Novel & Cerita Put Me In A Story

"To quote a certain slutty teacher in a story by my favorite author, I'm making you attend summer school." [End}

Who am I in this story? - What story? We have no story. - What do you mean we have no story? And the night we just spent together? - What night? I don't remember a night we spent together. What am I doing in your office? I have a dinner tonight, and I need to go shopping to look my best. I want to be with someone who wants me. I no longer intend to force someone into a relationship they don’t want. - Who told you I didn’t want to be with you?

And now, I was writing my own story. One where I wasn’t the victim locked in a room and discarded like a broken toy. One where I saw the room coming… And walked away before the door even shut.

I laid down too, keeping my face to the level where he was. “Do you have something in particular you want to tell me?” I raised a brow. “No,” he shook his head. “But you might have something to tell me. A story perhaps.” I was quiet for a moment as I dug through my memories, the ones that I had made for the past nine months of my life that I could remember, “I think I have just the right one to tell you.”

that I haven’t thought about myself. If this were really some W*****d kind of shit I’m in, then there must be something drastic to happen. However, when? What should I do? Yes, I’ve read fanfics about these kinds of stuff. But, I’m not them. I’m just an average human being. There’s nothing outstanding about me… If someone were to read this story, they’ll probably give up on the first few chapters. I mean, who wants to read a story about an introvert finally achieving her dream to escape reality and have something magical to her life?

I pile everything in my arms and march back down to the living room. The carpet becomes my war table as I drop everything on it and I sit cross-legged, papers scattered around me like fallen leaves. I begin writing. Fast. Names pouring out of me: IVY. HARRY. VIVIENNE. HOUSE OF VAELMONT. Then dates. Then the accident. The betrayal. The aftermath. Every lie. Every knife in my back. The rhythm takes over and I pin everything to the wall until it’s no longer a window but a story — my story. The one they tried to bury.

I'll spend a lot of time plotting it so that it can be a better story than the rest. Please do support my other works here! It'll be amazing to see your feedback. Thanks again for the support! Love Tea tae

"Next time please focus more. I know you have a problem, but I beg you not to include your personal problems with work. It will make you lose yourself." TBC Hello this is my first story, please help me to light the stars. Thank you for your generosity

I didn't mean to offend anyone. Are you guys tired of hearing my confides? Hahaha. My job is to make you fall in love with every character in my story, so if multiple plots explain how they are, I hope you will understand. I want when you read my story, it will be as if you are in my account.

I wished I could reach back and tell her— You’re not an extra. You’re not an offering. You’re not a sentence someone else handed you. You’re a story. You get to write. “And this time, you won’t be alone.” “I’ll keep writing it,” I said aloud, surprising myself. “What?” Ronan asked. “My story,” I said. “Ours. The pack’s. It doesn’t… end because the big bad is gone. It just… changes genre.” I smiled. “From tragedy to… messy, ongoing slice‑of‑life.”