#and editing a chapter where most of it is a conversation between two characters is so

[sundrop-writes]

Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did. 

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers. 

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.” 

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.” 

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.” 

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it. 

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever. 

It was you. 

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools? 

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully. 

You had a son. 

… 

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him. 

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep. 

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion. 

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief. 

Shock. 

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? 

“Y/N,” 

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over. 

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions. 

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret. 

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage. 

And that was when you finally spoke. 

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say. 

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time. 

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?” 

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure. 

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat. 

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out. 

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless. 

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception. 

… 

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well. 

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent. 

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips. 

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply. 

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly. 

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them. 

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind. 

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.” 

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?” 

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.” 

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off. 

You already knew what he was going to say. 

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’ 

“No.” You rushed to say. 

But it was a lie. You knew. 

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived. 

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember. 

And you knew exactly when. 

The night was so vivid in your mind. 

… 

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart. 

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question. 

“Do you have a condom?” 

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him. 

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward. 

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you. 

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.” 

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.) 

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this. 

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you. 

This was always his favorite part. 

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way. 

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other. 

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible. 

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t. 

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.” 

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’. 

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth. 

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time. 

… 

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why. 

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night. 

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were. 

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[ma1dita]

'en route' - i. imaginary friend

pictures are not mine, 3rd is a photo concept by @geloyconcepcion on ig

read along here (will update) : part ii, part iii, part iv

song of the chapter: revolution 0 by boygenius

en route playlist: here

words: 3.9k

summary: pt ¼ of ‘en route’. You and James are kindred spirits. Fighting in the First Wizarding War just seems to be your only escape.

warnings: no use of y/n, religious iconography sprinkled here and there, depictions of loss/war, angst, unhappy(?) marriage, fake marriage, twin flames vibe, they’re just kids they should be at the club bro

a/n: setting the scene is always so hard LOL. i love writing morally grey characters, please feel free to comment if you want to be added onto the taglist, or scream at me <3 thanks for the patience, you won’t have to wait as long for the next part lol

(posted 12/28/23, might come back to edit)

—

END OF MARCH 1980

There’s not a lot of things you like to remember about the year 1980. The memories blur together, highly repressed in a busy corner of your mind, and if someone held you at wandpoint to ask about what happened, you’re not sure where to begin. You don’t talk about it much anymore, but if you did, it wouldn’t be sufficient to put it in a few simple words.

And maybe if you did, the remembering wouldn’t hurt as much. With little physical things to hang onto, however—holding onto this hurt reminds you it was real.

From what you can remember anyway, it all started on his birthday.

You felt eyes on you as soon as you stormed into the room. In this congregation of people trying to save the world, it was easy to feel unseen in your struggles to keep moving forward. A pair of kaleidoscope eyes meet yours for a small moment, and that’s when you knew it was risky. It’s easy to hide in a crowd of Aurors enjoying the reprieve from the reality of the world outside of headquarters’ protected doors, fading into the background.

But he saw you, and that was terrifying–to be perceived.

Frank Longbottom pours you a pint, and you nod your head in thanks, taking a long sip before settling down into a chair at the bar. The same pair of eyes see through you, past your hunched frame, down to the core of your grief. Something about it resonates with him deeply, and the boys notice his attention is away from the conversation they’re having in the living room.

“She's pretty, yeah? French, I think. Never says more than a few words to anyone though, I tried. All business,” Sirius mumbles to his best friend over a glass of firewhiskey.

James looks up at Sirius from his position in the armchair, his head tilted to one side in curiosity at the way you fold into yourself.

"Yeah, I guess," James replies reluctantly. "I've never properly spoken to her, but I can tell she's very... mellow."

“Heard she lost people. The war hasn't been kind to her like it has to a lot of us. Don't know if she'll budge, Prongs. Some pages are best left unturned,” Remus says, shuffling a deck of cards between his scarred fingers. Sirius grunts in response, not caring for the conversation as he takes another sip of his drink.

James knows now what he recognizes within you. Grief has been looming over him too, latched onto his spine, weighing him down as the responsibilities grow by the day. His eyes flicker to his wife’s baby bump as she stands near the window laughing at something Marlene and Peter were acting out. Lily falling pregnant was his sign to get his shit together, because if he didn’t, who would?

Like a shadow, you shy away from the light and laughter that fills the room. But there was no escape once he started walking in your direction. There was no grandiose introduction, no heart-stopping, earth-shattering moment. Both consumed by grief unseen by most, two people sat at the bar in silent reverence of each other’s breathing, daring the other to say something.

“Didn’t know I was crashing your birthday Potter. Seems I don't have a gift,” you say suddenly, words rushing out as your eyes trace his profile.

A beat passes.

His head bobs up and for a second you think you’ve said the wrong thing until you realize he’s smiling. He looks up grinning like the devil, eyes meeting yours with a smile you could only describe as radiant. It stirs something deep within you, and you watch your hands reach toward your butterbeer to avoid his searing gaze.

“Terrible time to have a party anyway. I think it’s more for them than it is for me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you scoff lightly, and his head jerks towards you as you continue, “You’re a bit too happy for my liking.”

“Oh?” His body turns to follow, knees bumping against yours under the bartop.

“How come you know so much about me then? You don’t give any of us a chance with you.”

James says this jokingly, but a part of it rings true like a punch in the gut. You were so impressionable, left soft and malleable by the grief that became you that you found it quite infuriating that someone like him could be so happy in the middle of a war like this one.

A noise of acknowledgement leaves your throat and he watches your fingers clench around the glass. Too much? Change the subject.

“What’s the ‘T’ necklace you have on?”

The chain swings against your chest as you adjust yourself on the barstool, becoming aware of the weight of it.

“What?”

“What does it mean? Must be important to you, whoever this fellow is. See you wear it every day,” he says adamantly, before backtracking and realizing how stalkerish that sounds.

“Potter, have you never met a Christian?” Your eyes dart between him and his hands on the bartop, more glaringly, the platinum wedding band on his left hand. Surely, anything should be more interesting than conversing with a stranger at his own party.

“A who? Who’s Christian? Are you?”

The beginning of a smile breaks onto your face like daybreak. It’s refreshing, he thinks. He doesn’t think he’s made someone smile like that in a while.

“You idi–,” you exhale, “It’s not… Muggles don’t have magic like us, so they have belief systems. Higher power they believe in. Weren’t you Head Boy at Hogwarts, how did you pass Muggle Studies?”

“Elective. Do you believe in that stuff? God and what not?”

Your calf brushes his pant leg accidentally. Why can’t you stop fidgeting? He makes you nervous, all these questions, and then you blurt your response out in rapid succession that he’s almost unable to catch it.

“No. Maybe. My parents did, and God was important to them, so I wear this necklace because of it. They’re important to me. I used to before I found out I was a witch. Used to pray that God would save me, make me something other than mundane—well, here I am now. Not quite sure if he heard me.”

It hits you that the last time you’ve been able to speak about your parents like this was at their funeral two months back. Right before you joined the Order, and sitting here in front of James suddenly feels stifling. You roll your jacket sleeves up, hyperaware that he’s watching your every move.

He keeps his tone light, but the smile on his face is kind as he mutters, “You think some bloke up top is calling all the shots for everyone?” James says this without judgment and your breath quivers.

“I don’t know, but I think things happen for a reason. I’m still trying to find out what that exactly is.”

His pinky nudges yours on the sticky bartop, and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head in thought.

“Did. Is the believing past tense?”

You’re not sure what’s changed in the past few minutes that’s made you comfortable in his presence, but you crack a joke before you think too hard.

“My parents are. Past tense.”

Laughter spills out of you like the bubbles on your refilled pint glass, and James scrunches his face, holding back until his shoulders are shaking from the effort.

“Merlin….yeah. Mine too.”

Oh.

You look at him through your eyelashes, silence filling the space between you two as the rest of the party goes on in the background. James clinks his glass with yours, and there’s a silent understanding that bridges between you, connecting you together.

—

END OF APRIL 1980

“You know if we’re gonna be friends, you should probably call me James.”

The two of you were left sitting in the den to deliberate on the mission you were being sent at the end of this week. Three whole months with James Potter could be a nightmare. But it could also be quite fun, you think, watching him flick through the mission files with a quirk in his lip that can only signal mischief. Signing away your life wouldn’t be so bad if you had him to keep you company. You’d never tell him that though.

“Will we be? You don’t seem that excited.”

“Excited to be shipped away from everyone we know is definitely a statement, love.”

“I’m not eager if that’s what you’re insinuating. Just feel obligated, especially if it helps the cause. That’s why you’re here, right?” Right. In a war like this one, ordinary people like you and him pay the highest price. But nothing seemed ordinary about you, like a complex puzzle he was constantly wracking his brain to figure out. There are aspects of your personality that come to light the more he talks to you over these past few weeks, almost luring him in so he can unveil the secrets you hold. Why do you put yourself on the front lines like this, mission after mission? Who do you have in your life that makes you want to fight against the odds? What do you think of to keep you going? Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

He blinks, before looking at you, “S’not that I don’t want to go with you, and do my duty, I just…”

“You love it. I can see it in your eyes, you were trouble at school, weren’t you?” James’ smile gets wider, thinking back to the last few years, before everything went to shit. Back when it was easier, just him and his three friends, and his biggest worry was getting Lily Evans to look at him.

“Just a lot to worry about. People to take care of.” His mind falls back to his wife sitting at home, probably wondering why he isn’t back from the Order meeting, getting more agitated by the minute. He thinks of the nursery he still needs to set up, and the legal affairs he’s left behind after his parents’ death. He thinks of checking in on his boys, who barely know how to take care of themselves if they don’t come over for dinner, and finally, he exhales.

“You?“

It’s an honest question, and by asking it, he extends himself to you, an insight into the burdens he carries with him daily. The difficulty and complexity of having a large capacity to love is carrying the weight until you cannot.

“Just me and my rucksack. Gives me something to do.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, busying yourself with packing the supplies Dumbledore gave you two earlier. Vials of Polyjuice Potion, two golden wedding bands, magically enhanced IDs— it was like playing pretend. That’s all this has to be. Easy enough.

James looks at you and understands a bit more. You need this job. And if he’s being honest, so does he.

“I still wonder what would happen if it doesn’t work out, don’t get me wrong. But then I think, what if it does? What if no one else has to die?” A noise of agreement rises from his throat as he straightens his posture on the couch.

War shouldn’t be an escape, much less a distraction to two people grieving. There are countless muggles and wizards alike losing their lives to a genocide of people undeserving of a fate dictated by a person who plays god. But when you’re fighting for your life before you can even legally drink in some countries, there are two things left to consider when making a decision: to choose something difficult or to choose wrong.

And neither of you have ever found anything easy. Not in this life at least.

He sighs. James really needs to get home.

“Well…We will be friends by the end of this. I’m sure. Already gonna be married to you anyways,” he jokes.

“Don’t get used to it, what a pity that would be for your ego,” you gripe, but a trace of amusement is present on your lips as you watch him stand up to leave.

“We’ll see about that, love.”

He apparates home. Onto the next difficult thing.

When James told Lily that he’d be on a mission for the latter half of her pregnancy, she didn’t take it well. But to be honest, with everything going on, James couldn’t help but feel exasperated. How bad is his marriage that he’d rather risk his life instead of tending to his family’s needs? James sits at the dining table listening to her yell, and he feels extra heavy today, wondering how he feels so ancient at 20 years old.

Years ago he dreamed of this, a wife, kids, a pretty townhouse. But this isn’t what he quite imagined. He looks at his wife as she paces around the room, hand on her bump, red hair spreading little fires as she goes. She’s his everything. Truly. He spent years trying to even find that spark in her, dedicated his life to her, and gave up everything to take care of her—but she struggled a lot these past few months. Her pregnancy brought on incendiary words falling upon him like lashes as she blamed him for moving too quickly. Blamed him for the fact they’ve felt like strangers in this little house. But with his parents both sick, getting married seemed like the next right thing.

An owl flits to his kitchen window once Lily storms out again, leaving nothing but ashes of her disappointment in her wake. Ashes, ashes… James wonders where his spark has gone. He hates to disappoint.

Just wanted to owl and check in. I found myself thinking about you and wanted to make sure you’re okay, with everything changing so quickly. Hope you and your wife figure it out, I’ll be on the 11 AM Knight Bus tomorrow outside Diagon Alley regardless. See you.

He thinks of you, so brave and filled with a spark he used to recognize within himself. This isn’t wrong, he reasons, just difficult. But he won’t admit that taking his wedding band off before settling onto the couch was easier than he thought it would be. He feels lighter. As he takes off his glasses and stares at the ceiling of his living room that night, James wonders how much longer he can ignore his problems by not looking at them properly. How much longer does he have to carry the weight? When will someone help him carry the load?

For now, he tries to sleep. One step at a time, James. Like always. There’s a mission he has to start tomorrow. And he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

—

You’re not surprised when he turns up to your meeting point the next morning, not addressing him when you stick your wand hand out to summon the bus. He bites back a smile, knowing you were right and thinking you see right through him. Now look who’s the eager one.

After paying eleven sickles each, you lead him to a window seat, ignoring the babbles of other passengers as you look out the window.

“You ever think about all these people, with their little lives and everything they have to do?” you pipe up, head against the glass. James scoffs, “I always think about other people. Sometimes I wonder if anyone thinks of me like that. If anyone worries as you do over strangers.”

“I thought we were friends,” you say coyly, still not looking at him, and his heart skips a beat. Probably nerves. “You think Dumbledore cares that he’s sending off two teenagers to fight a war and save the wizarding world?”

“I’m an adult, thank you very much.”

“We’re kids, James,” You look at him, and he blinks at the sound of his given name falling from your lips that he almost loses the next part of your sentence, “we’re kids working towards a bigger picture of world peace. Isn’t that fucking insane that this what our lives amount to?”

He couldn’t agree more, but his forehead creases at your tone.

“Why do you act like your best years are behind you? There’s a lot to live for still,” he murmurs knowingly.

He pats your thigh and the only thing you notice is the tan of his hand against his missing wedding band. Soon it will be replaced by one that binds him to you, temporarily, but it’s jarring all the same. You shake off the uneasy feeling that rises in your stomach.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

James is doing that thing again, the whole savior complex bit that you notice is one and the same with his trying hard to be carefree personality. But you’re coming to learn that James cares. A lot.

—

“Apartment 11B?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Two swigs of Polyjuice Potion did the job once you stepped off the bus and walked through town to the place you’ll inhabit for a fourth of the year, and quickly, you both become unrecognizable to even each other. A blonde eyebrow looks at you under James’ glasses at your hesitation, so you clear your throat.

“For Mr. and Mrs. Fawley. We just got married, you see. Newlywed jitters.” His voice is lighter and more posh as his hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder.

“Hmm, yes. Harry—er…Henrietta and Draco–” the receptionist squints at her paper, and you sigh at how pretentious the names sound together. Not in this life. You ought to wring Alice’s neck. That girl loves to make stories, and the more frilly your personas she created, the more difficult it’ll be to upkeep.

“No need, Etta and Drake are fine, love,” you say with a more confident grin, leaning against your faux husband.

The keys slide across the countertop, and you walk to the elevator, hand in hand until you’re out of sight. As you approach the door, James crouches a bit and puts his hands on his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Jump up. Gotta carry you over the threshold.”

“Shut up, Drake,” reminding yourself to use his false name in case someone’s watching, but he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Exactly. Just in case. Come on, just indulge me.” You shake your head in disbelief but hop onto his back all the same. Not exactly traditional, but it stirs up a feeling in you that you haven’t felt before. He carries you through the doorway and spins you once, twice, three times before you squeal and he giggles, placing you gently onto the sofa. It’s a cozy apartment with enough space for the two of you, cream walls, and a small kitchen with an island overlooking the entertaining space. The hallway leads to what you presume is the only bedroom, and there’s a nervous energy that sifts through the air as you both place protective charms everywhere, to ward off prying eyes and ears. How intimate. James falls back onto the sofa with a huff, sitting next to you, and both of you are unsure of what to say.

“I can take the sofa,” he says into the silence, and you turn to look at him incredulously.

‘For three months? James, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“You’re gonna be hunched over by the end of the week. What if we rotate?”

There’s no disagreement, feeling the springs in the cushion beneath your bottoms already. James perks up, leaning over to grab something from his bag, and by the time he leans back up, he looks like himself again, the small dose of Polyjuice wearing off. You can feel your hair go back to its original shade and texture, and he smiles wider when he sees your face.

“Look what I got. Remus gave it to me back at Hogwarts but I never really used up all the film. Thought we could take some pictures and look back on this one day.” It’s sweet, how he loves his friends like they’re an extension of himself. You reckon you don't have anyone like that, smiling at him fumbling with the tiny camera in his hands.

“It’ll take a while to develop. Gotta keep it safe if we’re making it out of this,” you say, taking it from him and throwing yourself back onto the backrest leaning against him to point and shoot one of yourselves in this moment, disheveled and domestic. The flash goes off and he looks like a deer in headlights, making you cackle.

“You miss them?” He’s not sure who you’re referring to, so he rattles on anyway. He loves talking about the people he loves.

“The boys…Just miss being kids at Hogwarts, y’know? The end of the world back then was not getting enough O’s on NEWTs. You?”

“Mhm. None of them are in Britain though. They came for my parents’ funeral, and they always say they’ll visit but…That’s my fault too, I guess.” You tuck your leg underneath you, turning to face him, and he’s cuddled up against a throw pillow.

“Your parents were awesome. Didn’t know them well besides your dad being in the Order and stuff, but they were really brave. Your mom hugged me at my parents’ burial and I think that was the first time I let myself cry after they died. That’s one of the few things I remember from that day.”

A breath of air escapes your lungs at his anecdote. It’s been a few months since they passed but you’ll never stop missing them.

“I don’t remember a lot from theirs either. It’s all kind of been a blur since. I think I remember you and Sirius smoking in the back and him offering me a cigarette.” He laughs silently at the memory of his best friend.

“No one ever talks about how much there is to do after your parents die,” he says, and you roar with agreement.

“Yes! I’m still battling out their assets in court! It’s difficult to live life alone, thinking they’ve set you up for the future, but feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath you. I just wish…They left this world together, y’know? And that’s great, but sometimes I feel selfish wondering what will happen to me.”

James nods slowly, taking your words in. He’s never had anyone to talk about this with, people pitying him instead, or acting like it didn’t matter, but it’s been almost a year and he can’t go to bed without thinking about how his parents died a week apart because even in death, they couldn’t be away for long. James wonders if you’ve noticed that he hasn’t talked about missing his wife, and the selfishness you mentioned prods at him. He smiles grimly, and takes the ring box from your bag, asking for your hand.

“Hey. You’re never gonna be alone again, alright? Not if it’s up to me.”

You roll your eyes as he flips the cover open, revealing the two gold bands, yours with a sizable diamond in the center.

“Do you think I’d give you that much power over me, James? This is all fake.”

“Fake marriage, but a true promise. I think you might, eventually.”

He slides the ring onto your left ring finger, sealing it with a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

—

“The first time you caught my eye it was not love at first sight. Instead, a quiet curiosity was planted in my chest and I knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep-seated familiarity into a love so fierce that I would question if I had ever been in love before.” - Lyra Wren

general taglist: @jsjcue

en route taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @babyclea @idkman5335 @timhalamet @ttulipwritezz @lilylovesu @thatonedogwithablog @lovemerigt

#made by ma1dita ♥︎ #james potter x reader angst #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #marauders era #mischiefmoons er

[tyxoxo]

One Night Only - VII.

ch.6, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: only suggestive themes in this chapter, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction),

tagging: @sukistrawberry @mingiandbaconjam @baecobies @produmads @glitchfiles @devinitysann @jamy99hoe @pradajaehyun

a/n: don’t come for me! i know it’s been a minute 🫣

**edit: forgot to write that jeno changed his clothes. just imagine him in his all black fit from Milan!!:)

Chapter 7

He had to have been the most foul person to ever step foot on this subway, thinking he could get away with trying to put his hands in between your thighs. It was painfully obvious that he was attempting to get to where you secretly needed him the most.  

“Jeno…” The way his name fell from your hushed lips made him go wild. Even if you were going to tell him to stop, it wouldn’t keep him from daydreaming about spinning you around to face the subway doors, letting everyone on the other side watch the two of you fly by as he took you against the foggy windows.

Even bonus points if he managed to rip your flimsy flannel open as he fucked you from behind, breasts pressed against the plexi glass from his relentless thrusts.

He was aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath; practically begging to be exposed.

You whispered out his name again, not even realizing that you snapped him out of his wild daze.

“Hmm?” He hummed against your ear, causing your back to arch and ultimately intensify the way your ass fit perfectly into his groin. 

“We can’t do this here…” You fought against your desires, trying your hardest to not let your words drift off into a moan. There was no way the other subway-goers couldn’t hear you. Your tone was quiet enough to hear a pin drop but everyone was practically squished against one another, you and Jeno included. The only thing that set you apart from these strangers, was your guilt from struggling to behave.

“Why not?”

“There’s kids in here…”

He briefly turned his head from the front of the train to the very back. Due to his one-track mind, of course he didn’t notice.

“Fuck…” Disappointment was evident in his expression, forehead dropping onto your shoulder from the realization that he was cock-blocked.

You purposely dropped your eyes down at both of your shoes, knowing the civilians were probably disgusted, and would maybe even consider reporting you to the nearest authorities; this was Seoul after all. 

Regardless, Jeno kept his claim on you, making sure his hands were locked on your waist for the entire train ride. 

~

“So…what is there to know?” You asked as the two of you scoured the outdoor flea market. You didn’t know of any other way to start a conversation, but you hoped something would come out of it.

Neither of you were on the hunt for anything in particular, but the multitude of booths gave you both plenty to look at.

From antique’s, to handcrafted jewelry, to “hand-me-down’s” in a stand alone thrift section, there could be something worth buying. 

“What would you like to know?” Jeno knocked his shoulder into your own as a signal for “shoot it.” But you were certain that he had no idea how many details you wanted to discover. 

“Well, you seem pretty tame at the moment, which is why i asked.” 

He scoffed at your statement, knowing that he was so close to causing a scene on the subway. But he could care less about the old farts or the young bloods. He was never one to respect authority.

“I mean yeah, since we’re very well acquainted now.” He said his snarky comment rather loudly, to which you gave a rather loud and abrupt “shhh.”

A few shoppers turned to view your utterance, to which you quickly diverted your eyes from the sudden onslaught of attention. 

“Hmm, let me guess. You want to know why I'm being so nice right now. Or maybe you want to know when I'm gonna ditch you…”

He looked up towards the sky as he listed his malicious theories; a shit way to ponder on all of the possibilities.

You could only shake your head from your decision to initiate talk, but you couldn’t help but remain curious.

“You know you’re like a billion red flags right?” You snapped back with something only half as presumptuous; never quite on your “A” game with someone as forward as him.  

“Yeah, and what does that say about you?” He said with a smirk. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not tug on your lips with every word he spoke.

Sadly, he was right.

You were just as unstable as him, to all of a sudden be around him more often than your old self would’ve wanted to. 

“That I should be ashamed of myself…” 

Somehow that amused the both of you. And hearing him laugh for the first time, actually stirred something within you, even his eye smile making your cheeks turn scorching hot.

“But seriously though, what made you want to work at a bookstore, doesn’t seem like your kind of vibe. Having to be quiet all the time…”

“I mean, Renjun and I both wanted something lowkey and not super complicated. And could you imagine me in retail or fast food, sounds terrible right?” 

You covered your mouth as you imagined the scenario, entertained by his facial expressions and agreement with his own statement.

“I definitely couldn’t. But you should really treat Mark with more respect, he’s way too lenient with you, or any of us for that matter.”

You couldn’t help but scold Jeno, for all the times he was inconsiderate to your nothing-but-nice boss.

Jeno gave a sarcastic pout, and an aura of silence after catching sight of a ring at one of the many handcrafted jewelry booths. As he began to approach the tent, you inspected the banner attached to the front, reading “Brimstone Jewelry” with a Leviathan Cross situated on both ends. 

You followed behind him, hanging onto the back of his black jean jacket to keep up with his stride. 

As you stood side-by-side, you watched as he grabbed the grunge-inspired silver band, face showing interest in the decorative etchings. 

Eventually, who you presumed to be the owner, approached the two of you, hoping Jeno would buy it. 

“You like it?” The woman had a unique look to her. Despite being middle-aged, she seemed to be just as lively as the younger demographic: with dyed red fringed hair, spiked cuffs, and an all black sheer dress. 

Jeno could only respond with a “mhm” and a subtle nod, raising the ring to get a good view of the sticker on the inside that gave the size. 

“Do you have this in a size 9?” 

“Yes! Let me get it out of my box!” The lady bent down to grab the container that was hidden underneath the table by a white drape sheet. In it, was the ring he had asked for, along with others that were just as edgy. 

It was noticeably bigger and once Jeno placed it on his right middle finger, you felt your knees buckle.

He looked so hot, with it on. Even though his black jean jacket covered the veins on his arms, you could see them branched out on his hands, complimenting the avant-garde design of the ring.

You hadn’t even realized that your mouth was hung open as he held up his hand in the sunlight, not until the lady smiled and laughed at your expression.

Jeno was oblivious until she spoke again,

“Are you guys a couple?” 

She was daring to ask such a thing, and you tried to gulp down the lump that formed in your throat like an aftershock.

Jeno placed his hand down, giving an obvious and shameless “why would you ask such a thing” look.

“No.” 

Jeno’s curt response, without a reassuring glance, made the air around you go cold, despite the relatively warm day.

What did you expect? And why did it make your entire body slump into a low-spirited posture? 

“Didn’t mean to intrude, young man. Just thought I’d ask because I have some really nice couple rings.” The lady gave a sympathetic bow, one that was ignored by Jeno as he tossed the ring on the table and walked off without you.

You were in disbelief, not only from his brusque actions, but from the entirety of the situation. It seemed like he retreated anytime your presence was known…did you even really exist in his mind? Or only when it benefited him? 

Of course, you were probably overanalyzing. But this was the second time he withdrew after the two of you engaged in such a way. 

You mentally shook your head of your inordinate thoughts, giving a delayed bow to the lady on behalf of your anarchic partner, if that even was the appropriate title. 

“How come you didn’t buy it?” You eventually caught up, with your subconscious never failing to make you grab a hold of his arm as the two of you walked. Surprisingly, he didn’t shrug you away, and you could honestly care less if he secretly hated it. 

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to…” 

If you ended up following through with your spur-of-the-moment plan, you could no longer say that you didn’t have feelings for Jeno. All of the denial would be nonexistent from this point onward. 

Because the moment you decided to walk back up to that same booth, you would make it your mission to have Jeno fuck you with that ring on, one way or another.

“Where are you going?” He looked back after feeling you release the back of his jacket. 

“I’ll be right back. Can you find me something to drink and some shade, like frozen lemonade or something?” 

As you attempted to keep your whereabouts unknown, you were stopped in your tracks by Jeno’s firm grip on your wrist, causing you to whirl back around to face him. His jaw was clenched, probably due to your equivocal decision to go alone suddenly, especially in such a busy crowd.

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“I’m gonna go check something out, can you find me something to drink in the meantime?” You tried your best not to involuntarily point your head in the direction of your objective, fearing it would give your plan away. 

“Tell me.” 

“I said i’ll be right back!” 

Because of the increase in your tone and the attention drawn to the two of you now, Jeno had no choice but to let go. He seemed to walk away in the opposite direction, where you had both eyed a drink stand minutes prior. You continued your journey back to the jewelry booth, hoping the lady wouldn’t tell you to go away because of Jeno’s ill-mannered attitude. 

Surprisingly, she smiled upon seeing you step up again to her booth.

“Back again huh?” 

“Yeah I couldn’t stay away.” You offered an awkward laugh to fill the once-cold space.

“Could I buy that size 9 ring we looked at earlier?” 

“Of course! But may I ask…how come he won’t?” 

She seemed to be the nosy type, but for some reason you didn’t mind, even envying her audacious personality.

“Uh-uhm. It’s a surprise for him. He never tells me or shows me what he likes so I thought why not.” 

A terrible lie, one that she might see right through.

“Well, I must say it fits him. You guys look good together. Just make sure he treats you right…been there, done that.”

She spoke low as she put the ring in its own matte-black holder, assuming Jeno was nearby to hear.  

You bowed from her conscious advice after handing the money, to which she waved goodbye as she handed you the brown paper gift bag. 

The bag was adorned with the same Leviathan Cross sticker on both sides, indirectly foiling your plans to keep it a surprise. 

As soon as you left the booth, you took out your phone to see if he texted where he could possibly be. And there on your lockscreen was a single message.

2:27pm 

[jeno]: i’m at the drink stand we saw earlier. you should see a bunch of bright yellow chairs

[you]: ok, heading over now

It was impossible to hide the rush of excitement that forged within your body. You just knew he would love it, even if he tried to outwardly display annoyance from your persistence. 

You held the bag close to your body as you made your way to the stand, almost stumbling past a few people in the process.

There, in the distance, you saw him. And despite the toxicity, he took your breath away at every glance: the way he sat in the chair with the typical male leg cross—ankle up and resting on the opposite knee while scrolling through his phone made you grip the bag even tighter.

He had successfully fulfilled your request, with two large cups of what appeared to be frozen lemonade placed on the outdoor green mesh table.

It wasn’t until you got in arms-length distance that he looked up from his phone, eyes following the brown paper bag as you placed it on top of the table.

And once he looked from there and to your smug grin, he instantly knew. 

“What the fuck?” He leaned forward, switching to a normal sitting position simultaneously. 

His profanity garnered a mother with her two young children to cover their ears as she stood nearby ordering at the stand, but neither you nor Jeno cared about her own censoring. You began sipping the slushied drink through the straw as you shifted in the bright yellow chair, watching with a smile as he inspected the familiar sticker on the bag.

“Try it on again.” 

You spoke in between sips, not surprised to see him obeying your command within a second of your sentence.

After a hefty amount of rustling through the bag, he pulled out the matte-holder, and with it came the satisfaction of a lifetime.

As soon as he slipped it on his right middle finger, your mouth hovered over the straw, just like when you first saw him with it. 

He looked down at his hand with intrigue, and soon fixation as you scooted your chair over to him.

He sat frozen in his seat as you leaned over, chilled lips hitting his ear in two breaths,

“Now fuck me with it on…”  Where did all of your daringness come from? Not even you could answer that, but based on the rush of how he gathered all of your belongings and your wrist, he was determined to find out...

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #feedback is appreciated <3

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 1 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~6k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment industry; character experience and description of disassociation; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate skinship; cursing; conversations surrounding soulmates and sex; character experiences an emotional breakdown; light embarrassment; CONFLICT (you knew it was coming, right?), there is plenty of fluffy stuff too I PROMISE 😂😅

Author's Note: Wow. It's been a minute. If you're still reading this story, thank you for sticking with me, and I apologize for the stretch of time between updates. For the longest time, I just couldn't get this part right...and then it was far too long, so I split it up, and I'm still editing the second, and (potentially) third parts. I got several messages from readers who were worried I might have abandoned this fic, and let me assure you, far from it! I am not a speedy writer, and struggle with doubting if what I'm putting on the page is good enough, so sometimes it takes me a minute to update, but let me assure you, these characters are so special to me and so alive in me, and I ask thank you for your patience as I work to tell their story! Thank you for your lovely words of encouragement and feedback on the story - I appreciate each and every one of them!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"I needed the light of your energy, I looked around, devouring hope."

~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

  "FUCKING FINALLY."

    "Hey, Di."

    "How dare you ghost me for the forty-eight most interesting hours of your life?!"

    "Well, I was low-key occupied..."

    "TELL ME EVERYTHING." 

     You sighed, settling down on a shaded bench in the garden grounds of the hospital to which you had escaped for a little privacy and an important phone call or two.

    "Uh oh. That was your 'things are complicated' sigh," Diana prodded.

    Your eyes tracked a swallowtail as it flitted from azalea to azalea.

    "Well, things certainly aren't conventional or straight-forward, that's for sure. But where's the fun in understanding the basic parameters of what you're getting yourself into on a life-altering scale, right?"

    "Ummmm...what does that mean? You met him, right?"

You could barely hear your sister's question over the crinkle of plastic in the background.

    "Yeah, I did. We bonded too."

    "Oh mah gah!!" Diana choked out amidst sounds of crunchy chewing. "So what's he like?"

    You thought for a moment.

    "He's kind and intelligent. Obviously extremely resilient. His presence is impressive, but he has something about him that's very disarming. He's kind of clumsy and at moments almost...shy? Like, I don't know what I expected, but there's this sweetness to him that you wouldn't anticipate from someone in his position."

    "As a cancer patient?"

    "As an idol."

    You sighed again.

    "I don't know...he's..."

    Diana let out a strangled sound and uttered an enthusiastic string of words you couldn't make out.

    "I have no idea what you just said. Could you please decide whether you want to talk to me or consume an entire bag of Doritos?" 

    "Hey, it's dinner time here!" she whined, "And I said," her voice quickly changed to take on a smug sing-song tone, "That last sigh was your smitten-kitten one..."

    "It was not!" you cut her off sharply. "And get every single idea of Namjoon and I as a couple out of that scheming head of yours because he's very much taken. I'm meeting his fiancée for lunch today."

    "What? He's engaged?"

Diana let out an exasperated huff.

"Why didn't they tell you about this right off the bat? You're going to be the soulmate of a married man? What does that even mean? This is bullshit."

    You had a hard time disagreeing with her there. It was, in fact, bullshit that Namjoon's team had kept his relationship status a secret. Would it have changed your decision? Probably not. This had been about saving Namjoon's life, not some bizarre attempt at matchmaking. But having a third person to consider, and so intimately, as part of the equation for the rest of your earthly life felt like something you should have been made more immediately aware of. Navigating your boundaries with your soulmate had already been complex enough without introducing the prospect of being a fixture in his married life. When Namjoon had breached the prospect of meeting her, he had been taken aback at your surprise - he, like you, had assumed that Hybe's representation had disclosed everything of significance.

    "So it's a good thing I came here as a lifeline, not a mail-order bride," you reminded your sister, "And that seems to be working, by the way. His vitals are already stable. They stabilized overnight, in fact. And his white blood cell count was way up this morning, which is good because I guess he was experiencing immunosuppression from the chemo."

    "Oh, nice," Diana murmured.

You had to remind yourself that she was young and excitable, and not to be annoyed at the disappointment that he crept into her tone. However, never one to be down for long, her voice brought its usual bright mischief through the speaker as she posed her following question.

    "By the way...how was bonding?"

    She had said it with an inescapably salacious undertone, which is why, you told yourself, heat had begun to creep up the base of your neck. You stammered, switching the phone from one ear to the other as you bought yourself time to reassemble your decorum. 

    "Ah...I mean...it was...intense?"

    "Ooooohhhh," Diana trilled, only making you more uncomfortable as the heat spread from your neck to your cheeks, "Intense, huh? Like in a good way?"

     You squirmed uncomfortably where you sat, thoughts of Namjoon's pleasure-stricken face and the strength of his hand and how his skin felt against your own hitting your hippocampus like a flash flood.

    "Y/n?"

    "It was fine, okay? And it worked - so that's what's important."

    "....Okaaay..." Diana drawled skeptically.

You scrambled for another talking point.

    "That kid visited. The one who came to the States - Jungkook. And another one of the members too - Jim...Jimin? I'm still trying to get their names straight. Some of them don't go by their actual names on stage - Namjoon is RM...but you knew that. Anyway, I digress. Both the boys were really sweet. Seems like they're all very close. I'm supposed to meet the rest of the members at some point next week at dinner. They wanted to have a sort of 'last supper' for us since we're probably going to start rejecting food soon."

    "That's cool, you get to meet the whole team! Oh my gosh, you're just going to casually have dinner with BTS...this is still so unreal!"

    "Yep," you affirmed, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Namjoon had hit you with a couple of whoppers last night, but this was one you were actually looking forward to. You told Diana all about your first two days in Seoul - about the impressive hospital and its kind staff. About meeting Namjoon, and his condition. About how everything was still so fresh and new. About how so many things were still unsettled, so many questions unanswered.

    "So are you nervous?"

    "About what?"

    "Meeting his girlfriend."

    You had been so wrapped up in filling Diana in on it all that you had actually forgotten about the impending lunch date. As you pulled the phone away from your ear to check the time, your stomach lurched. 

    "Shit, I better get going. It's almost eleven-thirty." You sprang up and started quickly back toward the building.

    "That wasn't an answer," Diana scoffed, "But, hey, sis?"

    "Yeah?" You pressed the "up" button on the elevator.

    "Don't be."

    You smiled.

    "Love you, Di."

    "Love you too. And so does anyone worth a damn."

    After deciding that you smelled like outside, you showered quickly then slipped into caramel-colored corduroys and an off-white tee. You rummaged around the small suitcase Matt had brought from the hotel for you in search of a sweater. After several exasperating minutes of unsuccessful digging, you heaved the bag of laundered clothes that had been returned to you by the hospital staff this morning, having gone through much of the what the Hybe staff had initially pilfered from your luggage in the last two days.

You grumbled in relief as you pulled out your dark green cardigan and slipped it over your shoulders, wondering what the hell the hospital laundry services had done to stretch it out so badly. But, you didn't have time to fuss - so you bunched up the sleeves and headed to the opposite end of the hospital's outdoor grounds where you suspected Namjoon and his guest were already waiting. 

    The hospital grounds were extensive and beautiful, sporting a garden that extended from the western wing, and a lawn punctuated by traditional pavilions to the east. He had pointed out the one he had reserved to you last night - tucked away in the shade of the large gingko trees flanking the little man-made stream that delineated the border of the grounds.

As you made your way toward the shady spot you chided yourself for being so uneasy - everyone surrounding your soulmate had been as lovely and warm and welcoming as he had been, and the woman he loved would likely be no exception. After Namjoon had disclosed that she was a musician like he was, you had done a bit of online recon before going to bed that night.

Her given name was Kim Hyung-seo, but her stage name, by which she was well-known, was Bibi. She was four years Namjoon's junior, but seemed nearly as ambitious. From what you could tell, she seemed to share a similar drive for artistry and honesty in her musical process as her future husband, and though her tendency for loose-canon candidness had landed her in hot water more than once, her earnest sincerity had engendered her to the hearts of her peers and fans alike. In an industry that seemed to often censor and restrict women, Hyung-seo didn't seem to give much credence to the rules. You liked that. You were actually kind of excited to get to know her a bit and ask her about her art - you had always been a woman's woman, and being in the company of strong feminine energy was something you found deeply empowering and grounding. You anticipated that your soulmate's girlfriend was someone you could respect, and you allowed yourself to venture to hope that feeling would be mutual.

    You trotted up the steps of the pavilion and took in its contents. The center had been fitted with a low, round table bearing a colorful and mouthwatering spread of gogi, bibim guksu, gimbap, and banchan. Cushions had been placed on the floor for seating, but none bore the lunch companions you had been anxious not to keep waiting. You were about to take your place at the table when a figure moving near the creek caught your eye.

You moved to the far side of the structure, to see your soulmate deeply engaged in conversation...with a duck.

He was standing near the edge of the water, his tall figure clad in silky modern navy blue hanbok. The top was untied and hung loosely over a white tee - the only contrast to the deep muted tone apart from his cognac loafers. He wore a dark beanie pulled low on his head, which was bowed in affectionate greeting to a juvenile Gadwall who had paddled away from his family to sample the little bits of starchy fluff that the stranger had sprinkled onto the water.

You pressed your palms against the painted wood, taking him in with a smile as he crouched down, extending a bit of bread between his fingers slowly toward the curious little water foul.

This man, you were learning - this erstwhile underground rapper, this leader of men, this brilliant intellectual and genius artist - this great, powerful, impressive man could be called out of his poise in an instant by the sweet and tiny things of the world.

You watched as he waited patiently, the little duck swimming in to-and-fro circuits and drawing closer and closer to Namjoon with each pass, until finally it was close enough to snatch its prize from him and scuttle off quickly to rejoin its mother and siblings. Namjoon chuckled, smiling fondly as he watched the duck make his way back down the creek.

This man, you thought to yourself, could not possibly be real.

    "So you're a Kpop idol and a Disney princess, huh?" you called, causing Namjoon to startle and rock back on his heels, landing on his posterior in the damp grass.

    You slapped a hand over your mouth to repress the laughter that threatened to bubble up at the site of his large well-dressed figure tipped back haphazardly on the creekside. He huffed a sheepish laugh as he stood, swiping at the back of his pants.

    "Give a person a little warning?" he chided lightly, approaching you where you leaned on the railing.

    "Sorry," you chuckled, "I didn't want to scare your little friend."

    "So you settled for scaring your soulmate? I see how it is." 

    You smiled and ducked your head.

    "Sorry," you murmured, flicking your gaze back to his.

He looked up at you, fixing you with his warm brown eyes and bringing his hands to grip the railing on either side of yours. Suddenly, you felt shy. You shook yourself.

    "Hey, hang out with the ducks and you'll end up with a wet tail," you teased.

Namjoon's eyebrows drew together in mock disgust.

    "Yikes, you're almost as bad as Seokjin hyung," he remarked disparagingly.

    You shrugged, smirking.

    "I have no idea what that means, but whoever Seokjin is, he must have a superior sense of humor."

Namjoon was opening his mouth to respond, but was cut short, as the tiny motion of your shoulders had slid one of your hands just a centimeter down the railing and barely flush with his own. The slight contact was enough to send sudden little tingles of comfort shooting up your arm and across your chest. In a millisecond you felt yourself relax where you hadn't realized you were tense. You could have imagined it, but you thought you felt Namjoon press his hand just a fraction more into yours as he swallowed and heaved a deep sigh.

You reminded yourself for the hundredth time since you arrived that this was biological. Clinical. The means to an end. Damn, he felt good though.

You found yourself snatching your hands away to push up your cardigan sleeves and then stuff them into your pants pockets where they would stop confusing you. You distracted yourself from Namjoon's subtle look of disappointment with an apology.

    "Sorry about your pants," you rocked back on your heels as you looked out over the little ribbon of water rippling over its stony bed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and brushed himself off again before waving a hand in dismissal. Your eyes focused back on the blue silk.

"I didn't realize this was a fancy lunch. I feel under-dressed."

    "You look nice," Namjoon rebutted, as he glanced over your attire. Then his brow pinched as his eyes halted on your torso, flitting over your arms and shoulders. "But isn't that -"

    "Joon?"

A voice behind you caused you to turn.

Standing at the top of the steps was the woman it belonged to. She was tall and beautifully slender - her svelte figure draped in a slinky chrome dress with a triangular cutout that displayed the smooth skin of her upper abdomen. Her glossy raven tresses were styled away from her face in a high ponytail, drawing sharp attention to her sultry features. Her smoky eyes glanced over your form with a lazy intensity, lids half-raised over dark irises, and her pouted lips pursed in appraisal. You wondered just exactly how many ridiculously beautiful people traveled in Namjoon's circle.

She stepped toward you, her chunky pink heels marking her confident strides on the floorboards, before bowing and extending a small hand with sharp white acrylics and icy sliver rings.

    "I'm the girlfriend!" she hummed, her deep, velvety voice matching her features.

    You bowed in return before shaking her hand politely.

    "So nice to meet you," you smiled, "I'm -

    "The soulmate," she cut you off, glancing over your shoulder at Namjoon, who still stood outside the pavilion, "of that weirdo." '

Namjoon circled around to the entrance of the pavilion before joining you with a wry smile. He introduced the two of you formally, before being the first to take a seat at the table. Hyung-seo joined him, shimmying her cushion closer to Namjoon's as she used a pair of chopsticks to load her plate with selections from the spread. 

    "Oh my god, I'm STARVING," she gushed, staring at Namjoon impatiently as he took a bit of kimchi fried rice and a few slices of samgyeobsal.

    "My stomach feels like it could take some real food for the first time in a while," he said with eager enthusiasm, glancing up at you with a smile of gratitude. 

    Hyung-seo tapped her chopsticks against her plate as she watched you survey the dishes before you. You took some kimchi fried rice and carefully ladled out a small bowl of doenjang-jjigae. You pulled your hands into your lap and watched the steam rise from the fragrant broth.

    "Ah, unnie..." Hyung-seo began before Namjoon shushed her and lightly tapped her knee.

You glanced between them in confusion. Namjoon merely smiled at you, and you smiled back, glancing down from his warm gaze to your plate.

    "Oh for the love of god, would you take a bite?"

    You looked up rather startled at Hyung-seo, who was leaned forward, her desperate eyes tracking your movements, and the chopsticks clutched in her right hand hovering over a plump, sweating mandu.

You blinked, fumbling for your chopsticks as your soulmate admonished the woman next to him. You took a heap of fried rice onto your chopsticks and brought it to your lips, looking questioningly between the two across from you. Hyung-seo groaned in impatience, her head lolling back.   

    "In Korea, the eldest eats first," Namjoon offered in soft explanation, his features trained in apology.

    As realization washed over you, you all but shoved the rice into your mouth, hoping to swallow your embarrassment with it, followed quickly by Hyung-seo, who popped two mandu into her mouth consecutively. Her eyes rolled back as she let out a groan of appreciation. You watched Namjoon carefully savor a piece of samgyeobsal. He smiled a dimpled smile. You smiled to yourself as you tucked into your fried rice. Namjoon's fiancée watched you both. Her cheeks were full, but she wasn't smiling.

Your little trio ate in contented silence until your visitor, having satisfied her belly, fixed her eyes on you with a different sort of eagerness. The time for questions had come, you realized. You set down your chopsticks, taking a drink of water.

    "I'm sure there is so much we'd like to know about each other," you offered with a smile.

    She pulled her lips into a brief grin, sipping from her own glass as her eyes trailed over you. You cleared your throat.

    "So, I read that y-"

    "How does it feel?" she interrupted, starring at you raptly. You blinked.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "When he touches you." She licked her lips. "I heard it's like cumming. I heard it's better."

Namjoon slid a large hand over her thigh. You saw it squeeze.

    "Jagiya..." he murmured.

    You glanced at him and gave him a reassuring grin which he returned, though not as readily as before. Not the start to the conversation you had hoped for, but she was living up to her brusque reputation. You let yourself laugh a little at the question, and saw Hyung-seo's mouth curl up a bit at the corners, though it didn't reach her eyes.

    "It's nothing like sex, actually," you mused, trying to be as forthcoming as possible without abandoning politeness. "Strange, I guess, because it is all about physical exchange and contact. But...it's more like...nourishment? I don't know...I haven't had long enough to think about it."

You had had quite long enough to know that it was ineffable, but in the most intoxicating, magnificent way - and a hell of a lot better than most of the sex you'd had. This, however, wasn't the time and place for descriptions of the bond that could be ripped from the pages of drugstore romance novels.

    You found yourself turning to Namjoon with a questioning gaze, as if to ask if he had anything to add. He nodded in response, not meeting your eyes.

    "Yeah, it's different," he murmured succinctly.  

    Hyung-seo hummed in assent, chewing on her lip, her gaze still roving over you. You decided to try again.

    "So how did you m-"

    "How do you do it?"

    You stifled a small sigh that threatened to escape your lips.

    "Do what?"

    "Use the bond. Like, do you hold hands, or...or what?"

    You looked to Namjoon who murmured something in Korean that sounded like a warning. This wasn't going as you'd hoped. Her questions were natural ones, but not the first you thought you'd be asked, and not so pointedly. In fact, they were ones she should probably have put to her partner. Had they not spoken since you arrived?

    "The bond works with any physical contact. When I first got here, I had so many questions myself. The hospital personnel were very informative while helping us navigate our questions. I still know very little, but as someone whose partner is bonded, I'm sure they would have someone who could better answer these types of questions than I can," you offered.

It was the opposite of forthcoming, but you were absolutely not prepared to launch into a conversation about you and her fiancé spooning in your undergarments. The trajectory of the exchange had to go elsewhere, so you resolved to take the wheel.

    "Is there anything you'd like to know about me? Maybe I could tell you a little about myself. My job in the states wasn't glamorous, but I loved it. I was -"

    "A social worker, I know," she murmured with a sigh, and Namjoon's head snapped toward her.     

You could feel your confusion pulling into a frown. In your beat of silence, the woman in front of you gave into another impulse as she placidly launched into an answer of your unasked question.

    "You're a social worker from the West coast, oldest of three kids. Your father died when you were ten. You graduated summa cum laude, and chose a career in women's services. You support your mother's living - you have been, long-term. Your brother is an engineer and your sister is in nursing school. You've never committed any crimes, but you were arrested once in college at some political protest about immigrant rights. Your blood type is O positive. You don't seem very good with your money, but you've never asked for financial assistance. You've never been married." 

    Silence.

    Your ears were ringing.

    You blinked as you tried to focus, grappling for something on which to stabilize your composure. This isn't how this was supposed to go. You felt your control slipping as the words pierced you in echoes that knocked you back down each time you reached out to steady your mind. 

    "Your father died when you were young..."

    "...You support your mother's living..."

    "...You don't seem very good with your money"

    Your mind whirred as the silence closed in, and for a moment you were suspended.

        Diana and Henry weren't pillars, you thought - they were tiny little babies as your mother clutched them on either side of her prone, shaking form as shovels of dirt were shifted back into the gaping hole that held a pine box covered in flowers. You looked down at the flag in your hands, and then up at the white flowers, still fresh and blooming, being caked and sodden with damp soil. You felt something rising up in your chest - something that never reached the surface. You turned from the wound in the earth as Dianna reached out and tugged at your arm. The babies looked afraid. You couldn't see your mother's face from where it was buried in her skirts. You tucked the flag reverently under your arm and took the little hands.

    Somewhere outside the amniotic sack of your mind, you saw Namjoon's figure stand. You heard his garbled voice speak to the woman beside him. He was angry, his voice pitched low. Hers in response was sharp and high.

    You took a deep breath and exhaled. Your chest was beginning to labor and your inhaler was on the fifth floor of a building on the other side of the property.

You willed yourself back into this world you had chosen. This place which, like the others you had inhabited, would discover its new tenant didn't take long to adapt. She was built to withstand.

    "Namjoon," you called softly, as you looked up at your soulmate. His eyes snapped to yours, his face showing subtle but unmistakable signs of distress - eyes reflecting remorsefully and jaw flexing.

You smiled at him gently, reassuringly.

    "It's alright," you insisted, your eyes not leaving his.

You saw his shoulders sag, and his head bow. His hand came up to scrub over his face. You realized then that she was looking at you. Hyung-seo's expression was apprehensive, her eyes scouring your face.

    "This must be an extremely difficult thing for you, whatever the reason," you offered earnestly.

    She regarded you in silence, her eyes flickering like the flame of a candle.

    "I would say, 'I understand', but I don't. I have no idea how hard it must be to fall in love with someone only to watch them suffer at the hands of disease, and to suffer so greatly and to come so close to losing them that you turn to finding a person who can save them, and who - if they are saved by - they will need and desire for the rest of their natural life. A person who isn't you." 

    Her eyes quivered as they held you in their gaze.

    "I know I'm supposed to be a saving grace," you continued, having gained your ground, "But I know I could also look a lot like a threat. Trust me when I say that you can be open and honest with me about how you feel. This is a difficult situation where we're going to feel burdened by things we shouldn't. Namjoon and I discussed this."

    You smiled again at your soulmate, who was watching you with relief and something else in his features. You wanted to call it admiration, but you had only known him for two whole days.

    "Whatever fears you're carrying that make you feel like a burden in this moment, could I ask you to set them aside? For a chance to get to know me in the real way that you deserve? This isn't a trap. Or a cage. We've all chosen to be here."

    You regarded Hyung-seo in the silence that followed. Her eyes had fallen from your face - they glanced over toward where Namjoon stood, barely raising toward his figure, when she suddenly dropped her face into her hands and began shaking with sobs.

    You let out a sigh of relief too soft to be heard by the others.

    "Fuck...." Hyung-seo choked out against her palms, "I'm such a piece of shit..."

    Namjoon moved to place a hand over her back and assure her she wasn't. You wondered what she felt when he touched her. Your heart ached with pity for her. Namjoon drew her into his chest and held her as she cried her makeup off. He stroked her hair as her regarded her with weary, worried eyes. You couldn't help but feel that you were encroaching on a private moment...expect that you were a part of this as much as they were. Was there a lifetime of this feeling to be endured? You sighed again.

    "I'm gonna give you guys a minute," you whispered as you clambered to your feet.

    Namjoon nodded silently over the woman in his arms. 

    You watched scattered leaves from the boughs overhanging the far side of the stream spin as the were swept away. Your eyes tracked one in particular, twirling as it sailed around a protruding rock and under an arching root, only to be stopped as it was doubled at the middle by a thin, swaying reed. You found your feet moving to where the water rushed around it as it billowed helplessly on both sides of its obstruction like a flag of surrender. You slipped off your shoes and rolled up your pants. You waded into the cool, clear water and, reaching out, tugged the little leaf free. You watched as it sailed on, disappearing around a bend in the waterway. You glanced back up at the pavilion. If you could have been sure it was the right move, you would have left altogether, but you wouldn't want your sudden departure to be taken the wrong way.

    You sighed. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket as you waded back out of the stream. Dead. You were bad about keeping it charged, and your conversation with Diana had drained its aged battery. You wished you had a book. Glancing about, your eyes caught a fairly large patch of clover flowers a few yards down the bank, and crossing the soft grass, you sank down in its center.

You smiled weakly to yourself as you plucked one of the little white buds near the base of its stem. You and your siblings would spend hours at the park under the shade turning sprawling patches of the puffy blooms into garlands, crowns, bracelets, and rings. You picked another flower and tied its supple stem into a knot just under the other flower's head. 

    By the time Namjoon came to join you, sinking down across from you in little clover patch you had fashioned yourself a crown and a necklace, and were working on a garland to send to Diana. You set down your handiwork to look up at him. He was regarding you with soft, somber eyes and a little smile that looked like one he didn't have the energy for but couldn't help besides. He picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers.

    "I'm so sorry," he murmured, "If I would have thought that things would go that way, I wouldn't have insisted on her meeting you before she left. She's going on tour and I thought...well, I thought if she just met you her anxieties would be eased."

    You nodded thoughtfully.

    "Thank you for your patience and kindness. She was out of line saying those things to you like that...you were...that was everything she needed to hear, I think."

    You cast your eyes down as you tied off another knot in the garland.

    "Is she okay?" you asked quietly.

    Namjoon sighed.

    "She's...embarrassed. Ashamed of herself. She wasn't in any condition to finish that conversation, so I suggested she go home."

    "Understandable," you assented, nodding again.

    Silence hung between you for a moment before you raised your eyes to his again.

    "Namjoon...there are some things I think we should discuss."

    He nodded earnestly, his eyes falling, brow creasing and tongue pressing into his cheek.

    "I know we haven't had much time," you continued, "And we have literally the rest of our lives...but, I think we should be on the same page about what we've been told about each other. I think it will make this whole process easier? I don't know. There are some things you assume you'll have to tell someone at a certain point in knowing them - some things that are...deeply personal..."

    "Aren't things between us already that way? Deeply personal?"

    You looked up and those half-lidded brown eyes were looking right at you in a way you weren't prepared for, in a way that flooded your veins. Soulmate. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him and what he brought to you. You wanted him to feel it too. But you didn't know him, and he didn't know you, and he needed healing, which is why you were here. He loved someone who loved him whose lives you were disrupting. This feeling was basal, you knew - came with the territory...but you were going to need some strong boundaries if this was going to function. You were going to need honesty, for a start.

   "They are," you relented slowly, "But I have questions that I need answers to. Your trust in me is clear, and I appreciate that...but...I need time to get my footing here."

    Namjoon nodded in assent.

    "I get that. So, what do you want to know, specifically? I'll answer any question you have."

    You nodded gratefully.

    "Thank you. Do you think I could take a little time to think about what I want to ask? I'm kind of still processing everything that just happened."

    "Of course," he was quick to answer, "Whenever you want to talk, just let me know. Did I say how sorry I am?" he asked smiling weakly as he looked up from where he struggled to knot the stem of one flower around another, suddenly looking down again when its stem snapped between his fingers.

    You huffed out a little laugh.

    "Yes, you did," you did, you answered, offering him a rueful grin.

    He picked another flower only to realize he had cut its stem too short for his purposes. He tossed the little blossoms back into the grass.

    "Can you make me one?" he asked pathetically, pouting at the garland in your hands.

    You chuckled as you tied off the one in your lap and leaned forward to slip it over his head. He adjusted it around his neck, looking down at it with a pleased expression.

    "You know...if you can believe it, we actually got lucky in there," he smirked, his forehead creasing as he raised his brow.

    You gave him a look of confusion. His eyes trailed over your torso again before flitting back up to yours.

    "She didn't notice that you're wearing my sweater."

    You froze. Then you blinked down at the giant green cardigan that had, in fact, slipped down off of one shoulder. Then you gaped at him.

    He snickered.

    You scrambled to yank the sweater over your head, even as he laughed and protested, you blustered apology after expletive after apology.

    "Shit, it was in my laundry bag!" You whined in explanation as you shook it out and began to fold it in your lap.

    "Stop, just keep it on," Namjoon insisted, still clearly amused at your state of panic.

    "I have one just like this. Like, identical but obviously smaller. I just assumed it had stretched out in the wash..." You extended the sweater toward him.

    He shook his head.

    "Just give it back later, you'll be cold." He looked up at your exasperated expression and started laughing again.

    "Stooop..." you whined in embarrassment, and when he only laughed harder, you tossed the sweater in his face. As he balled it up with a smile where it fell down into his lap, his smart watch trilled. He glanced down at it.

    "I've got labs scheduled now," he sighed.

    "Hopefully they'll bring more good news," you offered, at which he nodded. "I seem to be getting the job done, if I do say so myself," you teased, leaning back on your hands and offering him a smug look.

He nodded, tongue in his cheek, then pushed to stand - with effort, you noticed - and extended a hand down to you. You didn't realize what the little smile on his mouth was for until you accepted his hand with your own, by habit, and were nearly knocked back off your feet as the bond surged through you like a wave of mind-numbing euphoria that left you unable to process information outside of what was sent coursing through your every cell from where he touched you.

    You blinked up at him as you got your wits about you, and he was looking down at you through little slits in his barely-open eyes, head tilted back and mouth hanging open - little smirk still tugging at its corner. You pursed your lips, trying not to grin back.

    "You did that on purpose," you chided, trying and failing to train your features in a scowl.

    His smirk deepened.

    "What? I was just being courteous..."

    You rolled your eyes.

    "I'm feeling a little weak, I think it would be best if you helped me back to the room," he muttered slyly, turning to head back toward the building.

The smile that was dimpling his cheek and creasing the corners of his eyes did something to your stomach that had you yanking your hand out of his grasp.

    "Yeah, right," you huffed, forging a few steps ahead of him, "You're putting a lot by your poorly reputed coordination to think you could walk while I was touching you." 

    He let out a laugh behind you. It was loud and bright and had you biting back a smile to match it.

    "What happened to getting the job done, sweater thief?" he called after you teasingly.

    Shit. Yeah. Boundaries. You were going to need them.

_________________________________________________

Well, they met! Next part to follow soon.

Thank you for sticking with me here!

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25 @felicityroth @softforyoongles @berlianv @honneypies @deadrose287 @n0pesir

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[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Sixteen

Moscow Nights

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Mori led you into the large tower, taking you to one of the upper floors. He gave you clean clothes to change into, a simple black turtleneck and red dress, along with a new coat, gloves, and scarf for when you’re ready to leave. You made a mental note to stop on the way back home to check for tracking devices, couldn’t have anyone else know where the Society headquarters are after the Guild incident. 

After you got changed you stopped by Mori’s office like he requested, just to talk he said. The office was just as nice as Miss Jane’s, a familiar decor, just a lot darker. Mori sat in a velvet chair, facing the window that looked over Yokohama, fitting. On the ground next to him was that little blond girl he asked you to help find all those months ago, Elise you think. Lastly in the chair next to him was that red head in the fedora, the one who bought flowers from your shop, that Fyodor went on to frame for breaking into your apartment, Chuuya. The two of them seemed to be discussing something important. You knocked on the doorframe which caught their attention. Mori smiled and waved you over, interrupting their conversation. “Miss (Name), please come in and may I say you look lovely.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Mori.” You stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long, I have to be back home, I promised William to-“

“I understand you’re a busy woman, Miss (Name). So I’ll get straight to the point.” Mori interrupted you, picking up something on the coffee table in between himself and Chuuya, it was a file. “I know about your charity ball, and I know there is an auction happening on one of the floors above. If any of the Port Mafia member goes in there they’ll be recognized. That’s where you come in.”

“M-me?” You should have realized that Mori was up to something when you came in here. Gaston was right, you can’t trust anyone outside of the society. 

“Yes, Miss (Name), come here.” You walked up nervously and took the file he was handing you, most of the information was blacked out but the lot number was there, lot six-six-five. “It’s files under the guise of a first edition book, you probably are not familiar with the organization the Rats of the House of the Dead, but I do trust you are familiar with their leader, Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Your eyes unknowingly went wide in shock and horror, this hasn’t gone unnoticed by Mori and Chuuya. Mori chuckled and Chuuya sighed. “Boss, now you’re just scaring her.”

“The first to make a move wins, but there is no need to fear about the demon. Earlier today I have received word from one of my executives that a bounty hunter he hired caught him.” Part of you calmed when Mori spoke those words, but you know Fyodor, he was almost able to outsmart Gaston, keyword almost. You know how Gaston triumphed in the end, making them all dance like actors on a stage, that composer scared you sometimes. But Mori’s words quickly caught you out of your thoughts. “Now, we’ll be giving you a cap of a million to bid on this item and afterwards you will meet Chuuya here outside the hotel to give him the files or report that you lost it and return the cash and tell us who bought it and we’ll deal with it as such.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Well I could always make good of my promise of making sure you never see the light of day again.” A wicked smile comes across Mori’s face and you took a step back in unease at that. He chuckles and shakes his head. “But something about your reaction tells me that you’ll accept, and don’t worry for the information you’ll get us, you’ll be probably compensated, information perhaps? It’s negotiable.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, it’s a deal then.” You respond and Mori smiles, not as madly as before.

“Wonderful, now then you are welcome to stay and chat if you would like to, if not I can have one of my men escort you back-“

“No thank you, I’ll be fine. I’ll be calling one of the society’s chauffeurs to pick me up. I can’t be having you know where the Society’s headquarters is, now can I? I do wish you well, and I trust we’ll be in contact.” You cut Mori off with a smirk and pull out your phone, glancing back at the two of them before you step out into the hall. “Chuuya, one thing, a question.”

“Huh? What do you want?” He asked, not necessarily angry, even sounding too tired to be angry.

“That day when you bought those flowers, roses I remember, why and what did you do with them?” You looked away, still in thought. “It’s a weird question I know, but that same evening my apartment was broken into and framed to make it look like you did it.”

“Well, I got them because I felt bad cause I was just bothering you at work, I put them in my room.” He answered your question bluntly and almost a bit nervous. “Do you know who broke in?”

“I do, he’s the most dangerous individual I have ever met.” You began dialing up the number of your chauffeur as you spoke. “Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

You watched as a slight look of shock came across their faces. “But… how did he possibly know about the roses I bought?”

“Apparently he has been watching me, it must have been easy work for him to do so.” You stepped even farther into hallway, ready to hit the call button for your chauffeur. “My final word of warning if what you say is true about Fyodor being in your custody, I would be careful. This is a game for Fyodor that you are unknowingly pieces in, I have made that mistake of underestimating him before when I didn’t listen to Gaston’s warnings. So listen to mine, never let your guard down, never trust anyone outside your close allies for it you do it may mean your end and as much as I hate to admit it this city needs the Port Mafia. As a member of the Society this city can go on without me and it will one day when I leave it when the Society’s purpose is done here.”

“You’ll be leaving? I know you’re not from Yokohama but this is your home, isn’t it?” Mori asked, his curiosity peaked. You nodded with a smile.

“Yes, I will be. I was indeed born in England, and now I have mystery I want to solve. It’s the mystery on where my father is, call it a hunch but I think he’s still alive.” You laugh to yourself and wave goodbye. “Now, that’s enough of my crazy thoughts, I’ll be off now.”

—————————

You arrived back at the apartment building, it was late when you got back, practically everyone was asleep but judging by the sound of music from a certain composer’s room you knew someone else was awake. You walked over and knocked and the music stopped and Gaston answered, looking slightly disheveled like he normally does after working on his music. “Oh (Name), welcome. I was just composing but you are are always welcome.”

“Thanks Gaston, but I need to talk to you.” You stepped inside as you spoke. “It’s about Fyodor.”

Gaston grew silent for a long moment before sighing. “I’ll get the whiskey.”

You sat down on the couch in Gaston’s lounge as he went to the drink cart and poured two of glasses of whiskey for the two of you. He sat down on the couch across from you, setting your drink on the table in between the two of you. He took a long drink before sighing and setting his drink down on the table. “Now, what is this about Fyodor?”

“An unknown Port Mafia executive had a bounty hunter capture him, apparently it was successful.” You replied before taking a long sip from your own glass.

“And who told you this?”

“Mori Ougai himself.” And as soon as you said this Gaston took off his glasses and pinched his nose, and running his hand the his hair. You could hear small swears from under his breath.

“This isn’t good, he’s obviously playing them. He wants something.” He stood up from his chair and gripped his hair and swore even more under his breath. “You warned them, right?”

“I did, if they take me seriously not is up to them, they may not out of pride or a need for vengeance for what he has done.” You responded as you watched Gaston picked up his drink and downed the rest of his drink. “I don’t know what we’ll do, I don’t know what his ability or even how to deal wit-“

“I know his ability and someone to deal with it, he’s a Society of Protection member as well. He just tends to be a tad busy.” He sighs and looks out the window and the snowy landscape before you all. He stared out at it for a long time before walking over to the piano and he picks up one of the picture frames on it. He looks at the photo for a long time like he did with the snow. “I’ll give him a call here soon. We just need to have patience. The strongest of all warriors are these two — time and patience.” He paused and laughed to himself. “God, I even sound like him.”

 You downed the rest of your drink like him before standing up. “I’m going to bed, I’ve had a long day. Good night, Gaston.”

You walked towards the door and you heard his voice call out as well to you. “Sweet dreams, mon ange.”

—————————

In the snowy city of Moscow sat a young man. He lived in a large manor, no, palace would be a better word. He sat in a lounge chair, tea set out on a side table next to him along with a old telephone, like one of the roaring twenties and a photo of the young noble with an all to familiar Gaston Leroux, old friends. His eyes were firmly fixed on the storming city outside, snow so thick it was hard to see. The room was silent until soft clicks of heels broke it.

“My liege, there is call for you from a Mr. Leroux.”

The young man looked over his shoulder at the butler and nodded. “Put him on the line.”

The butler nodded and ran off and soon the phone next to him began to ring. The man picked up and a smile came across his face as he spoke. “What do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Leroux? It has been quite some time.”

Across the world on the other end of the line was Gaston standing in his luxury apartment all the way in Yokohama. “Good morning your highness, I was just wondering if you remember the job I did for the European Union three years ago?”

The Russian man paused at his old friend’s question. “Yes, I do. Is this about Fyodor?”

There was a hum on the other end of the line. “Yes, yes it is, see Fyodor is here in Yokohama and I believe he wants it to be war between us…”

“So you need peace to balance the scales…” The Russian man finished his friend’s sentence before taking a sip of his tea. “You realize that while I may be your friend and member of the society, I am still royalty.”

“Yes, I know.” There was a chuckle from Gaston. “But who better than a Royal to teach our friend that Crime and Punishment mean nothing to War and Peace. Isn’t that right, Prince Leo Tolstoy?”

There was silence as the Prince sat there, pondering the question before turning to his butler. “Make preparations, I shall be off to Yokohama tomorrow morning.”

“So I take it that you’ll be here soon then?” Gaston asked on his end on his phone. The Russian laughed and took a sip of his tea before setting it aside.

“Most definitely, my dear old friend.” He leaned back into his chair with a closed eyed smile. “It has been far to long, perhaps I have forgotten what my fellow man means so me. Fyodor may not carry a sentimental attachment to his own, but I don’t think I could ever loose my love I have for my compatriots. Especially you Leroux, after all, three years ago when you first faced Fyodor, you saved my life.”

“I know, no need to bring up the past. Gaston said with a light laugh on the end of the phone.

“Oh but how could I, after all the past is what keeps me bonded to you all. We must seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing we are interested in here.” The Prince sighed and smiled, eyes still closed. “I think it is time for Fyodor to learn that we can love a person dear to us with a human love, but an enemy can only be loved with divine love and that God may not smile on him for much longer.”

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor #yandere jouno

[everwitch-magiks]

Hashtag Soulmates

Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

I love fanfiction. I probably love fanfiction more than I love anything else. When I started to write 'Hashtag Soulmates,' I wanted to write something that tapped into all of that, something with fandom as the setting and fanfiction right at the heart of it. I didn’t actually have much of a plan (to center each chapter around a fic trope was something I decided on a whim for chapter two), but it felt very in character to have Henry be a passionate fic writer, and it seemed fun to have Alex be both someone Henry knew in real life and someone who was reading Henry’s work.

My favourite part of writing and posting this fic has been hearing how readers relate to it. So many people have talked to me about how much Henry’s journey resonated with them, and all the ways this story made them feel seen. I absolutely love all the conversations I've gotten to have through this fic, and how much that's made me think about fandom and its role in all our lives, the good and the bad of it and how I wouldn’t be the same person without it. 'Hashtag Soulmates' will always be special to me, because fandom is so incredibly special to me.

Below the cut is an excerpt from the fic that's from chapter one: it’s where we get to know about Henry’s day-to-day life as a prolific Jabriel fic writer. (Jabriel - James and Gabriel. I made up a fake ship based on Alex and Henry - see what I did there with the middle names? - so that they could effectively ship themselves. Simple, right?) Please enjoy this little window into Henry’s daily fic writing habits!

Henry is a respectable member of society.

He's worked as a copywriter for six years now. Most of his colleagues seem to like him well enough, although he's pretty sure that they all think of him as somewhat reserved. Still, he's entirely capable of navigating the office gossip by the water cooler and he tags along to the bi-weekly pub quiz gatherings often enough to actually keep getting invited. He’s sociable, polite and occasionally even funny. And he’s good at his job. That goes a surprisingly long way.

When Henry comes home from a day at the office or a night out at the pub, he curls up on the couch with his laptop and a cup of Earl Grey, and he writes. He writes about young men falling in love and subsequently falling in bed. He writes about kissing, and touching, and being kissed and being touched, about desire and desperation and sweet, sweet release.

Some of it he pulls from memory, but most of it is pure fantasy. Although it's not a wishlist, exactly. Henry is happily single for the most part, and the sex he writes isn't necessarily the sex he wants to have. It's more along the lines of very elaborate, often impossible daydreams, except Henry captures them on the page, edits them furiously and gets thousands of hits when he publishes them. All in a day's work.

Henry’s best friend, PezLikeTheSweets, lives in New Zealand. Pez has beta read every single one of Henry's fics for the past decade. They'd first connected back when Henry still wrote Wolfstar fics, except it wasn’t actually called Wolfstar back then, although the whole wizarding world has since lost its appeal to Henry either way. Fucking Joanne.

These days Henry writes about Simon and Baz, and those sweet Swedish teen gay royals, but his current main ship is definitely Gabriel and James. And he’s not alone in that. The scorchingly hot romance between a civil rights lawyer and a queer historian has been on the New York Times Bestseller list for months. There’s a movie in the works and a rumoured sequel, but in the meantime a lot of people are looking to get their Jabriel fix from fanfic. A lot of people. And Henry somehow managed to churn out his first few oneshots just in time to hit that elusive sweet spot in a fandom on the rise. Everyone read them. And now, whenever Henry posts a new story, everyone reads that too.

Read 'Hashtag Soulmates' on AO3!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #first prince #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #fanfiction #spotlight saturday #evie writes #hashtag soulmates

[eqt-95]

20 Questions More

A deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks @fabulousglitch for the tag!!

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

The blorbos won't leave me alone.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

There are too many to count. I was introduced to Supergirl through fanfic and the canon I know to be true has been built on the backs of hundreds of contributors. It wouldn't do anyone justice if I started a list because 1. it would become a monolith of names and 2. I would definitely miss one(s). If you're in this fandom, you've likely inspired me, and that counts both for written, gif-ed, and drawn works.

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Alex, but I don't always get it right.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

There is a lot I probably wouldn't do, but I also for sure never expected to write an F1 au, so...

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

I can either sit down and crush 1-3k words or sit down and tweak the same seven sentences for two hours. There is rarely an in between.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

Editing. Oh boy do I LOVE editing. Those opportunities for finessing and fine-tuning and tweaking are *mwah*

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

This isn't weird but is more recent: I did a deep dive into star constellations for a throwaway line in 'new kind of romance'

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

This is a nonanswer, but I would love to expand my vocabulary. The thesaurus is my writing buddy, but there are very real moments where I pout and scowl and glare at the ceiling because I can't think of the word that I'm feeling.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Any sort of conflict/confession/confrontation is always really hard for me, but they're also maybe my favorite things to write. I want the characters to hash things out and be honest and vulnerable, and I think tackling big emotions is a delicate balance. I never want to sound too forceful, but I don't want to leave things unsaid, but I don't want anyone to do anything out of character, but i don't want to yadda yadda...

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

see: 'crisis of indulgence'

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Lena; I think she'd be a lot of fun to debate/argue with (respectfully).

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

(so far) always a happy ending. the readers and these characters deserve it.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Living experiences (which takes time!). I don't think I could write heartbreak without having experienced that guttural feeling of loss in the same way I don't think I could write about failure or anger or insecurity or love or laughter. I think reading and the act of writing every day are incredibly resourceful, but the act of my lived experiences and those feelings is something I draw from in everything I write.

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

I edit as I go which doesn't work for everyone; however, a super fun thing I've picked up in recent works is this: when going to do a final edit of a <insert: chapter, one-shot, etc>, I read the last few paragraphs first. That sets me up to know exactly what the chapter is aiming for: feelings, motivations, plot, etc. I then use that as the anchor for how I tweak/edit/add small details to the rest of the chapter during my final read-through. I find it helps flesh out the larger story with smaller details.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

none of the above really since nothing about posting is carved in stone. tags and summaries can always be tweaked.

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

If it's finished. Bonus points if people get something out of it, but the act of having written something feels like the biggest success.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

Not really. I have go-to soundtracks for 'writing vibes' but nothing project/ship dedicated. (though 'like we're made of glass' was definitely inspired by very specific songs)

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

Again there are too many jaw-droppingly talented artists in this fandom to choose just one. It would of course be a wild crazy honor to see a work inspired by one of my fics, but there's already so much in this fandom to be inspired by that it doesn't feel like a loss.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

*sighs* for supercorp? there are a few (five). but the one that has most of my creative down time is a supercorp wicked au i have wanted to write for years but only have the faintest wisps of an outline for.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

Do it, do it, do it!

But also, one of my favorite pieces of advice for ANY creative venture is from Marc Dalessio who made this super cool 'creative process' graph in 2010 and included this line to summarize it: The ability to see improves before technical skill, and we often have difficulty assessing honestly exactly how our work looks.

It helps during those ruts when I look at everything I've recently written/drawn/created and scrunch up my nose in snobbish disgust because it just means I'm growing in some new way and not that anything I'm doing is inherently bad.

- - - - -

tagging (respectfully and without pressure) @sideguitars @fazedlight @inkedroplets if you want some rapid-fire q's thrown your way. but also anyone who wants to take a swing, i'd be jazzed to read the different answers

#figured i'd fill this buddy out since i've got post-new romances time on my hands #fabulousglitch #ask game? #qs with quinn #ask me things!

[purrincess-chat]

Cat’s Writing Tips: Trimming the Fat

Hello, and welcome to another Writing Tip Monday on a Tuesday with Cat! My name is Cat, and I was busy yesterday. For those that are new here, I’ve been writing unprofessionally for 16 years. I’ve learned a thing or two in my time, but feel free to take any of my advice with as many grains of salt as you see fit. Let’s get into it. 

If you’re someone who constantly has high word counts and are looking to cut them down to fit into a zine or just in general, then this post is for you! I’m talking to all my over-writers out there. Today I want to talk about how to trim down unnecessary words and phrases from your writing to be more concise and less confusing and redundant. Keep in mind that there are times when you can use these things, but I’m just saying that a majority of the time you shouldn’t. And before anyone gets their feelings hurt, I’m guilty of a lot of these during drafting too because sometimes it’s just easier to use them and get the words onto the page. These are all things to eliminate in editing. If it’s easier for you to use them during your actual drafting process, then by all means. Just be sure to go back and edit them out, and eventually, you’ll reach a point where you can avoid them during drafting all together. 

1. Filler Words

“Cat what do you mean by filler words?”

Words like “that,” “very,” “really,” etc. 9/10 you don’t need them, but let’s talk about each one specifically. 

That is one that I’m particularly guilty of. Maybe it’s a regional dialect thing, but I use “that” in my regular conversations when I’m speaking a lot. The thing about “that” is it’s usually unnecessary, and sentences can make sense without it. Key word: usually. I’ll give a couple examples to show you the difference between when “that” is appropriate, and when it’s not needed:

Appropriate use of that:

“Hey, can you hand me that?” She pointed to the wrench on the counter.

Here, context will matter, but it’s perfectly fine to replace an object in a scene with the word “that” in this context. Sometimes “that” does have a place, so I’m not saying go out and delete all the “thats” from your stories. Just assess whether or not it’s necessary in each context, like my next example: 

Unnecessary use of that:

Something told her that he couldn’t be trusted. 

In this context, the sentence can work without the word “that.” It still makes grammatical sense to say, “Something told her he couldn’t be trusted.” The word “that” is just an extra word filling up space in the sentence. Delete it. 

“Very” and “really” tend to serve the same function, so I’ll lump them together. These two words offer a scale your readers don’t need. In most cases, it’s best to replace these words with stronger verbs, more specific adjectives, or just delete them all together. I’ll give some examples:

Weak: A very big cake sat on a table, colorful birthday candles waiting to be lit. 

Stronger: A large cake sat on the table, colorful birthday candles waiting to be lit.

Weak: She was very tired.

Stronger: She was exhausted. 

Weak: This wasn’t really how he planned on proposing.

Stronger: This wasn’t how he planned on proposing.

These words aren’t as descriptive as you might think, and more than anything, they just bog down the sentence. Your writing will pack more of a punch if you replace them with better descriptors and actions. 

2. Epithets

“the brown haired girl”

“the blonde”

“the writer”

“the musician”

I see epithets used a lot, and I want to commend epithet users because it comes from a place of good instincts. You use them as an alternate means to describe someone because you worry people will get tired of reading a character’s name over and over, and you are correct. People will get tired of that, but they’re also going to get tired of the overuse of epithets too. Here’s my two cents on the matter:

Epithets are fine if the character doesn’t have a name or if they don’t bear any importance to the story. Let’s say your character buys a coffee in one chapter from a random coffee shop they’ll never visit again. Saying something like, “The barista handed him his coffee,” is fine because the barista is serving one purpose in the story--they’re a barista. They don’t need a name because the readers are never going to see them again. 

However, if you’re using epithets for important characters or even the MC, what you’re really doing is creating distance. And in some cases you’re also confusing the reader just as much as if you used their names over and over. 

“Hey,” the blonde said. 

“How’s it going?” the brunette replied.

“Great! How about you?” Her friend smiled. 

Like, you see how that’s just as annoying? I promise you, I would much rather just read the characters’ names in this situation, but how do we fix this in a way that doesn’t involve repeating character names or pronouns, which can also get tricky in scenes where people of the same gender are talking? There are a couple of different ways. 

-Break up long conversations with action or description

Very rarely should your characters just be standing around doing nothing except talking. Create movement in the scene, utilize the surroundings, have your characters do something instead of just talking. Even if that’s all your characters are doing in a scene because a conversation needs to be had, you should still break up the conversation every now and then. How does your MC feel about what’s being said? What things might they be leaving unsaid? How does what they’re feeling manifest physically? What is their body doing?

Ex from my own writing:

“Can I make you some tea?” She offered, setting her bag on the stairs.

“Sure.”

Perfect. Tea was a good excuse not to look at him. She kept her back to him while she worked, pretending that she didn’t know where things were to stall for time. His eyes followed her every move. Watching. Waiting. She couldn’t keep this up forever, so she might as well get it over with.

“So, what’s up?” she asked while filling the kettle.

Instead of immediately continuing the conversation, you can pause to give the reader a breather, but it really depends on the situation. If you’re going to break a conversation, be sure it makes sense for the character to pause and reflect. If characters are having a heated debate, inserting a paragraph where the character is reflecting on their feelings might pull the reader out of the tension in the moment. Just be aware of what the tone and intention of the scene is. 

-rather than overusing dialogue tags, consider occasionally using an action tag. 

“Said” is fine. I’m not advocating for the overuse of action tags or giving every piece of dialogue a hyper-specific tone descriptor. But if you write an entire conversation using only things like “said” “asked” “replied,” you’re going to suffer from White Room Syndrome/Talking Heads Syndrome. 

“Cat, how is this different from the previous example?”

The previous example was about interjecting a non-dialogue paragraph and getting inside the character’s head or following their actions. This example refers to how you tag dialogue itself. I’ll give another example from my own writing:

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyebrows raised. Her makeup never looked half this good when she did it herself—a skilled hand made all the difference. She peeked up at Gabrielle applying her own lip gloss and pursed her lips. “So, what kind of party is this?”

“Relax, goody-two-shoes, the most exciting thing at this party is wine. My parents don’t let me go to trashy parties.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, removing her large trench coat to reveal a sparkly black dress with mesh cutouts along the waist. “Just try not to act too lowbrow, okay? Don’t embarrass me.”

“I’ll do my best?” Marinette said as they pulled up to the front steps.

“Great.” Gabrielle tossed her compact into her purse and kicked open the door. “Oh, and just because we’re arriving together does not mean you are allowed to socialize with me here. Don’t hang off me like a sad little koala. Go dance and have fun with other people.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re friends,” Marinette said.

In this case, having action tags instead of dialogue tags helps keep the scene flowing without the repeated use of their names becoming redundant. Keep in mind that there are more ways for characters to interact during a conversation other than just speaking. Body language can tell the reader a lot about how characters might be feeling and what their relationship is to the person they’re speaking to. 

But just like the last point, I’m not advocating for you to go and delete every dialogue tag in your writing and replace it with an action tag. Use of action tags still needs to make sense and add something to the conversation. Using action just for the sake of action can be just as redundant and annoying to read. Conversations are a balancing act. Remember: “said” is fine, but using only “said’ is boring. Writing is a balancing act, so assess your scenes carefully. 

-create distinct character voices (*a topic I’ll touch on another day in more detail)

I’ve talked about dialogue tags, action tags, breaking up conversations with inner monologues, but what if I told you some lines of dialogue don’t need any tags at all? I’ll give an example from my own writing:

“I know I messed up. I’m sorry.” He lowered his gaze. “I learned my lesson.”

“Good. With your silly little conscience out of the way, we can actually get some real work done,” Chloe said. “I do have a few ideas for you, but…”

“But what?”

Chloe leaned against her fist with a wicked grin. “I need to test your loyalty. If you’re going to lie down with the dogs, you can’t be afraid to get dirty, so I need to know you’re capable of breaking the rules.”

A chill prickled his spine, and Adrien shifted in his seat. “What kind of rules?”

“See? This is why I have trust issues, Adrikins.”

In this example, I have two lines of dialogue that are untagged, but in both cases, it’s still clear who is talking. Given that this is a conversation between two people, and by sheer adherence to the “new speaker, new paragraph” rule, you can rightfully infer that Adrien is the one who says, “But what?” Similarly, you can assume the last line is said by Chloe, but the last line in particular is very specific character voice. Chloe is the only person who calls him “Adrikins,” so even if there was another person in this conversation, you’d still know it was her talking. Giving your characters a specific manner of speaking can help readers infer their dialogue in situations like this. This specific manner of speaking is known as “character voice.” It’s literally what it sounds like--the “voice” that readers will hear in their head for a specific character. If your character has a distinct and strong voice, readers will be able to pick up on their dialogue more easily. 

3. Adverbs

I feel like everyone gets heated about this one, and some writers will cling to their precious adverbs until their dying day. Cool, you do you, but I’m here to tell you that adverbs aren’t doing as much as you think they are. 

Don’t get me wrong, I like adverbs, and I’m not one that’s going to tell you to go out and delete every single adverb from your story. Adverbs do have their place and can add to a scene, but you need to be conscious of how you’re using them. Let’s talk about some examples of good and bad adverb usage:

Bad adverb: “She ran quickly down the road.”

Running is inherently something people do quickly. By definition, it’s faster than walking. 

Good adverb: She smiled sadly. 

Smiling is normally something people do when they’re happy. By adding the adverb “sadly” in this instance, it changes the meaning of the smile. 

When using adverbs, it’s best to ask yourself what exactly the adverb is adding to the scene, if anything. Is it changing the meaning of something, or is it being redundant? In general, most adverbs can be replaced with stronger verbs to improve a sentence or just deleted all together. 

It’s fine to just say: “She ran down the road.” But if you’re trying to convey a bigger sense of urgency in the way she’s running you could say: “She darted down the street.” or “She sprinted down the street.” Both of those are ways to say she’s running faster than normal. You could also get showy with it and say something like:

“The rubber soles of her shoes hit the pavement, ragged breaths weighing her lungs. Her child’s pained cries fell silent in her arms, and she cradled her closer. The hospital was still three blocks away.”

There are a lot of ways to eliminate adverbs from your writing to make it stronger. The world will go on without them. Please, let them go. 

There are plenty more things you can do to trim down word counts, but I feel like these are the big three I see a lot. Another option is cutting unnecessary scenes, but that’s a topic for another day. A lot of the time, you can easily cut down words by making these little line edits and improve your writing exponentially. If anyone has any more questions on how to trim these examples specifically, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment on this post. I’m always happy to talk writing! As always, we improve by helping each other, so don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll see you guys next time! 

#cats writing advice #writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writing ref #writing reference #writing community #writing

[nervousladytraveler]

2023 AO3 Fic Review/Wrap-Up

Thank you to the lovely @dreamstone28737 for the tag! 😘 I took a long time to respond--sorry!

I didn't really write too many different works this year so I refer to the same titles a few times in my responses below. That said, I did write (or at least post) 307,626 words–not too shabby!

List of Fics Completed This Year

One-Shots: I don’t tend to write too many little fics. But this year I did “The Shift” and “A Brilliant Choice”. Most of my one shots tend to come from prompts (and @veryflowerobservation always sends me good ones). I have another wee fic (“A Question of Trust”) that is a Grace Poldark/Tom Jones crossover story that is completed, but not yet posted. I need to finish reading the novel Tom Jones before I do just to make sure I got it right.

Multi-Chap: Like Someone Who Would Know Her Own Mind and A Rose in December

Series: A Rose in December is now part of a Like Someone Sequels series?

Your Personal Fave

A Rose in December because it just was so enjoyable to write.

Your Fave Scene

My favorite scene ? Hard to choose but maybe a few from A Rose in December. I really enjoyed writing the conversation between Ross and Demelza when they first meet over coffee (Ch 4 “Tiramisu” and Ch 6 “Two of Cups”). My second favorite is the end when they are on the phone with Prudie (especially the bawdy jokes she and her cousin make) in Ch 32 “Candle Dance.” But in truth, I only finished/edited/posted those scenes this year--and really first wrote them a while ago. Does that still count?

A Fic or Scene that Challenged You

Any scene that has characters under emotional duress is always hard for me. I really internalize their feelings and have a hard time shaking them off. There are a few chapters in A Rose in December that show a relationship unravelling. Those were tough and tricky to get right. But also scenes where a lot of plot is covered–those are difficult too! There are a few chapters in Duty that are like that.

A Line of Writing You’re Proud Of

I try not to get too attached to any one line of writing. I am partial to dialogue–the back and forth is fun–but don't have any particular favorite.

A Comment That Touched You

Whenever a reader tells me that something I wrote gave them comfort during a rough spell or that they reread for the same reason, those comments always really move me. Of course I wish no one ever had the need for it, but I'm glad I could somehow help.

Something That Inspired Your Writing

One afternoon last spring while travelling, I slipped into a church in Germany. It was just me and the organist and it was so lovely. That inspired a scene in Ch 41 (“For the Sake of My Tears”) of Duty when Demelza hears the organist practicing in the Truro Cathedral.

Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I think the fact that I finished Like Someone (in January of 2023) after so many years of working on it was a massive accomplishment. I do recall feeling a sense of satisfaction that buoyed me for weeks. But then finally finishing A Rose in December (in December 2023) was also profoundly gratifying, so they make nice bookends to the year!

Do You Have Any Writing Goals for Next Year?

I want to try to recreate the joy I found when I stopped working on anything else and immersed myself in finishing A Rose in December. I allowed myself to only focus on that story and was able to design an intentional structure for it--and not get distracted by posting along the way. 

Tagging any and all of my writing my pals — but no pressure! ❤️

P. S. This also came with a stats sheet.  I chose not to do one because it seemed like it would take me further from my goal to focus and enjoy the process of writing more but feel free to make it part of the challenge or not! The template is from dreputationera!

#lucretiassister #poldark fanfic #on writing #2023 fic review

[justagalwhowrites]

I'm so curious what is your writing process like? I'm floored by how fast you write yet the quality is always sososo high. Do you have a beta? Are you a god? What..how..😱

Please get some sleep

Ahhhh Hi Bestie!

Um you're so sweet???? This is so nice??? Thank you so much??????

TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION

....probably don't fully approach writing like I do if you're trying to write because I approach it like a trash goblin in a human suit trying to make things BUT here's what I do!

When I get the idea for a story (fan fic, novel, screenplay, whatever) it usually comes character first. There's someone who intrigues the hell out of me whose story I want to write and then I just have to figure out what their story is. The second part usually comes pretty quick, at least one or two major story moments and the climax and the resolution at least. Then I think through how to get them there and what kind of journey is going to be the most impactful for them. Then I write that down in the form of a story map where I lay things out beat by beat (these notes are usually very vague, like 2 or 3 words per chapter, my vision is far from fully realized) and then write down some basic stuff about the main characters. Actually write it, too, I've got a real cute lil' notebook that I have my story notes and any poems I've written lately (and my D&D notes) in it and I carry it around everywhere when my brain is feeling particularly creative.

This is where the trash goblin takes over because then I just write it. The story map is pretty fluid, I don't think I've ever stuck to one entirely, it always shifts and changes depending on what I get up to narratively. Sometimes that's just story beats stretch longer than I thought so they span several chapters instead of one, sometimes I change my mind on something altogether (like in Yearling, the stable incident with Simon was originally something else entirely but I was like "wait no that doesn't make as much sense, this feels convoluted, doing something else now" and took place in a slightly different spot). When I'm writing, I kind of picture what happens in my head like I'm watching a movie. The characters have their conversations, I write those down, describe how they're feeling, what stuff looks like, etc. The downside to this is the movie of this shit is literally ALWAYS ON in my head and will NOT go away until I write it. The angst that's coming in Yearling? Been playing in my head on a loop for weeks. IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE SEND HELP.

Once I get a chapter done, I give it a quick read mostly for grammar and stuff and to make sure it flows right (and there aren't a bunch of repeated words and stuff - I was a copy editor previously in my career but copy editing your own stuff is tricky so this is a questionable process) and then I post it. No betas, no editors besides myself, generally very little rewrites (I'll rewrite a chunk of a chapter once every like 20 chapters or so, it's rare.) I just throw all these words on the page and then hurl them at y'all and you're kind enough to make super sweet comments like this!

I'm so happy you think my work is high quality and written quickly!! I think I've finally adjusted from the schedule I was keeping for Lavender so it no longer feels like I'm slacking only putting out 2-3 chapters a week but it still doesn't feel like I'm quick lol so thank you for that, too!

And as far as the sleep goes? You saw nothing, definitely not me posting at 3 a.m., don't tell my therapist, everything is fine here.

JK I'm largely just fine! I've always been a night owl and function fine as long as I get a total of 6 hours of sleep, even if that's between a nap and an overnight sleep. It's probably not the best but eh, I'm having fun.

Thank you again for reading and for being so kind!! So happy you're here. Love you!!

#fanfic #kit answers #send asks #writing

[thatdesklamp]

Hi! I looked at your writing advice page and I think it was really good advice and has helped me a lot, but I was also wondering if you have advice on how to write dialogue?

Because I don't want it to sound boring and cheesy, but I also don't want my characters to be spewing pure Shakespeare lol.

When I read your works, I think you do really well and make things balanced and interesting, with even 3 word sentences :)

Do you have advice?

yo yes I kind of do.

I struggled with writing dialogue most out of anything when I started writing--I'd have to force myself to write it, instead of writing paragraphs upon paragraphs of internal monologues--and so developed a 'Beginner's Method' that ended up working for me:

Talk to yourself as the characters and then write down what you end up saying

For me, this involved pacing around my room and muttering to myself like I was slightly deranged, and then pouncing on my laptop every few minutes to speedtype anything good I came up with. It works best when there's an exchange between only two characters, and you have a general idea of where the scene should go.

Now, this may be the theatre kid in me, but 'acting out' what the characters should say helped me figure out their characterisation better, as well as their vocal mannerisms and inflections to try to make each person 'sound' unique, as well as figuring out how the conversation should flow naturally. It's easy for things to sound forced when you're sitting down and staring at a laptop, so actually getting up and moving actually helped a lot.

Only write out what the characters say, nothing else

At the beginning, I only ever wrote the dialogue. It was just lines and lines that looked like this: I don't think you're right about this made-up conflict we're going to be talking about / maybe i'm not / what do you mean / i mean maybe i agree with you, i'm not right about this made-up conflict / yes you're not

This helps so much with figuring out the flow of the dialogue: you don't get bogged-down in making the writing flowery, or figuring out a really clever way to 'show' that a character is sad without 'telling' they're sad... firstly, just figure out what they're saying.

Add in the flowery bits afterwards

Adding in the 'Person A said' / 'She stared at him' / 'His voice wavered, like [blah blah blah words input here]' after you've written out dialogue helped me loads in the beginning. It then helps you structurally: you can look at your work 'zoomed-out', and make sure you're not clogging your writing with too much description, or too little description, or too much blank space, or too little, or... etc. Nowadays I don't need to really do it like this, as I've got enough practice in that I can figure out the 'flow' as I go (haha) but there are still loads of times when I have a fab idea for how I want a scene to go, and so I just whizz out the dialogue as quick as I can, with only a few markers to help me figure out what I want the characters to be doing. Let me have a look in my notes app to try to see if I've got any IW examples.

[EDIT: HUZZAH!!! I FOUND ONE!!! Here’s literally proof of me doing this for a scene in Chapter 19 of ‘Intrinsic Warmth’:

Which was then expanded (by a biiiig degree!!) into this:

In the first one, I didn’t care about formatting, grammar, anything like that. I’m just concerned about getting the words onto the page, as I know I’ll be able to go over it later.

Other general tips:

Nothing is ever solved in one line

The reader's eyes skip over two lines of dialogue (Person A speaks / Person B responds) so, so quickly. I always noticed that it was like two lines were pretty much redundant until I padded them out with just... more lines. For something to seem significant to the reader, or for there to be a purpose for you to include it, I go with a general rule of four lines minimum.

This is because nobody's mind ever really changes in one or line of dialogue. People don't work like this:

Person A: I'll give you £5 for that dress.

Person B: No way. Minimum price, £10.

(Person A is now convinced and will pay £10)

There needs to be some more back-and-forth, for 90% of people. It's very rare that you'll ever find someone so naturally persuasive that they can change someone's mind in one line, or that someone is so easily convinced that their mind can be changed in one line. Most of the time, it'll look something more like this:

Person A: I'll give you £5 for that dress.

Person B: No way. Minimum price, £10.

Person A: I don't know... I've only got £10 in my purse, and that's for everything today.

Person B: Don't worry, Person A. You know I wouldn't cheat you out of your money!

(Person A is now convinced and will pay £10)

However, each line should still add something new. It could be that Person B tries a new method of convincing Person A, or that Person B tries again, saying essentially the same thing but in a different way. That 'different' way should convey something: are they more irritated, more casual, more angry?

Essentially, don't be afraid of writing more dialogue than less. This doesn't mean you should write random stuff, or dialogue that doesn't serve a purpose, but people talk a lot more than you think. Let them talk.

Use single lines of dialogue, it's okay

As in, the bits in italics:

"Hello," Person A said.

"Hello!"

"Heyyyy. What's up?"

Your reader can keep up with who's saying what, especially once you work on developing each character's 'voice'. I used to get so bogged down by making sure every line of dialogue had the character's name attached to it, but in truth you can write these 'single lines' much more than you think. It helps speed the writing up, and it stops your reader from getting that bored, imo.

I don't know what I'm doing to be so fr

Here's the truth: I don't think dialogue is one of my strengths, at the moment. I've spoken a lot about all of your characters finding their 'voice', so you could basically look only at the character's dialogue and you could know which character it is solely from the words that they're saying. It's important for character development, with dialogue being such an important tool to characterise your characters!

But I honestly don't think I'm the best at that. It's something that I'm consciously working on, and I think writing things other than IW will help me stretch those muscles, but it's honestly not something I've got cracked yet. Which is fine--I'm developing as an author! Everyone is, constantly--and I guess a way to say that I'm not tip-top at this, but as long as you're willing to put yourself out there (as in: start writing, start putting words on paper, that's all) then you're going to improve. And that's great! Ha-haaaa

#asks from la lamp de desk

[fearowkenya]

Winds of Change

Chapter 5: Something in the Air

Shuuji knows something is amiss when he catches Syakomon let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. He’s lucky that the viscous surface of Syakomon’s slimy green body betrays her—the quiver of the otherwise silent exhale sends a faint, wobbly shockwave across her skin, and she jiggles ever so slightly in her shell, as though somebody’s just set down a cautious bowl of lime-flavored jello.

Supposedly, the worst is over, but Shuuji can't shake the feeling that there's something the Kemonogami aren't telling him.

ao3 link in source , extended end-of-chapter author's notes under the cut!

oh BOY the editing situation was a doozy. granted, i was also busy with work, but even then this chapter needed a TON of reworking, much much more than chapter 4 did. like i said on ao3, it got to the point where this chapter was so long that i had to split it in two.

i also mentioned that this chapter marks the beginning of the second half of this fic. chapters 1-4 make up part one, which i'd summarize as "how did we get here?", and then from 5-8, the focus will be "what happens next?". it helped a LOT to recontextualize chapters 5-7 (now 5-8) as an answer to chapters 1-4, and i think it'll make editing easier going forward; i have much more direction now and a better idea of what needs to be expanded on and what needs to be cut.

unfortunately, like i said, i had to omit a lot of saki-centric stuff. she is the scariest character for me to write, and i think i need to progress more thru my replay of truthful before i feel confident enough to write from her perspective. it works out anyway, because the part i cut had shuuji taking a very passive role and just observing interactions between saki and floramon, and it felt very drawn-out and unnecessary. this is my favorite cut segment tho

im really hoping to be able to figure out what an aoi-miu-saki dynamic looks like as i get more comfortable writing the three of them. i think it could be really fun. also i think it would be so funny if miu and saki bring out a mischievous side of aoi that would otherwise not exist. much to think about.

anyway. another challenge i had with editing this chapter was the topography of the beach area the group hangs out at before moving on to the shopping district and apartment complex. for some reason i was convinced the rocky beach area was like.. up on a cliffside? but then i looked at the map and got REAL confused. the beach is super super narrow, and that was really inconvenient when i needed shuuji to be somewhere relatively out of the way, where he could have a conversation with agumon that takuma cannot hear, while still being able to see takuma. so thats why i spent an hour and change squinting at the tiniest png of the map and reorganizing where people spend their time

if my handwriting is illegible (from left to right) (oh my god now that ive added the image to the post its a nightmare. idk why im even posting it. lord. im not sure opening it in a new tab will help) factory residential area shopping district woods near shopping district minoru up here group rests here waterway exit from shaft here instead; rest of waterway rock w/ supplies hill down from the waterway shuuji rests here pt 6 argument happens here aoi & ryo here in ch4 (this is where they were keeping watch) miyuki here

i didnt make many changes; mostly i just moved people around. the one thing that i DID change though was the placement of the waterway entrance. i have NO IDEA why the game has it in the middle of the fucking ocean. like i know theres a tunnel there, but surely the entrance to that tunnel isn't underwater right? i then poured another hour and change learning about waterways, trying to figure out where it made the most sense to put the exit before remembering that it doesn't matter because the digital world doesn't play by human world rules. oops! it was still super interesting though! please look up 'tokyo g-cans' if you ever get the chance, its fucking fascinating. if i ever go back to japan id like to go down there, maybe.

obligatory commentary about the map:

oh my god it seems too big for what we actually see but im not a cartographer so i dont know for sure

the shopping district/apartment complex is visible from the beach but i feel like it shouldn't be: on the map it looks like it's on a cliff face while from the beach it looks like it's shore level

i've been reading half the green patches as dense tree cover but now that i think about it, that might just be open grassland. oops. it's all trees now.

i wish we could go to the sandy beach areas to the north and east ends of the island!!! that could've been fun!

i really appreciate that the second island is shaped vaguely like a beluga

in other news, agumon was much easier to write than i was worried he would be, and it was nice to work out how he felt about what happened in the waterway. one thing ive noticed about agumon on a second truthful run is that he and takuma are equally awful about pushing down their own feelings for the sake of the ones of their friends. a lot of the others seem to view agumon as the guy who is always Staying Silly , no thoughts head empty. while i DO think that that's a genuine part of his personality, i think it also happens sometimes that he uses that image to downplay his concerns.

my favorite part to write this chapter was labramon's dialogue at the end. and also baby stats. baby stats was the ONE THING i REFUSED to cut. non-negotiable. it's been in my notes since the beginning and digimon survived all edits of this chapter, and i was DETERMINED to keep it.

all right im getting sleepy and i want to post this chapter and then go to bed. as usual please dont be afraid to leave a comment, i looooove finding out people's favorite parts, and im still curious about your Gamer Theories, especially now that i think what i'm foreshadowing is becoming clearer and clearer >:3c

couldn't tell you for sure when ch6 will be out. ideally it won't involve as much editing as ch5, but it's hard to say. thank you for reading, and i'll be back as soon as i can!

#digimon survive #shuuji kayama #kayama shuuji #ryo tominaga #tominaga ryo #agumon #aoi shibuya #shibuya aoi #im so sorry @ ppl who are in the aoi shibuya tag for the other aoi shibuya (the one who is not a digimon character) #labramon #miu shinonome #shinonome miu #syakomon #floramon #digimon

[writeblrgarden]

PLANT GROWERS - MEET THE WINNERS - ETLU

Meet Etlu, who got second place in our grow a plant event in november! Etlu goes by she/they, and you can find them at @etlu-yume. She has been writing for about 20 years, primarily fantasy or urban fantasy, and lately has been dipping their toes into slice-of-life.

Tell us something interesting about yourself!

"Interesting" is a tricky thing because it's so subjective! Like some people would say being able to speak/read/write another language is interesting, and others would just expect it, right? I guess in some ways I could be considered a quadruple threat - in addition to writing, I also am an artist, study languages, and played and performed with music groups on local and international stages.

Tell us about the WIP you'd like to talk about today.

Fangs with Benefits (not what I did for NaNo - but that's self indulgent and stays between me and the dust on my hard drive). Fangs with Benefits follows the story of a set of siblings, Sherry and Gael. After the pair are banned from donating blood, they are forced to move to the big smoke in order to chase medical treatment for a family illness. After a chance meeting, the pair discover the secret supernatural underground of their new home. Full of supernatural creatures, Sherry decides that there's a solution to their frustration with red tape at the hospital; Vampires. After all. It would be of mutual benefit to both parties. And so chaos ensues.

Describe your writing process. Do you like to plan everything or are you more spontaneous?

I'm a bit all over the place. I tend to do best when I have a game plan, something to refer back to (more often than not somehow it takes scenic routes between written points; go figure). However sometimes, particularly when later scenes will not leave me alone, I will just go ahead and write them out in a separate document. Once they're out of my head and down on paper, it usually becomes much easier to go back to where I had left off and keep going. That said, it's a work in progress and always changing. What worked last year may not work for me this year, and so on and so forth. I'm just hoping I can try and establish a better year-round writing habit in 2024 <3

What have you found to be the most challenging and/or rewarding about writing?

If you'd asked me this question prior to last November, I would have struggled. Maybe I would've said "a blank page/new chapter" is the most challenging thing (and, really, it still is). But. I think the most rewarding thing about writing comes in two parts; 1.) One is when you're writing for others or an audience. I can't really speak too much on this, since I've been super shy with my work and haven't posted much if any online for general consumption. But to the few people I do share with, seeing their reactions to the story progressing, screaming about characters or events. I know there's been times where those reactions have been the difference between opening up the document and writing a few more words that day, or giving it a miss. 2.) Two is when you're writing for yourself, using your writing to help process things that have happened or that you're struggling with. It may not make things 100% better, it may not change the situation at all. But somehow there's also a weird healing power to it, too.

Below the read more is more of our conversation with Etlu

What inspires you to write?

This is a hard question! I'm actually trying to work this out myself. I started to fall out of love with writing a while ago, and I'm still looking for my way back. I'm sure I'll get there, I just don't know how long it will take, or what form it will take. But I'll get there. <3

Share some advice for other writers.

Hmm. One of the classics is "you can edit a bad page, but you can't edit a blank one", which is very true. But I'm not sure that's the kind of advice I'd want to give other writers - or myself for that matter. Bad days happen - be kind to yourself. If you're working towards a goal, keep believing in yourself. Don't give up. You can achieve amazing things! (Said from 2018's cloud of cough medicine zombie fog and pulling like 30K out of nowhere in the last 2 days of November.) Also it sounds weird but don't start from a fresh document. Even if you're finishing a chapter off, just start the next one. I'm super bad at taking this advice myself, but it's easier to re-read a few lines and make tweaks before moving forwards than it is to sit there face to face with a blank page at the start of a session.

What do consider your writing strength?

I'm probably best at workshopping or bouncing ideas, and then never writing them. Does that count? haha. On a serious note I think perhaps my strengths with writing is my structural pacing. (Not plot pacing. I've already picked up some rushed chapters in the last 3 months)

What has been the nicest compliment you've received or what has been the toughest criticism you've received?

Actually today I had a message from a friend, just a simple spotify link to a song. They followed it up with comments that they had been ruminating about events of the last couple of chapters when it started playing, and it made everything hurt even more. It's been a week since they read it - to hear that my silly little story is something that they're still thinking about this long after reading it, that combined with music it brings out more emotion. It's the little things like that, that remind me what it's all about.

What do you love the most about writing?

I'm still trying to work this out. But it falls somewhere between research, the friendly banter with other writers while everyone procrastinates, and the way that your words and the way you write will be so very different to the next writer, that everyone has their own style.

#growaplant #writeblrgarden #writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #am writing #writing community #nano winners

[littlerequiem]

Hello! I am kinda new here and have been stalking your page for a little bit when I came across a post where you basically talked about how planning out stuff is very useful.

So my question now is how do you plan stuff and come up with ideas? What are your inspirations and such?

P.S. I love your writing and the way you stick to the character's real personalities <3

Hello! Aw, thank you for your kind words <33 I love your question & I had a lot to say on this subject, so I hope you don't mind a longer answer ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

Overall, when it comes to planning, I think I'm quite an intuitive writer, so I like to tackle planning with a flexible approach. The key, for me, is staying organized and inspired.

Here's how I do it:

1. I daydream a lot & a lot of my ideas happen during my walks or when I can't sleep at 3am. To turn these thoughts into action, I keep a document on my phone where I dump everything that comes to mind, no matter how small (even if it's just word vomit, which most of the time it is, it's worth writing down. you never know what's going to be your next muse!)

2. Usually, before planning anything, I'll start by just writing (even if it's just a conversation between two characters). This may be a somewhat unorthodox approach, but I find that the act of just letting the words out and seeing how the idea shapes itself on paper helps me approach plotting. I'm able to see what works and what really doesn't.

3. From there, I'll actually start outlining my project. For longer projects, I plan chapter by chapter, scene by scene, in chronological order and using bullet points. I don't go into micro details (sometimes, it's literally just putting down "??? figure something out girl", without knowing what's going happen). Instead, I try to figure out the significance of the scene & how it drives the characters' journeys & plot forward. -> I prefer this approach over overly rigid structures because planning for me is a continuous thing, where I discover more about the plot as I write and edit, and fill in blanks as I go. In this way, I find it important to be flexible with my outline and discover what feels right for my story (and sometimes, it really feels like certain characters are breathing down my neck, Eren style lmao).

-> Also, if you're a visual person like me, post-its and color coding are your friend! It helps me organize the chaos that is my brain.

On idea generation:

- I get my ideas just as much from within as from the world outside. Nature, music, and cinema are a big source of inspiration for me. - Ideas that spark: books, video games, movies, music, Pinterest boards - I collect everything that inspires me (to the point where it might be concerning xD). I have over 40 playlists, including character-centric playlist like my Levi mixtape or my fanfics' playlists. I keep a blank page with quotes that inspire me, including things I’ve heard in real-life. I track the books that have inspired me and ask myself why they did. Basically, my motto is that the world is your garden, waiting to be filled with things that inspire you :D - I like to ask myself “what-if” questions along the planning process, especially when I'm stuck. Example: "What if character A got hurt here? How would the cast react?". You can use writing prompts to guide you on this. - Lastly, I also like to "interview" my characters. Trying to understand the characters helps to deepen my bond with them & it can be helpful to gather ideas. Here's an example of some questions, in case you're interested.

-

I hoped this answered your question! Wishing you the best of luck if you're working on a project, and thanks for stopping by!!

#Anonymous #writing tag #writing advice #flo chats

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

I was think about those titles, the only one thats really popping into my head is Melli and Adaman. Also while I dont think EITHER clan would disrespect titles of the nobles, I do think they would throw hands at the galaxy team if they dont ise them. Kamado REALLY strikes me as someone who wouldn't acknowledge the Nobles by their titles, which would definitely be a point of contention

siiiiigh okay listen. LISTEN. this might be spoilers or i might cut this scene entirely and it might be irrelevant but listen. because like i said im obsessed with this lil bit of characterization generally. so im just going to. natter on for a minute.

this is also one of those things that i WISH i had been more attentive to in the beginning of oop, because there are some early points where it doesn't really hold together, but whatever i'm not making early chapter edits now if i start i'll never stop. juuust listen

but the symbology of a title is formality, right. tacking on a "warden" or "lord" or even just a "miss" onto the front of anyone's names communicates, simultaneously, respect and distance. and those are the two key things to me! someone who says, fx, "captain cyllene" instead of just "cyllene" or even "sinensis" is communicating that they respect her position and responsibilities—but, simultaneously, it may also imply that they maybe don't know her very well, and/or their relationship is strictly professional. or that this is a formal conversation and being casual is inappropriate at the moment. (this generally applies most at the start of a conversation—the more times you're saying someone's name in a row, the more acceptable it becomes to drop the title regardless of context i think.)

so anyway part 1 of this particular argument, the background, is that adaman almost NEVER bothers with the titles of the diamond clan wardens. especially not mai and melli, who he's so close to that he just drops it constantly. this is part of the thing where adaman's also not big on formality in general, and irida very much holds that against him. it annoys the shit out of her. so he tries to be a little more observant when he's in the presence of the pearl clan but he's still. not. very good at it. like a lot of things between them this is sort of a micro-scale of a broader argument and it's also very performative a lot of the time. like, a lot of drama between the clans has a lot less meat on it than any of them would like to admit, and this is no different.

...especially bc in this case irida's kind of a hypocrite because she doesn't always observe the titles of her wardens, either. actually there's one person in particular that she's repeatedly dropped the title of a few times and that's ingo.

and she slips up with that again, while she's walking with adaman, and he immediately jumps on it. like. at least i'm doing it because i'm close with my wardens. kind of presumptive for you to talk about him like you're friends, isn't it? and irida immediately starts spitting venom right back at him, because these two fight like it's a habit. aaand like, again, a lot of arguments they have, it's a tiny detail that's really just the vector for a much bigger conversation - in this case, irida's decision wrt ingo.

i could quite literally go on about this for so many characters like you mentioned melli and kamado and those are ALSO two who are HUGE on the formality-respect-distance sliders but i am going to stop before this gets too horribly long and also i go off on things that are completely unaddressed/vaguely inconsistent with the mainfic itself hgsksjhkjh.

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #anonymous #pla analysis #jailbirds au #and there were already those moments where you can see that irida's like... closer to ingo than she is maybe letting on atm #/ has a lot more respect for him than her seal of approval for kamado's cool plan might suggest #but. who better to get on her case abt this whole thing than adaman. right.

[infinitethree]

OOC::

OH RIGHT, the bios!

So; they only have the Council, Caper, and Spark in them. A few others are mentioned, but only in reference to their significance to those people.

This marks it as a hell of a time capsule. At this point, several major plot points of Blood & Gold hadn't come up yet. Innit probably wasn't really even a thing-- a month or two old at best!!

Another nudge for people curious about the process of how the fic developed to go read the docs that show snapshots of what it looked like at the end of each of the eleven months it was in progress (and also the first day/session!)

We start with Aster!

A lot of this remains true! However, by the askblog he's more or less accepted the mantle of leader of the SwSh. And generally too well-respected (and feared) to get called something not too far off from mocking like 'Shadow'.

He's pretty much always been planned to have earrings from Theo and Lee, he's always been extremely heavily scarred, his clothes are more or less unchanged from when I first decided on them.

The cuff being subtly different is in reference to it being one of the first ones made-- and thus hand-shaped vs from a mold.

I don't think I've really conveyed just how BIG the Swords and Shields are, members-wise? Like-- a significant portion of newcomers end up there.

They don't all get insanely devoted to Lee (almost none of them in fact-- Daz and Aster are extreme outliers & the rest of the Council were hand-picked to be full-throatedly loyal at all costs)...but there's still a LOT of them.

Most people are in the group for fringe benefits. An excuse to learn to fight better, a ready-made social group, allies because most refugees harbor a fear that everything will go wrong again, to have something to believe in, a reason to get up every morning instead of curl up in bed and disassociate all day. The exact reason can be any of those or others!

So, yeah, between being head of the SwSh, a secret Council member, and his extreme closeness with both Theo and Lee...Aster is really, REALLY important. He's arguably the biggest faction on the server. I think it's been explicitly stated that Theo would be wary of him if he weren't nearly fanatically devoted to protecting Lee.

Anyway, moving on!

Here's where some major changes start. This doc was initially started around late 2021-- and thus before Polaris started. At best it wound up being last edited a few chapters in.

So, Aster's Dream wound up being quite a bit different than the initial concept. Ditto for Aster's personality, though less so.

Aster's seriousness was translated into his fucked up capacity to emote, and his actual vibes are more...chill? I wound up making him the opposite of Daz in a LOT of ways.

But most of that happens behind the scenes and I forget that it hasn't been "on-screen" much, lmao.

Looooots of shit got changed in here. Aster's Ranboo joined the 'actually super fucked up' club; a conversation about WHY Lee is so adamant about bandaids never really happened; Aster's final push was waaaay different.

The fics for the Council all started as character exploration snippets. Daz's became Blood & Gold, and Aster's wound up being Polaris.

Both, funnily enough, started pretty much at the end. Aster's choice was one of just a handful of scenes I wrote before I decided to just full on make it into a fic.

Still true that the Council of the Star is named because Aster's inclusion in a secret group linked to the SwSh is REALLY REALLY OBVIOUS.

A decent chunk of this is true, but the biggest change is easily to his dynamic with Daz.

The underlying friction, that being that they remind each other of their respective Dreams (and thus one of the primary vectors of their trauma) still holds true. Buuut now they're both WAY less mature about it!

Daz in particular is a petty, spiteful little bastard who is nearly always willing to get under Aster's skin.

Don't worry about the Khons and Raine parts! Definitely no neon warning signs about the sort of things they went through! :)

I NEED you to understand the sheer hilarity of Khon's usual outfit.

(Mask found here)

Picture these things together, and also remember that Khon's wool looks like spun gold.

He does not give a single FUCK about what looks good. In fact, he would love if more people were too intimidated/put off by his Vibes to approach him.

He spent most of his life either on the run or having zero control of his appearance. He's spent more than enough time forced to bow to others and being pretty for them. He's not doing it ever again.

More or less the same. This is the exact same thing Noodley read and then went "I'm gonna poke at their trauma!" and, because my power was out for several days due to snow, I did not stop to think about the CONSEQUENCES of that.

Daz was able to hold himself hostage because of it tho, so...it all worked out?

History skipped because it's still at least a LITTLE of a surprise!

Khons and Aleph's house is much further away now. It was built well before Daz+Raine or Aster's houses, actually! They no longer have a basement, though I still should make a workshop for them.

Sunroom wound up being the starting point of their build, and I'm really happy with it. Orange + teal/blue is one of my favorite combos! <3

Hey remember when the tokens were mentioned once and then never again? I do! Surely there's no reason to ask what was up with those, and there wouldn't be a noteworthy response to it or anything...

Oh man this was even before the Prime versions got their new names, lmao.

More or less all still true! Just a few shifts here and there, the biggest being that Perce is a little less important.

Still close to him, though.

Aleph has the least detail, because both he and Khons are still super underdeveloped.

Again, most of this is still true. Lee's importance is a bit more personal, and Theo isn't as close to him, but otherwise mostly the same.

Skipping over Raine's appearance bc there's something important there!

He's had some notable shifts from his initial concept. He's still not super outgoing, but his work with Daz means he's more used to it than I planned.

Def still has some deep-seeded sore spots about being useful to those around him. Daz, being Daz, doesn't let those linger for too long before he finds a way to remind him that he doesn't need to be useful.

Meanwhile Daz has a breakdown at the idea of not having a purpose.

There Is No Concerning Foreshadowing/Hints Here, Nope.

Most of this is the same, though I'm downgrading his closeness with Dee and Zinn.

Daz time!!

His cuff has existed and been referenced since before Blood & Gold started being uploaded btw.

His earrings were the first core idea for him, weirdly enough! Just popped into my head as I was deciding who to put in the protect-Lee-at-all-costs club. Needed members and leadership, one thing led to another, and now Daz has his own tag on my main blog.

My special little bastard <3

He's even less hinged now, but more or less the same.

This isn't all of his history, but I'm saving some of that for later.

Daz's Dream wound up becoming VERY different. Like-- I maintain that, as a whole, Dream was the more sympathetic of the two of them.

At least until. Y'know.

God, so much of this is WILDLY different from how Blood & Gold wound up being. You can see hints of where I started from, but like...wow.

This is before Innit, or at least before I would have actually considered adding it to the doc. I think parts of this were written before I settled on making Daz an admin, too!

By my metrics this is a fuckin' fossil.

Aster's already-mentioned shifts aside, this is surprisingly similar.

The biggest change is that his feelings about Lee are different. There's already been some foreshadowing about how and why that is! And outright stating some things, lmao.

As a bonus, Caper and Spark don't have a ton there, but--

#cocochaos #long post #I forgor for a few days #and also my i key is even more broken than before; the rubber nubbin tore off #it's exposed bc the part where the connector hooks in broke #aaand so even scavenging the flimsy plastic thing that makes the key move up and down correctly doesn't work #I have three and a half fucked up keys #i k [ & the left shift has been cracked for multiple years #I can hopefully reattach the i nubbin with superglue (again) #obviously it's not IMPOSSIBLE to write without it #and I'll adjust if I need to #but maaaaan is it uncomfy. #anyway. feel free to ask about all this! #oh and the Scribe and Mystery both have descriptions. They are...uh... #so I use eldritch as a semi-joke descriptor but like #these two are closer to the original meaning of 'beyond mortal comprehension' #asks are still slowly being worked on. As are BB + Creepypasta + Fool's Gold #and I MIGHT have a foothold for rewrites! no promises tho