earlier than usual, surprisingly. 

When Roman reaches his office, he starts reviewing the current script and seeing how he could sneakily revise it to fit your style and acting methods. He’s picked up on some things about you so far, such as how intensely you can become someone else, even if they’re a background character. You express emotion in such a beautiful way, too. God, Roman could eat you alive. You were perfect in his eyes. And when you walk into his office during his revision session, he swears he’s still in bed dreaming.

“Hey, uh, Roman?” you scratch the back of your neck nervously, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Y/N?” Roman asks with a smile.

“I was wondering if there were any updates to the script for the extras. I know you’ve been rewriting things quite a lot, so,” you pause, trying not to sound too bitchy about it, “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just want to be prepared.”

Roman chuckles with a casual nod, trying to seem collected, “Everything is still the same. But I’m still trying to put bugs in some ears about you. You have a real talent, even if you don’t see it.”

You brush some hair from your eyes, “Roman, I appreciate you trying, but I’m fine with just being an extra. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, and I don’t see that changing.”

Roman shakes his head, “You won’t know until you try.”

You stare into his eyes for a moment, and his gaze lingers. 

“You know what,” Roman says, not breaking eye contact, “How about we meet for coffee later, and you can look over the main script and see what you think? I’m revising it and need some feedback. Is that okay with you?”

You bite your lip, surprised Roman would ask to see you outside work. Your stomach erupts into nervous butterflies at the thought.

“Sure, I’d love to,” you nod, “See you at the parking lot after we wrap?”

“Of course,” Roman smiles, “See you then.”

You turn to leave Roman’s office, and he unashamedly watches your ass as you exit. God, he thinks, if I could only have you for one night to show you that you don’t need anyone but me. You’d be wrapped around my finger. Begging for me every chance you had. Roman has to shake his head in order to get the image of your ass bent over for him out of his imagination. He needed to focus on work again so he could have something to show you later. 

Roman wanted to show you more than the script, though. But he needed to figure out how to get under your skin. He thinks he knows just how to do it, too. 

taglist:

@bridgergf @crinimalmindsfan13 @oddlittleminx @axen-gers @alwayslilithnevreve @belovedtylerrr @bonbekahsfav @elliotss @jokersgrf @snazzynacho

[basketballanonsblog]

I'm a little nervous to post this because this is the first time I've written for Tzuyu. I dedicate this to @dinoooo-w who requested a Tzuyu one-shot (I hope you like it). It's just fluff

Synopsis: What's the best way to confess to your crush ?

Paper Trails

Power forward.

That was your position on the school's basketball team, something you prided yourself on.

It also boosted your popularity amongst your peers but for the past few months, there was only one person whose attention you longed for.

Chou Tzuyu.

She transferred at the beginning of the semester, and the first time you saw her, was painfully memorable.

You dribbled the ball before passing it to your teammate. Swiftly, you ran closer to the hoop, but your attention was stolen by the prettiest girl you had ever seen. Walking to the bleachers had never looked so good.

A minute later, it hit you that you were still playing. Literally hit you. The impact from the basketball knocked you back to reality. You weren't too disoriented, but some gathered to check if you were alright; effectively blocking your view of the person who unknowingly had a role in this commotion. Not that you were mad or anything, just curious.

Since then, it was difficult not to notice her. She sat a few places in front of you in most of your classes, and her presence was so magnetic. You could listen to her talk for hours, even if it was about algebra.

It became a dilemma after a week of losing sleep over her. No one had made you this giddy before.

Class had finished, you were almost out the door when you heard your name.

"Y/n, you dropped your pen." You spun so fast, you swore you got whiplash.

"You know my name?!"

"It's hard to forget the name of the person who got hit with a basketball." Tzuyu said no more and walked away.

Her tone was so dry, you couldn't tell if she was teasing you or not. Either way, that was your first interaction.

-x-

"I don't know man, what if it doesn't work?"

One of your teammates, Jeongyeon, suggested leaving a written compliment in her locker.

"What's the harm? She won't know it's from you, so you can play it cool. Besides, the team has agreed that we're sick of seeing you pining." The joke made you feel a little better.

Right, here goes nothing.

You slipped the paper in and left.

-x-

This went on for a month, and now again, you'd notice when she read the little notes you left her.

One day, in a bold move, you decided to ask her about them.

"A little birdie told me that a secret admirer is leaving you love notes."

Her lips curled up minutely.

"Yeah, they're cute, but honestly, I'm uninterested and throw them away after reading them."

Your heart sunk.

"Oh."

"Yeah...anyway, I'll see in you class y/n."

-x-

You missed again.

"Y/n! What is up with you today? You haven't made a single shot this afternoon!"

"Sorry, coach, I'm just having an off day." 

He sighed but didn't berate you further. With a big game next week, he understood the pressure that comes with it.

"Damn, she really got under your skin, huh?"

"I don't know what I was thinking, she's way out of my league."

"That's true." You didn't regret throwing a basketball at her.

"You know, Jeongyeon, you should really be nice to your captain, or else you'll end up doing extra push-ups."

"Empty threats don't work on me, young one. Anyway, I think you should write one more hand it to her directly, so she knows."

-x-

For some reason, you took her advice again.

You managed to catch her after school. You trembled a bit when you approached her.

"Tzuyu." The words flew out your head when she smiled at you. "This is for you." You practically shoved the paper into her hand before running away.

She opened it, and her smile grew.

I like you, will you go out with me?

Tzuyu knew exactly how to give you her answer.

-x-

"Ten seconds on the clock! Will y/n be able to make the shot in time?"

You were just a bit too far from the hoop, but you took the risk.

9

8

7

6

There was silence as the ball glided through the air.

5

4

3

2

1

"And it's in! What a victory for the last game of the season!"

Your team tackled you in a hug and then lifted you in the air since you scored the winning shot. Amidst the celebration, you locked eyes with Tzuyu, who waved at you.

You met her outside once you had showered and changed.

It was her turn to give you a piece of paper.

Yes.

P.S. I never threw them away, I knew it was you leaving notes in my locker. Your handwriting is distinct.

You looked back up at Tzuyu, who held her gaze on the ground.

How can someone be this adorable?

"I'm meeting the team for some pizza to celebrate. Do you want to join me?"

She reached for your hand and grinned.

"It's a date."

[bubbytheliverstealingskeleton]

Mmmm

Au idea I’ve had floating in my brain for a bit I’ve been calling the 5 years late au

Putting all the stuff under a read more cause I’m just sorta brainstormin’ on the spot

So this ain’t organized very goodly or anythin’ but here I go.

Ford never sent the postcard to Stanley, or atleast he tried to but it never made it to him. Bill managed to delay Ford sending it by ripping up the post card he had written and then all the other ones in his house. Once Ford managed to finally send a post card- it actually made it to the address of the motel Stan had been staying at, but Stan was already long gone. He was chased out of his motel and had left the state the couple months prior. Ford also sent it probably a couple months after when he actually had in cannon. Just generally because of nerves and such. He kept thinking it over and second guessing if he actually wanted Stanley’s help or not or if he was actually going to help or if he wanted to drag him into his messes.

But Stan still ends up in Gravity Falls. It’s 5 years later than he does in cannon, and that’s only because he was looking for someplace to lie low and overheard a family at a gas station while he was traveling through Oregon saying something about visiting family there and he thought: “well that seems to be a small weird little town out in the middle of nowhere, why don’t I stay there nobody will ever find me there” “Probably”

So she just decides to live there for a bit. She decides to switch it up a bit with the fake identities and try’s the whole being a girl thing. [she’s probably been femme presenting with another identity before but this is probably the first time she outright told someone she was a women] Her fake identity for Gravity Falls is Lee Pineley Tree, local butch girl who just moved to town, works at the Dusk 2 Dawn, already tried to seduce someone, and looks a little suspiciously like the mysterious scientist guy who used to live at that mysterious shack in the woods who may or may not still be living there and/or dead-but uhhh it can’t possibly be him because he’s not a girl and also doesn’t seem to have a car and isn’t good at talking with people and this girl doesn’t seem to know jack shit about the area soooo-

Yeap

[also please note that I think if Stan had like 4-5 more years in cannon to himself before he had to pretend to be Ford then he would have figured out his whole gender thing a lot quicker][she totally knows she’s a weird little transfem genderqueer baby now][maybe not via those labels but she knows she’s trans in some way]

Uh but yeah

Stan also just genuinely goes by Lee at that point, like outside of the fake identity he genuinely likes it.

So but anyways-

Lee works at the Dusk 2 Dawn, and for the first few months lives with Ma and Pa, doing things around their house and working extra hours and late shifts for them because she doesn’t want them to think she’s a freeloader or anything. She occasionally hears and sees out of the corner of her eyes something scuttling around the edges of the building when she’s locking up, and she swears things from the store room keep going missing but Ma and Pa don’t seem concerned. She found gnomes out back one time so she thinks that maybe it’s them taking some stock occasionally. She also seems the occasionally see the same vague shadow around other buildings.

She accidentally befriends the local kook after they bump into eachother and Fidds freaks the fuck out at seeing her face. They run into eachother again and he’s a little more sane this time and apologizes for before. They kinda hit it off cause neither of them have friends in town, everybody thinks Lee is a little too shady, and well.. Fidds is a little bit not quite there most of the time. They like to hang out and smoke in the dump. Fidds isn’t to the point of full on old man McGucket but like she’s almost there, like arm cast, beard, not completely balding and hair not completely white, prolly has a different hat. But like they’re definitely gone completely over the edge and nearly gone.

After about 3-4 months of living there she keeps swearing she sees some sort of humanoid figure scurrying around the building every 3-ish weeks to a month. She’s only vaguely seen it happen like 6 times max but she swears it’s a guy. She also around this time starts to look around for an actual house or apartment or smthin to stay in because she feels bad for living with Ma and Pa for so long. She thinks for a bit just going and living in the dump with McGucket, maybe fixing up and adding onto his little shack there, but as she’s looking she gets word that maybe she could check out the old abandoned cabin in the woods, see if she could live there.

She’s been hearing for a bit about this creepy cabin in the woods, how it belongs/belonged to this mysterious scientist who almost never came to town, the last known instances of him coming to town he looked like he was going insane, and most people either think he’s dead or left and abandoned the old shack long ago. So she drives up there after her shift one day, sees the cabin and allll the shit surrounding it and is like geez this place looks fuckin creepy as hell. Someone probably died in that thing.

She decides to come back another day when it isn’t dusk.

Before going back she grabs some tools, flashlights, weapons, anything she needs for breaking into an abandoned shack in the middle of the woods. She makes sure to get there around noon, when the sun is fully in the sky and the area is sufficiently lit up.

She goes up to the front door, and just to make sure no one actually lives there, she knocks on the door…. Nothing happens. She stands there for a full 2 minutes before shrugging and trying to open the door. It’s not locked and opens slowly, creaking the entire way.

Almost as soon as Lee enters she notices something is terribly wrong. The place is covered in scattered symbols, words, papers, and the occasional ritual/summoning looking circle. She explored around the house, finding random scientific artifacts and more symbols and ritualistic stuff everywhere. She though she heard shuffling sometime while looking around but assumed that there was maybe just an opossum or raccoon somewhere.

Oh boy she was so wrong.

Almost as soon as she got back downstairs she was pounced on by something. It held her down weakly and tried to hold a knife to the back of her neck, but she was able to overpower it quite easily and pushed herself up and shoved it back. She was able to book it out of the house and to her car and prolly came back another day to just check it out again, make sure that guy isn’t just a squatter so then maybe she could acquire the house. Idk what else still thinkin’ of stuff here

And uh

Hey I should probably tell you guys ‘bout Ford

Soooo what the fuck happened to him?

Well after sending that post card he waited for Stanley to show up. He waited. And waited. And waited.. And waited… and waited a little too long. His body begun failing him from lack of sleep and nutrients. He had waited a week for Stan, hoping that maybe he was just busy or something, and that week turned into a month, and that month, 6 months. Those 6 months turned into a year. He lost hope after the year that Stan was ever going to come.

During this first year his body started failing him, he became malnourished, rarely eating and he was surviving on just coffee and water alone for a few weeks before he had to relent and go get actual food from the store. Bill absolutely tormented him for those first few weeks, delaying his arrival because he wanted to watch Ford deteriorate and inflict pain upon himself instead of Bill doing it. He got tired eventually and started preparing for his arrival again, but everytime he would reconnect something or recalibrate something, Ford would always undo it almost as soon as he regained consciousness.

After the 5-6 month mark his body started dying. So, Bill decided to do something to Fords body. It started off slowly just small things like Fords body slowly becoming indifferent to the amount of water he drank, but slowly he developed concerning attributes and his body began changing.

He was able to see clearly in the dark after a bit, his teeth grew sharper, he developed claws and his spine elongated into a tail. His eyes turned black with his working eyes iris turning a fluorescent yellow, his nonworking just being pitch black.

Bill had turned him into some sort of undead immortal creature. Not a zombie but something slightly similar, something connected still to Bill.

Ford took the chance and disassembled a major part of the portal one day and ever since then he’s been able to slowly disassemble it. Bill has still tried to fix it but over the years he started possessing Ford less and less, sending Ford into an even more paranoid state than he had been in. He didn’t know when the next time Bill was going to possess him was.

Also these guys are definitely so much worse off compared to when they meet in canon. Ford has more burns and cuts around his body, the eye that bleeds is completely blind, and Ford is so malnourished and unhealthy and so paranoid that he only ever steals from places he needs things now, not the mention he doesn’t have his research grant anymore.

Stan also has a bit more injuries, maybe a new bullet wound and more cuts on his hands. The most grievous of injuries is his eye and hand. He doesn’t have an eye in his left socket anymore. It was gauged out after he was chased out of his motel room. The same guys removed his pinkey finger on his right hand and removed the first section of his ring finger.

Lee does however finally get proper glasses, a hearing aid, and a properly fitting prosthetic while she’s staying under Ma and Pa. She doesn’t have anything keeping her socket in shape so she just wears an eyepatch.

And that’s all I have so far

I think I’m gonna turn this into a comic but I gotta figure out how it ends

I also gotta actually draw up these guys

Maybe draw Lee being smoking buddies with McGucket

[emmebearpaw]

Ok you know. This Olive fic was shorter than I hoped it was going to be but I've gotten to a point where I would do a big 'ol time skip and a lot of my thoughts about this version of Olive are more... disjointed scenes. I also kind of want to go play video games instead of doing more writing so uh, posting time! Consider this a nice intro to drop some exposition and try to ease you into the world i'm thinking about right now I suppose. I'll definitely write more for Olive here soon.

Word Count: ~1075

The Web was full of very strange rules. Strange being the operative word. Because Olive did not understand the explanations behind them. You could only send 280 letters in a call on Birdcall. Cats are the funniest animals and must have funny memes made about them. There was acronyms for everything. And most notably in this situation,

"There isn't actually a rule that says a vtuber has to play video games. Besides. Sudoku can be a video game if I play it on my Webporter." She laughed, scrolling back up her busier than average (a whole 7 people watching!) chat to see the commenter's name. "Yup, definitely don't recognize that username, welcome to the Labyrinth, punkstrife. Since your new here, allow me to explain, it's hard to get a Webporter down into my labyrinth so the one I'm using is uh... a teensy bit old!" Olive hit one of her hotkeys and watched the expression on her model change in the stream preview. Her carefully crafted png-tuber persona being her best edit of the Minotaur's skull placed upon an anime girl body, with a posted note slapped onto the skull so she toggle the expression to one of the many emoticons she had learned over the last several months. Certainly it wasn't as cool as the moving models of other streamers she had watched but, her posted note could go :p, or any other infinite amount of emotions, which was good enough for her. "Luckily the Web is full of many fun things to do!!" ^-^ "Like reading Wikipedia! Anyways don't mind any birds you can hear, I keep birds and they've been a bit noisy recently!"

Her chat scrolled by a bit as she got a drink of water. One of the rules of streaming was that you are supposed to read chat. And besides, having people to talk to is the reason she was streaming, so... >Asterius is a nerd lol >fresh blood fresh blood >still want to know what birds they are?? >do Byers national park next

Placing the cup down she continued, "Speaking of, let's get back into it. Today's theme is national parks and other nature preserves from around the world, so give suggestions and we can go digitally visit it! We're reading about Acadia National Park right now, but if you want me to learn about one you like  then list it out. We'll all learn about them together!"

---

After another hour she went on break. Frankly she didn't even need to use the bathroom yet. She more so needed to stretch in ways she couldn't do quietly. After all there was no way to get up from the stool without the light scratching of its quills against the kitchen cabinet. She sighed, it probably wouldn't be long before she would have to paint the cabinet to cover up all the scratches it had put in it... and the bathroom door.. and the hole in the mattress from that one time it-- She broke out of the list of things she had to repair again as she reached her destination after 4 whole seconds. The other side of the desk/dining table/kitchen counter. The kitchen of course being the section of the house with the most floor space. Well, besides the bed, but she hadn't washed her feet from when she went out to tend to the birds, and she wasn't going to get the bed dirty just to stretch and she didn't feel like washing them or washing an extra pair of socks later. If only her master could find it some shoes that actually fit its feet. Oh well, that was the rule!

There were, of course, many rules she had to follow to be able to keep living here. Those ones she understood far better than the internet rules, because unlike those ones, her master had been there to explain them. She ran her fingers through her wiry hair as she gently pushed her head down, imagining her master's fingers instead as she explained the oh so important rules that would keep the two of them safe.

The first was the most serious one, her master cooed, "Nobody can know what you look like unless I say that they are safe" she nodded as she changed stretches, because of course "being a familiar can get us both in a lot of trouble if any of the gods ever find out". It chirred in shock, why should the fact it had claws and fur and a big tail and little tiny ears the perfect size for scratch mean it was in trouble? It hadn't even done anything... would it get  in trouble with master  "No no, you've been a very good girl. You aren't in trouble with me at all" She scratched behind its ear.  "Unfortunately, before you were born I did... a few things that made some of the gods very angry at me. And one of those things was making you, because the gods don't like it when humans do magic."

"Meanies" she managed to respond before sticking out her tongue in a childish act of defiance.

She shook her head loose from the memory before moving on to touch her paws. It was that silly silly "no magic" rule of the gods that was the source of all the rules her master had to drill into her. No telling anyone about her, because people definitely shouldn't know that she was a familiar. No mention of the birds her master had stolen from The Garden (at least she could mention there were birds. It was hard to ignore their very loud calls when they thought it was spring). No mention of where they lived because it turns out pocket dimensions were also magic and therefore also illegal.

At least the Web existed. With its strange rules that didn't make sense and infinite things to do and even people to talk to that weren't her master! Not that she didn't love her master, but she had to go and make money so that they could both eat even in the off season. So. She could be a Minotaur. As a treat. After all, as long as she followed all the rules her master told her again and again, nothing would go wrong!

She should probably get back to her stream, shouldn't she?

[emberswrites]

Have you ever thought of someday posting all of your Tumblr drabbles in a collection on ao3? they're always so lovely, I think that would be great

Anyway, here it goes: Realisation + Sai

Thanks for doing this, these little snippets make my day!

This is going to sound very dumb but I actually didn't really think of doing that, I guess because I didn't think I'd be doing so many? But since I now have quite a few it's not a bad idea at all, anon. I think I will actually do that because it would be nice to have the writing in one place and easy to find. And thank you, glad you enjoy them!

Prompt Game - Bonus Ino appearance.

Sai is still learning how to understand the impossible combinations of words, expressions, body language, and gestures that make up the puzzle of everyday communication. He's been getting better with the help of his new friends and his new sensei.

Only sometimes, Kakashi is the puzzle and he's not always so helpful.

Today, Kakashi looks rather dour, even though Sasuke had sent word that he'd successfully helped a community in Ame defend from a crime ring and would be staying an extra few months to see to it's safety as they rebuilt leadership.

He should be thrilled, Ame continued to be a vulnerable region and any threats stamped out there not only made good political sense but would help the many disadvantaged who continue to live there.

Kakashi had merely sighed after he'd read the correspondence, muttered a soft good, that's good before turning back to the stack of papers on his desk. Sai had asked if Kakashi needed anything, only for him to look up and give Sai that special kind of smile, the one that looked a little too much like his own had, empty.

"No thank you, Sai. That will be all."

He relays this odd encounter to Ino over lunch and she hums.

"Well, maybe he's just tired."

"He's always tired."

"Ugh, so true. He's too handsome to be working so hard," she says wistfully.

Sai isn't sure what an aesthetically pleasing face has to do with work ethic or load, but he makes a note to ask about this later. He can only handle so much examination of the human condition at once.

"Do you think it's Sasuke that upset him? Being reminded of his charge having to make up for his ills and failings, unlike Naruto and Sakura?"

This would make Sai feel rather sad, he thinks. Kakashi-sensei is a good man and shouldn't have to feel so responsible, to the point he can't even be happy at good news.

"Hm?" Ino begins to shake her head before pausing, "No, why would hearing from- wait. Oh you may be on to something Sai! Well done."

"What is it?"

"Well, he misses him obviously," she shrugs, "You know, when someone you care about isn't around and you want to see them."

Sai does know this ache. He resolves to be more helpful, maybe that would help take Kakashi's mind off his incomplete team. He decides to stop by the Tower earlier the next day to check in and be of good use to his sensei, only when he gets there he senses another chakra presence.

He instinctually minimizes his own signature, although he is not alone in the hallway as other shinobi move about beginning or ending their work days. He has rather good hearing and it isn't hard for him to pick up on the conversation inside as he waits.

"You didn't have to come back," Kakashi is saying, "I wouldn't have said it if I thought you'd come back because of it."

"I know-"

Sasuke? Sai blinks, Sasuke is meant to be in Ame for months.

"-but I wanted to. I miss you, too, you know. It's not...this isn't easy for me. But I am compelled to do it all the same. It isn't about...making up for anything, I just think I should be using this power where it's needed."

Ah, so Ino had been right - Kakashi had been sad at Sasuke being away again. But then, he was always away. Even Naruto had gotten used to it by now.

"I know, and I adore you for it. I just - selfishly - wish it didn't take you away from us so much. There will never be a shortage of strife or calamity...your life can't be just attending to the world's ills."

"Hm. And you?"

"What about me?"

"Shikamaru told me you barely go home."

"What would I do at home?"

There is a silence after this. A long silence, Sai notes. It's broken by a breathy laugh, Sasuke's by the sound of it.

"There's your agenda for today. Tell Shikamaru you're taking the day off, I'll have you back here and energized by tomorrow morning, promise."

"That soon?"

"Until next time."

"Next time, you stay longer than a day then."

"Deal."

Sai takes several steps back as the door swings open and the two walk out.

"Ah," Kakashi says, "You've been waiting, sorry Sai. You can check in with Shikamaru when he's in soon. Shouldn't be long, will you tell him I'm cashing in one of those vacation days Shizune's always on about?"

"Oh, yes," he says, smiling lightly, "What will you do, sensei?"

"Don't answer that," Kakashi says when Sasuke looks like he's about to, "We'll be at home, if the sky is falling."

Sai watches them walk away, puzzled. Home? Who's home? Sasuke doesn't have one here any longer, not a physical one anyway. Kakashi's home? Does Sasuke stay there when he's in town?

Are they holding hands?

Oh.

OH.

Yes, Sai will definitely need to note this one down in his book.

[agentangeles]

hello everyone please enjoy the first post i've made in my writing blog in easily 6 months and it's just to yell about the fucking center venn diagram point for two big fixations

now you might be wondering "angeles when you start moving towards other fandoms will you still be nootboots" and the answer is yes, its my brand, but also ace attorney has a fucking vice grip on my neurodivergent mentally ill ass

as a side note i am too much of an idiot to remember to read the manga but i know Points Of Interest and when I can sit for a good bit and consume it I will, so bear with my anime main knowledge

Anyways consider the concept of family clans in JJK and the Sahdmadhis and their shit in SOJ. Obviously, we see how shit happened with maki her sister and how that works, and clearly the clans are structured differently depending on the family (what the fuck is going on with gojo. love that funky little manic twink but. What.)

And yes, AA and JJK get to hold hands because of Higuruma, which means I now get to think of both of them and daydream about crossovers, and y'know what? In the JJK verse, you can reasonably explain so much shit, especially w/ Khurai'inism and bloodlines, because Khura'in's designated holy figure being a super cool badass hundreds of years ago with an equally badass sister? Sorcerers who kicked ass. Hella sorcerers who kicked ass. would be special grades without a doubt if they were alive today.

and like cursed techniques having genetic tie ins ALSO FUCKING SLAPS because that's a huge factor! you can also explain why the feys and the sahdmadhis have spirit channeling because *it's the same fucking bloodline* and it's not a stretch to say someone was kicked out of the clan, fucked off, and then those traits started popping up again in later generations

that aside, clan hierarchy also gives a nice port over from an actual extra country that capcom decided now exists, because instead of a ruling kingdom family it's a Big Fucking Clan With A Lot Of Weight To It

(And also makes sense then why when the revolution starts up, nobody steps in to do shit. interfering with another clan's family drama? no fucking thank you. not my paygrade.)

also i just think nahyuta would be really fun as a sorcerer and their rosary beads would DEFINITELY be a weapon for cursed spirits and their title as "last rites prosecutor" would doubly fuck

Unrelated to SOJ but still on the AA train, this also means that Simon Blackquill is just. Always busting out cursed techniques. And since nobody can see it they think he just slices shit with his fingers. And that's fucking hilarious to think about, the idea that someone probably got after him for it and he went "Consider this though: who is going to ask questions with the everything else i have going on", because Simon "Definitely Uses The >:3c Emoji When He Is Texting" Blackquill refuses to fucking listen to people.

"You're going to expose sorcerer society to the masses" Wrong. Everyone is going to think he can cut shit with his fingers because he's a scary samurai man who went to prison for murder and clearly this is something that tracks for that persona.

[ahedderick]

Checkup

I'm going to have some bloodwork done this week, so I stopped taking any vitamin or mineral supplements around Christmas time . . so they can get a good 'baseline' value. But I am very, very much looking forward to taking them again. No matter WHAT I eat this time of year (I am so good about fruits and veg!) I need a bit extra in the way of vitamins. D, B, whatever. Finding out that adhd folks may be prone to needing higher levels of B vitamins (we use more of it? We don't process it from food as well? Don't know.) was one of the really, really helpful "Tumblr-anecdotes I read and looked up more info on later." Seriously. If you don't take posts at face value, but do further research and check with your own doctor about stuff, you can learn SO MUCH from Tumblr.

On that note. Want to hear a c-r-a-z-y story about perimenopause? This might save some 40ish cis woman some trouble, and may simply be of interest to trans folks.

One day in October of the year I was 41, I woke up a different person. I mean I literally went to bed as myself and woke up feeling completely different. Over the next two weeks I barely slept more than a few hours a night and barely ate; had no appetite whatsoever. I kept up with mom duties and farm duties, but spent all my alone-time with my head in a fog.

Over the next few months I considered asking for medical help, but I didn't quite know what to TELL my Dr (a grumpy but reasonable old guy). I couldn't quite describe my experience on words, except to say I felt like a different person. Gradually I began to fell much, much more energetic. My strength increased bizarrely, even with no more than my usual farm exercise. LOVED that! The acne, moustache and chin whiskers were unwelcome. The mental fog was distressing, but my kids were only in third grade and kindergarten respectively, and my father was still completely independent - so I didn't NEED to be all that mentally sharp to keep up with what I needed to. You may be wanting to smack me upside the head by now, but it wasn't until I started growing black, wiry chest hair that I FINALLY figured it out.

My system had stopped estrogening and started androgening. Completely at random. I am, I must stress, a cis-woman, always felt female, and had 5 pregnancies with two live children. The very sudden onset of it is what made me feel so mentally disoriented at the beginning.

By the time I figured it out, months after it began, I could already feel the effects starting to wane. There were no real health effects that I needed to see a Dr about, and I wasn't sure I wanted to go to the trouble of trying to get him to understand what happened. I've never met another woman who talked about having this experience - but we often don't talk about perimenopause. I had read BOOKS about menopause issues, and this wasn't in them! Since hormone disruption is foundational to perimenopause, I'd bet money that SOMEONE else has had this happen. If you're nearing that age, it might happen to you - and it isn't the end of the world.

[ashxketchum]

✧ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @deathberi ✧

Honestly, I'm so glad that we became friends because it's so hard to find people who vibe with your entire thought process and share all the same reactions or inhibitions over everything. Thank you so much for always lending an ear to my crazy and petty fandom or life related rants, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be as active in the Mimato fandom as I am now had we not become friends when we did 💗

After almost 2 years of telling people that there will be a part 2 of the post-Tri coffee shop oneshot, I've finally managed to pull myself together and write it for Eri's birthday!

And for a change, I'll be posting the entire fic on tumblr, though you can also read it on FFN/AO3 if you wish 🫶🏻

Summary: After the Ordinemon incident, bit by bit the kids are able to pick up the pieces and move on with their lives. Amongst the chaos of change, Yamato and Mimi discover their friendship runs deeper than either had ever thought.

Word count: 5743, Fandom: Digimon, Pairing: Mimato, Genre: Slow burn/friendship/romance

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“I’ll have a venti matcha berry frappe, nonfat, refrigerated chilled milk, absolutely no ice, extra whipped cream, which, make sure, is layered perfectly, with three pumps of caramel syrup and two of vanilla.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into his back, so Yamato did what any other good employee in his place would, he kept a straight face and diligently noted down the customer’s request before moving on to ringing it up without once bothering to look at the girl standing behind the counter or ask for her name. He wondered if his manager would find it strange, that he hadn’t taken the customer’s name, but seeing as Yamato was already putting all his effort into concentrating well on his job and not exploding on the brunette who seemed to take some pleasure out of his misery, he decided that he was allowed this one slip. He’d deal with his manager later, since the bigger problem was in front of him, eyeing him with a teasing glint in her caramel eyes as he picked up the paper cup and moved on to the workstation to begin her order. He did however, keep a track of what his manager was doing from the corner of his eye, and the minute the older man was out of sight, Yamato breathed a sigh of relief and spun on his feet.

“Please Mimi, by all means, go ahead and make my job more difficult.” Yamato seethed, managing to keep his voice low to not attract any attention to them.

“Well, if you’re going to ask that nicely,” Mimi smirked, as always she had the upper hand in the conversation due to the safety guaranteed by being a customer at the shop.

“Just take the drink and go, let me work in peace.” Yamato attempted to maintain a superior tone as he begged her to leave, turning again to add the finishing touches to her order as quickly as he could before his superior caught a whiff of his not-so-welcoming attitude towards their customers.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Mimi beamed at him, as she accepted the finished product from his hand, her fingers brushed against his own for a brief moment, suddenly making Yamato hyper aware of the spot at the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Entrance exams to worry about?” He asked exasperatedly, she seemed too carefree for someone who was in the last year of high school, remembering his own experience of it from the previous year.

Mimi scoffed in reply, waving a hand in the air to brush aside his concern for her education. Instead of turning to make her way out of the store now that she had received her order, she settled on the empty bar stool on the other side of the pick-up counter, resting one elbow on the countertop as she took careful sips of her drink from the other hand. He watched her like a hawk, Yamato wouldn’t put it past the brunette to make fake claims about the taste of the drink just to get him into trouble. This had been going on for a few months now, every time he had a shift during her after-school hours, Mimi would make it her life’s purpose to show up and annoy him to no extent. He’d attempted to explain to her, that he needed to keep this job to maintain his living expenses, but apparently, the pleasure she got from watching him stumble around while making coffee seemed to take precedence over his livelihood.

Of course, Mimi wasn’t the only one to blame here, if only his roommate at college wasn’t a bigger pain in the ass, Yamato would never had have to take up this part-time job in the first place. When he had complained to his father about not being able to get along well with his roomie, instead of agreeing to raise his monthly allowance so that Yamato could move out and rent a place of his own, his father had promptly told him that as an adult, he should learn to solve his problems from now on. Yamato had half a mind to remind his father that he and his friends had not only solved the Digital World’s problems on multiple occasions, but also saved their own world by doing so, but he'd stayed quiet and accepted his fate. On Takeru’s recommendation, he took up a job at this popular coffee joint, the pay was decent and the hours weren’t too bad and well Yamato always did have a knack for being good in the kitchen, so it suited his purposes of saving up to move out of the college dorm as soon as possible just well.

Until Mimi happened to walk in one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She was surprised to see him behind the counter, and at first, she had just been curious, about what he was doing here or what he had been up to since the graduation ceremony. Yamato admitted, that ever since he graduated high school, he’d finally understood what Jou had been struggling with for the longest time, it wasn’t easy to maintain friendships when one was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of every single aspect of their life and somehow pursue studies on which one’s future life depended at the same time. He considered himself lucky if he was able to have a phone conversation with Takeru that lasted more than 5 minutes in a day. So he hadn’t been wary of Mimi popping up every now and then, updating him about her and Koushiro’s school life, and sometimes Jou’s and Sora’s too. It gave him a way to stay connected with everyone without having to make time for them, and while he did feel guilty about this on multiple occasions, he was grateful for it too.

That was before Mimi got bored with just talking about their lives, and decided to spice up their encounters by getting him into light trouble with his manager. It was usually just silly little things like claiming he got her order wrong or giving extremely complicated and hard to follow requests, and she had never pulled something huge that would seriously get Yamato in trouble, but it was still frustrating and it ruined his mojo for the rest of his shift.

There was also the question of why Mimi had suddenly taken such a liking to spending time with him, of all people, since they'd never been close enough for a relationship like this. They’d spent time together before sure, and they’d had their fair share of agreements and disagreements when it came to matters related to the Digital World, but apart from that Yamato could barely remember any interactions with her that didn’t circle back to the Digital World or their Digimon Partners. So the thought always nagged at him, at the back of his head, when she would appear with a skip in her step and fix him with one of the brightest smiles he knew.

But then she would go on to do something diabolical, and he’d be reminded of how similar she was to his little brother, which led to him missing Takeru and left him irritated and wishing for her to leave.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yamato turned his attention towards the brunette sitting in front of him, she had set down the drink on the countertop and was currently surveying the store with her bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them indicating that she was just looking for something that could serve as a prop of the day in interfering with his work. Relieved that he had caught her while she was still in her planning phase, Yamato decided to take control of the situation before his manager returned and reprimanded him for being rude to their customers.

“You really don’t have anything better to do?” Yamato began icily, making Mimi turn her gaze towards him, the challenging look on her face seemed to put the last nail to his patience’s coffin as he snapped at her, “Don’t you have any friends?”

He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

The effect on Mimi was immediate, all colour drained from her face and her eyes shone with a blanket of tears just waiting to fall, but with a single blink she managed to keep them at bay and faced him with a hardened look as she replied quietly, “I thought that’s what we were.”

And before Yamato could make any attempts to take back his statements or even begin to apologize for his behaviour, Mimi was out of the door, leaving behind her drink on the counter, without sparing a single glance in his direction.

Yamato allowed himself to groan out loud when he picked up her cup to clear the counter and found that it was still heavy, she had barely begun to drink it. He couldn’t help but chide himself internally, for missing something so obvious, for even deliberating on an answer that was right in front of his eyes this entire time.

Yamato couldn’t believe that he, of all people, had missed out on the signs of their budding friendship, and had pushed it aside as nothing but an occasional nuisance within his routine. His optimistic side hoped that he would just explain himself to her when she’d show up tomorrow, even offer her her favourite drink for free as a token of his apology. But a tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him, that there was no way Mimi would come back to spend time with him after this.

Unfortunately, it was the tiny voice that prevailed in its prediction, as Mimi didn’t show up the next day or the one after that, or after that.

At first, Yamato consoled himself by devoting himself to the tasks at hand, happy to finally be able to concentrate on his work, he managed to win praises from his manager on multiple occasions which pushed Mimi’s absence from his surroundings out of his head, and for a while, it worked.

But then there were slow days when he didn’t have much to do but stand behind the counter and look at all the people sitting around in groups or twos and threes, laughing and chatting loudly as they sipped their coffees and munched on their food. The sight would tug on an invisible string in his heart, making him long for Mimi’s teasing smile as she rattled off an order comprising of the most incompatible ingredients, laughing loudly at the look of horror that would take over his face as he wrote down her instructions. There were days when the shop would be eerily silent, and he’d hear her voice in his head, telling him about something that had happened at school. There were days when someone would walk by with a pet, cuddling it and showering it with affection, making him miss Gabumon’s soft fur and he’d instinctively turn towards the pick-up counter, hoping to tell Mimi about it but was met with emptiness instead.

He hadn’t realised, just how much he had managed to share with her during their encounters, and how he had begun to depend on her company to get him through his mundane work life. And in true Yamato fashion, he had gone ahead and messed it all up by thinking about things from only his perspective.

It was on another such slow day when Yamato was just standing behind the counter with mundane blue eyes watching the people that passed by the cafe's entrance that his father’s words echoed in his mind once again. As an adult he had to learn to solve his problems without help from others, so was standing here day in and day out, waiting for Mimi to appear through the door once again really how he wanted this to end? He knew he was capable of doing better, and that realisation came with a burst of motivation to take matters into his own hand.

Looking at the ingredients lined up on the shelf behind him, Yamato put his mind and then hands to work, coming up with a coffee drink only Mimi would enjoy sipping through. After he set the finished drink aside, he carefully checked his manager's office, which had been empty when he had clocked in, and to his delight was still so. Asking around among his colleagues he found that their senior was on leave today and after a quick roster negotiation with the staff he was on good terms with, Yamato picked up the coffee cup and ducked out of work early.

His feet carried him towards his school without needing many instructions from his brain, but what he did notice was that his coffee shop was actually not that far from it at all. Maybe another reason why Mimi had ended up dropping by so frequently, it probably was just a stop on her way home from school. When he arrived at the school gates, he checked the time on his wristwatch and smiled to himself, just a few more minutes and the students would begin pouring out in herds.

As time passed, however, Yamato shifted his feet restlessly, he hadn’t visited this area since he graduated and standing outside the entrance to his school while he was not in uniform made him feel like he was doing something wrong, that any of his teachers would just waltz up to him parroting off the school policy any minute. He didn’t have much of a choice, however, since this was his decision and turning back now just to escape a little bit of embarrassment would set him back a few steps over the progress he was trying to make. He gripped the takeaway coffee cup in his hand and reminded himself that the reason he was here was to make amends, no matter what the consequences.

So he stood a few paces away from the school’s main gate and kept a watchful eye on the students passing by in groups of threes and fours, hoping to catch hold of the person he had come here to see soon enough. Yamato had expected her to be out the doors mixed in with a big group of girls, laughing and chattering away about their day, but he'd been standing here for a while now and despite the large crowd of students that had already exited the building, he was yet to lay his eyes upon her. The coffee cup in his hand had been chilled to the point that it felt frozen when he left the shop with it but now it was starting to slowly lose its coolness, and he wondered if he had chosen the wrong day to show up. Maybe Mimi was busy with some club meeting after school or she might’ve taken a sick day today, which would mean that he’d have to repeat his efforts some other day. The school could easily let him camp outside for a day, but surely he’d raise some questioning eyebrows if he appeared here for two consecutive days.

But just as he was contemplating turning around and going back, his eyes finally caught sight of the familiar shade of pastel hair, that shined with a hint of pink when the light hit it just right. To his surprise, however, Mimi was not exiting the school in a large group surrounded by friends, she was walking all by herself with hands shoved in her coat’s pocket and her head hanging low, a sight that Yamato never expected to see. He didn’t want to seem like he was putting her in a mould, but at some level for him, Mimi was the personification of brightness, so to see her look so dull and drained was almost eye-opening in some sense. Now he felt even more guilty for his actions before, for pushing her away and treating her like a nuisance without ever giving a second thought to what kind of problems she was facing by herself.

The Ordinemon incident took its toll on each of them in different ways, for Taichi witnessing their teacher’s death made an irreparable hole in his heart, for Hikari coming to terms with the fact that she and her brother shared idealistic differences hadn’t been easy, for Jou and Sora, completely moving on from their responsibilities as a chosen child to focus on themselves and their futures was a bittersweet choice, for Takeru learning to make the most of the things that hurt him took centerstage in his life, and for Koushiro drowning himself in working to make the connection between the Digital World and their world more stable became his life’s only goal.

And yet somehow, Yamato assumed that Mimi was unaffected, that she was the only one out of them all who conquered the painful memories and continued to live life as happily as she always had. It hadn’t crossed his mind at all that the reason why she sat across him at the coffee shop day in and day out could have just been a way for her to avoid dealing with her problems. He never even considered the possibility that the few moments of laughter and teasing she shared with him could have been the highlight of her day. Perhaps, it had been reassuring for Yamato to think that at least one of them made it out of that fiasco unharmed, maybe assuming that he had one friend less to worry about was an easier truth to accept.

After all, what help had his silent presence been of to Taichi, or even to Takeru for that matter? Had he been able to find the comforting words to tell Jou and Sora that they made the right decision? Had he ever taken a moment to understand where Hikari’s anger towards Taichi came from, or what kind of unreasonable expectations Koushiro set for himself? No, the only moment when Yamato felt that he was doing something right as a friend was when Mimi sat across him with her bright eyes and loud laugh filling his world with colours unimaginable.

Taking a deep breath, Yamato kept his eyes fixed on the brunette who now had reached the school gate without noticing him. He knew that if he called out to her, it might draw unneeded attention towards her so he waited for her to turn her back to him as she walked in the direction of the train station. Swiftly, but as unsuspiciously as he could, he followed her before eventually falling into step with her. With her head still hung low, it seemed that Mimi was yet to notice his presence.

“Hey, Mimi!”

Yamato called out to her in a normal tone, but Mimi still jumped up in surprise, eyes wide with disbelief as she halted in her tracks and looked up at him.

“Are you looking to get punched?” She frowned at him as she rested a palm on her chest, possibly trying to calm herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to startle you.” Yamato smiled sheepishly, realising that he hadn’t made the best move after all.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

The sarcasm dripping from Mimi’s voice and the gloomy aura that surrounded her was a clear sign of how maybe today was not the best day for Yamato to carry out his plan. But the now slightly less cold cup of coffee in his hand reminded him that since he made it this far, there was no point in turning back now.

“Sorry, again,” Yamato said, moving quickly to make space for a passer-by which put him directly in front of Mimi. With all the courage that he had left in his bones, he raised the cup of coffee in his hand, offering it to her as he spoke, “I got some time off today so I thought I’d bring you a peace offering.”

Mimi didn’t immediately take the cup from his hand which made a shiver run down his spine as she folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head up towards him, shooting a glare at him with her fierce caramel eyes as she asked, “And why should I bother to accept this peace offering?”

Yamato bit his lip nervously as his grip on the coffee cup tightened. The apology he had practised at home, kind of tied in with the premise that Mimi would accept his little token and then agree to hear him out in her usual lighter mood. He couldn’t be sure if the words he originally picked would please the Mimi that stood in front of him now with a guarded posture and distrustful eyes.

“Look, I really am sorry for the way I behaved,” he said. Mimi immediately scoffed at him and began to roll her eyes so he hastily explained himself better, “I know you find that hard to believe right now, but I’m not sure how I can prove it to you if you don’t have a little faith in me.

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or it may have been his blunt choice of words, but there was a flicker in Mimi’s eyes as her head perked up, indicating that she was beginning to let down her guard. She raised a hesitant hand and before he knew it, her fingers brushed against his as she decided to take the coffee cup he had prepared for her.

Yamato curled his fists to contain the excitement that rushed through his veins at the thought of being able to earn Mimi’s forgiveness just as he had imagined it in his head. He recounted his next words carefully in his mind before speaking up again, his voice filled with twice the confidence he had started with.

“Of course, I consider us friends.”

Mimi’s eyes widened at his simple declaration, it was hard to miss the colour that rushed to her pale cheeks, the sight of which made his own heartbeat pick up pace, though he did not understand the reason why it happened.

“I have always considered you as a friend, right from the very first time we got dumped into the Digital World.” Yamato continued, knowing that he had her undivided attention, he didn’t want to waste any time dwelling on his own feelings. Chuckling softly, Yamato ran a hand through his hair before he spoke again, “And believe me I know that I haven’t exactly been good at showing it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Again, I’m sorry about what I said, and of course, the way I behaved.”

She averted her gaze the minute he stopped speaking so at first, Yamato thought that he had said something wrong. A thin veil of silence settled between them and each passing second that Mimi did not look up to meet his eye started to feel like a hellish eternity. Had she been expecting him to say something else, had he not understood why she was mad at him, had he stood there and apologised for something else entirely, questions like these kept racing through Yamato’s head as he waited for the brunette to, in some way, acknowledge his words.

When Mimi finally did raise her head and peeked at him from under her lashes, he thought the relief that filled his body would make him faint but instead, her shining eyes and the smile tugging at her lips made him feel like he was dangling on the edge of cloud nine.

“Thank you for saying that.” Her voice was faint, but the sweet smile that gradually graced her face made up for it. She tucked the strands of hair, that always framed her face perfectly, behind her ears. Her hands then shifted to the hem of her school skirt as she fidgeted with it, dropping her gaze once again before saying, “That, uh, means a lot to me.”

Finally being able to apologise, and have his apology get accepted did lift a heavy weight off of Yamato’s shoulders, but somehow watching Mimi squirm nervously under his stare made an unfamiliar feeling settle in his stomach. Perhaps he was just surprised, he thought, that Mimi wasn’t gloating over getting him to admit his mistakes or acting smug about it the way she would have done back when they’d been younger. It was just an effect of being privy to a new side of his childhood friend, he told himself, he shouldn’t attach too much meaning to something so irrelevant. Rather, he should be focusing on the fact that he had just won Mimi’s forgiveness and although in reality the two still stood rooted to their spots on the side of the pavement, Yamato felt that they had taken a huge step towards each other at that moment.

But still, just to be sure, Yamato decided that he needed to hear her say it more definitively.

“So…”

“So?” Mimi raised her eyes as she began to walk again.

“Am I forgiven?” Yamato asked nervously, as he quickly followed in her steps and settled into a pace next to her.

“That depends, am I allowed back in the coffee shop?” She stuck her tongue out at him, indicating that her spirits had been lifted and that of course Yamato was forgiven.

“I never stopped you from coming in!”

“But you acted like you didn’t want me there.”

Her teasing, sing-song voice struck a nerve with him but Yamato just rolled his eyes. Not even a full minute had passed since they’d made up and Mimi had already begun to mess with him. But this time, he wasn’t as bothered as he used to get, in fact, he welcomed her little giggles here and there since it just meant that they were back to being friends again. Being teased over little things was but a small price to pay for having Mimi’s melodic laugh back in his life.

“Yeah, yeah, you can come by any time you want.” Yamato shook his head as the two took a turn that led them down the steps towards the train station.

“Well, of course, I’m not going to come by any time, I’m going to come when you’re working!”

“That’s great. Just perfect.” He muttered under his breath dejectedly as Mimi shook with laughter next to him.

When they crossed through the gates of the station, Yamato knew that he needed to head in the opposite direction to reach his home, but he still found himself tagging along with Mimi, having wordlessly decided that he might as well drop her off till her house. The train they boarded was crowded at first which didn’t give them many chances to continue their conversation, but after a few stations, their compartment cleared and the two quickly grabbed a pair of seats together. Having settled down comfortably, and with their stop still being a bit further away, Yamato decided to bring up something that had been bothering him for a little while.

“Uh, is everything okay at school?”

His sudden question surprised Mimi and she whipped her head in his direction with an incredulous look on her face.

“Why do you ask?”

“You just looked a little down when you got out,” Yamato said, rubbing the back of his head out of an anxious habit.

“Okay, stalker.” Mimi chuckled quietly, despite the smug look she sent his way, it was easy to tell that her voice lacked a hint of humour.

“I wasn’t stalking, I was waiting for you!” He still defended himself despite knowing that she might have teased him to get on his nerves and change the subject.

“School’s the same as always, I don’t really fit in.” Mimi tried to shrug off the disappointment in her voice as she turned her gaze towards her sneakers.

“What about Koushiro?”

“He barely attends classes these days, his scores are so good that they let him do remote learning.”

“Oh. So you’re…” Yamato stopped mid-sentence, swallowing the word that was at the tip of his tongue.

“Alone.” Mimi finished for him with a dry smile, “Mostly. Unless Miyako and Hikari spare me some time or if Takeru runs into me in the hallway during lunch break.”

“I see.”

While leaving school Mimi had looked quite grim, but as she talked about it right now, the solemn look on her face made it seem like she had made her peace with the way things were. Maybe it had just been Yamato’s luck that he’d managed to catch her on a bad day. He kept this thought to himself, and even Mimi didn’t speak much for the rest of the ride. As they exited the train at the right station, Yamato wondered if he should say something to make Mimi feel better, even if it didn’t particularly look like she needed it. But since he had brought up the topic that had made the conversation go stale between them, he felt that it was his duty to do something to make things pick up pace between them again.

“College isn’t so easy either you know,” he remarked as the two passed through the exit gates, catching Mimi’s attention immediately. She motioned towards the way her house was located once they were above ground and Yamato realised that even if the neighbourhood felt familiar, it had been a long time since had last been around this area. Shaking his head, he continued to explain his own predicaments to Mimi, with the hope that it might help her feel that she wasn’t the only one struggling, “My roommate is an ass, everyone in my year is so competitive, I don’t feel like I can trust anyone enough to call them a friend.”

“Wow, you sure shouldn’t be allowed to speak to any high school seniors preparing for their entrance exams right about now.” She looked at him pointedly.

“Wait, I meant...no-jus- argh!”Yamato felt his ears go red as he realised how he’d spoken without thinking things through. He exhaled a deep breath, the sound of which drowned under Mimi’s laughter over his behaviour, in a more stable and sensible tone he added, “What I meant was that for me, college isn’t easy just like school isn’t for you. I am in no way trying to demotivate you from applying.”

“I know, I know.” Mimi grinned at him as she bumped her shoulder against his arm lightly, letting him know that yet again, she was just teasing, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

The two walked in a comfortable silence after this and it wasn’t until Mimi’s apartment building came into sight that she suddenly spoke up.

“Things would be easier if I had just one person to lean on. Just one friend to talk to.”

Yamato stopped in his tracks and so did Mimi, a few steps ahead of him. The sight of her looking wistfully up at the light purple dusk sky, coupled with the longing reflected in her voice, spurred something inexplicable inside him. It was the first time Yamato realised how beautiful her pastel hair looked under the faint evening light, how her caramel eyes mirrored alluring gold coins as the light danced off of them, and how even at a distance her porcelain skin looked like it was soft enough to melt against his touch.

“You’ve got me.”

Though his voice was barely above a whisper, the words escaped his lips before he could control himself. He hoped that the warmth that filled his cheeks at the moment could be attributed to the weather when Mimi shifted her attention towards him with a curious look on her face. He wasn’t sure whether his words had reached her so Yamato cleared his throat loudly, attempting to get rid of any unnecessary thoughts that had begun to cloud his mind, he rephrased what he had blurted out accidentally in a more suitable manner.

“I’ll be that friend, gladly.”

“And what should I be,” Mimi fully turned herself in his direction, putting her hands behind her back, she tilted her head and with a mischievous smile playing on her lips she finished her question, “in return, for you?”

It wasn’t easy for Yamato to maintain eye contact with Mimi and not blurt something stupid out again, especially not when the stars that were now starting to appear in the sky behind her almost forming a halo around her head with their glow. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, was his heart really beating faster than it had ever before, was the heat coursing through his body not a sign of some kind of illness befalling him? How did his simple wish to make amends with Mimi over a cup of coffee make him end up here, asking questions that had never crossed his mind before?

Yamato peeled his eyes away from Mimi and looked at the ground, rubbing his neck with one hand as he answered her question, “Friendship isn’t a give and take kind of situation, you can just be yourself.”

“Deal!” She laughed and winked at him, before bowing her head slightly in thanks for accompanying her home. With a wave and a loud bye-bye, she pushed open the door to the apartment entrance and disappeared behind it.

Yamato stood at the pavement, watching her silhouette slowly fade behind the glass doors of the building entrance, only one thought circling around in his mind. He had just labelled their relationship as a friendship, even though he knew that the tightness in his chest which grew the further away Mimi got from him was not something one would feel for a friend. He raised his hand and rested it over his chest, feeling the rapid and loud beating of his heart until it gradually became normal again.

It was funny how trying to resolve things with Mimi had left him with many more unresolved feelings and thoughts, the opposite of what he had expected today’s encounter would lead to.

With a scoff Yamato turned on his heel, facing the vast sky above him he reminded himself that following his dad’s advice never did seem to work out well for him.

x

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 36: Separation

Time passed. As March ended and April slowly trickled into May, you found yourself and Jungkook growing ever more apart. It wasn’t an intentional move on either of you two’s parts, or at least not a conscious effort. It just happened.

Jungkook stayed longer and longer in the dance studio, and he started coming home with a sore throat some days when he had decided to hum along to the choreography. He started singing and reading lyrics whenever he had time back at your parents’ apartment, and though you pretended not to pay him mind, you actually were. You liked his voice, pleasant and soft as it was, capable of soothing mind and body alike. And he was improving drastically with each week. Additionally, when Jungkook wasn’t dancing or singing or memorizing lyrics, he was away and exercising.

“I’m getting fat,” he had said one evening while he was reading webtoons in the extra bed.

You were editing your essay at the time, and didn’t particularly pay him any mind until just that point. “I don’t think so,” you said truthfully across your shoulder.

“I’ve gained almost five kilos.”

“How do you know?” you wondered as you spun about in your swivel chair, a frown etched onto your face.

“I got checked at the company today,” he said casually, still busy reading. “The guys agreed with the stylists when he told me that I need to lose some weight if I want to look good at the concert. Yi-Jae, too.”

“And I’m guessing you think so, too,” you stated, though you showed your disapproval of the fact by crossing your arms over your chest. Although you knew it was beyond selfish, you didn’t like the fact that Jungkook was counting Yi-Jae into the equation. You hadn’t spoken to her ever since the scene at the parking lot, and that hadn’t exactly been a great experience. You didn’t want to talk to her again, but you knew you had to. Sooner or later.

You hadn’t forgotten what she had told you before leaving that evening.

Jungkook shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “And now I’m asking you. What do you think?”

“Don’t you think you have more important things to concern yourself with?” you asked instead.

You were well aware of the fact that idols needed to be skinny, girls much more so than guys. But you didn’t think Jungkook needed more things to worry about. Not when he still had a long way to go, especially within the dance department. Five kilos were something he could shed gradually with time - not something he should peel off of him in about a month.

“I’ll do it parallel with the rest.” Jungkook locked the screen of his phone and shifted around in the bed, so that he sat in eye level with you. “But I’ll need your help to succeed.”

You pursed your lips but then sighed, and Jungkook’s face lit up, having discerned the resignation in your gesture. “There’s a private gym for residents on the fifth floor,” you told him as you began rummaging through one of your desk compartments. “Showers, mini-saunas, equipment for weight and cardio, a wellness and relaxation room - you name it.”

You found the key card and began rising to hand it to Jungkook when he scrambled out of bed and took it. “Thank you,” he said with a grateful smile.

“No more fast food, I guess,” you grumbled.

“Sorry about that,” said Jungkook, his smile widening into a grin. “But you should start eating healthy, too.”

You shook your hand dismissively with your left hand as you turned back toward your desk. “My mom is subscribed to a healthy-eating delivery service,” you said as you started jotting down a memo on a stack of post-it notes you had next to your computer. “I’ll just lift the temporary cancellation for now.”

You heard him chuckle. “Shit, (Y/N). What would I have done without you?”

“I have no idea,” you said with a gloomy smile you knew he couldn’t see.

Thus, Jungkook was gone a staggering of five evenings a week, after first having dance practice. You didn’t understand where he got his energy from, but soon realized that it was willpower, and determination that kept pushing him to do what he found necessary to do.

Furthermore, Jungkook also met with Yi-Jae at times.

You tried not to think of it. You tried your very best. And eventually, the pain subsided, or rather, it melted into a dull ache deep inside your chest. But it was getting better.

At least you hoped it would.

Meanwhile, you were busy with your studies, and when you had an evening available for some free time, you booked it for a date with Jung-Hyun. He and you texted occasionally throughout the weeks that passed, and although his replies often were delayed by hours, you always got one. And frankly, his company was growing on you, despite the smoking that inevitably followed. You found it easier mustering a smile with each time.

He really wasn’t bad. But he and Jungkook both kept refusing to meet each other, and you didn’t think you could solve whatever was going on between the two.

After all, you didn’t know why they were so opposed to one another in the first place.

“(Y/N).”

It was another evening of quiet studying in front of your computer. You lazily stretched out your back and arms as you replied. “What is it?” you asked, your voice strained from the light exercise.

You heard footstep approach you. Jungkook soon appeared to your right, hair wet and torso and arms exposed and the rest… covered with nothing but a large white towel. The smell of hot skin, water and soap filled your nostrils and you tried to appear unperturbed at the close proximity of his half-naked body. You had gotten a lot better at fighting back your traitorous cheeks, but you still felt a most telling heat climbing up your neck and ears as Jungkook crouched slightly and leaned an elbow on your chair for support.

“I have an appointment Thursday next week, May 4th,” he said as he held out his phone before you, showing an official-looking email with the Asan Medical Center logo in the top right corner. “Regarding my splint. The doctor thinks I might be good soon to remove it.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said as you took his phone from him. “Let me read it. Use your hand to hold up your towel instead.”

Jungkook smiled crookedly. “It’s properly tucked in, I promise. There won’t be any nudity here.”

You rolled your eyes and used your other hand as a barrier for your vision so you might not catch something you had no intention of seeing. “You never know,” you said. “Better take the safe before the sorry.”

“I’ll get changed in the bathroom,” he said with a snort. “I just wanted you to know about the appointment.”

His presence withdrew, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. The allure of his scent was just too much for you, for some reason. “Why?” you asked without turning around.

“Won’t you come along?”

You grimaced. “I can’t,” you said gently. “I’m meeting Jung-Hyun-oppa that day. He and I… we’re buying rings.”

It had been neither your nor Jung-Hyun’s idea to take that step. The first week of April, your parents had returned to Korea for a quick breather and to meet Jung-Hyun before they were forced to travel back to Japan. According to your mother, their business endeavors there hadn’t been fully successful, and would need more time before they came to a final conclusion. Though bittersweet, since he had to leave yet again, you certainly took it upon yourself to care for your father some extra before he left, not really seeing but rather sensing a new sort of weariness in his system. You didn’t like that your father was stubbornly continuing, but then, what else could he do as the chief executive of such a large company?

Again, it was the curse of riches, you reckoned.

Anyway, that was also the day when your mother dropped the not so subtle hint that she and Jung-Hyun and Jungkook’s mother thought you and Jung-Hyun should buy engagement rings. You thought it was early - she reminded you that you had been engaged to Jungkook almost as soon as you were eighteen.

You thought you perceived Jungkook taking a small breath before he responded. “Alright,” he said lightly. “I’ll manage by myself, then.”

You wanted to turn around and apologize, but you knew it would only worsen the situation. And this wasn’t exactly something you could cancel. So, when the fourth of May came around, Jong-Yeol took Jungkook to the hospital by himself. The former came later than usual to pick you up at the university due to that, and you were almost twenty minutes late to the meeting - date? - you and Jung-Hyun had agreed on about two weeks earlier.

He stood outside the jewelry boutique, wearing a suit as what you later understood was his usual attire. It wasn’t that odd of a sight anymore since Jung-Hyun had told you during one of your dates that he had been hired at Phoenix’s Seoul Headquarters. He was a striking figure, taller than anyone of the pedestrians walking past, with a well-proportioned body and wide shoulders. And as he looked in your direction and his brown eyes found yours, slivers of sunlight gleamed across his broad jaw and a gentle gust of wind caught his black hair, making up a heart fluttering image.

...For anyone that wasn’t you.

Perhaps, if circumstances had been different, you would have felt what probably any ordinary woman felt seeing him stand there, waiting for you. Because yes, he was attractive. On a purely observational standpoint, that was doubtless.

But he wasn’t… right.

There was something major missing when you held his gaze and smiled at him. Something major you had felt, and was still admittedly feeling. Something major your heart yearned for always and whenever. This discrepancy kept gnawing at your heart, despite your brain’s best efforts at looking at things reasonably and logically.

But your heart, stubborn as it was, yearned for someone else.

“Sorry I’m late!” you called as you sprinted the few remaining meters across the pavement. The weather was a lot milder now, and you wore nothing more over your regular clothes than a thin jacket and a scarf. “Lots of traffic. Did you wait for long?”

“No,” said Jung-Hyun, but you had a feeling he wasn’t telling the truth. He held up the door for you, and you entered, followed closely by him. The smell of freshly smoked cigarettes reeked from him, more so than usual, and you realized that although Jung-Hyun didn’t look the part, he was evidently nervous.

It made you smile a little as you walked inside. At least you weren’t the only one practically trembling in your shoes.

This would be the first time you bought rings for someone. The one you had given Jungkook and the one he had given you were bands your parents and his had purchased. So the event felt special - special, with a taste of bitterness at the end.

The jewelry boutique had a classic touch to its design and wasn’t particularly spacious, though you suspected it was a lot bigger behind the locked staff doors behind the main counter. A young woman approached you from behind mentioned counter wearing a fitted, matte gray dress suit, her brown hair tucked neatly into a bun on top of her head.

“Welcome,” she said sweetly, a bright smile on her lips. “How may I help you?”

“We’ve reserved a consultation for engagement rings and wedding bands,” answered Jung-Hyun curtly, seemingly oblivious to her smile. “I believe Jae-Min told you about me?”

You frowned. Who was Jae-Min?

“Oh!” To your surprise, the young woman quickly bowed, her eyes having widened at the mention of the name. “My name is Sang Su-Min, and I’ll be here for as long as you need me. Please feel free to ask me any questions concerning our rings.”

“We will look around first,” said Jung-Hyun, still unmoved.

Su-Min bowed again and meekly went back behind the counter. You followed Jung-Hyun toward a nearby locked display with various rings and raised your brows at him. “What was that about?” you asked quietly. “Who’s Jae-Min?”

“A friend of mine’s husband.”

“You sure know a few businessmen and women,” you commented. “First the owner of the Monarch and now this? How many more are you friends with?”

Jung-Hyun glanced down at you. “When you don’t have the money,” he began in a neutral tone, “you need to compensate with good connections.”

You frowned at him but he simply returned his focus to the display shelves. Your frown deepened. Even though you had spent more than a month now getting to know each other, the true nature of Jung-Hyun’s personality as well as his past was a mystery shrouded with more mystery. You noticed subtle differences, yes, but you didn’t think you had reached any deeper than the very surface of his demeanor. His disinclination toward initiating conversations and often unreadable expression told you he wasn’t that sociable of a person, but since he obviously had influential friends with affluence, too, you knew there must be more behind the stony guise he always bore.

You wondered when or even if you would ever get to witness it. With time, perhaps.

Perhaps.

“What about this one?”

While your mind had been busy whirring, your body had followed Jung-Hyun throughout the small boutique. He was standing at the shop center when he elicited your scrutiny, his gaze fixed upon a set of rings that seemed a little more special than the rest since they were in a separate glass cube.

“Which one?” you wondered as you bent in order to distinguish the details of the rings better. There were twelve of them in total, placed appropriately like the numbers in the face of a watch.

Jung-Hyun pointed. “Nine o’clock,” he said, apparently making the same observation as you.

Your eyes widened when you spotted the creation. The ring was a wonderfully simplistic piece, yet with enough minor details that it stood out if one took a closer look at it. “It’s beautiful,” you told him. “But it looks far too expensive.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Jung-Hyun beckoned Su-Min to come, and she darted forward, tablet in hand. “Yes?” she chirped.

“This one.” Jung-Hyun tapped the glass above the ring. “How much is it?”

She started tapping rapidly across the screen. “With the director’s discount and seasonal campaign that is going on right now…” She gracefully twirled the tablet in her hands so that the screen faced you and Jung-Hyun. “About fifteen million won.”

“That’s crazy,” you blurted. It was double the price your parents had paid for your engagement ring with Jungkook, and the choice of abstaining from spending any further had been that of your mother’s. “You can’t buy that.”

Su-Min gave you a quizzical look. “Oh,” she said. “I thought you were a couple.”

“We are,” you amended hastily before the situation could unfurl. Surprisingly, it rolled easily off of your tongue. The ache in your heart flared, but it was manageable. “But that doesn’t mean he should spend… how many months of salary now fifteen million won is.”

“Do you like the ring?”

You looked up at Jung-Hyun. To no surprise, his expression proved impossible to interpret.

“I mean, yeah,” you said as you went to scratch your arm, then stopped. “But it’s just a ring.”

His lips curved ever so slightly upwards and he turned toward Su-Min. “Do you have any matching wedding bands?” he asked.

“If you’re joking right now,” you interjected before she could respond, “I’ll have you know that I’m not amused.”

“Are any of us laughing?”

“No.”

“Then I’m probably not joking.” Jung-Hyun’s tone was final. “Please,” he prodded Su-Min, hinting that his earlier question never got answered due to your interruption.

Su-Min’s eyes darted nervously between you and Jung-Hyun, evidently nervous over your disagreeing, but she obeyed nevertheless. “Nothing so specific as to belong in the same designer line, no, but we have other brands with wedding bands that would fit exquisitely with your ring of choice. Would you like me to bring you a few to choose from?”

“That would be perfect.”

Suddenly, there was an unfamiliar warmth in his somber, stiff voice, which caused Su-Min to hastily bow, a light glow gracing her the apples of her cheeks, before scurrying back to the counter for a set of jingling magnetic keys. You were too annoyed to take especial note of it at the time, however.

But Jung-Hyun had a way with people, men and women alike.

“I see stupidity goes in the family,” you grunted, more in a sullen rather than a truly accusatory way. “But even Jungkook listens to me sometimes. I mean, since I’m supposed to have the ring, don’t I have a say?”

When Jung-Hyun’s eyes flitted over to yours, there was a strange look in his eyes. But then, he seemed to regather himself, and his features formed back into an emotionless slate. “Would you like a more expensive one?” he deadpanned.

“No thanks.” You almost slapped yourself in the forehead as actual annoyance sparked inside you. “Why won’t you listen?”

“What does an engagement ring mean to you, (Y/N)?”

You frowned at the odd inquiry. “Not a tiny, purely decorative item worth fifteen million won worth, at least,” you replied.

“I see.” Jung-Hyun’s mouth curved. “Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that an engagement ring is a priceless item. Therefore, the act of giving one away is also the most genuine gesture a human can make."

“Sure,” you agreed with a quick nod. “But then, why should the cost matter? Why not buy--” You flinched as Su-Min carefully walked past you and lowered your voice, “--a more… reasonably priced trinket instead of this… this ridiculous thing?”

“Because I want to show you just that.” Jung-Hyun’s eyes softened infinitesimally. “I do not intend to marry you solely for the sake of money and your family’s company, (Y/N).”

“That was… frank.”

He didn’t reply. He simply regarded you.

You averted your gaze. “Then why?” you inquired.

“For love.”

Panicking, you stared back up at Jung-Hyun in utter disbelief. You were too shocked even to laugh. He was steadfast, however, and nothing in his features hinted of his proclamation having been a joke.

When he didn’t immediately answer, you stepped closer to Jung-Hyun and kept your voice to a bare whisper even though Su-Min stood discreetly behind the counter, seemingly busy organizing rings on top of a dark blue velvet cushion. She must be waiting for you two to finish what must look like mere discussing about prices.

If only it were that simple.

“We don’t love each other,” you said simply, blushing at the mere thought of it. Love. Also, it sounded stupid saying it out loud like that.

“I admit I don’t see it in the near future,” said Jung-Hyun quietly, his lips tugging into a small smile. “But eventually, I hope this won’t be a sad, unhappy union between two people that care for nothing but wealth and influence.”

“I’m not like that,” you retorted, irritated at the mere suggestion.

“Would you marry against your parents wishes?” he wondered in a neutral tone. “Against the well-being of your company?”

You clenched your hands into fists. “No,” you muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I care for nothing but wealth and influence. This is my grandfather’s legacy - I can’t just disregard everything he and my father and mother have done. I can’t be selfish.”

Wasn’t this obvious? Why else were you standing in the shop picking rings with a guy you had only had a month - and a few occasional holidays growing up - to get to know?

“That’s another way to put it,” said Jung-Hyun calmly, clearly sensing your anger. “But when your family heritage equals money and power, what separates one thing from another?”

His argument reminded you briefly of Yoongi’s way of putting things. You felt as if though he had a valid point, but there was a critical point missing. And that was…

“My belief,” you said truthfully.

Jung-Hyun’s expression didn’t change, shockingly, but you thought you saw a glint of surprise or even admiration in his eyes. But then he blinked, and whatever it was, disappeared. “I see,” he said. “But I stand by my intention. Someday, I would like to love you.”

You felt your cheeks flare. Jung-Hyun carefully placed a hand on the crown of your head, and when he smiled down at you, it was with a timidness you had never thought would tinge anything Jung-Hyun said or did. The weight of his gaze remained the same, however, yet was mixed with such genuine determination that you almost had to look away.

For oh, how your heart sang in disharmony as he spoke his next words.

“And hopefully, you would do me, the same.”

Jung-Hyun withdrew before you could react, and glanced at Su-Min, who, appropriately enough, was looking in another direction, seemingly occupied with tapping in something on the tablet she carried. The conversation had progressed very silently from both you and Jung-Hyun, but even if she had heard bits and pieces, you would be mortified to talk to her.

“I understand your reluctance, (Y/N),” he continued, his stiff, somber voice unusually soft. “But I won’t risk bankruptcy because of this. I have a substantial amount of funds to draw from. I simply want the rings to match the prospect of our marriage.” Jung-Hyun found your gaze again. “Will you continue to resist, despite what I’ve told you?”

“I won’t,” you said apologetically as you tried to will your traitorous heart to quiet down. “I… I didn’t expect you to be so romantically inclined, to be honest.”

“I don’t look the type.”

“Definitely not.”

Jung-Hyun mouth formed that quarter-of-a-regular, wry smile you were starting to associate with him being amused before turning to approach Su-Min. “Are those the wedding bands?” he wondered as he drew up to the main counter.

She beamed up at him and then you. “Ah, yes. Miss, if you would take a look at them.”

Reluctantly, you, too, neared the counter. There, nine or ten wedding bands of varying degrees of design were spread across the dark blue velvet cushion. The engagement ring also lay there, and you felt an inexplicable pull toward it.

“Please, you may try any of them,” urged Su-Min. “Together with the engagement ring, of course.”

“They’re exquisite,” you said as you picked up the engagement ring. You held it up before your eyes, turning it around. It was beautiful no matter how the light caught the diamonds embedded into it. When you tried it on, heart trembling, the ring slid down your finger as easily as if it had been made for you, specifically. You couldn’t deny the impact that had on your breathing.

“Stunning,” said Jung-Hyun at your side, voicing your thoughts.

You nodded. Even though you didn’t exactly empathize with his stance on engagement rings, you started to understand it. The sensation you got from merely wearing the trinket was surprisingly strong. It was a sign of love and signaled a happy union, and that was a kind of beauty mighty enough to transcend the pleasures of flesh or infatuation.

No wonder some women - like Se-Eun - fantasized about their engagement rings starting from early childhood.

“I’ve picked a number for you to choose from,” began Su-Min sweetly, “but I think these ones in particular will suit the ring really well.”

She picked up two of the rings that were displayed on the cushion and offered them to you. You took the one she held in his right hand first, and though it was pretty, it wasn’t perfect. The second ring was, however.

“I think she’s decided,” said Jung-Hyun as soon as you put it on. “How much for the wedding band?”

Su-Min held up her tablet. “Five million won.”

“I’ll have both,” he said without even a shadow of hesitation.

You bit your tongue as Su-Min glanced hastily at you. When you didn’t verbally object, she nodded toward Jung-Hyun. “Of course. Miss, if I could have the rings back…”

“Oh, yeah, right.” You fumbled off the rings and handed them back to her.

She smiled. “A box for each?”

You exchanged looks with Jung-Hyun, but it was his silence that told you that it was up to your discretion. “Yes, please,” you told Su-Min.

“Just one moment, then.”

She put the rings in black velvet boxes the size of your palm, and finalized the purchase with Jung-Hyun. You were tempted to tear the skin off of your arm as his card was pulled, but you ultimately refrained, if only because Su-Min was there to see.

When they were done, Jung-Hyun received a long receipt with insurance policies and other things that he slid into his inner chest pocket. He then grabbed the structuralized plastic bag Su-Min had lowered the boxes into. “Thank you,” he told her.

She smiled, and then looked at you. “Have you had the time to pick out some rings for him, or was the appointment only for the Miss?”

You started to say “no” when Jung-Hyun cut in. “Yes. Number fourteen. Number sixty-two.” He pointed toward two different glass displays as he spoke, pausing between mentions.

Your eyes rounded. Although you recalled passing the displays by when you initially had arrived at the boutique, you hadn’t even been aware that he was actually, consciously browsing the rings inside. You had simply thought he was looking for the sake of looking.

When Su-Min returned to the counter with the rings Jung-Hyun had chosen, you saw that they matched him, or at least his outer appearance. Titanium, white gold and black diamonds arranged with a neat, simplistic design.

“How much?” you asked, feeling triumphant suddenly. This would be your bill to pay, and judging by how expensive your rings had been, his, too, should be at least in a nearby price range.

Su-Min tapped on her tablet. “That would be… nine and a half million won.”

“So, what, nineteen in total?” you wondered, fingers itching to make the buy, if only to even out the costs with Jung-Hyun.

Su-Min shook her head, however. “No. For both.”

You glared at Jung-Hyun. “Seriously?”

“Is it too much?” He looked about. “There were a few cheaper alternatives I had in mind as well…”

You groaned and waved him off. “Just take my card,” you told Su-Min as you procured it from your purse. “And buy these before he changes his mind.”

The small smile on Jung-Hyun’s lips didn’t pass you by, and if you hadn’t been as aggravated as you were, you would have smiled, too.

“Of course, Miss,” replied Su-Min. “Would you like a box for each of them?”

“Jung-Hyun-oppa,” you grunted without looking directly at him.

“Yes, please,” he told her.

And you could have swore that your peripheral vision showed that his smile grew wider just then.

Since he had office work yet to do and you had your studies, the two of you decided to part after that. While waiting for Jong-Yeol to arrive and pick you up, Jung-Hyun went around the nearest secluded area where he could smoke and you checked your phone for notifications. To your surprise, Jungkook had sent you a picture of his right arm, splint-free and pink, with a message attached.

*16.45 - Freedom! They told me to take it easy with the arm, but it’s technically fully healed and functional again. Time to see if I can take you in an armwrestling competition again.*

You snorted as you responded, but the smile that surfaced on your face was easier than air.

*17.58 - I never lost when we were children. Don’t even try to trick me. And I will not armwrestle your newly recovered arm, stupid.*

The answer came shortly.

*18.00 - Come on! Live up to your name, Miss Violent! When are you coming home, by the way?*

He seemed in a happy mood for some reason, and you couldn’t guess why. Or was it perhaps merely because of his arm?

*18.01 - Soon.*

*18.01 - Good. I have some news to tell you when I’ve finished working out.*

As you had guessed. You mused over what it could be while Jong-Yeol drove you and Jung-Hyun back to your parents’ apartment first. It wasn’t until he held it up that you realized Jung-Hyun had unpacked the box holding your engagement ring.

“Checking for scratches?” you teased even though your gut feeling already knew what he was doing.

“No. I was merely thinking we could exchange rings.”

You swallowed. Your suspicion had been correct. “This isn’t exactly the most romantic of places,” you said even as you produced Jung-Hyun’s engagement ring. “But why not?”

Jung-Hyun paused. “Do you feel pressured?”

“I mean, a little,” you admitted. “Why now? Why can’t it wait?”

“I have a lot of work this spring and summer,” he replied as he glanced out of the window. Your engagement looked so tiny in the palm of his hand, you almost couldn’t believe it was worth as much as it was. “I fear I won’t have time to meet you for longer than perhaps a lunch date every now and then. At least until autumn, and after that I’m still not sure I will have much free space.” He looked back at you, gaze softened. “Your mother gave me a most demanding job, I must say.”

You rubbed your neck. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t. There are very few things in this world I enjoy more than working.”

“Right…”

“I assure you, (Y/N).” Jung-Hyun gently put his hand on your head. The corners of his mouth tipped upwards a notch. “I really do enjoy it. Unfortunately, it is the people around me who suffers because of that.”

You felt a warmth spread across your cheeks. “I’m used to it,” you said in an effort to shrug the reaction away, however. “Mom and dad have always been busy.”

“I see.”

There was an odd look in his eyes suddenly. It took you a few seconds extra to register the sympathy in them, which felt really weird coming from Jung-Hyun. Not that you didn’t see him as a normal, fully functional human capable of emotion, since he obviously had displayed several already. But it didn’t exactly match his overall demeanor.

“Here,” said Jung-Hyun as he offered you your engagement ring.

“Oh.” You took it and gave him his. “Here you go.”

As both of you slid your rings on, you felt your face grow hot underneath Jong-Yeol’s curious gaze in the rearview mirror. Ignoring him, however, you smiled up at Jung-Hyun, hoping the shadows in the rear passenger seats would cloak your evident embarrassment. Wearing the ring filled you with a strange mixture of apprehension and satisfaction - and regret.

You swallowed. “Glad we didn’t have to readjust them,” you said casually to break the silence that had briefly had erupted in the car.

Jung-Hyun didn’t seem the least affected. “Agreed,” he replied as he relaxed into the seat, eyes shifting back to the scenery passing outside. “Let us keep the wedding bands until the day of the event.”

You stiffened. “Speaking of which,” you started. “When is that?”

“I was thinking this October.”

“In six months?” you blurted.

“Is there a problem?”

“I’ll still be in school,” you said. “I didn’t think I would have to marry until after university.”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Does it really matter when?”

You gulped. Glancing down at your balled-up hands, you saw that your knuckles were white from exertion, and you relaxed. Or at least, you tried to. “No, I guess not.”

“Then we’ll postpone it until after you have graduated.”

Your head snapped up and you stared at him in disbelief. If he noticed, Jung-Hyun didn’t address it, and the remaining ride home was quiet. After saying goodbye to both Jung-Hyun and Jong-Yeol, you headed up to your parents’ apartment, your stomach growling loudly as you entered the entryway. “I’m home!” you called.

Nobody responded.

Relieved with the discovery, you sprinted to your room. You hid the box with the wedding band in the deepest corner of your busiest-looking drawer before returning to the kitchen, heart beating rapidly as you gazed down at the remarkably familiar weight on your finger.

It was only two months and a half since you had bore another ring on that exact finger.

The engagement ring Jung-Hyun had bought you seemed almost alive in the way that it greedily either sucked up or reflected all the surrounding light. Your eyes caught several times on it as you maneuvered around in the apartment, going from having dinner to resuming on your essay. You were tempted to take it off, but knew you needed to get used to it.

And the strange feeling that accompanied it.

You heard the front door open a few minutes into your studying. “(Y/N)? You home?”

“Yeah!"

"Where you at?"

You took a deep breath before you went to the entryway. As soon as you spotted Jungkook, he grinned at you with so much glee that you were taken aback. He was newly showered, and smelled freshly of beauty products, yet the scent of him and him only managed to pierce through the air. You couldn't resist the relaxing effect it had on your body.

“Did you win at the lottery?” you asked as you leaned against the nearest wall, raising a brow.

Jungkook hung off his jacket, his smile merely brightening at your nonchalance. “Better,” he told you. “We’ve been invited to attend the Billboard awards! Nominated to a prize, no less!”

“You’re kidding,” you said simply, incredulous.

“I would never joke about things like this.” Jungkook kicked off his sneakers and headed toward the kitchen, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He dropped the bag on one of the bar stools and started tapping away at his phone. “Here, take a look!” he exclaimed as he offered you the phone.

As you reached out to grab it, you spotted Jungkook’s gaze linger on your hand. The pain in his brown, familiar eyes were sharper than a knife, and cut into your very being as well. But then, he blinked, and the agony was gone.

“Nice ring he got you,” he said, mustering a hasty smile that hurt you almost as much as the look in his eyes had. “How much was it?”

“Fifteen million won,” you said numbly, gripping Jungkook’s phone.

“You’re kidding,” he blurted, an echo of your former words.

You shook your head. “No. And the wedding band costed him five.”

“Shit. I could never--I mean, no, that’s… stupid.” Jungkook looked elsewhere, seemingly flustered. “Just check the screen, will you? It’ll prove my good news.”

You obeyed. It was an electronic document passed on from someone at BigHit, containing an official invitation to Las Vegas the 21st of May to attend the Billboard Music Awards.

“Can you believe it? And the director has already confirmed that we’re going!"

“Wow.” You gave him back his phone, now with a smile on your own face. Jungkook’s eagerness was contagious. “Congratulations! Really!”

He pocketed the phone, and then scratched the back of his head. “I know what your answer will be, but I’d still like to ask. Would you like to come with me? Use those, what, ten years of private english tutoring to some good use?”

Your smile widened, even though something within you fell. “I would love to come, but I can’t. Not with school being the way it is.” You lowered your gaze. “Sorry.”

“Please,” said Jungkook with a snort. “I’m glad you’re dedicated. Just don’t forget about me on your road to becoming a business tycoon.”

You raised your gaze. “Like you’d let me,” you muttered.

He smiled crookedly. “Like I’d let you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you turned around, aiming to return to your computer. But Jungkook’s sentence caught you before you could leave.

“Also… the guys were thinking I should return to their dorms.”

“But what about the nightmares?” you wondered, spinning about. You selfishly had a thought that Jungkook’s absence definitely would be noticed and something you would miss, but it was concern that essentially drove your inquiry.

“I hope they’ve disappeared by now,” said Jungkook, though he sounded skeptical. “And even if they haven’t… I need to learn to be without you, for obvious reasons.”

“Right.” You didn’t know what further to add.

“So, I’ll be moving sometime before we head off to the States.”

“Finally.”

“Come on, don’t be heartless. You’ll miss me.”

“Nope.” Yes.

The next day on your way to your first class, Se-Eun practically pounced on you outside the head building. Although you had expected it, she still managed to surprise you as she pulled you aside from the walkway.

“Is it true?” she demanded, her voice trembling with expectation. She was wearing a lightweight, marine blue coat that was complimented by a dash of red across her lips and nails. “Are they really going?”

“Yeah.” You tried to peel out of the grip she had on your wrist, but it was iron, and so, unfortunately, was she.

“Do you even understand what this means? For them as a group? For the industry as a whole?”

“Se-Eun,” you reprimanded firmly when a couple of passerbyes eyed you curiously. “We have class in less than five minutes. Do we really have to take this right now?”

“Either now or during class, you choose.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

“Then we’re two.”

When you realized she wasn’t going to budge, you gave up on getting away from her with a loud groan. Instead, you pulled her further away from earshot and got seated on a bench that was aligned with a walkway that lead to a road that was nowhere near as filled with traffic as the one you had arrived through.

“What do you want to know?” you asked wearily.

“Well, for starters…”

Se-Eun rummaged through her backpack until she found her phone. And when she showed you the image on the screen, you almost felt sick.

It was an Instagram post. Though a cup of cappuccino was in the center of the image, there also was, without a doubt, the profile of a certain twenty-year-old guy, partly covered by a black mouth mask and heavily out of focus. But you knew instantly who it was. And even if you hadn’t, the comments said plenty enough already.

And you realized who the photographer must have been.

“Is this who I think it is?”

You didn’t answer. The fact that the image was there, online, wasn’t in itself a bad thing. If the public knew about Jungkook and Yi-Jae’s relationship, that would probably help a lot in readjusting the former’s state of mind. It would also help boost up the media coverage surrounding BTS, especially in junction with the invitation to the BBMAs, and they wouldn’t even have to do anything special to return to the spotlight after two and a half months of hiatus, which had been their unspoken status ever since Jungkook’s accident.

This meant really that your plan was progressing smoothly. Yet, why did it feel like someone was clawing their way through your chest?

You simply stared at the picture, not caring about the fact that you probably looked possessed. Not caring about the fact that Se-Eun was waiting for a response. Not caring that class had probably already begun.

Jeon Jungkook. To what lengths would your heart always continue to yearn for him?

“It’s only a matter of time until the media is getting ahold of this. Do you know if they’re…” Her voice trailed away.

You nodded, once. “It’s true,” you said stiffly. “They’re dating.”

Silence fell around the bench. You couldn’t tear your focus away from the picture, however.

This was really happening. You had really allowed it to happen.

“I see you have a new ring on your finger.”

You slowly turned to face Se-Eun, heart pounding. You had managed to convince her that your engagement ring from Jungkook was a kind of family heirloom, something your mother had given you for your eighteenth birthday. You had thought she believed you.

But now that you looked into her eyes, you knew you had been a fool for thinking that. And Se-Eun seemed to sense it, too, for she gently put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to her. You allowed it to happen, despite your general attitude toward hugging.

You needed it.

“You’re really cute sometimes, you know that?” Se-Eun’s voice tickled your ear but you didn’t fidget. “I almost forget how young you really are, you know.”

“You’re one year older,” you said pointedly.

“One year and ten months, actually. I’m technically closer to two years older than you, (Y/N).”

“You sure don’t behave like it, grandma.”

She snorted. “How disrespectful. Have your parents ever told you how bad you are at addressing those that are older and wiser than you?”

“Actually, yes,” you said, holding up a finger. “Now will you stop choking me, please?”

“I’d better save that for your fiancé, right?”

You abruptly tore yourself away and gave her a disgusted look. “I… I think I need to wash my ears,” you joked, hoping to divert her attention from the subject she had brought up. “What the heck did you even mean by that?”

“I should have known you’re the wrong crowd for jokes like that.” Se-Eun giggled a little bit too mischievously. “Flew right past you, didn’t it?”

“We need to get back to class,” you said instead and stood up, glancing down at her phone which you still held. “We’re already late.”

“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “Not until you tell me about your Prince Charming.”

“Se-Eun,” you pleaded.

“(Y/N),” she parried in a similar tone and then patted the bench where you just had been seated. “Sit. This is far more important than having attended a few classes at university.”

“But it’s a really long story,” you tried.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t have to look after my brothers today. I can listen until it’s starlit outside, if you require me to.”

“I… I don’t know if I can tell you anything,” you said truthfully, a long exhale bordering your words. “There’s just so much - and I’m not sure you’ll understand if I tell you about the things that are affecting me solely.”

“Jungkook’s involved.”

She said it as if it were obvious. As your gaze and hers locked, you realized that there was not a single trace of jealousy or spite or betrayal in her eyes - but a startling amount of knowing. You almost couldn’t believe it.

“Yes.” It escaped your throat as easily as a sigh. “Yes, he’s very much involved.”

“And you want to protect him.”

You nodded, swallowing back tears.

“Well, I want to protect you.” Her tone was soft, carefully presenting words that felt as if though they had been weighing on her mind for weeks--no, months , even. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror these last two months? You look really, really exhausted, (Y/N). You barely eat your lunches with me, and you have these dark circles underneath your eyes that only seem to grow darker and bigger with each passing day. Sometimes, you don’t even look at me when I’m talking to you. Do you understand how worried all of this is making me?”

“I’m sorry, Se-Eun,” you said, voice cracking with tension. “I just… I’m just trying to make things right.”

“It’s killing you. No, really,” she added when you frowned at her. “How many hours do you sleep per night?”

You shrugged lifelessly. “I don’t know.”

“My point exactly.” Se-Eun let out an exasperated sigh. “(Y/N), if I cannot help you directly, at least let me share your concerns. That’s what bestfriends are for, you know?”

To your own surprise, your body sank down onto the bench again. After a deep, calming breath, you decided, and you decided to tell her everything. Everything that had happened starting from the day of the concert to where you sat then, and the reason for why you had a new ring - and had worn a ring ever since your eighteenth birthday. You didn’t leave out anything, deciding to mention even the smallest of details, your madly warring thoughts and ultimately also your plan to not tell Jungkook about your former engagement.

Anything and everything to lighten the burden of your shattered heart.

[an-act-of-will]

Episode 2 Transcript

Thanks for tuning in to your regularly-scheduled writing journey podcast, An Act of Will. I’m your host, Sydney. Let’s get started.

Ok, so I seriously dropped the ball in terms of keeping up with this podcast, and honestly writing at all. This episode and the next were already written but never recorded, so I’ll just go through them and then the third episode from now I’ll catch you up on the new stuff. I won’t take a month to upload- instead, I’ll post this episode, then the next episode in a week, then the episode for where I actually am in my process a week after that.

I started editing my most-complete novel idea. I’ll call it The Village here. I’m on draft 5.5 because this draft is weaving in scenes more than anything, so it’ll probably be really similar to my previous draft. I took notes on draft 5 in my writing software so hopefully that will make it easier. I’m calling it draft 5.5 aloud, but in my computer it will be version 6 because drafts and versions are different for me. To me, a ‘draft’ is more complete, for lack of a better word, and a ‘version’ is any time you make edits. I rarely have half drafts.

The way I decided to edit is to write every major scene on white index cards and use copic markers to color code the top according to what act the scene is in, plus which major characters are in each scene. I only have five main characters I thought were important enough to have their own color, so that would be few enough that I wasn’t overwhelmed. Honestly, I fell off the ‘denoting what characters’ part. I also wrote in pencil what chapter the scene appears in and numbered the back so I know where I originally had them when I move them. I’ll finalize the order later, but I just need some record because there’s a lot of them, too many for a picture.

I also cut down card stock I had lying around to be roughly color-coded to what I decided to be my act color to be sub-scenes that are still scenes, just not major ones. I also had the transitional scenes between acts written on a different color of card stock so it stands out more to my eyes.

So I used: green for act one, pink for act two, blue for act three, and purple for transitional scenes. I wrote on the back of the purple ones which acts they served as a transition for and numbered those, too. I also had red scenes I know I need to move but can see where they fit in later when it’s time to re-arrange.

I actually color-coded the re-ordering as well. I also added page flags. Look at me, being all organized. I made a key because my brain will look at this later and be like ‘what does yellow mean again?’

Because it’s a mystery, I had blue page flags for general clues, yellow for specific clues, and red for red herrings. I seriously need to add a lot more of those. Then there’s orange for interviews my main character conducts and purple for re-interviews. Draft 5 contained a grand total of four interviews, and no re-interviews, so I knew I would have to write a lot more in to flesh out the mystery more because it felt way too easy and rushed when I re-read it. And, since there’s a romance subplot, pink for that. I need a lot more of those scenes, too.

Sticky notes also came into play. I added specific colors to the scenes that mean ‘move earlier’ or ‘move later.’

It seems super extra, and it took me a little over three working hours minus breaks to do it, but it was so important and so useful. It’s helpful for me to step away from digital and move to real life so I can physically move scenes around without worrying about having to undo any work I copy-pasted. Plus, like I said, I have a record if I need to change it back. Not as easy to do if you’ve moved five scenes after the one you decide works better where it originally was.

I used a thirty minute working session for the first one and forty-five for the rest because most of the first session was spent making a key and cutting down the card stock. I use an app called Forest to time myself because it gives me satisfaction to have a representation of the work I’m doing. Every session I complete, I grow a digital tree and it keeps count of how long I’ve worked that day at the top of the screen. Plus, I can look back and see how productive I was during the week and get the same satisfaction.

I thought I would really dislike editing- I always have in the past- but the process made it so easy, even a little fun. I’m making the story better without a whole lot of effort past the initial one with writing all the scenes down. I think I was avoiding doing this because I knew I would have to write a lot of scenes whole-cloth, but I kind of tricked my brain into thinking that those would be like drafting again. Will it majorly suck that those scenes will be first draft level instead of draft 5.5 level? Yes. But it has to be done.

After the index cards, card stock, page flags, and sticky notes were all finished, I decided the first thing to do was to choose an ‘editing’ candle. Yes, I know, it’s a weird first step. But I had a really little one on my desk that I literally never used, and figured that since scent is one of the most powerful memory triggers, that maybe I could use it to my advantage and light the candle every time I edit and it would keep me focused and not dawdling on the internet. Hey, I’m a candle hoarder and decided to use that to my advantage.

I then got down to the business of actually editing. I made a list of what scenes needed to be moved for sure. I have a picture-laden post on my blog on that I’ll link down below if you’re interested in seeing it. I’ll also describe it here.

So first I went through all my index cards for act 2, writing in my writing journal the scene summary on the red cards which I used to denote the scenes that need to be moved. I started with act two because surprisingly, I didn’t need to move any scenes from act one, though I probably will once I start adding scenes.

I changed gel pen color every scene, then I wrote down the chapter the scene appears in in my current draft in black so it stands out from the summary. I also added a short note to where it could be moved if I had a thought about it, also in black ink. As I did this, I made small boxes to the left of the scene summary matching the scene’s color so I can check them off when I complete them.

I used different colors because a) it looks prettier and b) it can sometimes be hard for me to separate tasks and similar things when it’s all one color of ink. It honestly looks like a wall of text to me if I don’t concentrate.

After I made the list, it was time to get a tri-fold poster board and go back to the index cards.

I arranged all of the act two cards on a tri-fold poster board so it didn’t take up as much room as the floor. Tri-folds are able to be folded away when I’m not using it, which is so useful because I could walk away and not have to clean up and then set up everything again.

So I set up my handy-dandy Forest app timer and got to work. I did two thirty minute work sessions that first day.

I discovered that every single one of my index cards, from all the acts, actually fit on the board. It’s tight, but they fit. This was good, because then I could see all of them at once and move them freely.

I ended up having to move more than just the red cards, which surprised me. But that’s the beauty of this method- you can just move an index card without having to copy-paste a whole scene.

When I thought I had a good re-ordering, I wrote in my writing journal what went where. To do that, I wrote down the original act the card belonged to and the original scene number. I made sure to title it as the first version of the re-ordering so if that changes, I’ll be able to tell which attempt worked the best. Then, the beauty of the trifold came in- I folded it away and leaned it against the wall in my room.

The next day I went at it fresh.

I, again, did thirty minute work sessions with about two minutes in between. Looking back, I should have done five minute breaks because after two sessions, my brain became goo. I took an hour break to let my brain rest.

But, thankfully, before my brain gooified I did some more work. I moved some scenes around and even saw where I could add scenes. I added post its in a different color to the places I thought I could add them and wrote a short description of what I thought the scene could be. By ‘short’ I mean five words or less. Then in my writing journal I wrote the place, the summary, and any more thoughts on what the scenes could contain. Unfortunately, I had few of the last point. But I still wanted to note it down in case I had ideas in the future.

And sidebar- I just realized I never told you guys what this story’s word count is. The latest version- version five- is fifty-seven thousand, one hundred sixty-nine words. Now, most writers know that a novel generally falls around the fifty-thousand word mark. I felt because I was over that benchmark, I was in good shape.

Out of pure curiosity, I looked up what an average word count by genre was. But when I found a source for my innocent query, which I’ll link in the description below, my heart sunk. Now, word count isn’t the only benchmark to shoot for when you’re writing, and I know that. You can have a novel that is outside those bounds in either direction and still be amazing. But according to the source I found, an average mystery is eighty to ninety thousand words. And thrillers tend to be eighty to a hundred thousand words. Mine is a mix of both genres. Ouch.

Now I do have to add scenes as I mentioned previously, but how the everliving Hell am I gonna write at least an extra twenty-three thousand words? That’s a lot of words!

Hopefully as I start to write the scenes I need to add, that gap will slowly close, but thinking about it makes me want to scream. Ah. The life of a writer.

After the hour break, my brain felt refreshed and I was able to go at it again. This time, I learned my lesson. I shortened the working sessions to twenty-five minutes and took breaks of five minutes. Hey, any work is work and the last sessions were hard for me. Take care of your brain, folks, you only have one and it gets tired.

I did two twenty-five minute work sessions and moved a few more scenes, enough to where I actually had to move index cards to fill in space because two or more major scenes had to move, and I made note of a few spaces I could add more. I also realized I had to split two scenes into two, so that was two half-scenes I had to move. Thankfully they’re more or less written, so I just have to add to them and then change them slightly so that they fit in the new order.

Then, because I had work soon after that, I wrote down this order in the same way I did the first re-ordering, including where I thought I could add scenes.

So all in all, I spent a hundred five working minutes ordering all one hundred twenty-eight original scene cards, and thirty-one spaces of where to add scenes, some with multiple scenes to be added. So with the multiple scenes taken into account, I have about fifty three to over seventy-one scenes to add. Ouch. I know, that’s a pretty big spread, but most of them were like, add two or three scenes here or one or two there. A few I had four plus scenes, but those will likely be short bridge scenes. So, if I don’t add any more scenes to my rough plans, which is doubtful, I’ll have one hundred eighty-one to one hundred ninety-nine scenes in total.

I feel pretty good about this re-order. I knew I definitely have some spots where I need to adjust, and way more scenes to add, but it’s coming along and progressing.

After this re-order, I made a list of the locations of the scenes I need to add and what they could possibly be about. I only had a couple of ideas of the content because I mostly just had a feeling that there should be more space between the existing scenes to space out plot points. So I knew they had to exist, but just not what they’d contain.

I’m not doing this purely to boost my word count, though that’s a welcome side effect. I’m doing this because my draft feels a little rushed most of the time and too easy of a mystery.

So not only do I have to add the scenes in the spaces I know about currently, I pretty much have to develop entire subplots with red herrings. My guess is that after I add the scenes in the places I know about currently, I’ll have to use some way to kind of track those red herrings. I don’t have any ideas currently, but I really hope I won’t need a cork board, tacks, and red string.

But I’m gonna focus on the scenes I know I need to add right now and hopefully those subplots will come to me.

Those were my first two editing days after the original scene cards. My grand total for those two days was one hundred seventy minutes, or just under eight hours. I’ll still work on editing, I promise.

That’s all for this episode. Thanks for coming with me on my journey through storytelling. I have a Tumblr at an act of will with hyphens between the words if you’d like to keep up with me there. I will see you in a week. Until then, I wish you well and happy writing.