#that's like as long as the parts of the story i want to write for this au I'M SO SORRY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

always-just-red · 2 days ago

Note

Oh I forgot to add 😭😭😭 be it fluff like jelly sylus but fluff maybe he trying to make the mc jelly too ? I’m going wild with ideas, I will be quiet

(Part 1 of ask) FINALLY finished this fic oh my goshhh I've loved it so much but writer's block was my constant companion for this one 🫠 Thanks for your patience!! Sy is jealous but I'm still pushing my 'Sylus is the softest man alive and would die before hurting MC' agenda, so I had to get a lil creative! Hope I've pulled it off idk 😭😭

Be Mine

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus is getting a little tired of sharing you with the other men in your life (and he doesn't mean Luke and Kieran 🙃)

Genre: lil bit of angst, comfort and fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, jealousy, other LIs mentioned, brief allusion to Raf's self-harm tendencies, cheating mentioned, some intimacy & kisses-- more soft than spicy!

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus has spent centuries waiting for you, so he’s going to give you another minute.

Patience is not a virtue; it’s an old acquaintance he greets with a false smile whenever he’s forced to pass it on the street. Sometimes outside your building, whilst you’re chatting with a neighbour from the apartment above yours. Sometimes when you’re running late from a doctor’s appointment.

Patience has been cropping up a lot these days and gods, he’s sick of its face. Even now, it sits with him at this table for two as he sips at a glass that’s almost empty. There’s poetry in stalling, in savouring what’s left, especially as a waiter hovers anxiously nearby, anticipating the need for yet another refill (it would be the third).

Dregs of blood-red wine swirl with solemnity. Sylus is a patient man, a man who waits, but he doesn’t want to be. He wants the reward of it: the pot of gold at the end of that insipid rainbow. Hasn’t he waited enough?

He lifts his drink to his lips again.

“Sylus!”

They curve as he swallows the final drop.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, flinging yourself into the seat across from him so quickly that he’s cheated of the chance to rise and help you with your chair. “Sit back down,” you usher, because he had made a start on it, “really, Sy, I’m so, so sorry. Things at work just got crazy, and I—”

“You don’t have to explain, sweetie,” he smiles as he signals the waiter. He’ll have that refill, now, and he orders your favourite drink as you shrug off your coat and fumble with your bag, looking for something. “I’m more than familiar with the Association’s… dedication to a cause.”

You glance up with an amused smile. “We’re keeping you on your toes, huh?”

“Mmm. There is one hunter who’s proving to be a real thorn in my side.”

“You on top of that?”

“Most evenings, yes. Some mornings, too.”

You poke your tongue out at him. You’ve retrieved a compact mirror and you use it to study your dishevelled reflection. “Is everything all right at work?” he asks as you fuss over your hair.

“Yeah,” you puff. “Long story.”

“We have time.”

With a warmer smile, you stash your mirror away and sequester your bag by your feet. “You sure?” He gives you a look. “Fine,” you chuckle. “Basically, Xavier forgot to write up some reports. He’s been away on an ultra-secret, special mission or whatever—” you tap your nose conspiratorially— “which I didn’t just tell you, okay? But yeah, the reports weren’t done, and they were due tonight, so…”

Sylus raises an apathetic eyebrow. “He asked you to help?”

“Begged me, more like.”

Of course he did. The waiter arrives with your drinks and Sylus has never been gladder for a distraction. His mouth is full of pettiness, bitterness, so he drowns it with wine. You could have called. Texted. “So kitten’s been playing secretary, hmm?” he goads instead.

“That would imply kitten could keep track of time,” you pout, “so no. And speaking of playing a part—” you poke his nose— “you’re allowed to be mad at me. I should have called you. Texted. So let me have it, yeah? I feel bad enough already without you being all… perfect.”

You’re only teasing, but Sylus doesn’t feel perfect. He’s thinking about you working late with your partner, laughing at his jokes, poking him with your pen to keep him from falling asleep on his paperwork. He smirks, regardless. “What if I want you to feel bad?”

“Oh, gods,” you slump forwards, face-down on the table. “How long were you waiting?”

“Years.”

You fake cry into the tablecloth. “Don’t, Sy. Just tell me the truth. How bad was it?”

“Really, years,” he insists again, folding his arms on the table and sliding forwards, too. His chin is resting on his hands, and he blows at the top of your head. “Look.” Your face lifts so you can peer at him. He pinches his hair. “I’ve even gone grey, see?”

You sit up the tiniest bit more and your noses are almost brushing. “It looks nice,” you whisper.

“You think so?”

“Mmm. Suits you.”

Your eyes are every gem— every jewel in an illicit auction Sylus has to steal away from the rest of the world, because something that pretty just has to be his; it will find no worthier home than his hands. His devotion fills vaults. Aren’t they spilling with emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds— those reckless imitations of your gaze? No-one else could deserve them, adore them like he does.

And they’ve nothing on the real thing.

Someone clears their throat and Sylus tracks the noise begrudgingly. The anxious waiter is back, clutching menus this time. You sit up fully, laughing to break the tension, and sure enough, Sylus feels less like hurling the man through the nearest window.

He’s still thinking about it though. He tells the waiter as much with a smile, and the menus are passed over with shaking hands. When Sylus says, “thank you,” it sounds like a bomb, ticking.

“Play nice,” you tut, once the waiter’s cleared the blast radius.

“Sweetie, when do I ever not play nice?”

You blink back at him disbelievingly. This should be good. “How about the time that you—?”

A familiar ringtone interrupts you, and your eyes widen in apology as you grab at your bag, rifling around for your phone. You find it— check the call and decline it— but relief is hiding, refusing to set foot on stage. Not yet, it confers to Sylus darkly, because it knows what comes next.

“Do you need to…?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, it was just Rafayel. Thanks, though.” You set the phone down. “Where was I?”

“You were about to tell me what a terribly bad man I am, sweetie.”

“Right!” you giggle. No, not yet. “So how about the time that you…” The phone rings again. You check it. Decline it. “How about the time that you—ugh!” It’s ringing again.

Sylus taps a finger on the table, impatiently patient. You can’t mute the wretched thing: the next call you miss would be a Wanderer, tearing through an orphanage or the like. It’s the reason you check, even when there’re no orphans at stake— just a pest of an artist with too much time on his hands.

Except… “Oh,” you say, glancing downwards, “it’s Zayne. I should probably—” Sylus gives a half-smile of blessing, but you weren’t waiting around for it— “hey, Zayne! I can’t talk right now, unless— Raf? What the hell? How did you get Zayne’s phone?”

You pull yours away from your ear as a string of whines come through:

“— ignore my calls, don’t even text me to ask what’s up, and then pick up his call right away? You hate me, right? Just say that you hate me, cutie.”

“I don’t hate you, Raf.” The phone is back to your ear. “I’m busy. Now seriously, how did you get— oh, hi, Zayne. Why is Raf…?” Sylus can hear a deeper voice answering your questions. “He’s at the—? Shit, is he okay? Ugh, tell him I can hear him. Tell him I know he’s not dying.”

You meet Sylus’s eyes as conflict erupts on the other end of the call. Sorry, you mouth as static filters through, interspersed with broken words and curses. The doctor’s voice prevails. “Yeah, Zayne,” you speak back to it. “I’ll call Thomas, get him to pick him up. Mmhmm? Oh!” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I forgot, he’s at that stupid art thing. Look, maybe later, I can…”

The artist’s shrill tone is protesting.

“I know it’s my job, Raf!” you counter. “But gimme a break, please. If it was any other night, you know I’d be there. Of course I wanna be there! But I can’t—”

It’s just a slip of the tongue— words you don’t even realise you’re saying— but Sylus still feels his heart sink. He hates it. A heart is so difficult to argue with: it’s long gone before you can talk any sense into it. He stands from the table, those priceless eyes of yours pursuing him. When you tilt your head, he musters a smile, then a weak excuse: “I’m just stepping outside for a moment.”

You nod, a follow-up question on the tip of your tongue, but then there’s a voice in your ear again— two voices— and you’re you, so of course you listen.

…

Sylus waits on a bench outside the restaurant, closing his eyes as he waits for his heart to come back.

It’s only been a few minutes. He’s thinking about your eyes, your nose and lips— an inch from his— and how he should have closed that gap before it grew treacherous. Shouldn’t he be done with this? This… longing? You’re his. You’ve told him you’re his, over and over again, but he finds himself needing to hear it once more; the ghost of your voice is starting to lack persuasion.

He is yours without exception, but you? There’s always a caveat. I’m yours, Sylus. But only so long as the city is quiet. I’m yours, Sylus. Until someone else calls. The door to the restaurant opens— he can hear it— but he doesn’t open his eyes. He wants to pretend.

I’m yours, Sylus. No caveats. No exceptions.

“Sylus.”

He swallows the dread in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you entreat softly. His eyes open, and you’re wearing your coat, holding your bag. “I have to run to the hospital— it’s this whole thing. Raf, like, passed out or something. He’s not been eating again. Zayne said when something like this keeps happening, it’s a sign that… yeah. He just… needs someone. And he hasn’t got anyone else, you know?”

“I understand.” You’re worried about your friend. That’s all it is.

Why can’t he believe that’s all it is?

You come over and sink down on the bench beside him, looping your arm through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Don’t you know that he’s afraid? That a selfish, spiteful part of him wants to hide you— with the rest of his treasures— away from the light, so he can love you in the dark?

There’s a sigh as you lean against him, savouring his touch like the wine one swirls in a glass when their thoughts are elsewhere. It’s gone in a mouthful; you check your watch, and he hopes it’s bitter.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

No, he would rather be sweet for you, but look at you— making him lie. “I’m okay,” he says, and it doesn’t have a drop of conviction. He’s tired of philanthropy.

…

“What are you gonna do? Come on, tell us. Tell us! What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Luke. Give me a second, okay? Jeez.”

You literally just got here. Your pace is brisk and the night air still clings to you— you shed a layer of it by peeling your arms out of your coat. Luke and Kieran are close behind, keeping to your heels like terriers hoping you’ll trip with a plateful of food. They’ll take even a crumb at this point.

“You gonna fight him?” Kieran nudges, but your lips stay tight.

“Oh, you’re so gonna fight him,” Luke takes away from the silence.

You don’t know what you’re going to do. You’ve reached a decadent lounge, lavished with black and gold, and you throw your coat over the arm of a chair before starting to wrestle off your combat boots. You’ve been off work for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. One call-to-duty after another; first the hospital, now this.

Mephisto caws in greeting from a nearby perch. “I’m not gonna fight him,” you say as your second boot drops with a clunk. “I just need to—”

“Say no more,” Luke cuts you off. “We want in.”

With a tired sigh, you gaze up at the twins at last. Kieran is readying a fist: punching his hand softly, the beak of his mask low and threatening. Beside him, Luke swings a baseball bat over his shoulder. He didn’t have it a second ago. Where did he even—?

You put your hands on your hips. “You guys got a death wish or something?”

“Yes!” they enthuse together, nodding excitedly.

You haven’t got time to ask. Your focus drifts to Sylus’s bedroom door, where music is leaking with honeylike light. You can’t count the number of times you’ve fallen over that threshold, exhausted— always slightly broken. You want to crawl into cool silk sheets and a warmer embrace, but there’s one small problem.

The text that had brought you here, anxious and out of breath:

Boss is with someone.

“What’re you thinking?”

You’re closer to the door, now, and Luke’s whisper makes you jump. You spin, twisting the bat from his fingers and pushing him back until the tip is pressed to his throat. “Get back,” you hiss, before levelling the weapon at an encroaching Kieran, “both of you.”

Luke leaps behind his brother— swinging him between you for protection. The baseball bat stays hovering, and Luke peeks over Kieran’s shoulder, swatting at it like an indignant kitten.

“Stop it,” you scold, poking back at his hand and his masked face. “Begone!”

“Yes, boss!” Kieran goes to move, but Luke is holding him in place. He’s dragged backwards: a human shield until they can both scurry around the turn of a corridor.

You smile fondly. You forget, for just a moment, that you’re alone and full of uncertainty. The song in the next room lulls, at its inevitable end, and then you can’t forget. You’re stood in silence, staring at a door you’ve never had to knock before. Another song starts up.

Whatever this is, you can handle it.

You use the baseball bat to tap against the dark wood. “Sylus?” you call.

He makes you wait. You can hear him, moving around— unmistakably taking his time— but you don’t mind. You’re running scenarios through your head. Is he in on this, too? Or…?

He opens the door and oh, he definitely is. His silk robe hangs haphazardly over his figure, one side threatening to slip from his shoulder and the belt dangerously loose at the middle. A flush is tinting his face, spreading down through his neck, past his collarbone and lower, you think, but you’re trying not to look.

“Sweetie,” he purrs in the way that tells you he’s up to no good, “what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes flit downwards. “And you’re armed, too.”

There’s a breathlessness to the observation, and your ability to breathe briefly eludes you as well. His hair is damp and unkempt, his skin warm, his gaze hot. Is this a test? It feels like a test.

“Are you alone?” you snap, because he’s clearly put some thought into whatever it is, and you’re a good sport, so you’ll play along.

“No,” he says, but then: “You know you’re always with me in spirit, kitten. Even if not in—” another downwards glance— “body.”

“Sylus.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” You catch his chin with your free hand, forcing his gaze back to your face. “And I want a real answer.” He swallows thickly. “Are you alone?”

His submission is fragile. He lifts his hand, wraps his fingers around your wrist like a reminder of the fact. “Careful, sweetie.” His grip tightens as his voice drops. “Think about what you’re asking.”

“I know what I’m asking.” You snatch your hand free and step closer. “Get out of my way.”

Sylus narrows his eyes, but soon relaxes. He sweeps a hand through his hair, chuckling as he obeys— moving aside to let you past. You storm through, looking over every visible inch of his room. There’s nothing to see, of course. No clothes that aren’t yours pooled over the floor. No lover wrapped up in his bedsheets.

“Just what exactly are you looking for?” he asks smugly behind you.

“Save it, Sylus.” Your pretend patience is gone. “The twins told me everything.”

So you start searching more strenuously. You make your way over to his bed, baseball bat slung over your shoulder as you check behind the far side— even stooping to peek under it. You open the wardrobe. Nothing. Use the baseball bat to push back the curtains, letting in more blood-red moonlight. Nothing. You huff in frustration.

“You know, don’t you?” Sylus says quietly.

He’s leant against the doorway, arms crossed, and you spare him a glance. “Know what?”

“That there’s no-one here.”

It sounds like defeat. “I’m taking this very seriously, actually,” you dismiss as you roll open the drawer of his bedside table, where no-one is hiding. You move on to even more absurd places: lifting flowers out of their vase to glance about inside it, peering into the horn of his vintage gramophone.

You’d hoped your antics would elicit at least a short laugh, or a scoff of amusement. There’s nothing, though, so you plonk onto the bed— defeated, yourself— and look to the man as you set your weapon down.

He looks back with an insincere smile. “How did you know?”

“That you weren’t really with someone? Because you’re you, Sylus. The key to a good prank?” Your fingers twinkle in the air beside your head. “Believability. Besides—” now a forefinger taps at your temple— “nothing gets past this.”

“Your ego?” he guesses with a smirk that is sincere, if nothing else.

“My brain, Sy.”

“Ah.”

Your ego— tsk. Your feet are dangling from the bed, playing with a slipper they’ve fished out from underneath it, and you have half a mind to launch it at him. This doesn’t feel like one of your usual games, though, and you’ve had a whole ride through the N109 Zone to figure out why.

“I really hurt you, didn’t I?” you speak like a confession, staring down at the floor so you don’t have to meet his eyes. “That’s what all this is about, right? You wanted to get back at me for dinner?”

“No, I—”

“I get it.” Your feet find the second slipper. “I do. I mean, it was a really shitty thing to do— walking out on you like that. Especially after you waited for me. You went to all that effort, and I— ah.” You’ve toed one of the slippers out of reach.

“Allow me,” comes a voice that’s suddenly close. Sylus’s figure looms over you before he’s crouching, kneeling by your feet. He still looks like a mess of sin, but he’s gentle as he retrieves the slipper for you. Removes your socks for you. Slides a slipper onto each of your cold feet. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he mutters.

You let out a sigh. “Sylus.” You’re scolding him, and he gazes up at you, his eyes garnets of adoration only you could afford. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“So why won’t you tell me how you feel?”

He sits back on his knees, his thumb drawing circles on the inside of your ankle. The ministrations are mindless, and so are his words: “How I feel is not important.”

“Of course it is!” You pull away from him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“But I thought I could tell you anything, kitten.”

It’s a nick from a blade that could do much worse; he wants you to feel how sharp it is. His smile is a warning and he’s waiting for the hunter in you to strike back, because violence is what you’re good at. What you’re both good at. It hurts, but it’s easy.

You shift forward on the bed. “Sylus… you don’t need to protect me. Not from you. Not from anything you feel. I want you to be happy, to tell me if you’re unhappy. I don’t need you to—” your fingers skirt over his chest and you falter inexplicably— “to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Sylus looks down to where you’re tracing the shape of his heart on his skin. He lets out a long, beleaguered breath, then leans closer to you, his head turning away as he settles it on your lap. Your hands find his hair instinctually, threading through it in slow, meandering motions.

“I want you to be mine,” he admits on another sigh.

He can’t see you smile, but he’ll hear it in your voice: “I am yours, Sy—”

“No— just mine.”

He won’t make it a demand. Even asking you nicely has him breathless and still, like the drawn-out pause of a finished symphony. Your hands stop moving, out of respect for the quiet. You’re remembering the times you’ve been late out of your building because you’d stumbled into Xavier in the lobby. The doctor’s appointments that always overrun, and Rafayel’s ‘emergency’ phone calls.

“Come and sit with me,” you mumble, patting the bed beside you.

When Sylus does, it’s with the same reluctance a cat surrenders a sliver of sun. Lazy and listless— still warm from the light. The bed sinks under his weight and you turn to face him. His robe’s collar has fallen further, so you hook a finger under it to draw it back up to his neck. Then you straighten the lapels, smoothing them over distractedly.

He’s watching your face, not the movements of your hands. Your cheeks feel warm. “I was speaking to Rafayel earlier, and we—”

A groan, and Sylus is no longer at your fingertips; he’s flopped down backwards on the bed, his hand over his face. You can’t help giggling— you’ve broken the big, bad boss of Onychinus, it seems. Is that all it takes? You grin as you lie down with him, settling on your side, propped up on an elbow. He doesn’t stir when you fix a few stray strands of his hair.

“We talked about boundaries,” you continue. “How I can’t be on call twenty-four seven, and how he’s going to take better care of himself, so I don’t have to be.”

Sylus has moved his hand, ever so slightly.

There’s more: “I’m gonna call in sick to work tomorrow. I made a deal with Xavier, that’s why I stayed late today. He��ll cover for me.” You shift closer. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I know I can’t always be with you, but I am always thinking of you, I promise. You’re always with me in spirit, Sy, even if not in—” you press a quick kiss to his chest— “body.”

He chuckles at the words, or maybe the touch tickled.

You grin down at him. “I’m yours. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“No! Ugh, just—” Smart-ass! You flick his forehead as he laughs quietly. “Not the words ‘I’m yours’, say that I’m—”

His hand is at your face, pulling you in so he can kiss you. It’s slow and it’s patient; he’s taking his time, and you won’t slip away. You can feel his smile. “You’re mine,” he murmurs when he finally withdraws. One more kiss, lighter, on the tip of your nose. “Just mine.”

Always. You let him pull you into an embrace, snuggling into his warmth like you’ve been wanting to from the moment you last left it. You can hear his heartbeat beneath the lullaby of his breath. “Sy?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“You look really hot when you’re pretending to cheat on me.”

He scoffs, but a yawn comes before his response. “Don’t get any ideas, kitten.”

Your quiet is pensive. “I have this lunch with Zayne later this week. I really should text him to find out—”

The grip around you constricts, and a voice is in your ear, soft and possessive:

“What did I just say?”

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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maaikeatthefullmoon · 2 days ago

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Who else is in the ‘they are speaking - mind-to-mind’ theory camp?

I’ve had to accept that I’m not going to have time to write the fanfic I have all planned out in my mind. Not if I want to Write Seriously™️ and be a functioning human.

I don’t even have the time to write a long-arse meta like I’d love to. I’d love to spend a whole day just delving into my thoughts but…not gonna happen. As it is I’ve got about 10 minutes until someone gets home and I’ll be expected to do useful things.

So.

I think Aziraphale taught Crowley a useful magic trick in 1941. Our Part 3. Which we see during The Kiss in the Final 15 - when Crowley passes something to Az. What does he pass? Dunno. But it’s got something to do with this new communication ability.

This isn’t Crowley realising his feelings. They have both known their feelings for long enough. This is him realising he needs to put plans into action. Spurred by Nina’s words, and other things. They’ve been too conspicuous. It’s too dangerous. He needs to protect his angel.

All of this - a lot of acting for those listening in, but probably also anger and devastation at Crowley for putting into action the emergency plan without Az’s consent? But rather than being angry, I think this “I forgive you” is genuinely meant. Az knows Crowley saw no other way out for them. I think there’s a degree of bodily autonomy this plan takes away, but Az wants him to know that’s ok. He forgives him.

And that means more than “I love you” to me.

So while Crowley drives, he’s (oooh, is it breaking the law? Is it like talking on the phone?? Demon!) talking to his angel. I believe, telling him he’ll be taking his place as the Grand Duke of Hell. Ready to fuck shit up.

As we have Aziraphale (and Michael Sheen, master of microexpressions) joining in the planning.

Ready to fuck shit up.

And so we have our players manoeuvred into place. Head of Staff of Heaven & Hell. Ostensibly.

Not speaking. Verbally.

But mentally…that’s a different story.

#good omens #mini meta #good omens meta #good omens headcanon #good omens mini meta #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #michael sheen #david tennant #theyre not talking but oh yes they are

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dailynnt · 3 days ago

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FRIENDS WITHIN TUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 26/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Hi guys 🥰 It's been a week since I posted part 25. I really don't have enough time to write for you on time, so I apologize for the long wait 🥺🫂 I hope this part was worth it 🥹 Let me know in the comments ❤️‍🩹

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and LOVE you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @ambiee3, @mianhae-baozi, @someoneelse0109, @medstudentlifestyle, @mskookie, @kooccult , @smokinghotstargirl, @curse-of-art @wintaemoonjen (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 25. Gold on the tip of the knife.

Jungkook walked over to the table. His thoughts were overloaded and he was still there, in the businesses he could never fully detach himself from. He had done too much today. He had gone over the plan for the delivery of the Uranium, talked to the logistics company that would be transporting the Uranium, and decided issues about set up a fake company that would sell depleted uranium to the military. It all took a lot of time, absorbed him, made him keep his mind in constant tension.

You had been with his mother all day, so he didn't have to constantly apologize for his busy schedule, but even now, when you and your parents were gathered for dinner together, Jungkook left the table every now and then to talk on the phone and take care of important things.

His fingers automatically gripped the phone before he put it away in his jacket pocket. His head was buzzing with endless calculations and plans, but as soon as he look up, all that tension gave way to something deeper.

You.

He looked at you and didn't like the way you looked. He saw you trying to smile and make conversation with your parents, but you were doing it for strength and he could see it.

Tomorrow, when you get back to Seoul, he will take you to the doctor right away. Most likely, it's overwork from work and studies. He told you to quit that job, but you're stubborn. You made a promise to someone. That's ridiculous. Why are you so righteous? But if the doctor confirms that you're exhausted, he'll go and fire you from that store himself.

Jungkook sat down slowly, not taking his eyes off you. You gave him a quick glance and looked away. You didn't even smile at him. Are you annoyed that he's always leaving because of calls? Or is it because he's having a busy day?

Jungkook looked at your plate. It was almost clean. And the panjang you had bitten once remained lonely on the round plate, obviously never to be finished at all. There was a lot of food on the table: baked fish in ginger sauce, kimchi, several types of panjon, beef soup stewed in spicy herbs, rice with chestnuts, and, of course, makkoli. You helped his mother prepare all these dishes, but you barely ate any of them.

His fingers involuntarily gripped the edge of the table. When your mothers switched to discussing a recipe and your fathers left the table, Jungkook leaned over to you.

"You're not eating anything." - His voice sounded calm, but there was a hidden anxiety in it. You barely looked up and forced a smile.

"I'm just not really hungry. I had time to taste everything while we were cooking with the omony." - You answered, adjusting your plate. Jungkook didn't believe you.

He saw how you could barely hide your fatigue. He saw how your eyes were a little cloudy. He had noticed this for days, but you kept insisting that everything was fine. He was irritated by your self-sacrifice for no one in particular.

"Do you feel bad now?" - He asked, still quietly, but insistently, so that the mother would not hear.

"No, I'm fine." - You said seriously. He saw that you were tense. He is annoyed leaned away from you. He touched the glass from which he was drinking the juice, and just started spinning it. Jungkook ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to yell at you. He was annoyed by everything today, but he couldn't snap at you.

Suddenly, you stood up from the table. Jungkook watched you stand up, pushing the chair back with a slight movement. Your fingers touched the fabric of your dress briefly, as if you wanted to tidy it up, but he knew it was a habit when you were nervous or trying to hide something from him.

You said something about being right back, but didn't look at him. This alerted him.

"Son, between you everything okay?" - Jungkook heard his mother's voice. He turned his head toward her and met two pairs of concerned eyes. His and your mothers were waiting intently for an answer.

"Yes, mom, everything fine." - Jungkook says, and he doesn't believe his words. Of course nothing is fine. Why would you be sick? "But I'm going to go check for sure."

Jungkook wants to get up from the table, but the phone rings.

Shit. His fingers tightened around the device, and he pulled it out of pocket, glancing at the screen. An unfamiliar number. The mothers watched with the same concern.

"Excuse me." - He says briefly and walks into the kitchen. Behind the kitchen in Jungkook's parents' house was a closed terrace. He goes there so that no one can hear his conversation. All day long, he hasn't been contacted about the direct delivery of uranium, and maybe this is the that call. On his way terrace, Chonguk picks up the phone.

"Yes?" - His voice is unwavering.

"Jeon Jungkook-shi?" - He hears a man's voice on the other end of the line.

"Who is this?" - He doesn't answer, but instead asks his own question.

"My name is Lee Hyuwon, I'm a transportation agent. I was given your number. They told me to contact you about a delivery." - The voice on the phone was low and steady, as if the man was talking about something mundane. Jungkook tensed slightly, looking out the window at the dark sky. His fingers tightened their grip on the phone.

"What kind of delivery?" - He asked, just to be sure.

"The cargo you're interested in." - He answers meekly. Uranium. But must be a code word. If he says it, this is exactly the man he needs. Jungkook is silent for a moment, staring at the reflection of his face in the glass of the terrace.

"I see." - He finally answered, keeping his voice calm and businesslike. "Who gave you my contact?"

"Mutual acquaintances." - The man answered without giving specifics. Jungkook was on the alert.

"Did they give you the details?" - Jungkook asked.

"The highlights. The cargo is special, requires care, and needs to be delivered on time." - Lee Hyuwon says seriously.

"Okay, but..." - Jungkook wanted to ask about the code word, but he was interrupted by the man on the other side of the line.

"Jeon Jungkook-shi, I have some samples with me that you could inspect, so if you have time we could meet." - The carrier offers.

"Samples?" - Jungkook asks again. No one said there would be samples, and that he should check them. "I have no information about that."

The man on the other end of the phone falls silent and hums into the receiver.

"That's strange. That's why I had to contact you, to arrange the delivery and for you to look at the samples." - The man says. Jungkook raises his eyebrows. This is really strange.

"I need to know out more information. Besides, I'm not in Seoul, so there's no way I can meet you today." - Jungkook says, already planning to call Jimin.

"Oh. Yes, sir. I really don't understand why this happened. However, I don't know if my boss not will be happy that the meeting won't take place soon. I also don't think he'll be happy with the fact that you didn't know about the samples..." - The man says. Jungkook tenses up more. He clutches the phone in his hand as if he wants to smash it. He's been in trouble all day, and he doesn't need Namjoon to get angry because Jimin or Hoseok didn't give him any information. He exhales into the phone, he needs to make an appointment for tomorrow morning. But before Jungkook can say anything, the carrier continues. "In any case, let's coordinate with each other on what time we can meet. Because the cargo is not in Seoul, but in Suwon, you'll need to come in person."

Jungkook freezes. In Suwon? What a coincidence. Perhaps it's fate smiling down on him. Because if he can come now and look at the samples and discuss all the details about the uranium (its quantity and payment), Namjoon will be satisfied. He hasn't told anyone that he's going to visit his parents in Suwon with you. So it may be for the best that he is here.

"Are you saying the cargo is in Suwon? Where is the warehouse?" - Jungkook asks.

"On the outskirts of town. It's an industrial warehouse on Gyeonggi-ro. I'll send you the location via geolocation." - The driver replies.

"I'm not far away. I can get to the warehouse within 30 minutes." - Jungkook offers. He runs his hand over his chin, waiting for a response.

"How nice to do business with you. It's so good that you are here. Then our bosses won't have to worry. Right? I'll be waiting for you in thirty minutes. I'll reset the geolocation in just a minute." - The man says flatteringly. Jungkook responds "waiting" and disconnects the call. He stood there for a few seconds, staring at the black screen of his phone, analyzing the conversation.

Everything sounded like it was really the person who was supposed to contact him. But why hadn't he been warned about the samples he was supposed to examine? Besides, he didn't know how he was supposed to do it properly. He's learned some of the information he needs about Uranium, but he's definitely not an expert to evaluate the product. Maybe samples to know what the actual product will look like? That's weird. It's very weird.

Jungkook dials Jimin's phone. He doesn't pick up. Then he dials Hoseok’s phone. There are several rings and the call is dropped. Damn it. He'll call back on the way to the warehouse.

Jungkook turns around and walks to the door leading to the kitchen. He needs to go to the table and tell everyone that he's going to be gone for an hour. But before that, he needs to find you.

Jungkook opened the door and literally ran into you. You were standing under the door, looking at him in fright. He froze, just like you. You wanted to leave, but he grabbed you by the arm and pushed you out of the kitchen and onto the terrace. You gasped at the sudden movement. Jungkook pushed you against the wall, locking the door.

"Did you really do that? Are you eavesdropping?" - Jungkook asks, hovering over you. He can feel the irritation getting the better of him. You don't need to know what you're not supposed to know. You stand against the wall, pale and tired. But your gaze is determined and shows no weakness at all.

You didn't answer him right away. He saw you trying to collect your thoughts, as if you were looking for the right words.

"I accidentally..." - You say confidently, but Jungkook interrupts you unceremoniously. He doesn't want you to know anything.

"What did you hear?" - He asks a bit abruptly, which makes you raise your eyebrows slightly. He doesn't want to push, but he needs to know what you heard. You put your hands on his chest and want to push him away. But it makes Jungkook angry, he's not in the best mood today, so he's loses his temper easily. And even you are starting to make him angry. Your curiosity and stubbornness can backfire on you. You're up to your old tricks, and he has to be more careful this time because dealing with uranium is too dangerous.

"Let go of me." - You say, and he pressing your body against the wall. The wall is cold and Jungkook is worried that it might worse you, because you are already unwell. But he can't let go of you until you tell him what you heard. Your palms on his chest, giving him warmth, but your eyes are angry.

"Tell me." - He says shortly. You stare at each other, your eyes drilling into each other. Right now you don't look like a couple in love, but rather like people who won't give in for anything.

"I didn't hear much." - You say dryly.

"I'm not asking how much, I'm asking what did you hear?" - Jungkook insists. His voice is demanding, but not harsh. Again, you just stare at him angrily. Jungkook is late for the meeting, so you have to speak up.

"I heard you were going to leave. And that it was some about the samples." - You finally answer. Jungkook clenches his jaw. So it's almost nothing. But he needs to make sure that's all you heard. He brings his face closer to yours.

"Are you sure that's all you heard? Because if you lied to me..." - Jungkook says quietly. You raise your eyebrows skeptically.

"So what?" - You ask confidently. Jungkook bites his lip, and you can't miss the movement. He laughs when he sees you following his lips.

"Baby, you better not try to find out. You don't need it. So just tell me everything you heard." - He says with a shadow of a smile on his lips, but it quickly disappears when he looks back into your eyes. "I don't like being followed, especially by you."

"I told you everything I heard." - You say harshly. Your hand presses down on his chest again, leaving even more heat. Jungkook gets upset when you add. "Don't talk with me like this. I'm not your client, the one you're beating information out of. I overheard your conversation because I was looking for you. I'm not spying on you."

He holds his breath, as if for a moment he realizes that you are telling the truth, that he shouldn't be talking to you like this, but he's not ready to let go of the situation. He knows that you could have heard everything, but for some reason you don't tell him anything.

He pressed himself against you as much as possible, so that his chest was now touching yours. One of his hands rested on the wall near your head at eye level, and the other clenched your jaw. His lips touched your cheek.

"Everything is so fucking annoying today, and you're not helping. You walk around pale, eat nothing, and eavesdrop. Do you think I should hold back now, or should I let go of everything that's been building up?" - Jungkook's voice sounds tense and heavy. You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, but he doesn't let himself relax completely. His hand on your jaw tightens, and his breath is heavy and hot, close to your ear.

"Jungkook..." - Your voice is quiet but determined. You try to keep it calm, even though your heart is beating faster from what's happening. You don't want him to understand your emotions, your uncertainty. But he notices it anyway.

He touches your cheek again, gently, but still with a hint of control.

"Are you forgetting who I am? It's not my fault that you have some problems. We went to parents' house, and you're on that fucking phone all the time, and you're going to go somewhere at this hour." - You say irritated. You try to pull away, but he won't let go of you. His eyes are dark, and his anger and irritation are evident in every movement.

"That's why you're angry with me, I can see that. But honey, I really have a lot of work to do, and it can't wait." - He says softer.

"Of course it can’t. But I'll wait, right? You can do whatever you want and go all the four sides of the world." - You say colorlessly. Jungkook was torn inside. You really angry. He holds his breath when he hears your cold response. His hand on your jaw tightens, his fingers gripping your chin so hard you feel slight pain. His eyes burn you, but he doesn't let go. There is bitterness in your words, and he cannot lose control again.

"You tell me not to talk to you rudely, but watch how you talk, baby. I'll go all four ways if it's with you." - His voice becomes deeper, almost hostile. He leans in closer, so that his breath touches your lips, and he are already reaching for your lips gently but insistently. You rest your hands against his chest, not letting him kiss you.

"I don't want you to kiss me right now." - You say even more harshly. He stops just a centimeter away.

"But I want to." - Jungkook says, unrestrained. "I haven't kissed you all day."

You snort, and it sounds mocking.

"Have you noticed? Don't kiss me when you're acting like this. Your work is none of my business. I didn't lie to you, I told you what I heard. That's it. Let me go now." - You say threateningly. Jungkook sees how angry you are, but he can't let you go. He really can't. He wants to kiss you. Even more, he wants to fuck you, but wonder if he should? Your parents might notice that you've been gone for a long time, and he's late for a meeting.

Jungkook suddenly leans down and captures your lips. Unexpectedly, you scream softly into his lips. You didn't close your eyes when he kissed you. You try to push him away, but your boyfriend is a rock. He kisses you, a hot, eager kiss that makes your heart beat faster.

You involuntarily feel all your control dissipate. But you don't want to give up, you don't want to show how you going weakness in front of him as soon as he kisses you so passionately. So you sharply push him away from you, trying to give yourself some space.

"Are you deaf, Jeon? I told you not to touch me!" - You almost shout. Your voice is filled with anger.

Jungkook smiles. He doesn't even let you take a step back. He comes closer again, pushes you against the wall again, his body literally engulfing yours. You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, but his hands on your hips no longer resemble control - they own you, stubbornly trying to make you submit.

"Come on, my baby. You want it too." - He says boldly and his lips find yours again, this kiss even more impatient, thirsty. He wants your commitment, he wants your attention, he wants you to stop fighting him.

You can't let it go that easily. You respond to his kiss, at first with a little resistance, but then your hand involuntarily stops at his neck, pulling him even closer. Your bodies touch, and you feel all the bitterness that has accumulated between you, but at this moment you want nothing more than to give yourself to him completely.

Jungkook sees you giving in and breaks the kiss and looks at you, his eyes burning with desire.

"See? I know you." - He slips his hand under your sweater, slides it easily over the top you're wearing instead of a bra. When he squeezes your breasts slowly and with some force, you hold back a moan. He looks into your eyes, radiating cunning.

"It pisses off..." - You say, exhaling. Jungkook pulls your sweater and top up over your breasts and presses his lips to one of your breasts. As his tongue sucks in your flesh, you hold back a scream of pain. Jungkook tastes your nipple so good. But he wants to feel how wet you are. When he ignores your words and kisses your nipple, he reaches down to your leggings and easily gets under your underwear.

Jungkook pulls away from your nipple and, breathing heavily because he's aroused, approaches your flushed face. A moan escapes your lips as he massages your clit. Fuck, you're so wet for him, he could enter you so easily.

"So what were you saying? What's pissing you off?" - Jungkook asks demandingly, subjecting you to sweet torture. He kisses your jawline, and you try to say.

"It pisses off... that you..." - You are completely unable to speak because Jungkook has entered you with his fingers and is fucking you with them. He stretch up the fabric of your leggings so that his hand has a comfortable position.

Your legs give out and you can't stand. Jungkook is amused by your reaction. You look so sexy. Red, with your hair tousled, your eyes closed in pleasure. He leans down to kiss you. He puts his tongue in your mouth and you willingly accept it. And you return the kiss more than willingly, making him even more excited. Jungkook parted your lips and whispered without pulling away.

"Do I piss you off?" - He tries to find out. His fingers continue to fuck you.

"Mhhh." - You moan at his actions. "Not you. But that you turn our fights into fucking." - You finally say it. Jungkook laughs lightly.

"I never believe that you don't like it." - He says defiantly. "Besides, we didn't fight. We just argued a little." - You can't react because Jungkook has moved to your clit again. You're about to come.

"I... I don't like..." - You want to object, but you come on Jungkook's fingers. He feels your clit twitch and he presses lightly on it, extending your orgasm. You moan, feeling blissful. God, your parents are at the table, and you, or rather Jungkook, is does this with you. He's smiling, happy to have made you come. You try your best to fill your lungs with air.

Jungkook's hard length presses into your thigh. You cast a quick glance between your bodies, and when you return it, you meet your boyfriend's lustful eyes.

"I want to fuck you, my love." - Jungkook says.

"But we've been gone long enough. Our parents will be looking for us." - You warn. But Jungkook has already turned your back to him and removed your leggings in one motion, along with your underwear. He admired your naked ass for a moment, and then leaned over to you, pressing you against the wall. You put your arms at wall for something to hold on to.

"They won't look for us, because they know I went to comfort you." - Jungkook mockingly said the last word. "How do you like my consolation? Huh, baby?" - He asks in your ear. He takes off his pants and boxers and his warm, hard cock hits your buttocks. It takes him a matter of seconds to find your passage and insert his erect cock into it. You're wet, and Jungkook can feel it with his tip.

"Kook..." - You call out to your boyfriend, who is already plunging into you. At the beginning, you feel a slight pain, and the way Jungkook is in a hurry. You press your fingers against the wall until they turn white.

Jungkook heard your soft cries and slowed down, and he plunged more slowly the rest of the way. He moved away from your ear and stood up straighter. He took his hands on both sides of your hips to better control his movements. Jungkook squeezed in out of your passage as much as possible and you moaned. He couldn't hold back his moan either. That beautiful pussy took him well, as always.

Jungkook leaned down to your ear.

"Does it feel good, love?" - He asks in a caring, gentle voice. He's still worried that you're not feeling well.

"Yes." - You assure him, turning your head to him. "Very well." - Your voice sounds like a confession. Jungkook kisses shoulder and then straightens up. He strokes your thighs as if to soothe you.

"Be quiet, my baby." - He asks, and then begins to fuck your cunt rhythmically. It feels divine as always. Your tight pussy wraps around his cock so tightly. Jungkook fucks you every day, but he's never satisfied. What have you done to them? How do you make him want you so easily?

Jungkook has never felt this way about anyone before. He can't understand what's happening to him. He's never enough. It's like you're destroying all his reasonable boundaries by making him want you more and more.

How do you so easily overcome his emotionally controlled emotions? How do you seem to be able to make him forget everything else with simple words or gestures? You are not like everyone else. "I'm never enough," is the thought in his head again, and he can't push it out. He doesn't even want to. With you, he always need more.

You have broken down his walls. And he feels you in a way he hasn't felt anyone before. You are his addiction.

Jungkook fucks you fast and deep, he doesn't have time to stretch out the pleasure. You moan softly, your head tilted down. Jungkook grabs your chest and holds you close. You reflexively put your hands on his, squeezing his it.

"Where do you want me to cuming? Inside? Or maybe in your mouth?" - He asks, sounding bass in your ear. You moan, his cock inside you, his suggestions, and his hands massaging your breasts.

"Wherever you want." - You answer, not quite soberly evaluating Jungkook's words. Jungkook smiles with satisfaction. He turns your head and kisses you, deeply, hotly.

He leans you against the wall and speeds up the movement. You moan with every movement. The friction inside takes you to heaven. After a moment, you squeeze Jungkook's cock with your walls, you come around his cock. Jungkook can barely keep from cumming. He stops abruptly and comes out of you. He turns you toward.

"Get on your knees, love." - He asks. You kneel down, still feeling the waves of your orgasm. Jungkook takes a step towards you and you immediately open your mouth. His length is halfway in, and you start sucking him off. You don't have to do this for long, because Jungkook is about to come. His hard cock is in your mouth. You can taste the salty taste of his and your own cum.

You pump your head, sucking his hot cock. Jungkook curls his hand around your hair and moves your head. His velvety tip is dangerously on the bottom of your tongue.

Jungkook hardens even more. Your lips look so good on his cock. He can't hold back any longer. He gets hard as a rock and then he cums on your tongue. You swallow every last drop. He moans above your head, throwing it back. He looks down at you, admiring your position.

Jungkook stops moving his hips when he's completely softened. He gently withdraws from your warm, welcoming mouth, his cock. A ribbon of your saliva and his cum trailing his cock from your lips. You smile at him. He smiles back at you.

Jungkook gently helps you off your knees and kisses your lips. Lightly, almost without weight. He puts on his boxers, pulls on his pants, and even manages to dress you.

"Don't be mad at me." - Jungkook asks, hugging you and putting his forehead against yours. "I'm going to go to a meeting in a little while and we'll talk afterwards, okay?"

You smile. You feel better than you did before sex with Jungkook, even if it did take some energy. You're even hungry. You pull away from his forehead.

"It's okay. I won't be angry. How can I be angry after all these?" - You joke. Jungkook laughs heartily.

"That was the plan from the beginning." - Jungkook jokes back. "I'll only be an hour, maybe less."

Kongi-ro, 8:17 p.m.

The black Hyundai Palisade came to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the large warehouse. Jungkook took his father's car so he wouldn't have to use his own. On the way to the warehouse, he called Jimin and Hoseok several times, but no one answered. What the hell were they doing?

Jungkook is almost twenty minutes late because he fucked you on the terrace. This sex helped him partially relieve the tension he had been feeling all day because of organizing the uranium delivery.

However, his muscles are tensing again, but he is calm. He turned off the engine and turned off the headlights. At the entrance to the large warehouse, a group of men stand, cars and several minivans lined up along the side.

He got out of the car, glancing at the tall, thin figure of a man in a black coat standing in the center. His eyes glittered coldly in the semi-darkness, and he wore a slight smile on his face, as if he knew Jungkook would be there, despite his lateness.

"Jungkook-shi." - Lee Hyuwon was the first to respond, as if they had known each other for years. "You're late, but I'm still glad you came."

Jungkook looks around at the people around him. He didn't expect so many people. But these people are allies, he doesn't worry about them harming him.

"I got into a little traffic jam. I apologize." - He says, shaking hands with a man who introduced himself as Lee Hyuwon.

"Oh, it happens sometimes." - Hyuwon says in a friendly manner. They fell silent and Jungkook felt an inner discomfort. He cast a few glances around and turned to the man who had made the appointment.

"So where's the cargo?" - Jungkook asked. It was suspicious that Seongwan was taking his time.

"It's inside." - Hyuwon says meekly. "Please follow me." - The skinny man turned around and walked toward the entrance of a tall metal structure. Jungkook followed after Hyuwon, taking a closer look at everything around him. It was quite dark inside the warehouse, with only a few neon lights creating dim illumination. The air smelled like oil, iron, and something else... Jungkook knew the smell for sure - gunpowder.

His heart beat faster for a moment, but he remained outwardly unmoved. Long wooden crates were stacked on top of each other, and some of them had plastic wrappers sticking out. Hyuwon slowly walked over to one of them and tapped the lid with his fingers.

"Here is the product. I'm sure you'll like it." - The man's voice was excited with joy. Jungkook raised his eyebrows. He took a few steps forward, as if curiously evaluating the goods. One of Hyuwon's men opened the crate, and what he saw was not nuclear material, but precision weapons.

Heavy semi-automatic rifles, with perfectly polished black bodies, lay neatly in a row.

"These are weapons." - Jungkook says, more to himself than to the others.

"Yes. Good weapons that are highly accurate and of excellent quality. I've been assured that this is the kind of weapon you use." - Hyuwon confirmed. Jungkook thinks. This is not Uranus. So this meeting is not what he expected. Where the hell did this man come from and why did he think he needed a guns?

Before the new year, Jungkook bought a new weapons, he doesn't need it. He looks at the boxes and then turns to Hyuwon.

"Who gave you my contact remind me again?" - Jungkook asks demandingly. Hyuwon is visibly nervous, but he tries to hide it behind a smile, but Jungkook sees through it.

"Takeshi Tanaka, you worked with him. He mentioned you and said you'd be interested." - Hyuwon says, putting confidence in his voice. Jungkook doesn't remember the name. But they're actively working with the Japanese mafia, so he could have just forgotten. "This is an exclusive, Jungkook-shi. Great guns, great price. Take a closer look, you can hold it in your hands, evaluate the balance." - Hyuwon offers. Hyuwon looks at the weapon and then at the man in front of him.

"I don't need this weapon. And I don't know why Tananki thought I'd buy it from you." - Jungkook says businesslike. Hyuwon doesn't look upset. But his eyes have narrowed slightly, and he doesn't look as friendly anymore.

"You didn't even consider the offer." - He said coldly.

"Because I'm not interested." - Jungkook replied indifferently. The people accompanying Hyuwon visibly tensed up. He held the man's gaze, demonstrating his position. Hyuwon smiled, slowly, almost predatory.

"Well, then, you have no business being here, Jungkook-shi." - He bowed slowly. Hyuwon watched this movement. His intuition told him that something was wrong. Something was wrong with this man and this meeting in general.

"Obviously." - Jungkook said looking Hyuwon straight in the eye.

"But I'd advise you to write down my number, I'll give you the best prices and quality product." - He holds out his hand. Jungkook looks at it, but doesn't shake it back.

"I'll keep that in mind." - Jungkook says. Jungkook took a step back, watching Hyuwon's men stand frozen, waiting for further developments. He no longer had a reason to stay here, and he had to find out who the Japanese man was who was throwing his contacts around.

Jungkook leaves the warehouse. He gets behind the wheel and drives away. He keeps looking in the rearview mirror. He can't help but think that this meeting is strange. Hyuwon let him go so easily, didn't even insist on a deal.

Jungkook pressed the gas pedal, leaving the warehouse behind. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel, giving off a pent-up tension. Hyuwon was too calm. Too confident. And that Japanese guy... Hell, he was sure he'd never had any business with Takeshi Tanaka.

He dialed Jimin again. The rings went on for a long time, until finally the other end of the line answered.

"Oh, kid, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you call." - Jimin immediately apologized.

"Where the hell are you that you didn't hear me calling you?" - Jungkook asked, irritated. "Hey, are you going to kill me over the phone?" - Jimin muttered. His voice was filled with background noise-people's voices, music, laughter. "What happened? Why three missed calls?"

"I needed to know out some information, but I've already did it myself." - Jungkook said seriously. He decided not to talk about the meeting with Hyuwon because Jimin would want to know the details, and he didn't want to say he was in Suwon. When it comes to his parents and you, he hides everything. "Are you at the club?" - Jungkook asks, changing the subject.

"Yeah. At Muse. We decided to relax with Hoby-hyung. We had a crazy day today." - Jimin says, now it's clear why Hoseok hasn't been answering. Jungkook is also having a crazy day. "Where are you, by the way? Don't you want to come over? Let's have a drink. Or are you busy with more important things?" - Jimin asks slyly, hinting that this “important thing” it’s you.

"Yes, I have more important things to do." - Jungkook replies with a smile. "Give me Hoby-hyung, I want to ask him something." - Jungkook asks, but Jimin doesn't listen.

"So you two made up?" - Jimin asks. He's the only person (besides Taehyung) who wanted you and Jungkook to get together. Jimin and Taehyung have long suspected you of having feelings, but you two denied it, and now you've there, told your parents you're dating.

"Yes. Thanks to you, Hyung. I guess I'm forever in your debt." - Jungkook thanked him. Jimin laughs briefly into the phone.

"Not forever, but you will to do whatever I ask you to do. Let's just keep it a wish." - Jimin suggests.

"Deal." - Jungkook agrees without hesitation. He will always be grateful to Jimin for arranging their meeting in that café. "Then put Hoseok on the phone." - Jungkook reminds him. He drove out onto the main street to return home.

"But wait. I'm burning with curiosity. So how did you two start dating? Did you start fucking her, and then you realized you were in love?" - Jimin asks. He makes it sound dumber than it actually was.

"Why do you think that we started fucking before we started dating?" - Jungkook doesn't answer, but asks his own question.

"It was obvious. The way you were with each other. The sexual tension between you was obvious. You tried so hard to hide it, but you couldn't convince Taehyung and me. Besides, I know you were living together." - Jimin replies. His voice sounds like he's smiling. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"Jimin-hyung, you know you're really annoying, right?" - Jungkook said with a smile on his lips.

"Oh, come on. Just tell me when it happened." - Jimin demands. Jungkook exhales. Still, as much as Jimin is his friend, he will tell the truth if he is so desperate to know.

"After I meeting with you and Taehyung at the restaurant, when we were eating samgyeopsal." - Jungkook says, feeling a little lighter inside, although he tries not to show it.

Jimin on the other end of the phone instantly freezes. He laughs softly, but with obvious pleasure.

"Ooooh, it’s happening that night! You lied to me that nothing happened between you then. But I didn't believe you. Y/N's so cute when she's drunk, I think that's why you couldn't resist that night." - Jimin thinks out loud. Jungkook clutches the steering wheel. He stops at a traffic light and waits.

"She wasn't cute. You just don't know her well. She provoked me that day." - Jungkook tells the truth about your first time. Jimin laughs into the phone.

"Really? She can do that?" - Jimin asks through his laughter. Jungkook smiles too.

"She can do a lot of things." - Jungkook says, and he thinks it sounds polysemous.

"I don't even doubt it. So what's she like? Quiet or loud?" - Jimin continues, his voice sounding fiercely interested. Jungkook feels a surge of irritation. He doesn't want to discuss what it's like to be in bed with you, even if it's Jimin.

"Hey man, are you really that naive to think I'd tell you something like that?" - Jungkook asks.

"I know so much about your sex life. Why can't I know the same about you and Y/N?" - Jimin asks, offended.

"Because it's Y/N. You won't know what she's like in bed because she's my girlfriend." - Jungkook argues. Jimin snorts into the phone.

"Oh my God, can you hear that? Jungkook is really in love with his best friend because he's hiding everything about her." - Jimin sighs softly, still joking.

"Yes, I am head over heels in love with her. That's why I don't like the fact that someone else will know what she's like in bed besides me." - Jungkook says so that the topic can be closed. Jimin realizes this instantly and immediately concedes.

"I'm glad to hear that, buddy. I'm honestly glad you're in love with Y/N. She's perfect for you and you know I've been shipping you for a long time. I'm sorry if I crossed the line." - Jimin apologizes. Jungkook is silent for a while, feeling the tension ease a bit. His heart is still beating fast with emotion, but Jimin's words somehow calm him down.

"Don't worry, I know you were just kidding." - He says, relaxing his shoulders, but still not letting go of the steering wheel. "It's just... I'm not ready to discuss this with anyone, not even you." - Jungkook says, and moves the car out of the way because the light is green. Jimin laughs briefly.

"I see. I was really joking. But don't worry, my friend. I can see that you're happy with Y/N, and that's cool."

Jungkook feels his heart lighten, even though he knows they won't talk about it again.

"She's... she's really important to me. I don't want anyone else to judge her or interfere with what's between us." - Jungkook explains.

"I understand." - Jimin replies with a serious tone, though you can still hear the support in his voice. "You've known who to choose for a long time. And it's Y/N. Keep it up."

Jungkook feels his heart fill with warmth at his friend's words. He hadn't expected such support, but he realizes deep down that Jimin has always been his rock, even if it seems ironic at first glance.

"Thanks, Hyung." - He says quietly. "So, are you going to let me talking with Hoby-hyung?" - Jungkook reminds me what he wanted.

"Yeah, I'll put him on the phone right now. Just give me a moment." - Jimin replies. Jungkook waits until he's almost home. Jungkook hears muffled voices on the other end of the phone. Jimin must be saying something to Hoseok, and Hoseok is answering, but Jungkook can't make out the words. He's almost home. A few seconds later, he hears a familiar voice in the phone.

"Hey, little one. What’s up?" - Hoseok asks, sounding cheerful. Jungkook smiles involuntarily.

"Hi. Hoby-hyung, I have a question for you." - Jungkook says as he parks the car outside the house.

"Okay, but if it’s some difficult, I'm not in the right state to answer questions like that, right now." - Hoseok laughs. Jungkook laughs back.

"It won't be a difficult question." - Jungkook turns off his headlights and looks out at the street, lit by streetlamps. "Did we ever work with someone named Takeshi Tanaka?"

Hoseok is silent, obviously remembering. Jungkook hears him buzzing into the phone and later he hears his voice.

"It's someone from Japan. I can't remember right away. Why? Who is it?" - Hoseok asks.

"He might be connected with the supply of weapons. Rifles, grenades, and stuff like that." - Jungkook explained. Hosok is silent again, but only for a moment.

"Jungkook-ah, I don't remember, but that name sounds familiar. Let me find out more information and let you know. Tomorrow." - He adds quickly. Jungkook sees you coming out of the yard. Jungkook hurries out of the car to come to you.

"I'd appreciate if you knew something about." - Jungkook says. He blocks the car and walks to meet you. You are wrapped in your jacket and watch him as he arrives. Jungkook comes up to you and immediately hugs you. You can't help but smile lightly and rest your head against his chest.

"No problem. So should I wait for you or not?" - Hoseok asks.

"No, Hyung, I'm already home." - Jungkook says half-truthfully, not in a hurry to let go you from embrace. "I'll be waiting for information about this Tanak tomorrow."

"Okay, brother. Get some rest." - Hoseok says, and then adds with a twist in his voice. "Or work hard."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, though you can't see it.

"Have fun, Hyung." - Jungkook says shortly. He ends the call and puts the phone back in his pocket. You lift your head, looking at him with a bit of curiosity.

"Is everything okay?" - You ask quietly. Jungkook runs his fingers through your hair and then touches your chin lightly.

"Yes, my love. I'm fine. Why are you here?" - Jungkook asks, smiling and gently touching your nose with his finger.

"I went out to get some fresh air and then I heard you drive up." - You answer. Jungkook lowers to your face. He presses his lips to yours and enjoys the softness of them.

"Have you been waiting for me?" - He asks, forcing your lips apart. You smile.

"Maybe." - You answer playfully. Something dangerous but tender flashes in Jungkook's eyes. His lips are still burning from your kiss. Jungkook laughs softly, putting his arms around your waist and gently pulling you closer. He kisses you again, unable to get enough of your lips.

"You don't even miss me?" - Jungkook asks, pulling away just a centimeter to look into your eyes.

You bite your lip lightly, but he instantly runs his thumb over it, forcing you to let go.

"Maybe." - You repeat teasingly. Jungkook responds to your mockery with a smile.

"What maybe? You must have meant “yes”" - He says, leaning closer to your ear. His voice is warm, a little husky, and it makes you flinch involuntarily.

"No, I probably meant to say “no”. You were only gone for 30 minutes." - You tease him, hiding your smile. Jungkook tilts his head, looking at you with a sly smile.

"I probably won't believe you." - He whispers and kisses you again, this time slower, deeper, as if he wants to commit this moment to memory. You put your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster, even through his jacket.

"Do you want to come in?" - He asks when your lips finally part. "Or do you want to go for a walk?"

You decided a walk. It's a great opportunity to be together and clear your head. It sounds like you both need it.

10 days later.

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly winding a lock of hair around your finger. On the table was a cup of barely warm tea and a plate with a half-eaten cheese and avocado sandwich. You took another bite, but as soon as the cheese touched your tongue, you instantly twitched. Something was wrong. Jungkook that you were talking to on the phone noticed that you had fallen silent.

"Baby, are you okay?" - He was worried. Wincing, you put the sandwich back on the plate and took a sip of tea to kill the strange aftertaste. But suddenly a strange feeling appeared in your stomach - a heaviness, a slight nausea, like a wave rising from somewhere deep.

"Shit, I don't think the cheese was very fresh..." - You muttered into the phone, putting the food aside.

"Don't eat it." - Jungkook said. "Do you want me to come over and we'll have lunch somewhere?" - Jungkook offers. You are not hungry. Your appetite is gone and your nausea is getting worse, so you take the plate and put it in the fridge so you don't even have to look at the food.

"No, love. I'm not hungry anymore. Don't worry about it. Besides, I have a doctor's appointment at 11 am." - You say. The feeling of unpleasant nausea did not go away. On the contrary, it was getting stronger. You felt a little dizzy. You leaned on the sink, near the fridge.

"A doctor? Ah yes, you said yesterday, that you have planned a visit to the gynecologist!" - Jungkook recalls. "After that you'll have to make an appointment with a therapist to see you. I've been asking you for a week to check your condition. You didn't just feel bad for no reason." - Jungkook says. So since you came back from your parents' house, Jungkook has been telling you to go to the doctor almost every day. He wanted to take you there himself, but you assured him that you felt better after resting for a few days. It was just fatigue, nothing more.

"Okay, I'll make an appointment. But later. When I have time. When are you coming?" - You asked, going to get a cup of tea, which you didn't want to finish either.

"If you don't make an appointment with a doctor this week, I'll tie you and take you there myself, and you won't be able to convince me that you don't need to do it." - Jungkook said seriously, but it made you smile. You laughed into the phone, holding back the terrible nausea and dizziness. Jungkook shouldn’t know that you felt sick again.

"That sounds so threatening." - You said through your laughter. Jungkook exhaled quietly into the phone.

"I'm serious, baby." - His voice was a little softer, but still sounded harsh. "I don't want you to neglect your health."

You dumped the tea into the sink and turned away. With each passing second, the nausea became more intrusive, as if your body was trying to tell you something.

"I know, I know... I just have a lot to do." - You put on a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice it in your voice.

"When I coming? I'll be home early tonight. Around 7 or 8 in the evening." - Jungkook recalls your question. You're happy that Jungkook can come early, because he's been working a lot this past week and arriving late, when you're already asleep.

You called him often and he didn't mind, he always found time to talk to you. You missed Jungkook because you hardly saw him all those days. But you couldn't really rejoice because of this terrible nausea.

"Oh, this is so wonderful. I can't wait for tonight." - She said sincerely. Jungkook chuckled into the phone.

"Me too, my love. I missed you so damn much. I don't know if I'll let you sleep tonight." - He says in a low voice. You purr seductively into the phone.

"Okay, now I'm going to be burning up with anticipation. I've missed you so much too." - You say. Jungkook takes a deep breath and exhales, probably burning with impatience as well.

"As soon as you get out of the doctor's office, text me, okay?" - Jungkook said.

"Okay." - You answered briefly.

"Now go lie down for a while. Don't do anything." - You rolled your eyes.

"I have to go to the doctor." - You say with a slight protest.

"Go, but get an Uber. Don't take buses." - Jungkook orders. You smile.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Controlling Boyfriend." - You joke.

"Well, how could I’m not?" - His smile was almost tangible. "You're mine, and I'm going to take care of you, whether you like it or not."

For some reason, these words caused a warm wave of tenderness in you, which slightly drowned out the unpleasant feeling in your stomach.

"Okay, I'm going to go get dressed. And I'll order a taxi." - You promised.

"Good girl. I love you." - Jungkook confesses.

"I love you too." - You reply with great trepidation. You say goodbye and put the phone on the table.

But as soon as you take a few steps into the bedroom, your stomach twists, and a wave of nausea rushes up your throat so strong that you barely make it to the bathroom.

Standing over the sink, you breathed heavily, trying to collect your thoughts. What was it? Was there really something wrong with that cheese?

Your stomach was empty, but nausea still lingered somewhere in your throat. There was an unpleasant taste in your mouth, and an unexplained feeling inside. But you threw up, and it should be easier soon.

You slowly went to your room and picked out some clothes. You pulled on a warm sweatshirt and high-waisted jeans, and glanced in the mirror, assessing your appearance. Your face seemed pale, your lips a little dry. This sucked.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone to call a taxi. Your fingers hovered over the screen when a notification came through.

10:25 AM. Tuesday | Sunbae Ji Sung: Hi Y/N. I'd like to see you. Do you have time?

You raised your eyebrows. Why does he want to see you? You haven't talked to Sunbae since you asked him to get information about the Jungkook’s clan. That was before the new year. So much has happened since then, it's like you've lived a lifetime. Why would he want to meet you all of a sudden? You quickly scribbled down an answer.

10:25 AM. Tuesday | You: Hi. Is it something urgent? I have a doctor's appointment at 11:00. Can we meet later?

The message was read immediately.

10.25 AM. Tuesday | Sunbae Ji Sung: It's urgent, I won't take much time. If you want, I'll take you to the doctor 😇

10.26 AM. Tuesday | You: Okay. We'll have 20 minutes. Drive up to the cafe on Guro-gu called Passionate Croissant.

10:26 AM. Tuesday | Sunbae Ji Sung: I'll be there in 5-7 minutes.

You reply to a message and get dressed. You don't feel great, but your eyes are opening a little bit. By the time you get to the cafe, you should feel even better because you're walking.

You threw your coat over your shoulders, quickly checked the contents of your purse - phone, wallet, documents - and took a deep breath and left the apartment. It was a little chilly outside, but the fresh air helped you to gather yourself. You walked slowly toward the cafe, trying to push away the remnants of your nausea and headache.

When you got inside, the smell of fresh pastries mixed with the aroma of coffee, creating a warm atmosphere. The nausea was slowly disappearing. You sat down at the table by the window and ordered a cup of tea, which you didn't even intend to drink, because you thought you might throw up again.

Sunbae arrived a few minutes after you. He greeted you warmly and even gave you a hug as a sign of old friendship.

"I'm glad to see you. You have become so beautiful." - Sonbe compliments you, but you give him a skeptical look.

"Hey Sunbae, have you lost your eyesight? I saw myself in the mirror today. I look terrible." - You say, making the sonbe laugh.

"If you don't look at your eye bags, you've gotten even prettier in the last few years." - He says almost flirtatiously. You blush.

"Thank you." - You say shyly, touching your hair. Silence falls between you. Tea is brought to you, and Ji Sung orders coffee.

"Love has people's beautifully." - Sunbae say, returning his gaze to you. You look back at him. His expression looks sly.

"What do you mean?" - You ask. Sunbae doesn't answer right away.

"Do you remember our last conversation? You asked me to find you some information on Run Noir?" - You listen to Sunbae carefully, trying to understand what he's saying. "I remember when you said you were worried about your boyfriend, who might be connected to this clan. Why didn't you say it was Jungkook?" - Sunbae finally asks. You freeze for a moment. You feel your heart speed up.

"Does it matter?" - You ask cautiously. You feel the atmosphere at the table change and become tense.

"Well, I guess it does." - He finally answers, still studying you with his penetrating gaze. "He's one of Namjoon's closest associates. You've been friends with him for years, why didn't you tell me you had such influential friends?" - Ji Sung says, almost mockingly. You're annoyed, but you control your emotions.

"I see you've learned a lot about me. I didn't know I had to tell you my whole biography." - You reply, trying to sound indifferent, but in reality, you're feeling all tense inside. Ji Sung leans back, smiling slightly.

"Now I understand why you were looking for information on the entire clan. You wanted to see how much the situation sucked, didn't you? So how do you like your boyfriend's activities?" - Sunbae says unceremoniously. You don't answer him. He leans forward a little, his voice quieter, but no less intense. "You must live well on the money he takes from people."

Your fingers grip the cup so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You feel anger boiling up inside, but you try not to give in to it.

"Don't you dare say that." - You say quietly but firmly.

"Oh, so I hit the nail on?" - Sunbae raises a subtle eyebrow, his smile almost mocking. You stop talking as a waiter approaches the table with coffee for Ji Sung.

"You don't know anything." - You throw back as the waiter leaves. You try to control your emotions as best you can.

"I know more than you think." - He takes a sip of coffee, not taking his eyes off you. "And that's why I'm here."

You sigh, realizing that he's not going to let go. You are disappointed by this behavior of the sunbae. He's just like everyone else, looking for an advantage for himself.

"What do you want?" - You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Remember, my dear, you have a debt to me. And to pay it off, I have a favor to ask of you."

A debt. You'd forgotten that you'd promised him you'd do whatever he asked in exchange for information.

"A request?" - You tilt your head, looking at him warily.

"You're close to Jungkook, so you can help me find out what I need to know." - Sunbae says. You will not find out anything for him.

"What if I refuse?" - You ask. Sunbae stretches his lips into a smile.

"Then your name will be in a place it shouldn't be. And not only yours, but his as well." - He says as if he's telling you what the weather is like outside. Your breath catches in your throat. His casual tone makes you angry.

"Are you threatening me?" - You ask with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm giving you a choice, Y/N. You're a smart girl, you know how to make the right one." - Ji Sung replies and takes another sip of coffee. You press your lips together. Now things have really become even more complicated.

"What do you want me to know?" - You ask, as if you're making a choice in favor of sunbae. But you're not. You're curious about what he wants to know. Ji Sung smiles wider. You hold back your smile.

"Namjoon's clan is involved in the supply of uranium to Korea. Jungkook is one of his trusted men who is in charge for the organization. I need to know what kind of transportation and when the first deliveries will be made." - Sonbae replies. You want to hold back your laughter, but you can't. You laugh openly and almost mockingly. Sunbae raises his eyebrows and clutches the handle of his cup.

"You made me laugh." - You say, touching the assets of your eyes. You're not afraid of Seongbae and his threats, because you know that if you say a word to Jungkook for him, Sunbae will be in trouble. "Sunbae, do you seriously think I'm going to do that? I'm not going to tell on my boyfriend to you. If you want to know any information about him and his activities, please find another source of information." - You get up and want to leave. But he stops you.

"You owe me!" - He says coldly. You freeze near his seat. You turn to look at him. "If you don't want to pay me back, you'll be in trouble."

"One word from me and you'll be in trouble." - Now you're the one making threats. "Sunbae, I'm ready to pay off the debt, but it's this way."

He assesses your reaction, as if he's trying to figure out if you're bluffing or if you're really ready to fight back. Ji Sung sighs, as if he's bored by your heroics.

"Y/N, be realistic. You do realize that this isn't just your boyfriend. He's Jeon Jungkook, Namjoon's right-hand man. And sooner or later you're going to get hurt by him yourself." - He gets up and stands close, which makes you uncomfortable. He leans forward, his eyes full of hidden excitement. "I'm offering you an opportunity to get ahead of the game." - You clench your fists.

"You know nothing about us..." - You say angrily.

"I know more than you think." - He interrupts. "For example, that he's been living with you in your rented apartment for almost a month. And that he would do anything to keep you close. But have you ever thought about what would happen if he stopped being interested in you?" - His words hurt, even though you don't show it. It can't be that way. You love each other, and this man's words are nothing.

"Stop it." - You say coldly. "I'll pay you money for that fucking information which one did you get for me, how much do you want?"

Ji Sung smiles even wider.

"It's not about the money, Y/N. I could just tell you the amount, but that's not what I need. I need information." - Sunbae doesn't give up.

"Then consider that I don't owe you anything." - You say, picking up your bag and turning to leave.

"Think again." - His voice catches up with you at the door. "You have until the end of the week. And then... well, I don't want to scare you, but know that I'm not someone to ignore." - You give him one last angry look and walk out the door in desperation.

You walk out of the cafe, feeling your heart pounding furiously in your chest. Ji-sung is playing a dangerous game, but you're not one to give up easily, either.

You lie down on the chair, trying to calm yourself down as the doctor examines you carefully. The meeting with the sunbae, which had been so unexpected, had turned into something really horrible. He wanted to use you to get information. What kind of information? Jungkook is involved in the uranium supply. While you were in the taxi to the hospital, you read something about uranium and what it's used for. It's dangerous and very bad.

Is it suspicious why he wanted to know this information? He definitely wanted to know it for someone. Because he specifically indicated that he wanted to know how much and through what means the supply would go. Sonbe gave you until the end of the week. What should you do? Tell Jungkook?

It's only everything was fine, there was no word about Doohoon, but now this Ji Sung showed up and demanded from you to get information your boyfriend. That crazy.

Your body felt tired, and you could barely keep still as the doctor pressed her cold fingers on your stomach, listening intently.

"Are you in any pain?" - The woman asked in a calm voice, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"No." - You answered briefly. The doctor just nodded, finishing her examination. She sat down at the table, asking you to get dressed and sit next to her. She was checking something in her notes with a computer mouse. You got dressed and sat on the table opposite her.

"Y/N, do you have a register care with us hospital?" - The doctor asked, looking up from the monitor.

"Register? What register care?" - You didn't understand, looking up in surprise.

"The register for prenatal care. You're about three weeks along. But I don't see any records about you in our database." - Says the doctor. You freeze. You think you heard something. It seemed like you were about to lose your balance, even though you were sitting in the chair.

"What...?" - Your voice was weak, barely audible. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest. "By all indications, you're in early pregnancy, so if you haven't registered yet, I'd advise you to do so as soon as possible." - The doctor explained calmly. You couldn't move. You just blinked your eyes, feeling as if your consciousness was separating from reality. But how? You had been taking anti-inflammatory drugs and in some cases emergency contraception every time you didn't take your medication. How could this happen?

You are carrying Jungkook's child?

This discovery hit you with a powerful wave of shock. You didn't even know what to feel: fear, panic, or something else that didn't fit in your head.

You are pregnant. How do you tell Jungkook? What will happen now?

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#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au #jungkook imagine #bts fanfction #jungkook fanfic

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arliaeien · 15 hours ago

Text

This makes me think about my evolution as a writer.

My first long fic, as a new writer, I used to consider a chapter done around 2k~2,5k words. That's around 10 pages in Word.

Rewriting this same story one year later, it grew between 3,5k~5k. At the same time, as a reader, I was enjoying more and more the longer chapters (between 5k~10k).

There had been a long time while I only was writing one-shots, then engaging as a beta reader, making translations... To sum up: not writing stories, and even less, ones needing me to arrange a new story in different chapters.

Some years ago, I dedicated myself to the rewriting of my first story (the last I've done) and had those quite big chapters (around 7k), I was happy with, and that didn't make me think, except that one time, I had to cut one too big in two smaller ones. Those chapters were in no way a 'one idea, one chapter' thing like. The cuts were rather happening when there was a change about the place, and/or time passing.

And when I started writing the sequel of this 80k story, about the characters meeting monthly, I just wrote a one-shot for every month. Whatever it was 10k, 20k or even 30k.

It's not written in English and the fandom was almost dead for the last ten years. There were no readers (think like 30 hits in five years on AO3). So why should I have cared? The big one-shot was what I personally prefer.

Came year 2021. New fandom, existing fan base in English, no one in my mother tongue. And I've gotten this idea of post-canon story. One, nobody had done before me. Or rather, nobody had done it, the way I wanted it to be. It's this that has triggered me trying to write in English. ...probably succeeding, at some point. It is a 70k, in the end.

First long story in a while, whatever the language was different, I've kept the same tastes and methods, reflecting over the construction of the story, and ended up having chapter between 5k~7,5k. My goal was quite easy : three main ideas / scenes making one chapter. Providing long chapters to readers was what's important to me, because that's what I love myself.

Up to these last years. I'm working on a monster story (156k ongoing \o/). I didn't have any plan, starting writing it. My first chapter was a two-big-scenes, around 3K words, which I consider cool enough. Second chapter... was happening later, somewhere else. And I ended up having four-big-scenes, 7k words. Yeah, could cut this in two parts. Except number 3 was 3-big-scenes and 5k words. Go tear your own hair out. This was difficult to me. I couldn't work with chapters with sizes so different. It wasn't me. It didn't feel good. I couldn't see how anyone could actually enjoy such variations. How could it be considered otherwise than "Oh yeah, one long/short chapter!" / "Oh no, one long/short chapter!" depending on the reader's taste.

How long is not the point. REGULARITY was the point.

So my badly proportionate 'chapters' became 'arcs'. And every arc, was cut around 1,5k words. One idea, two maximum, and cut! I loved this. Writing fanfictions about one manga whose chapters were arranged to form arcs, it felt like respecting the canon better. Felt great!

...well, I was still myself. My goal of going between 1,2k~2k words for one chapter become 1,5k~2k. Then 2,5k. Today, I'm a little annoyed proofreading, having to fight against myself for some of them not going over 3k. Not too bad, but not what I wanted.

This to say: I'm living a paradox. The way I publish this story wouldn't suit me as a reader. 1,5k or even 2k a week is to me desperately slow.

I just can't. Re-reading some moments of the story for pleasure, or working on it, I usually go with 3 of them. Sometimes 4. All by instinct, not caring whether it's an arc or crossing two or more of them. Because the 5k~10k is what work for me as a reader :P

So, what's my point?

The ideal length doesn't exist. It's a matter of skill, and of feelings, but not only. My ideal length as a new writer was different from 2-years experience me, 5-years, 10-years, and now 18-years experience me. Sometimes I've cared about reader-experience, sometimes I haven't. I have loved the years producing the fattest one-shots. It's unrivaled freedom writing something. But even without arranging chapters, there were breaks, cutting scenes, the reader was able to breathe. And nowadays, publishing weekly for one year and a half, I use a format I wouldn't like myself but readers seems to enjoy (and that's strangely the same as the one I once used as a beginner : 2,5k per chapter).

...perhaps all this is a circle. ⚪

While looking for something else, I found an old ask I answered about "ideal chapter length" in terms of word count.

I've been asked this probably a dozen or more times, and each time I need to take a moment and adjust my thinking to take the asker's point of view into account. Because the thing is? The only time I ever try to factor the word count into how I write a story is when I'm aiming for a true drabble.

For whatever reason, this difference in thinking stuck with me today and I actually considered why that might be. And I think it's because I'm in my 40s and the first 25-30 years of my life, any stories I was reading were printed on paper and bound into physical books.

When I imagine a novel, I still think of a mass market paperback on my bookshelf. An average one would be maybe an inch thick, probably in the neighbourhood of 300 pages. A long one would be maybe as much as two inches thick and 500 or more pages long. A short one was always nice to have because it filled in the gaps in the shelf because 200 page books were so much narrower. Or so it seemed.

When I started posting my fic online, I still thought in terms of pages. I'd type them out in whatever word processing software I was using at the time, and I'd usually get a chapter's worth of ideas into 3 or 4 pages. Turns out that's about 1000 words, which makes sense with the number of 1000 word essays I wrote in high school. I'd been trained to encapsulate an idea into approximately that length.

And that's what it comes down to. The thing that always made that question seem weird to me. A chapter isn't about how many words there are in it, just like a cake isn't about how many cups of flour exist in each slice. A chapter is a an idea that helps make up a bigger idea called a story, and it needs to be however many words that idea needs to be to get it out.

#writing

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heli-writes · 3 days ago

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A dragon's heart, part 15.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of mate marks, trust issues

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: I know, I know... It's been wayyyy too long. What can I say? Live happened. Also, I was super unmotivated to write since I didn't know where this story was going. But... I had some intense thoughts about it. So... voilá!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Carefully, y/n traces the soft pink skin on her neck. She wishes she had a mirror and looks at the scar that Katsuki left behind. She presses her lips together. Right now, she's sitting in the tub washing off the grime and sickness of the past week. Ever since waking up, Katsuki has been uncharacteristically attentive and careful around y/n.

Part of y/n still wants to be angry with Katsuki but she finds it hard to be harsh towards him when he lingers around her like a shy dog who got punished by its owner. She notices how he tries to keep his hands on himself. Only late at night can she feel him touching her gently when he thinks she's already deep asleep.

There's a rustle from the curtain that marks the doorway back into the tent. Katsuki enters the bath hut without announcing himself. Quickly, y/n tries to cover up herself with her arms.

“Nothin' I haven't seen yet, doll.”, Katsuki comments dryly.

It sours his mood that y/n is clearly uncomfortable with him seeing her naked. He thought that after the marking, she'd feel more relaxed and secure around him, but clearly, that's not the case. Instead of strengthening their relationship, the marking pushed them back. Y/n doesn't seem to trust him like before.

He strides over to the tub and holds out some fresh linen for y/n. Hesitantly, y/n takes the cloth and gestures for Katsuki to turn around.

Katsuki turns around in defeat. He tries to suppress the feeling of annoyance rising within him. He promised to take care of y/n, but he also wants them to be happy, preferably together. This also means gaining her trust again and making her see that there's nothing for her to fear.

He hears how y/n gets up and dries herself with the linen. When he turns around, he helps y/n get out of the tub by extending an arm to her.

Y/n waddles into the tent leaving wet footprints behind her. Katsuki watches for a moment how the footprints start to fade before following her.

Maybe I should get her some slippers. The floor must be cold, Katsuki thinks.

When he enters the tent, he sees y/n wrapped in the linen on the bed brushing her hair with her fingers.

She might need a hairbrush for that long-ass hair, too, he ponders.

Y/n looks up and meets his eyes.

“Are there any fresh clothes?”, she asks him and points towards the pile of old clothes on the floor.

Katsuki understands and pulls out a dress he asked one of the older women to make for y/n. He picked the color red to match his eyes and Drami's scales.

Y/n pulls a face. The dress Katsuki is presenting to her is way too revealing. Not in a I-don't-like-showing-off-what-I've-got way but in a it's-way-too-cold-for-that way. Y/n shakes her head disapprovingly. She doesn't fail to notice the disappointed look at Katsuki's face.

“I can't wear that. I'm gonna be sick. Again. Do you want that?”, she tells Katsuki.

Y/n hops off the bed and strides towards Katsuki's closet and starts pulling out more suitable clothes. Katsuki watches her with a scowl. While he finds it endearing that y/n keeps wearing his clothes, he's a bit disappointed that she refuses the dress he had made for her.

When y/n has found everything she needs, she gestures for Katsuki to turn around again. Katsuki sighs and drops the dress on the bed. Adverting his gaze, he starts peeling an apple.

He hears the rustling of clothes. He looks up again when he feels a dip in the bed. Y/n sits there bundled up in way too many layers of his clothes. Katsuki thinks she looks like a drowned rat in it. None of her attractive features are visible in the baggy clothes she's wearing. For a moment, he wonders if that's how her people dress their women but then he remembers the dress she wore when they first met. Actually, where did that dress go? He should keep an eye out for it.

Katsuki sighs and hands y/n the peeled apple slices he cut for her. Y/n happily grabs the plate and starts munching on one of the apple slices.

“Katsuki, you in there?”, he hears Kirishima call from outside the tent.

“Yes, what do you want?”, he calls back grumpily.

After a short moment of silence, Kirishima calls: “Can I come in or are you indecent?”.

Katsuki can feel the blood rising to his face as he gets up from the bed.

“Shut up shitty-face! Come in and tell me what you want!”, he yells back.

Swiftly, Kirishima enters the tent. His eyes fall onto y/n who gives him a small wave.

“The missus is happy, it seems?”, he asks his friend and leader who only gives him a low grumble in return. Kirishima sighs and shakes his head.

“Look, I know you're the leader and everything but let me give you some advice: Spending time with the mate is all good and well. Y/n having a baby would sure be good news to the tribe, but...”, Kirishima starts and Katsuki throws a mean glace his way.

“... but you also should show your face around the settlement. People are starting to question where their boss is.”, Kirishima finishes.

“What are you telling me, Kirishima? That I'm neglecting my role as chief?”, Katsuki barks back.

Kirishima gives him a blank look.

“Yes, Katsuki, that's what I'm saying.”, he answers his friend. Katsuki growls at that and turns around to y/n who almost finished her apple.

“The men talk.”, Kirishima informs him.

“They always do. What do I care about?”, Katsuki answers.

“They talk about you. That you neglect your duties. That this foreign woman bewitched you. That the course we're steering isn't for the good of the people.”, Kirishima says carefully.

“What course?”, Katsuki snaps at him. Kirishima holds his sharp gaze.

“They say that you're in over your head. They think you're afraid and therefore you restrict the tribe's movements. Some even express that the plan of focusing on women probably won't work considering that your own mate almost passed.”, Kirishima explains matter-of-factly.

At that, Katsuki grinds his teeth. Kirishima is loyal, so he's sure the man is telling the truth. But who do these men think they are? They've never led a whole tribe, let alone trying to save one from extinction.

“Fine”, Katsuki says, “Then let's give them something real to talk about.”

~*~*~*~

Y/n watches Katsuki put on his armor. He's been on edge all morning and she doesn't dare to question him about what's going on. He won't understand anyway which will probably put him into an even more sore mood.

Suddenly, Mitsuki enters the tent. She's holding a bowl with a blue paste inside.

“You're a fool.”, she tells his son.

“What?”, he snaps at her while sitting down at the edge of the bed securing a dagger to his side.

“You can't tell me that you think this is a good idea.”, she says but Katsuki only scoffs.

“I'm sure you heard what they say. They start to think I'm an unfit leader. I guess it's time to remind them why I've become their leader in the first place.”, he tells her as he gestures for his mother to

come closer.

Mitsuki only sighs and looks disapprovingly at her son. Then, she steps closer and starts painting stripes and other patterns onto his face and body. Y/n watches intently. She notices that the patterns are different than the ones that were put onto her when she was shown off to the tribe.

“You know I shouldn't be doing this.”, Mitsuki comments.

Katsuki doesn't answer.

“Painting you for war is your mate's task.”, she tells him and Katsuki scoffs again.

“She'll learn in time.”, he replies.

Mitsuki throws a glance at y/n.

“If you say so.”

~*~*~*~

After Mitsuki finishes painting Katsuki's body, she leaves the tent. Katsuki takes a moment to ready himself. Once they leave the tent, it will be all high energy until he returns.

He turns to y/n who is watching him intently. When he doesn't say anything, she tilts her head

questioningly.

Katsuki pats her head and gets up. He grabs his sword and secures it to his belt.

Suddenly, they hear drums outside of the tent.

“The drums of war are calling us.”, Katsuki tells y/n, “Time for us to go.”

He gestures for y/n to get up and follow him outside. Y/n does so without complaining.

Outside, it seems as if the whole tribe is on the street. Y/n sees all men wearing similar paint on their faces as Katsuki. Also, they're all heavily armed.

Y/n looks around alarmed. What's going on? Are they being attacked?

Suddenly she spots Kirishima in the crowd. He's wearing a dim expression. Kirishima makes his way over to Katsuki and y/n.

Y/n oggles at the swirling red patterns that were drawn around Kirishima's armor. Katsuki elbows her roughly and she quickly adverts her gaze.

When Kirishima reaches them, he only says: “You're a fool, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I've been told so today already.”, Katsuki grumbles.

“I'm not sure if organizing a raid in Todoroki territory is a smart way of securing the loyalty of your subjects.”, Kirishima points out.

“They need to be reminded that I can easily kill them if I have to. The best way of reminding them is to wring a few necks of Todoroki soldiers.”, Katsuki tells him.

Kirishima gives him a long stare.

“I'm sure that's the best way to make your men believe in your leadership skills.”, Kirishima says sarcastically.

A blonde man passes them and gives Katsuki a clap on the back. Y/n remembers that she had seen him before on the day that they arrived at the settlement.

“We're gonna blast these suckers!”, the man whoops and disappears in the crowd again.

“Denki seems to agree.”, Katsuki notes and Kirishima sighs.

“Denki's an idiot. He'd pick a fight with a bear naked and still think he could win.”, Kirishima complains, but Katsuki only shrugs.

“Do you really think we'll have to fight Todoroki soldiers?”, he asks his chief. Katsuki nods.

“Considering the scouts report and the rising military presence even in the outskirts of the kingdom, we need to be prepared to fight trained soldiers with swords instead of scared farmers with pitchforks.”, Katsuki points out.

Now it's Kirishima's turn to sigh.

“Well, your plan for this raid better be good. I'd really hate to die because our chief's a fool.”, Kirishima replies and starts walking. Katsuki gestures y/n to follow him.

Y/n notes how the entire tribe is walking in the same direction. She didn't know that many people lived in the settlement. There are mostly men and some elderly people. However, she also spots some women here and there. When she tries to smile at them, they quickly avert their gaze.

Katsuki tucks at her arm and pulls her forward. Only then she notices where they are going. Towards the gorge where the dragons live.

The dragons are lined up infront of the gorge. Y/n spots Katsuki's dragon almost immediately. The red one is a lot bigger than all the other dragons, even the mean-looking black ones. At least the green one's not here, y/n thinks and shudders.

She watches as some of the men say goodbye to their loved ones and then heave themselves up on their dragons. She sees a man kissing a woman who looks just out of place like herself. She doesn't seem to enjoy the kiss.

“Y/n”, she hears Katsuki say and she turns to him.

Katsuki is staring sternly in the dragon's direction before turning around to meet her gaze.

“I'll bring glory to you and our tribe.”, he tells her. He doesn't know why he does. It's not like she'd get it.

Softly, he traces the side of her face. Y/n looks up to him with big eyes. He grips her hips and pulls her hips against his.

“I'll come back to ya.”, he promises while running his hand through her hair. Y/n steadies her stance by putting her hands on his chest. Katsuki runs his hand up and down her back before placing it in her hair again. Slowly, he pulls her face towards his and kisses her deeply. Y/n's frozen for a moment, but then she kisses him back carefully.

Eventually, Katsuki pulls back. He places a last kiss on her forehead. Y/n watches Katsuki striding over to his dragon and mounting it. The men cheer.

With a mighty gust of wind, Katsuki and his dragon rise to the sky. Y/n watches as the men follow him. The swarm of dragons set off east and the drums are pounded until the dragons look like tiny ants in the sky.

Y/n turns around and watches the remaining people retreat to the settlement. She's a bit unsure what to do next. Most likely, she can return to Katsuki's tent. But then what? Katsuki and Kirishima are gone and it's not like Nadia will be of any help. Speaking of which, y/n hasn't seen Nadia around anywhere. Did she not come to send off her husband? Probably not, y/n concludes.

Suddenly, a cold, strong hand wraps itself around her arm. Y/n whips her head upwards and is met with a pair of ruby eyes. For a moment, she thinks that Katsuki has returned for her. Of course, that's not the case. It's the woman that Katsuki argued with.

Great, y/n thinks, from all the people helping me out, it just has to be her.

Mitsuki yanks her arm and y/n stumbles after her. They walk back into the settlement in silence.

Mitsuki takes her back to her tent. Inside, her ladies-in-waiting are working on a variety of tasks. Mitsuki points her toward an ancient-looking woman who is sewing. Y/n walks over timidly and the old woman pats at a cushion beside her while talking. Obviously, y/n doesn't understand her but when she hands y/n a torn shirt, a needle and yarn, y/n understands that she wants her to help sewing.

Y/n isn't a great seamstress but she's repaired enough clothes to know what she's doing. Her family never had much money, so she's used to repairing things over and over again. Also, it's kind of a meditative task.

For the next few hours, y/n keeps sewing one clothing piece after another while listening to the chattering of the old woman. She has no clue what the woman is going on about, but she doesn't seem to be unsatisfied with y/n work. Maybe she's just trying to make conversation, y/n thinks. Y/n decides that she likes the old woman.

Eventually, the pile of clothes that needed mending is worked through. The old woman puts the clothes into a basket and with a few words to y/n, she's walking outside the tent. For a moment, y/n thinks about following her. However, the woman gave no indication that y/n should follow her.

Maybe I was just supposed to help out with the clothes, y/n thinks. She turns around looking for Mitsuki. Maybe the woman has a new task for y/n, but the woman cannot be found anywhere. None of the other women are paying attention to y/n, so y/n takes a moment to observe them.

There are two older women peeling potatoes. The women are engrossed in a loud conversation. A young girl is sitting next to them cutting the peeled potatoes into thinner slices. She looks timid and doesn't chirp into the older women's conversation.

Best not to bug these two, y/n decides.

On the other side of the tent, there are two other women around Mitsuki's age, sharpening knives. The one with the blonde hair and the black streaks looks kind of brutish. Y/n contemplates approaching them since her father showed her how to sharpen knives before. Before she can decide against it, she forces herself to approach the women.

The women look up when y/n approaches them. They ask her something but y/n doesn't know how to respond, so she only points at the knives. The women exchange a glance but then make some space for y/n. The woman with the blonde hair starts showing y/n how to sharpen the knife, but y/n already knows the procedure, so she simply takes one of the knives and starts sharpening it. The women watch her for a good minute before deciding that y/n doesn't need any help.

The three of them work in silence which y/n appreciates after the old woman has talked her ear off. Also sharpening knives is a more demanding task than mending clothes. Y/n has to concentrate so that she won't slip and cut herself.

She's so deep in concentration that she doesn't notice Mitsuki entering the tent again and approaching them.

Y/n continues her work and when she thinks the knife is sharp enough, she lifts it against the light to inspect the edge of it. When she lets down the knife again, she notices Mitsuki standing next to her.

A shiver runs down her spine. Gods damn it! How did I not notice her?, y/n thinks.

Mitsuki takes the knife from her and inspects it. The other two women and y/n watch her intently. Eventually, Mitsuki lowers the knife and nods. The blonde woman claps her back. Mitsuki barks an order towards the women and they go back to work. Mitsuki swirls around and leaves the tent again.

I guess that's as much approval as I will get from her, y/n thinks taking the next knife.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[It's been so long, I don't know who of you even is still reading this story. So, I'm probably going to reset the tag list.

Please comment beneath this update if you'd still like to be tagged in future chapters. If you don't tell me to continue to tag you, I won't.

You're new here and want to be tagged? Please also comment beneath the latest update.]

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

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interact-if · 23 hours ago

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Black History Month Author Spotlight: Lapin

To kickstart the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, I'd like to introduce everyone to our first IF author, Lapin (@harlequinoccult)!

(I had a ton of fun reading Lapin’s answers, and I’m sure you will too! Read on for a celebration of ‘weird,’ Lapin’s Black southern gothic / horror influences, and how a D&D game could lead to interactive fiction!

Lapin, thank you again for your candid, humorous responses, I am very honored to have gotten to know you better :D)

Author: Lapin

Black creole and cajun, artist and writer, and wannabe game developer

Games: Slaughter Squad (Horror, Slasher, Romance)

Synopsis: YOU HAVE A HUNGER A HUNGER THAT YOU’VE BEEN NEGLECTING For the most part, you’re a pretty normal mid-20-something year old who lives in a shitty apartment in the city. Well, except for one thing. Your.....”Associate” Carter “Dollface” Abernathy. Who is a murderer, and quite frankly, a sloppy one at that. And you’re the accessory to his crimes. No matter what way you’ve gotten to know the man, or how you feel about him, you’re stuck with him, and stuck with just being his little “helper” ........Or are you? Especially when you’re suddenly given a....Unique opportunity.

Games: The Valley of Luck (Fantasy, Adventure, Romance)

Synopsis: The Valley of Luck was said to be a myth. Something that grandparents would tell their grand-kids around a campfire. Even those who worshiped Lucian, The God of Luck, thought it nothing but an old wives tale. Until, one day, a man with an arm made of solid gold started telling people that he'd been there, that he'd seen the Valley. Word spread quickly, and suddenly, every continent was alight with the rumor that The Valley was real, that it could give you all the riches you could ever want, and then some. However, your quest, whether related to The Valley or not, will lead you down a much stranger path.

Quote from the interview:

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household… Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. … I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs….I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

Both parts of my family are 100% from Louisiana, New Orleans and the deep south. My moms side have been there so long, we have two streets named after us.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My main project, of course, is Slaughter Squad. I love slasher movies and horror media in general. But what I always noticed with horror/romance, at least in the visual novel scene, is that the main character is nearly always the one getting screwed over, so I thought, well, what if the bad guys actually are your peers? How would this dynamic change if they don't see you as prey? I never thought that premise would appeal so much to so many but hey, I can't complain! I adore seeing people having fun with the silly little concept I had.

Now, my secondary project, The Valley of Luck. Some may not know this, but this story is based off of a D&D campaign I DM'ed back in the day with my friends. All the ROs are NPCs that my friends had, or where going to encounter. I won't lie, I did shy away from it and changed some things when the whole debacle with Wizards of the coast (the company that "owns" D&D) Where making some...questionable decisions. But this story is my baby. My first born. This one has been in the works far longer than SLSQ and has a lot of background lore that I hope I get the opportunity to share.

I do have a few other projects bumping around, One I am particularly excited for, But that one will have to wait a little bit~

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household. I never felt that I truly had a sense of identity until that household inevitably split up. Everyone talks about being the weird kid in middle school, but no one mentions being the "normal on the outside but wants to be the weird kid so bad its painful on the inside but can't because you were told that stuff is 'white people shit' " type of kid.

Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. I was a little shitter on the internet, I can't lie about that, as much as I want to. But I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs....I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Let your characters speak through you like you're being possessed by a demon.

What’s the one thing you’re really proud of that you’ve written so far? Do you have a favorite character or scene that you’ve written?

I am so serious.

is it wildly inconvenient? yes. does it help your writing a ton? also yes. Doing Roleplay with friends is a fantastic way to learn to do this. being a DM for a D&D game has basically made it so characters can simply speak from my brain at any given moment. It's also annoying because some of these people do NOT shut up. Learning how a character would react on the fly does wonders for dialogue writing and character analysis. Roleplay with your friends, or hell, strangers who are down to clown that could become friends. Be cringe. be free.

I love the opening to Slaughter Squad and if you told me to rewrite it with a gun to my head I would tell you to shoot me. I love how punchy it is and it came out exactly how I wanted it to. I don't play favorites with characters (<- lying) but my two favorites to write are the stinky little bastard cat Sterling in TVoL and.....Carter, from SLSQ. I love writing complete bastards. One being lighthearted and gets a pass for it because he's just a kitty cat and the other you want to actively beat his face in with your bare hands. It's SO funny.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

Write. Write it now. Doesn't have to be good doesn't have to be polish all that matters is that you WROTE IT. All the bells and whistles can come later!!!! Stop thinking about the later and think about the now!!!! Write what you love and never give two shits about if it's cringe!!! Be excellent to each other!!!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

GO LISTEN TO CHROMAKOPIA BY TYLER THE CREATOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Lapin’s pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Lapin’s custom “this-or-that” pairing: Rain or Shine

More on Black Southern Gothic:

Black southern gothic can vary a lot, but when I think of it, I think of old semi abandoned wood shotgun houses in the swamp, all white tiny baptist churches where the white paint is peeling from the heat and humidity, riding horses down a dirt paved street while people still ride by in their old busted down 1960s chevys. Old plantation houses that have been reclaimed by the swamp. The dark, humid heat of the night on a street with no streetlights. Every house you see is absolutely haunted by something and not just ghosts. Voodoo and hoodoo is different than what people will tell you it is.

Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jessamin Ward, and anything by Toni Morrison 100%.

#author features #spotlight #black history month #interactive fiction #interactive games #if: features #itch.io #slaughter squad #the valley of luck #interview feature #game dev

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 day ago

Note

Hi! I find your information really helpful, so I wanted to know if you have anything on nymphs?

I vaguely recall someone mentioning Penelope from the Odyssey was related to nymphs but don’t know what they are or if that’s true?

Writing Notes: Nymphs

Nymph - (in Greek mythology) any of a large class of inferior female divinities.

Usually associated with fertile, growing things, such as trees, or with water.

They were not immortal but were extremely long-lived and were on the whole kindly disposed toward men.

They were distinguished according to the sphere of nature with which they were connected.

Examples:

The Oceanids were sea nymphs;

the Nereids inhabited both saltwater and freshwater;

the Naiads presided over springs, rivers, and lakes.

The Oreads (oros, “mountain”) were nymphs of mountains and grottoes; the Napaeae (nape, “dell”) and

the Alseids (alsos, “grove”) were nymphs of glens and groves;

the Dryads or Hamadryads presided over forests and trees.

Italy had native divinities of springs and streams and water goddesses (called Lymphae) with whom the Greek nymphs tended to become identified.

Penelope - (in Greek mythology) a daughter of Icarius of Sparta and the nymph Periboea and wife of the hero Odysseus.

Roman writers such as Ovid also used the nymphs to highlight the benefits and beauty of nature through creative works.

The tradition of nature writings containing allusions to the nymphs has continued throughout history. Particularly in the Renaissance, artwork flourished with the theme of nature and humanity. Poems, paintings, and other creative modes in the modern day have continued to enhance the longevity of the nymphs and their influence on the representation of nature.

The ancient Greeks had the beautiful idea that there was a “divine” part in all nature. This divine, energetic force breathed life into everything. The Greeks recognized the calming and therapeutic benefits of nature and sensed life within the trees, mountains, and rivers. Hence, nature was given visual embodiments, the nymphs.

In Greek Mythology. Nymphs came in various forms.

They populated and beautified the stories of Greek heroes, descriptions of the ancient Greek landscapes, and the home of the gods.

“Nymph” translates from the ancient Greek as “young girl,” as nymphs took the form of young women who were also nature spirits.

“Nymphs” is also an overarching or umbrella term for many different types of nature spirits like the Dryads, the Naiads, and the Oreads.

Nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. Ralph Waldo Emerson

As spirits, the nymphs could reflect the moods of nature.

Have you ever walked through a forest and felt it was cold and unappealing?

Or the opposite, a forest full of sunlight that comforts the soul?

The ancient Greeks identified the different atmospheres in nature with the moods of the nymphs.

Dryads took residence in trees, Naiads in the rivers, and Oreads in the mountains.

IN ART. Many writers, artists, and creative thinkers used the imagery of nymphs to depict moods and senses, set in the diverse scenery of nature.

Anthropomorphizing nature — when one ascribes human-like attributes to nature — is a common technique to draw connections between humans and nature, and yet, at the same time, it is a way to see humanity as nature itself.

Often in the modern-day, humans divide themselves from nature as something separate. However, with the increase of environmental movements, this narrative is beginning to change. We are re-evaluating our relationship and identification with nature.

DRYADS. The term “dryad” translates as “of the tree or oak.” These were, naturally, the spirits of trees, woodlands, oaks, pines, poplars, ash trees, and so on. There were many different types of dryads, but the rarest were the Daphnaie. If a tree nymph had a specific name, such as the Hamadryades, then that meant the spirit of the nymph was tied to the tree. If the tree were to perish, so would the dryad’s spirit. Conversely, if the tree were to blossom, the life of the dryad would be healthy and spirited. Dryads often hid from humans, but they could be playful. They enjoyed the company of Pan, the god of the wild. Fauns and nymphs would often play together. Their wild nature came out during the revelries of Dionysius when the wine god would bring his wild wine-infused parties through the forests. The Dryads would be all too eager to join.

NAIADS. The word “Naiad” comes from the ancient Greek verb “naiein,” which means “to flow.” This name is perfectly appropriate for water spirits. They inhabited the ocean, lakes, ponds, and rivers. The freshwater Naiads were more known for their light-heartedness and benevolence, whereas the salty sea nymphs were known to be more troublesome. The nymphs were often the companions of gods, and during their youth, would be the playmates of the gods. In one myth, there was a Naiad named Pallas who was good friends with the young goddess Athena. Pallas’ home was the Lake Tritonis in Libya, which was in ancient North Africa. When Pallas and Athena were playing war games, Pallas was accidentally killed. To remember her friend, Athena created a monument called the Palladium. This statue became an important relic to the Trojans, who viewed the Palladium as a protection charm. If it were removed from the city, the city would fall. They could inhabit lakes, rivers, springs, and fountains, and they usually had a preference for salt or fresh water.

Daphne, a Naiad, and her myth is one of the most famous metamorphosis stories. She transformed from a water nymph into a laurel tree during her lifetime. Her story begins in Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

Phoebus Apollo had vainly criticized Cupid’s work with the bow, but Cupid would have his revenge, according to the story in Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

And so, Daphne was cursed with a strong distaste for love, and conversely, Apollo with a great desire for love! The chase began, with Apollo pursuing Daphne, a heart full of love that would not be returned. Forced to be at either extreme, this was not a reconciliatory match.

Daphne, distressed, called to her father for help. He saw Daphne in her plight and used his power to transform Daphne into a laurel tree. Her spirit imbued the tree with life, and Apollo dubbed the laurel tree as his sacred image. From that point on, laurels would be used to crown the victor in the ancient Olympic Games, to honor and remember Daphne.

OREADS. The Oreads were the nymphs of the mountains, caves, and grottos, derived from the ancient Greek word “oros,” which means “mountain.” They could also inhabit the trees of the mountains. The goddess of the hunt, Artemis, is often associated with the Oreads since her favorite hunting grounds were in the mountains. Dionysius enjoyed the company of the Oreads, too.

The Oread named Echo was particularly famous in Greek myth. She angered Hera (Roman Juno) with her incessant chatting and so had been cursed only to be able to echo others, hence her name. Sometime after this, Echo fell in love with a man named Narcissus. However, Narcissus rejected Echo, and so she retreated to watch him from the mountain trees. Narcissus was later cursed for his vanity, and he fell in love with his own reflection, having spied it in a pool. He died from the curse, too transfixed by his reflection to nourish himself.

IN FICTION. As a rule, nymphs live in pristine, unspoiled wildernesses far from human civilization — a portrayal stemming back to Greek culture, which viewed the forests and mountains of inland areas as spirit-haunted places in contrast to the cities and farmland along the coasts.

If you're looking for these beings, you'll have much better luck searching among the shaded glens of the Enchanted Forest or hidden valleys in the rocky mountains than in urban parks or the woods behind your yard.

In Classical myth, nymphs of all stripes were an Always Female One-Gender Race; when they had male counterparts, these were generally either satyrs or male river gods. Some modern interpretations still use this version, generally treating their nymphs as either arising from nature itself in some form or as depending on humans, satyrs or other species for reproduction, but some works choose to discard the Always Female angle and include male nymphs, dryads and the like alongside their female counterparts.

Examples in Different Media

The Birth of Venus (Bouguereau): Inspired by Grecorroman imagery, the three nymphs illustrated are Nereids/Oceanids. Nymphs whose domain is the ocean and, as a result, can effortlessly swim long distances. They appear here to attend Venus' birth.

Hercules: Hercules meets Philoctetes as he is peeping on a group of nymphs lounging by a river. When his cover is blown, Phil is quick to try and catch one, only for them to turn into a pile of flowers and a tree. When he claims the nymphs were chasing him, the tree slaps him.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: Nymphs appear fairly often as supporting characters. A large population of dryads inhabits Camp Half-Blood's forest alongside the satyrs, while naiads live in its lake. In the early books they looked like human girls, even wearing modern clothing, though later they're described as somewhat elfin. Other nymphs appear inhabiting rivers throughout the series, including the Mississippi. Nereids are part of Poseidon's court, and while naiads do not serve him directly they still honor him.

The Chronicles of Narnia: Dryads are among the numerous fantastical creatures native to Narnia, and Lewis describes them in great detail. Birch dryads look like slender girls with showery hair, dressed in silver and fond of dancing, beech dryads look like gracious, queenly goddesses dressed in fresh transparent green, and oak dryads look like wizened old men with warts, gnarled fingers, and hair growing out of the warts.

Nymphs are usually depicted as beautiful female nature spirits, considered desirable maids by mortals and gods alike. There were many subgroupings of nymphs, but the most famous were:

the Hesperides (sunset nymphs who tend the garden with the golden apples),

Dryades (tree spirits),

Naiads, Nereids, Oceanids (different kinds of water nymphs), and

the Pleiades (nymphs of the Pleiades constellation).

Some types of nymph served as attendants to gods, like the Lampads (who followed Hecate around) and

the Maenads (crazed nymphs who partied with Dionysus).

Some Tropes Related to Nymphs

Painting the Frost on Windows: Nymphs were often held responsible for making natural phenomena occur; the Aurae caused breezes, the Hyades brought rain, and so on.

So Beautiful, It's a Curse: Many nymphs found themselves getting the wrong sort of attention and becoming victims of rape by male deities and monsters. Arethusa was relentlessly pursued by the river god Alpheus, Daphne was almost raped by Apollo and Galateia was desired by the cyclops Polyphemus, who crushed her lover Alcis with a boulder out of mad jealousy.

Spontaneous Generation: The Meliae were born from the blood of Ouranos when it spilled upon the Earth.

The Ageless: Usually portrayed as being eternally youthful.

Water Is Womanly: The nereids are sea nymphs and symbolic of the sea's kindness and beauty, singing melodious songs as they dance around their father Nereus and appearing as gorgeous women.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your kind words! Do go through the sources linked above for more details and examples you may find useful for your writing.

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4urvalidation · 2 days ago

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can you make a story where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her

Oh, why you gotta make the wheels in my brain turn like this 😩 Not a huge expert when it comes to writing anything Y/N related, but willing to give it a go.

Didn't expect to connect to this as much as I did, so hopefully if the inspiration still flows once I'm done with A Case of Limerence I might explore this story further.

As for now, please enjoy this little blurb.

SUMMARY: Three years ago, Kook!Princess and Rafe began a secret love affair that lasted for an entire summer, until her parents found out and forbade Rafe from ever seeing their daughter again. Now, twenty-two years old and somewhat sober, he spends his days working a dull office job at his father's company wondering if he'll ever get to relive the golden days of his teenage years.

That's when she shows up - his first love. His only love. With a husband and baby and Rafe's heart is almost on the brink of breaking all over again until he realizes the kid looks exactly like him.

CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of alcohol and drug use; sexual content - nothing too graphic but the implications are strong; Rafe is not a psycho killer, but a drug addicted fratboy;

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⸰ .° ☆ ° ☆ °. ⸰ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The term Kook Princess has been thrown around a lot in these parts, but no one seemed to be embodying it as perfectly as her. She was the golden girl; the good girl. With a pair of rich, uptight parents, designer dog and curfew. Never seen at parties, but always invited and if she were to come, she was always quiet, subdued - soft drink in a red solo cup pressed tightly to her lips; her loud best friend never leaving her side.

Rafe doesn’t know what it was that made him so attracted to her. With her honey blonde hair and soft sun kissed skin, she was light years away from his usual type, but then again, not quite. She was forbidden; out of reach, a conquest if you will and as a man who was never taught the word no, he too saw her as something he simply must get his hands on.

He spent his days scheming how to get close. They had no mutual friends, she rarely left the house and when she did she was always with her stupid best friend or her parents and yes - Rafe was fearless, but not to the point where he would openly embarrass himself in front of two of the most influential people on the island.

Days passed and he forgot about her soft smiles and the way those long legs looked in all those frilly short skirts. That is, until fate decided to butt in.

It was hot - the hottest summer they have had in years and it was his sister’s birthday and he was so sick and tired of her and all her stupid friends but then he saw a glimpse of honey blonde hair and freckled skin and Rafe’s entire world stopped turning. She was smiling: perfect white teeth on an even more perfect face and there were so many girls in the world; so many girls in his backyard in skimpy swimsuits, but at that moment, Rafe only had eyes for her.

He had no idea she and his sister were friends; he had no idea she even had friends aside from that loud, annoying one and yet, there she was: taking his breath away in a bright red bikini.

The following events happened in a blur. He had been drinking since 10 am that morning - perks of having his father and stepmonster away for the weekend - and he’d been laying on his bed, joint in hand when she walked in.

“Sorry,” Her voice filled his room and only when his gaze met hers was when Rafe realized her eyes were hazel and not brown like he originally thought. “I can’t find the bathroom.” He put the joint between his lips; his limbs limp with relaxation and he wanted to stand up; was desperate to move towards her and feel the warmth emanating from her body, but he was too fucking high for all of it.

“It’s okay.” She giggled just then and it was the best sound Rafe had heard in years. “I’ll find my way.”

To say that he was embarrassed was an understatement. He was fucking humiliated and so out of his mind, he could barely think of anything but that. The moment replayed in his head like a broken record of sorts; her soft smile on constant repeat and just as he was about to force himself out of the scenario the door of his bedroom opened again.

This time she had put on shorts: the tiniest Rafe had ever seen and her bright red bikini was blinding and hot and fuck - she was so hot and he was so gone. He’d barely made any conversation with the girl and he could already imagine their entire life together. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Here,” Sitting on the edge of his bed, she handed him a tall glass of water and watched as he drank. Her eyes were insane; the freckles on her face an array of constellations and she smelled sweet like cupcakes or strawberries and fuck fuck fuck he wanted to eat her. Trace his lips and tongue in the crook of her neck; taste her mouth, taste her skin, taste her …

“Feeling better?” He heard her say, her voice quiet and meek just like she had been all those years he’s been aware of her presence.

“Yeah.”

Rafe doesn’t remember how they ended up kissing. How the weight of her body moved on his lap; how she let him run his needy hands all over her body and kiss all that exposed skin. His shirt was off and she was practically naked, in his bed - just like all those times he had fantasized about her, except this was so much better.

His name escaped her lips softly, always in a form of a muffled moan and suddenly all he wanted to do is make her feel so fucking good, she had no other choice but to scream his name. And she did. She was so loud he had to cover her mouth with his hand and feel her lips spread into a grin against the calloused skin of his palm.

He was bewitched.

Charmed.

Fucking obsessed with her and for some reason this perfect, golden girl who could do no wrong felt the same.

That entire summer she had him off balance; sneaking inside her home; always through her bedroom window and straight into her bed where they made crazy senseless love. She was going away after the summer but Rafe didn’t care. He loved her. Sure, he never made it his mission to let her know this, but actions spoke louder than words and boy did he show her just how much she made him feel.

He was going to tell her - Rafe constantly made promises to himself but then she would give him those eyes and every word in the English language would suddenly disappear from his brain.

On the night he finally decided to let her know just how fucking in love he was with her, there sat her father. Sternly, with a pin straight back, he told Rafe to leave and never return. To forget her because she had already forgotten him. What they had that summer meant nothing and will remain nothing because Rafe Cameron had no business being around his perfect daughter.

“I love her.” Rafe said weakly, but it went unregistered. The man didn’t care about that. He could care less about the way his heart burst whenever he was around her; how he was willing to do anything, be anything… All her father wanted was for Rafe to leave his little girl alone.

She was smart, ambitious - with a bright future and big dreams and all he had was a bad temper and drug problem.

It all ended that night.

She was gone without a trace. So gone to the point where not even that best friend of hers knew where she’d disappeared to.

Days, weeks, months passed and Rafe tried moving on; dated girls that looked like her and when that didn’t work he started dating girls that looked nothing like her. He drank and smoked and snorted. He traveled the world and caused havoc and went to rehab and relapsed. He made his father proud and then disappointed him again and again and again and before Rafe knew, three years had passed by and he was twenty two and bitter.

His hair was thinning and he might’ve been a whole year sober, but every now and then he’d be itching for a drink and peruse the liquor aisle wondering which bottle of whiskey was worth enough to ruin his life with. It was this exact thought that had been haunting him one June evening when fate decided to interfere again.

It was his sister’s twentieth birthday and they were having her celebratory dinner at the country club for some reason. She’d brought her useless excuse of a boyfriend and because that wasn’t awkward enough, his father decided to invite one of their new hires: a software engineer named Marjorie that clearly had the hots for Rafe, but he was far too desperate for a drink to pay any attention to her.

And then she appeared.

Her laughter - that rambunctious, delicious sound - was the first thing Rafe heard before actually seeing her. And when he finally did it was like all pieces of his long ago broken heart finally fell into place. Her hair was gold and her legs were long and sure, she might’ve ditched the frilly skirt for a pair of sensible white shorts, but she still looked just as perfect as he remembered.

His gaze followed her as she sauntered into the room; her parents behind her and a man and a child and there was Rafe’s heart breaking all over again. She hadn’t seen him and it was probably for the best, but then Sarah turned slightly and suddenly, she was all his sister could see.

Smiling, Sarah had called her entire fucking family over. The scowl on her father’s face was unmistakable and in a matter of seconds there they were: having awkward small talk and introducing significant others and she was married.

The diamond on her engagement ring was blinding, just like her smile and when she finally looked at him, it was like that very first time in his room when she begged him to kiss her and he couldn’t dare say no.

“Hello.” She nodded at him like they used to be coworkers, but her gaze lingered - drinking him in like the whiskey he was so desperate to taste again.

“And who is this young lady?” He heard Sarah coo at the small child hiding her face in the crook of her husband’s neck and the word made Rafe sick.

“This is Phoebe. Phoebe… baby, don’t be shy. Come now, say hi.” The tone of her voice softened and silently he watched her pet her daughter’s head until the kid was ready to face the audience. And when she did, a pair of wide, curious blue eyes were looking straight at him.

Fuck.

It was like looking in a mirror.

A tiny, chubby cheeked mirror.

Even the way their hair was thinning is the same.

Rafe swallowed.

She was looking at him, those hazel eyes dancing on his face expectedly as if waiting to see whether the realization has hit him yet. All those years ago… she didn’t disappear because she had stopped loving him or because her parents found out…

She was pregnant.

He had gotten her pregnant.

He looked at her and then at his daughter…

His daughter.

He has a fucking daughter.

A tiny little girl in a baby blue dress and pigtails.

Their eyes met again and it’s as clear as day - she knows he knows and Rafe watched her answer his silent question with a single, curt nod.

He is a father.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #request #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #writing

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cookiesandbiscuits · 3 days ago

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Hi, there! :D

I saw the new event and it want to participate, If it is not too much trouble, I would like to request:

Type: One Shot Prompt: FRIENDS TO LOVERS: "But [Silver]… we are friends." "…Yes, but–" "But I would very much like to be more than friends." Character: Silver (Twst) x Fem Prefect

Idea: I was thinking of a scenario where Silver and the prefect become increasingly closer by spending time together in the forest behind the campus (where the ancient tree is)

It's just an idea, if my order doesn't convince you, you can discard it, but if not, take your time and don't pressured. Thanks. Bye! <3

Inexplicably Drawn to You

In which your unexpected friendship with the man you met in the forest turns into something more.

Pairing: Silver x Fem!Reader

Prompt: "But [Character Name]... we are friends." "...Yes, but–" "But I would very much like to be more than friends."

A/N: Hello! Thank you for sending your request! Writing stories is one of the main reasons why I made this blog three years ago, so I appreciate every request I receive in my inbox ^^

I apologize for posting this late. The editing part took a while since this became quite long. I hope you enjoy this story!

Other notes: Reader is Yuu/prefect; uses Y/N in place of a name

» 300 Follower Milestone Event

» MASTERLIST

It was purely a coincidence meeting him that day.

You have always been drawn to the forest—its lush canopy and the whispers of its inhabitants always leaving you in awe. So when you discovered the forest behind Night Raven's campus, you were so eager to free your schedule for a visit.

And when the time finally came, it was everything you've ever imagined. The forest was peaceful and quiet; a perfect place to take a break from the usual chaos surrounding you.

You were so busy admiring the place that you didn't notice what was in front of you and you tripped.

Something, or rather, someone, was lying on the ground where you were walking.

You wanted to say something to the stranger who made you trip, but the serene look on his face made you think otherwise.

Looking closely, the man, who was sleeping as you noticed, was quite handsome. Him, adding the tranquil backdrop the forest provided, made for a spectacular sight. Just like—

"Like a prince from a storybook..." you murmured.

Just then, the stranger opened his eyes and met yours, making you jump.

"...Um, hi?" you waved awkwardly as the man continued to stare at you.

He blinked for a few moments before sitting upright.

In a groggy voice, he asked, "What time is it?"

"Time? Well..." you paused for a moment to think. "I've been here for about 30 minutes now, and I came here at around 4 PM, so I'm guessing it's already 4:30 PM."

The man widened his eyes and stood up.

"I slept on for too long. I must hurry, or I'll be late. Thank you for your assistance."

He bowed, and before you could even say anything, he had already left.

You could only blink at how quickly everything had happened.

"What'cha up to, Prefect?"

You flinched when two hands suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders.

"Ace! You almost gave me a heart attack!" you shrilled.

"Haha, you shoulda seen the look on your face— ow! What the hell, dude! What was that for?"

Ace frowned at Deuce, who only sighed at his classmate's behavior.

"You shouldn't scare people like that, Ace." He then turned to look at you. "Anyways, what are you doing, Prefect?"

"Nothing much. I'm just drawing," you smiled, showing your sketchpad to the two.

"Woah, you're pretty damn good at this," Ace marveled as he looked through the pages.

"I didn't know you can draw," said Deuce.

You shrugged. "It's just one of my pastime hobbies."

"Ooh, who's this guy?" Ace pointed the latest illustration in your sketchpad.

It was the sleeping man you met in the forest.

"I don't know," you answered, taking your sketchpad back from Ace's hands.

"What do you mean "you don't know"?"

"I just told you. I don't know." You started to put away your stuff in your bag. "I never asked his name."

Ace raised a brow on your statement. "So you drew a guy you don't know? Like what, you got a crush on him or something?"

"Wha-?! No!" you sputtered. "I just thought he's pretty, okay? And I like drawing pretty things."

"Riiiight..." The ginger-haired teen smirked.

"I told you, that's not it!" you screeched, your cheeks slowly reddening at Ace's teasing.

But the boy only laughed at your reaction. Even Deuce couldn't help but laugh too.

You can only sigh in frustration. "Ugh, you guys are terrible!"

"I swear, those two..." you grumbled as you drew the wild anemone you found.

"Oh, it's you..."

"Huh?"

You whipped your head towards the voice. It was the man your friends were teasing you with earlier.

"Oh, hello..." you greeted.

"What are you doing?" he tilted his head as he asked.

"I'm just— drawing! Yes, just drawing this this flower here," you said, opting not to voice out the reason of your grumbling.

"I see..." the man replied.

The silence that followed was long. You thought the man had already left, but to your surprise, he crouched down beside you.

Unable to take it any longer, you spoke. "So, did you get there on time?"

"Hm? Oh, you mean the last time we met. Yes, I did. And it's all thanks to you."

You waved your hand. "There's no need to thank me. Besides, you've already thanked me before."

"But still... if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have woken up in time for my club activity."

"Ah." You recalled tripping over him the first time you met. "Sorry for tripping over you, by the way."

"It's alright," he replied.

".........."

Another moment of silence.

"Say," you started. "Do you come here often?"

The man nodded. "I find the forest calming."

You looked down at the wild anemone in front of you. "I see... I hope I'm not causing too much trouble for you."

"Not at all. How about you? Do you visit here often too?"

"When the time allows me to," you responded. "Though I try my best to visit as much as I can."

You turned to look at him.

"Since it's most likely that we'll run into each other a lot here, it's probably best to know each other's names, right?"

Reaching out a hand, you smiled. "I'm Y/N, and you are...?"

"Silver. My name is Silver."

"It's very nice to meet you, Silver."

From that day on, spending your time in the forest with Silver became a common occurrence.

True to his appearance, he was nothing short of a gentleman to you, always making sure you were doing fine during your visits.

You learned that he was a second-year student from Diasomnia and that he was part of the Equestrian Club with Riddle, and along with a first-year named Sebek, he is training to become a retainer for Malleus Draconia, the heir apparent of Briar Valley.

You felt at ease with him, grateful that you found a person aside from your first-year friends to open up to.

And he would always lend an ear to listen to your stories.

You found his presence comforting, just like the forest that has now become a special place for the two of you.

It didn't take long before the feelings of friendship you felt for him had developed into something more.

"Alright, I'm gonna do it."

You announced, clenching your hands with determination.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Ace asked.

"I'm gonna tell him I like him."

"Finally!" the gingerhead cheered. "I was getting sick of hearing you pine for him every day, to be honest— ack! Dude, you've gotta stop hitting me at the back of my head!"

"I'll stop once you stop being so rude," Deuce replied. "I'll be rooting for you, Prefect!"

You smiled. "Thanks, Deuce. I'll be off then!"

Giving them a small wave, you rushed to the second-years' classrooms, your heart pounding with hope and excitement.

However, that feeling will soon be crushed as soon as you reached your destination.

"This is it, right?"

You panted as you read the sign above the doorframe: "2-A"

You were about to knock when you heard people talking inside, making you pause.

"...Are you two dating?"

"...No, we're not."

You blinked, hearing Silver among the voices you heard.

"The Prefect and I are only good friends, nothing more."

Oh.

Your gaze fell on the floor.

Of course, what were you thinking? It's not like he was doing all those things when you were together because he sees you as more than a friend. It was you who gave those gestures a different meaning.

Laughing bitterly to yourself, you made the walk back to Ramshackle.

"So, how did it go?"

Along with Deuce and Grim, Ace greeted you with his signature grin the moment you walked in Ramshackle's common room.

You could only give them a bittersweet smile in return.

"What, don't tell me you got— mmph!"

Covering Grim's mouth with his free hand, Ace threw a bag of chips in your direction. "You know what? Screw that guy. He doesn't even know what he's missing out on."

"Y-yeah, Ace is right," Deuce chimed in. "Don't worry, Prefect. We're here for you."

After a moment, you sighed, feeling an immense gratefulness for your two friends.

"Thanks, you guys."

"Y-yeah, sure..."

"Pwah! Alright, that's enough! Are we gonna eat these snacks or what?" Grim exclaimed, having wriggled out of Ace's grip.

"Oi, Grim! Don't you dare eat all of the snacks this time, you hear me?" Ace turned to look at your furry roommate, who was already stuffing his mouth full.

Letting out a small laugh, you sat beside Deuce who only shook his head as the other two in the room continued bickering.

You really are lucky to have them as friends.

"Oh..."

You softly gasped as you bumped into the person you have been avoiding all week: Silver.

"Ah... hello, Prefect. You must be here for Professor Crewel's class."

"Y-yes, I am..." you replied awkwardly. "And you? What are you doing here in the lab?"

"Oh, you haven't heard yet? The first-years and second-years will be having a joint class today."

"Really...?" You felt your stomach drop. "I see..."

In that moment, Professor Crewel entered the room. "Alright, puppies, take your seats."

"As I have explained yesterday, we will be making Morpheus's Elixir for today's class. However, as this is a fairly complicated potion, I have assigned to your group a second-year who will guide you in making the potion. Failure to make the potion will cause you to take a remedial class, understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then I will assign your guides now. Group 1..."

"For Y/N's group, Silver here will be your guide."

"What?!" you exclaimed.

Professor Crewel narrowed his eyes at your sudden outburst. "Do you have any problem with the assignment, Miss Y/N?"

"Ah— no, sir. I apologize."

After Crewel left your table, you sighed. Just your rotten luck, you thought.

"Are you alright, Prefect?" Silver asked.

"Huh? Oh, yes, I'm fine! Never been better!"

"Are you sure—?"

"Yep! We should probably start making the potion now. Let's see..." you cut him off, changing the topic to your current activity.

"We need one teaspoon of stardust powder, three dried lavender spikes, five drops of midnight blue extract, one moondrop piece, and one cup of milk."

Before you could put the ingredients in the cauldron, someone grabbed your hands to stop you.

"Wait! Don't dump them in the cauldron all at once."

"Huh?"

It was Silver. You immediately moved your hands away from his, as if you'd be burned if you don't.

"Ah, sorry. The instruction said to boil them together," you said sheepishly.

"You're right. But the ingredients won't mix together properly if you just put them together."

Pouring the cup of milk in the cauldron, Silver continued to explain.

"You have to heat up the milk in low heat first. Once it starts to steam, put the stardust and ground moondrop piece gradually."

He then gave the moondrop to your group mate. "Ground this and the lavender, if you please."

"Wow... you're really good at this," you marveled, watching the purplish blue potion sparkle as you gently stirred it.

Silver smiled. "Not really... I just happened to be familiar with this potion since I used to make them whenever my father gets his bouts of nightmares."

"I see..."

After a moment, Silver spoke once again.

"I haven't seen you visit the forest for a while now..."

"Oh..." you paused. "I was just...busy, y'know... between doing the headmage's biddings, schoolwork, and keeping an eye on Grim, I haven't found the time to visit."

That was a lie, of course.

You just simply haven't had the strength to face him yet after overhearing the conversation he had with his classmate.

You wouldn't admit that to him, though.

"Then... will you be visiting today?"

"I'm... not sure."

"Oh..."

"......."

The space between the two of you were filled with thick silence which lasted until the end of the class.

Silver sighed as he put the cauldron away in the cabinet.

For some reason, you've been avoiding him for several days now.

Did he do something to offend you?

Mulling over the possible reasons of your avoidance, he left the lab and found you talking to one of your classmates.

He was about to say goodbye when he heard the boy shout.

"Prefect! I-I... I like you! Please go out with me!"

Silver remained quiet as he saw the scene unfold before him. It made his stomach churn, much to his confusion.

His eyes then shifted to you.

"Oh— um... thank you, but I can't," you replied.

He released a breath he didn't know he was keeping. How odd...

Suddenly, the boy grabbed your arm, making you wince.

"C-can't you give me just one chance? I promise I'll be good to you!"

"Wait, stop—"

"Hey."

Before he could think, Silver found yanking your classmate's hand from your arm, inserting himself between you and him.

"I believe the Prefect had already given her answer."

"Silver..."

"Tch, fine..." the boy said, irritated as he raised his hands in defeat and walked away.

After making sure he was out of sight, Silver turned to you. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah... I was just a little surprised, is all," you replied, rubbing the arm your classmate grabbed earlier.

He frowned. Your classmate must've gripped too hard that it even left a mark.

"Has this been happening to you regularly?"

"No, this is the first time this happened, actually."

He paused, eyeing your arm before speaking again. "Do you have somewhere else to be today?"

"No, I don't. Why?

"Then let me escort you back to Ramshackle Dorm."

"Huh?! You don't need to do that!"

However, he only shook his head. "I can't let you walk alone after that. Please, I insist."

After a few more convincing, Silver finally persuaded you into letting him walk you back home.

He sighed in relief as the two of you managed to reach Ramshackle without incident.

"Thank you for walking me back," you said as you opened the front door.

"Of course."

Suddenly, the familiar gingerhead appeared.

"Hey, Prefect!" Ace greeted. "...And Silver?!"

"Wait, Silver's here?"

Another familiar face appeared. This time, it was Deuce.

"Hey guys."

"Hello."

The two Heartslabyul students exchanged looks before looking at the prefect, who sighed.

"He insisted on walking me back."

"Okay..." Ace narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Trappola, Spade." Silver turned to the two card soldiers. "Can I speak with you two? Please."

The gingerhead raised a brow before looking at the prefect.

"Do what you want. I'll be going inside and sleep." You waved your hand and went inside.

"Sure..."

"Say what?!"

The two blurted after Silver told them what happened earlier.

"I can't believe he did that..." Ace sighed.

"Yeah, that guy's gonna pay for that... No man should force a woman to do what he wants," Deuce cracked his knuckles as he spoke.

"Please, calm down, there's no need to retaliate. I will speak to the teachers regarding this. I only ask you to keep the Prefect company, in case something like this happens again."

"Say..." Ace suddenly turned to Silver, his eyes serious. "Why are you doing this?"

Silver's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I'm asking why are you doing all this effort for the Prefect? Don't get me wrong, we're still gonna do what you asked us to, I just don't get why you asked us for help too? Most people in this school would just tell the teachers what happened and go their merry way at best, but you even walked her home to make sure she arrived safely. What does the Prefect truly mean to you?"

He was taken aback at the first-year's question. "The Prefect is a precious friend of mine and—"

Ace scoffed, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Yeah, right."

"Ace! Don't be rude!" Deuce scolded. "I'm so sorry for my dorm mate's actions. He's only worried for our friend. Don't worry, we'll make sure the Prefect is safe."

Silver stared at Ace, who was scowling, for a moment before turning to Deuce.

"Thank you. And Ace?"

"What?"

"I know you're worried for the Prefect, but I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt her."

He then slightly bowed and left.

"Oh, Silver. Welcome back."

"Hello. What are you guys doing?"

Silver eyed his two dorm mates curiously.

"Oh, I'm just helping this guy write a love letter for his crush, the Ramshackle prefect," the first student replied.

"Hey! Don't tell him that!" the second student shrieked.

"...You like the Prefect?" Silver asked.

"Oh, he's absolutely smitten. Wouldn't stop talking about how cute and nice she is. I got sick of it so I told him to write a letter instead."

"I told you, stop! I don't need everybody to know my business!"

"Hey, speaking of which, you're a friend of the Prefect, right?" Student No. 1 smiled. "Mind helping this guy to ask his crush out?"

Ask the Prefect out...?

Silver felt his his chest twinge with unease.

As much as he'd like to help his dorm mates out, the Prefect is his friend. And she just experienced something terrible with love confessions earlier. If he helped them out, that might make her uncomfortable, and—

"O-on second thought..."

Student No. 1's voice broke him out of his stupor.

The man, who was looking paler by the minute, continued. "You must be busy with other things. Please, forget we asked!"

Grabbing his friend's arm, he rushed out of the room, leaving the unfinished love letter on the table.

Silver could only stare at the doorway in confusion.

"My, no wonder those two look like they saw a ghost. Why the frown?"

He turned to look at the new arrival.

"Father..."

Lilia smiled, before noticing the unattended letter on the table.

"What's this? A love letter?"

Silver nodded. "Those two left it behind."

"Young love... How nice." The older fae giggled. "Who's the recipient?"

"...The Ramshackle prefect."

"Oh... You mean your friend whom you met in the woods?"

"Yes."

Silver frowned at the letter in his adoptive father's hand.

"Are you upset that she's receiving a lot of attention from her admirers?"

Lilia waved the paper in his hand. "You've been staring at this like it's your greatest enemy."

"Oh..."

He let out a sigh. "I'm just worried about her."

Lilia raised a brow, urging him to continue.

"One of her admirers physically harassed her earlier. Who knows what might've happened if I wasn't there to intervene."

"Oh my..." Lilia scowled. "How distasteful. Is she alright?"

"Yes. I escorted her home to make sure she's safe."

The bat fae nodded. "That's good."

"And then there's that..."

Silver paused, unsure of what to say next.

"What do you mean?" Lilia asked.

"For some reason, I feel... restless." Silver ran a hand through his hair. "Like I want to hide her away from the others. Especially when I heard that student talk about her like that."

"Hoh..." Lilia hummed, his eyes filled with intrigue. "...Are you sure what you feel for her is only friendship?"

"What?" Silver furrowed his brows. "What is it then if not friendship?"

Lilia only shrugged at his question. "That's for you to find out! It would be less fun if I told you right away."

Grabbing his shoulder, Lilia ushered him to his room. "Now then, it's time for you to think long and hard for the answer, okay?"

"The answer, huh..."

Silver closed his eyes and opened them again, his line of sight never leaving your table in the cafeteria.

A few days had passed since the incident with your classmate happened. The teachers swiftly made an action with his report, sending the culprit into a two-week suspension and transferring him to a different section, making sure that the two of you never crossed paths during classes.

Your two friends from Heartslabyul also kept their promise, making sure you were never alone.

It's also been days since Lilia told him to go find the answer to his own question. Unfortunately, he still hasn't found the right answer to that.

He brought his attention back to your table.

You were laughing at something Ace had said.

Seeing you smile like that, unburdened with the troubles your life here had brought you, made him smile too.

He'd do anything to keep that smile of yours on your face.

And with that, realization slowly found its way to him.

Why he became downhearted when you said you were too busy to visit the forest.

Why he was so upset about the attention from your admirers.

Why he wanted to protect that precious smile of yours.

Ace and Lilia's questions came to Silver's mind.

"What does the Prefect truly mean to you?"

"...Are you sure what you feel for her is only friendship?"

The answer to those is...

"That's what you get for being overzealous," you said, still laughing at Ace's story.

The gingerhead only pouted at your reaction. "It's not funny! Don't you know how hard it is to catch those little guys?"

"At least that'll teach you not to use the school's resources to make a quick cash."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, so stop laughing!"

"...Prefect."

You tensed as you heard that all too familiar voice. Taking a deep breath, you turned to look at him and smiled.

"Hi, Silver. Can I help you with something?"

"Are you free after class today?"

You eyed him curiously. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Then, can we meet in the forest today? I need to tell you something important."

You looked at your two friends and Grim, who gave you worried looks. You gave them a reassuring smile in return.

"Sure, I'll be there."

"I wonder what it is he wanted to talk about?" you said to yourself as you treaded the familiar path of the forest.

This is the first time you've visited this place since... that happened.

You shook your head and continued to walk.

Your feelings are still all over the place, although not as much as before. You've been trying your best to move on, but you are missing the time you've spent with Silver in this forest.

Speak of the devil, you thought, as you spotted the familiar figure lying on the forest floor.

"Seriously, it's a wonder how you can sleep in the cold hard ground so soundly," you chuckled, crouching beside him and brushing off the strands of hair blocking his face.

He must've felt your touch, as he stirred awake from his slumber after brushing off his hair.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

"Mm... Y/N..? Did I make you wait?"

You shook your head. "I just got here. I should be asking you that. Sorry I'm late."

Silver sat up from his sleeping spot. "It's alright."

He patted the space beside him, and you complied, sitting beside him on the ground.

The setting sun painted the sky in an array of colors, making you sigh in awe.

"Y/N."

"Yes?" you replied, taking off your gaze from the sky to him.

"I've been thinking a lot to answer a question I asked myself. And after a few days, I've finally found the answer to that question."

You remained quiet, letting him continue speaking.

"I am ashamed to admit that it took me to realize it after that incident, but I cannot bear to see you be with another man."

Silver looked at you with all seriousness.

You blinked. No way. Is he...?

"Y/N, I am deeply in love with you. And I promise to treasure you every day as long as I live, if you'll have me."

You gasped.

You thought there would be no chance, when you heard him that day. But here he is, laying his feelings out in the open.

Tears began to prickle your eyes.

"But Silver... we are friends."

"...Yes, but–"

"But I would very much like to be more than friends."

You laughed, your tears now flowing freely on your cheeks.

Silver stared at you in disbelief before pulling you in for a hug.

"You have no idea how much I've been wanting you to say that," you said between sobs.

Pressing your foreheads together, he began to wipe your tears with his thumb. "I'm sorry, and thank you."

Once again, you let out a shaky laugh before kissing him.

And as your lips met his, you found yourself grateful to whatever divinity watching you above in this world for letting you meet and love the man who was sleeping on the ground that day.

Tag list: @officialdaydreamer00 @cloudcountry @identity-theft-101 @the-clockwork-fiend @twst-beam @oya-oya-okay @savanaclaw1996 (tell me if you wanna be added/removed from the list!)

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wangxianficfinder · 21 hours ago

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Fic Finder

Feb 10th

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1. Hello! o/ I'm looking for a fic I saw last year on ao3 but couldn't read it, then when I looked to read it I couldn't find it.

I think the description said that: Wei WuXian and Jiang YanLi decide to run away together with Jin Ling, and after 13 years since they left the cultivation world, Lan JingYi finds them by chance.

I can't remember if the tag(s) or description says A-Yuan is with them or if the Wen Remnants survived and ran with them. But I'm sure the action takes place after Jin ZiXuan dies and Wen Qing is probably dead and Wen QiongLin is captured and imprisoned by the Jin Sect (Not so sure about the last part with Wen Qing and Wen QiongLin).

I also think the Wei Ying | Wei WuXian/Lan Zhan | Lan WangJi tag was also at relationships (I think, not sure).

I hope that helps, I really tried to remember more details but unfortunately that's all I can remember, I hope maybe someone finds this fic, and even if not, thanks a lot for trying and have a nice day or evening! <3

FOUND? it's a long road but we're not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 62k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, LWJ & LJY, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

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2. Hello! :) I’m looking for a modern AU where Wen Qing tells WWX (platonically) that she loves him, and he is surprised and starts crying, I think. She’s confused that he didn’t know. She may have been warning him to be careful about starting a relationship w LWJ or telling him that she approves if that’s what he wants. Thank you!! 💕 @sadgargoylesss

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3. Please help! I know this fic, but when I search the tags I expect it to be under its not there! Canon divergent au where the wen remnants survive by leaving the burial mounds in small groups and finding jobs elsewhere. Teacher Wei Wuxian who ends up founding a schooling in filing after initially starting off by looking after the little kids while their parents and grandparents work. Identity shenanigans, bc no one realises it's wwx who is running the school, including jwy who yells at him when the school gets in trouble for not paying taxes. I'm pretty sure the opening line to the summary was something like "like a stream flowing downhill the wens left the burial mounds" something like that. It's a long fic. At one point lwj arrives at BM to find no one there and thinks they've all died. This happens again when the Jin go to kill them.

Thanks for your help! 🩷 @theladypeartree

FOUND? Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, WangXian, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Mojo's bookmark)

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4. Hello! I love this page!!!

I’m looking for a twitter threadfic!

It’s about LWJ transmigrating from being an omega concubine to the YLLZ (and dying in childbirth) to becoming a newly-destitute socialite(?) and using all his omega concubine seduction skills to woo himself into being (?CEO) WWX’s sugar baby.

Meanwhile the socialite (or company worker(?) LWJ switches into the concubine position.

I remember LXC losing his mind a bit, LWJ scratching strategies off a list.

The thread so funny and amazing and I can’t find it! Please help.

Thank you!

FOUND? #4 is a thread fic by enigmatree on Twitter but apparently they have currently locked their account so I can't share the link. But if you're following her, the first tweet of the thread starts with "Tumblr post: tragedy happens because the wrong people are in the wrong story."

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5. Hi, I'm looking for a fic on AO3 where WWX was staying at a beach house for the summer with WQ and NHS and his siblings and LWJ was at another beach house with MM and Qin Su. And they get together over the course of three summers as WWX has a gay awakening and goes on a date with LWJ to the aquarium and they write letters to each other outside of the summers. I think it was called "summer of peaches" but I can't find it anymore. @briarrose45

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6. hi, i'd like to ask about a fic that should also have attached fanart (which is what i am looking for)? i thought it was caged by moonflowers, but i cannot find the art i'm thinking of, which is of lwj in a chastity device...the fic itself is a setting where lans wear chastity devices until marriage or something, from what i vaguely recall...? thank you.

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7. Hi 👋 👋 👋 please help me those ff 😊 . Thanks you ☺️ A: wei Wuxian learn music and talisman from lan Sect 's teacher .B: jin zixaun and Jiang Yanli not get married C: nie huaisang and Female get married. (wangxian ff) this female give wei Wuxian love letter. @richie-234

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 925k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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8. Hi okay so this is a NSFW ask and probably has been deleted. But basically lxc and lwj both feel like jc and wwx should get back closer and come to the conclusion that they should fuck them together and jc is like huh even though wwx is stronger and better than me. He is submissive and they hold hands and come to climax together.

I remember it has 2 chapters and the book was just about them. Some characters might have been mentioned but I don't remember reading about anyone other than the two.

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9. hi, i'm looking for a fic that may be deleted, if you or anyone might remember the title/work: it's a rape fic formatted as a 5+1 fic, where it's 5 times wwx was raped when he was unconscious/asleep and one time he was awake for it? the 5 times include with jiang fengmian & jin guangshan; sect leaders(?) incl lan qiren, nie mingjue; and then gusu lan? i'm hoping it's not deleted but i can't find it anywhere in my bookmarks anymore :(

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10. Hi, So I read this fic a while back on Ao3 I'm pretty sure it involved some form of omegaverse. The main points I remember were that bondings in the cultivation world were typically unequal with only the omega having a mark not the alpha. LWJ and WWX become bonded and have an equal bonding which is the norm for the Lan's (but I think the other sects don't known that the this what is normal for Lan's) I remember there was a lot of jealousy about the fact JYL did not have an equal bond with JZX @lysslov

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11. Hello! I’m having so much trouble finding this one fic, I haven’t read it in a while and none of my searches are coming up with anything OTL. I remember it was a canon divergent fic where i think jc and lwj try to save wwx from being thrown into the burial mounds, and jc loses an arm in the process. I can’t remember anything else about the fic, and it’s been a while so I’m hoping it wasn’t deleted or something!!

Thanks in advance! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

FOUND? Yearning for Miles by lovely_hina (M, 379k, WangXian, XuanLi, JFM/YZY, XiCheng, LQR/Sisi, JueQing, SangYao, XueNing, Time Travel, but not really, they see the future in a thingamabob, Slow Burn, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Fluff, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development Galore, PLEASE ADHERE TO IN-CHAPTER TW, Canon Divergence, wwx still loses his core) think this is it but in this it's only jwy who loses his arm after trying to save WWX, lwj isn't there

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12. I seem to have forgotten the name of this fic. In it, Wei Wuxian dies before the indoctrination and Jiang Yanli while imprisoned later (the Wens basically win) gives LWJ his notebook that contained a time travel talisman. LWJ then tries several times to keep WW alive and has to reset multiple times. They do get married eventually.

FOUND? 🔒 Time Reversal by AitchNKay (M, 63k, WangXian, Major Character Death, Time Travel, WWX dies a lot, everyone dies, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Romance, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

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13. Hey how are you ?

I'm looking for two wangxian fics

A) First: a modern fic where wei ying was dumbed by Jin zixun and was heartbroken. Lan zhan his best friend,who has a crush on him, consoled him and after that their relationship progressed. I think it was one or two chapters

B) Second: a modern fic in which wangxian are best friends but lan zhan tells wei ying one day that he is dating someone ( mo xuanyu) after that wei ying gets jealous and starts avoiding everyone. I only remember that's not a long story.

I hope u can help me thanks @smarti1997

13B)

FOUND? A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, WangXian, WangYu, Modern AU, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Pining, Denial, Drunkenness, Jealousy, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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14. Hi can u help me find a fic :(( in wwx's first life he keeps on sating ily to lwj but lwj keeps on rejecting him and then before wwx's death, he qas the one to say get lost to lwj. Fast forward lwj regrets it and when wwx reincarnated, he uses every chance to say ily to wei ying but wei ying keeps on saying thank u. Pls helppp thank uu!

FOUND? When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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15. Hello! I am looking for a specific modern fic where the characters were museum workers, or perhaps art gallery workers. I remember the fic went into great detail about how art and exhibit pieces were carefully catalogued, packed, and moved between locations. I can’t remember the plot at all, just that I was so interested in this logistics element which I had never considered before. Does this ring any bells? I would love to read again, thank you! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND!🔒💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Art Conservation, Museums, Painting, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Pregnancy Mention (Side Character), Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Past Sexual Harassment (Background Character), Masturbation, Sexting, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Intercrural Sex, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Head Injury, Injury Recovery, Hospitalization, Workplace Accident, OSHA Violations Probably, Hurt/Comfort, Hair Pulling, They'll Be Okay I Promise, incarceration, Past Incarceration, Forgery, Discussions of Criminal Justice Systems, Family, Cock Warming, Labor Unions, Discussion of Adoption, Adoption, Parenting, Honest Conversations About Maybe Having Kids, Flash Forward, Epilogue, LQR Being A Good Uncle)

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16. Hello! I’m looking for a soulmate fic, where the soulmate can write on his skin and it appears on the skin of their soulmate. Wei wuxian loves the idea of having a soulmate and is writing a lot, lan wangji never responding. Wei wuxian then thinks maybe he doesn’t have a soulmate. thank you so much! @needlovebeloved

FOUND? Deconstruct by flowercity (FaoriE) (T, 11k, WangXian, Soulmates, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, they’re so in love)

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17. Help, please. This fic is about LWJ who is a book author who wanted to use WW's illustrations for his book. WW told him he could not do scenes involving hunger and eventually that topic is brought up that makes WW upset. LWJ calms him down and tells him that it will help others that went through what he did. LWJ goes to WW;s home and meets Yuan there too

FOUND? 🔒🧡 “I will climb to where you are” or: the bunny book by ladyofrosefire, NotAFicWriter (T, 40k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Fatherhood, Family, Long-Distance Relationship, Semi-Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Past Food Insecurity, WWX’s Outstanding Mental Health, Panic Attacks, past parent death, Fluff)

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18. Hello! i'm hoping you can help me find this fic. In it, lan zhan has rejected his soul mate bond with wei ying, who gets quite sick. the moment LZ sees WY at like a cultivation conference, he changes his mind. LXC and LQR are against soulmate bonds because of Madame Lan. Please help me find it!! tysm for all you do @fingersrevenge

FOUND? ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)

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19. Hi. I love what you are doing. So THANK YOU. I'm looking for a fanfic on AO3. I think it's a time travel WIP. Somewhat crack. Teen WangXian eloped (?) and there were rummors about them adopting many children. The summary was about people (Lan Xichen maybe? and someone else) talking about how many children they had. I'm not really sure. Thank you. @whatevereveryday

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20. Hey I'm trying to find a fic that's about post canon Lan Zhan meets you get Wei Ying and they do sleep together and Lan Zhan proves that Wei Ying and him are together and at the end Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying that younger Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying and after he disappears Wei Ying goes to find Lan Zhan and he finds him with marks on him with probably mean post canon Wei Ying got to him

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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revna-writes · 15 hours ago

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Results of Writing Trade #2!

Trade with: @obstinatejules (actual living angel I think)

Results from the trade!

"To Build a Home" obstinatejules - Chapter 1 - Original Version revna-writes - Chapter 1 - Rewritten Version

"Le Academiae Artes Notoria" revna-writes - Chapter 1 - Original Version obstinatejules - Chapter 1 - Rewritten Version (wow)

overall thoughts

For one, wow, that was super fun. I'm honestly amazed by how well this entire experience lived up to my expectations lol. Part of that is definitely due to obstinatejules being so cool, she was super fun to write with and bounce ideas off of. Plus, I got great material to work with :)

But also, fun aside, it was so helpful??

Writing skills I grew doing this:

Literary analysis and reflection: I spent a long time reading the original and taking notes on a lot of stuff: the characters, their characterization, the plot points, what the piece means, what its themes are, what emotions it is exploring and how, unique aspects of the way it is written, and, 'what unique aspects can I introduce to accentuate and build on this foundation?'

Slice of life / fluff / fanfic genres: I don't have a lot of experience in these worlds, and It was really cool learning about specific phrases, tropes, ways of description, etc., and how to combine them to really make the piece live up to its genre

2nd Person Perspective: very new for me. It has its own considerations- for example, it's much more intimate for the reader, which is both its greatest strength and weakness.

Present tense: as a limited 3rd person past tense girlie, swapping to present tense was hard!! But also really interesting. There really are tense-specific ways to express things that do not work in past tense, and it was fun playing around with those & learning how to make present tense work for me. There is absolutely a different feel to the writing, and as steeped in past tense as I am, I didn't really realize it could make a big difference. I'm excited for the day when I choose to make a story present tense as an artistic choice because of the things unique to it.

Communication skills: Throughout this process with the chapter trades, you know, I'm talking to a bunch of different people with a bunch of different backgrounds, across multiple different generations. So, I'm having to figure out ways for each person to best connect with them, assess our expectations for what's going down, and then also our timeframe, what chapters we want to trade, and then any questions we may have about each other's piece. It's been really good to get me out of my shell, and also, it's helped me relax a little bit and communicate 'more effectively'.

There's also some more nebulous things, like, being intimately introduced to the way someone else writes fundamentally shifts the way I write ever so slightly. I am introduced to brand new ideas, new narrative techniques, new word choices for the same ideas and emotions, and I'm introduced to these in a way that is so much different than how I would see them as a reader.

Anyway, that's enough rambling from me lol.

Writing Trade!!

Hear ye, hear ye, it's time for a writing trade!

How It Works

You DM me, "I'd like to trade!" (or anything else that indicates you want to participate!)

We exchange chapters. I send you a link to mine, you send me a link to yours, we read each other's chapter.

We each re-write the other's chapter! In our own style, with our own approach, but hitting all the same plot points with the same characters.

We exchange the re-written chapters!

Okay but what's the point?

It's a great way to develop your skills!

You get to see how someone else would handle the same story!

You get to share and talk about your story (critically!!) with another author!!

We get to have fun together!! with writing!! (:o?!?!)

I want to do this with someone so BAD, hfdgkjfngkfd!!!! Seriously y'all i am FIENDING to do some cute writing trades.

If you are interested, please DM me!

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writeblr #creative writing #writing #writing trade

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keepingitformyself · 3 days ago

Text

older (and wiser): iii

A/N: well here we are! the final chapter of “older (and wiser).” this will not be the end tho! i plan to write a prequel series going more into depth about wanda and readers past, how they came to be, how they fell apart and what not. i do want to to make one more thing clear before you continue reading; this story is meant to be as realistic as possible. meaning the ending may not be for everyone. i specifically wrote this with intent of giving these characters an emotional arc they deserved. so, without further ado, enjoy this final chapter!

synopsis: wanda comes over for dinner one last time.

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst

warnings: it’s gonna be sad lowk. get the tissues ready.

MASTERLIST series masterlist

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

wanda spends most of the night back at her hotel, staring out the large window that overlooks the city. neon signs flicker in the distance, their glow casting fragmented patterns across her room.

she leans her forehead against the cool glass, letting the city hum around her, lost in thoughts of you. she imagines what you could be doing right now. if paul’s arms were wrapped around you, if he makes you laugh the way she used to. a hollow ache settles in her chest as she lets herself sink into the deep loss of not having you anymore.

the next day, early morning, wanda’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. she reaches for it groggily, only to find a message from you at the top of her screen.

come by at 6:30? here’s the address: 150 west 26th street, new york, ny 10001. see you soon!

for a moment, wanda just stares at the screen, her thumb hovering over the message. she exhales slowly, closing her eyes as a wave of uncertainty washes over her. part of her wants to pack her bags right then and there, to book an early flight and leave you in this city behind.

she doesn’t know which is worse. never facing you again or having to sit across the dinner table from you and your husband-to-be.

she spends the rest of the day mentally preparing herself for how this evening could go, running through endless scenarios in her head.

what would one talk about when having dinner with their ex’s fiance? especially when said ex is someone you’re still seemingly in love with.

oh yeah, your fiance used to look at me the same way.

of course, i know what her favorite song is. ‘do i ever cross your mind?’ by dolly parton. i performed it for her on our eighth month anniversary.

yeah, i paid the tech guy in the theatre department extra to let me use the theatre after hours.

the thoughts make her cringe, but the bitterness is hard to suppress. she tries to bite back the small, unwarranted hatred she’s developed for paul. everything she’s learned about him—despite her best efforts not to—has been nothing but positive.

he’s generous, patient, successful, and clearly loves you. and wanda knows you wouldn’t be marrying someone who didn’t treat you like you deserved the whole world.

it’s all pathetic in its nature. she should have been over you long by now. but she doesn’t know how to explain to you— to explain to herself—that leaving you is still something she’s trying to process. that even when she didn’t appreciate you enough, you felt like everything to her. you still do.

and she doesn’t know how to make sense of any of it.

by the time the sun sets, wanda’s resolve is still fragile. she dressed carefully, standing in front of the mirror for far too long, fussing with her appearance. she wants to look composed, unbothered. as if seeing you happy with someone else doesn’t feel like dagger to the heart. one that you keep twisting without trying.

at 6:15, she steps outside her hotel and hails a cab, clutching a bottle of wine she bought earlier as a polite gesture. as the cab weaves through the bustling streets of new york, wanda wonders what kind of expression you’ll wear when you see her. will it be warm, nostalgic, indifferent? she braces herself for anything.

when the cab drops her off in front of a sleek residential building in tribeca, she lingers for a moment before buzzing in. the door unlocks with a soft click, leading her into a quiet corridor toward an elevator. she steps inside, pressing the button for your floor with a hand that feels unsteady.

the walls feel too close. the air feels too thick.

by the time she reaches your door, her nerves are frayed. she knocks twice, her heart hammering.

four seconds later, the door swings open, and there you are, beaming at her like no time has passed.

"hi! it’s so good to see you."

before wanda can say anything, you pull her into a hug, warm and familiar. she exhales sharply, caught off guard, but she lets herself sink into it, just for a moment.

when you pull away, she notices the man standing just a few feet behind you, a cat in his arms. he watches the interaction with a patient, kind smile before gently setting the cat down.

“sorry about that,” paul says, laughing as the cat immediately tries to sneak toward the door. "he bolts every chance he gets."

then, without hesitation, he steps forward and grasps wanda’s hands in his own. his grip is firm, his smile genuine.

“it’s really nice to meet you, wanda.”

for a second, wanda is stunned by the ease of his kindness. she had spent so much time building him up in her head as an obstacle, an enemy, but standing here now, faced with his warmth, she almost felt guilty for ever resenting him.

“thank you for having me,” she manages, recovering quickly. she glances around, taking in the space. "you have a lovely home."

then, as if suddenly remembering, she reaches into her bag.

“i brought some wine,” she says, handing it to you. “the expensive kind. i know my stuff.” she huffs out a small laugh, forcing some lightness into her voice.

paul chuckles, taking the bottle from your hands to examine it. “i like her already.”

and just like that, wanda knows this is going to hurt more than she thought.

dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and well-meaning smiles. paul is gracious, effortlessly kind, and wanda hates how easy it is to like him. she hates that there’s nothing about him to hate at all.

she watches the way you lean into him when you laugh, how his hand absentmindedly finds yours on the table. it’s second nature, the kind of comfort that only comes with time, with certainty.

and wanda knows, without question, that she has none of those things with you anymore.

paul has made it a habit to ask about how you and wanda met. even though she’s sure he already knows most of the story, he’s always genuine in wanting to hear more, especially the parts you tend to leave out.

“you got any funny stories about this one?” paul asks, flashing wanda a pointed smile. “something embarrassing, please.”

wanda huffs out a quiet laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. she has plenty. but as she glances between you and paul, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. some memories feel lighter than others. some carry more weight than she knows what to do with.

still, when she sees the way you’re watching her; curious, amused, trusting, she decides to tell it.

“oh, i’ve got one,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “back in college, we tried to break into the theatre department after hours. it wasn’t really breaking in, technically, the door was open, but we definitely weren’t supposed to be there. they had this whole wire rig set up for the upcoming peter pan production, and somebody—” she tilts her chin toward you “—thought it would be a great idea to try it out.”

paul turns to you, amused. “why am i not surprised?”

you groan, already bracing for the rest of the story. wanda smirks but continues, her voice softer now.

“so, there she was, strapped into this ridiculous harness, so sure she was about to soar across the stage like some theatrical prodigy. but the second she tried to lift off, the harness jammed, and instead of flying, she was just—”

“i was dangling there,” you chime in, groaning at the memory. “like some tragic shakespearean ghost.”

“and then, of course, security walks in,” she says, shaking her head. “and instead of, i don’t know, explaining, she panicked and yelled, ‘i have done the deed. didst thou not hear a noise?’”

paul bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. “you did not.”

“she did,” wanda confirms, laughing softly. “the security guy just stood there for a second, like he was reconsidering every choice that led him to that moment, then sighed and said, ‘get down.’”

paul grins, shaking his head. “so, what happened next?”

“i had to help her out of the harness before we both got kicked out,” wanda says. “and then we ran. fast.” she pauses, her smile dimming just a little. “ended up at that all-night diner by campus instead. sat there for hours, drinking burnt coffee, still laughing about it.”

her voice drifts for a moment, lost in the memory. you swallow, feeling something heavy settle in your chest, but before the silence can stretch too long, you force out a small chuckle.

“i could’ve flown,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a little more time.”

wanda looks at you then, and there’s something in her gaze. something paul doesn’t quite catch, but you do.

“yeah,” she murmurs. “maybe you just needed more time.”

paul laughs again, unaware of the way wanda’s fingers tighten around her glass. “you two were absolute menaces, huh?”

and just like that, the moment passes. the air lightens again, and Wanda takes another sip of her wine. but the memory lingers between you, heavier than it should be.

“did she ever tell you that we watch some of your movies sometimes?” paul cuts in, his eyes bright with genuine curiosity. there’s an eager energy to him, the kind that makes it clear he isn’t just saying it to be polite—he actually wants to talk about her work.

wanda raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh?”

you offer a small, sheepish smile, and paul continues before you can respond.

“i mean, seriously,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “i’m already a pretty emotional guy, but your movies? they wreck me.”

wanda lets out a soft, amused laugh, her fingers absently tracing the stem of her wine glass. “that’s very kind of you to say.” she takes a slow sip before adding, almost offhandedly, “i guess i just have a thing for playing characters in distress.”

paul barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “yeah, well, you do it very well. it’s almost unfair.”

wanda smirks, but there’s something thoughtful in the way she tilts her head, as if considering his words. then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she leans in slightly and says, “i take it you’re a crier, then?”

paul places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “absolutely. no shame.”

that earns a more genuine laugh from wanda, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eases. the air between the three of you feels a little lighter.

when the plates are empty and the conversation slows, paul pushes back his chair with a contented sigh.

“i’ll start on the dishes,” he says, already stacking plates. “you two should catch up.”

you smile at him, appreciative, and wanda feels something twist in her chest. she shouldn’t be here. she doesn’t belong here.

still, she doesn’t move.

you refill your wine glass and lean back in your chair, watching her carefully. wanda swirls what’s left in her own glass, staring at the deep red before speaking.

“maybe i should’ve tried to convince you to run off with me,” she jokes, her voice light, almost teasing.

but when she finally looks up, she sees the way your expression falters, just for a second. you know, both of you do, that it isn’t really a joke.

you let out a small breath, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “that wouldn’t have changed anything, wanda.”

“wouldn’t it?” she asks, a little too quickly.

your eyes search hers, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the past is sitting between you, untouched, waiting.

wanda wonders if there’s a universe where you had run off together. if there’s a version of you out there, tangled up in her arms instead of in someone else’s.

she swallows hard. “i wish i had tried a little harder.”

your face softens, but it’s not enough to undo the distance between you. “you couldn’t help it,” you say, voice gentle.

"i could have," she insists, her hands gripping the stem of her glass a little too tightly. there’s frustration in her voice, but beneath it, there’s something raw. regret, maybe.

you don’t argue. you won’t. because the truth is, she could have.

"yeah," you admit, barely above a whisper. "maybe."

silence settles between you. wanda watches as your gaze shifts toward the window, toward the street where people pass by, oblivious to the ache sitting between you both.

she doesn’t know what she was expecting. maybe some kind of reassurance that she still lingers in your mind the way you linger in hers. that if things had been different, if she had been different, this could have been her home, her life.

but you don’t give her that.

paul’s voice calls from the kitchen. “babe, where’s the dish soap?”

you blink, turning toward the sound, and the spell is broken.

wanda forces a smile, downing the last of her wine before standing. “i should get going.”

you don't question it.

you grab wanda’s coat from the rack and walk her to the door. she doesn’t ask you to, but neither of you are quite ready for the night to end without one last moment.

“leaving so soon?” paul asks suddenly, his voice light but tinged with something unreadable. both you and wanda turn to face him.

she nods apologetically, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “i have an early flight tomorrow,” she admits, offering a small, regretful smile.

“oh.” paul’s disappointment is subtle but there, it flickers in his eyes before he shapes his expression into something more polite. “well, it was really nice meeting you, wanda.”

you glance at him, catching the way he shifts slightly, rubbing his thumb over the inside of his palm. a small habit of his when he’s holding something back. you wonder, briefly, if tonight was difficult for him too, if he’s been carrying the weight of this evening the same way you have. you decide you’ll ask him about it later.

stepping forward, you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the way his jaw relaxes at the familiar gesture. his hand finds yours easily, his fingers warm and steady against your own.

“i’m just gonna walk her out,” you murmur, giving his hand a small squeeze.

paul nods, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he offers wanda another polite smile. “safe travels,” he says, his voice kind, sincere.

as you lead wanda toward the door, you feel the weight of paul’s gaze lingering on you, as if he knows that this goodbye is heavier than it appears.

the air outside is crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. wanda stands beside you on the curb, her arms wrapped around herself despite the warmth of her coat. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a second, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of something you’ll never get back.

her uber is a few minutes away. that’s all the time you have left.

she exhales softly, eyes fixed on the passing cars. then, as if she’s been holding it in all night, she finally asks, “do you think we could have worked things out? if we had been different people? under different circumstances?”

the question hits you. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. because the truth is, you don’t know.

maybe in another life. maybe in a world where you didn’t leave the hotel before she could see you, where you both didn’t have to love each other from a distance, where you didn’t have to wonder if loving her meant waiting for something that wasn’t enough.

but this isn’t that world.

you swallow hard, staring down at the pavement. “i don’t know, wanda.”

she nods, as if she expected that answer, but the sadness in her eyes deepens anyway. “me neither.”

the uber pulls up, headlights cutting through the night, and you both turn toward it. this is it. the real goodbye.

wanda hesitates, then reaches for you, pulling you into one last embrace. you don’t know who’s holding onto who tighter. when she pulls away, her hand lingers on your arm for a second too long before she finally steps back.

“take care of yourself,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you give her a tight-lipped smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you too, wanda.”

she slides into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, you stand frozen on the sidewalk, watching until the taillights disappear around the corner.

and then it hits you.

the weight of it all crashes down at once. the grief, the finality, the understanding that there are some lives you’ll never get to live, some love stories that will never get their second chance.

you press a hand to your mouth as your chest tightens, eyes stinging, but you force yourself to turn back toward the building before you fall apart completely.

when you step into the lobby, you’re not surprised to see paul waiting by the elevator. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t have to.

the moment you reach him, you break.

a choked sob escapes you as you fall into his arms, and he holds you without hesitation, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple. and you believe him.

because this was never about leaving him.

you love paul. you’ve never questioned that.

but love doesn’t erase the what-ifs. it doesn’t quiet the ache of knowing there’s a version of you out there who loved wanda differently, who had a life that was beautiful in its own way. one that you’ll never get to live.

paul presses a kiss to your hair and just holds you, letting you mourn what could have been.

and when you’re finally ready, he walks you up.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagines

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mangionebabymama · 2 days ago

Note

hey there! it’s “lulu feels too hard” anon back with another mini rant (not really a rant, more like an observation haha)

It’s in the same vein of him feeling emotions hard, but i think one thing that needs to be emphasized in this dynamic is how much he’s tried to subdue his emotions – and i don’t just mean recently. in many clips from his prep school days, like when he’s getting an award for example, you can see him smiling like a bit, but then cutting back to this neutral expression. Funny enough, it’s his eyebrows that always give him away loool. It’s similar to how he acts in the court hearing, full of expression, but then immediately goes back to a stoic, neutral expression. There’s even moments like this in some of the clips from Hawaii.

I guess my point is, how much was he taught to mask his emotions, and put up a front. It seems to me that he was brought up in a collective environment where the saying goes “always put your best foot forward, regardless of the circumstance”. I can understand this, coming from a family with similar values of “you represent the family name, your success is our success.”

i think though, that this seems to be what makes lulu resonate with so many of us: he’s empathetic, despite trying to be stoic. There’s a duality about him – the confident Ivy League scholar and the vulnerable, empathetic people pleasing boy who seeks affirmation one way or another.

but I think under this guise of putting your best foot forward, combined with a sense of always showing your masculinity that many guys of that age are pressured to do (and let’s not forget that for most of his schooling he attended an all boys school so there is that sort of “our boys” culture that’s pervasive in these realms), he had to hide the other part of him which felt so deeply, so hard.

it reminds me of one of his Reddit posts talking about his issues with Brain Fog, and how he initially never thought to talk about it with his friends, and instead masked it under this idea of “oh well, marks don’t matter for computer science majors” even though he was hurting and feeling so disappointed in himself to the point of contemplating dropping out. But the part that sticks out to me the most is what he said after in the post about even if you do end up telling them, if you wait too long, it’s almost like they won’t believe you (or something along those lines). And idk, that’s just such a heartbreaking way to think and it makes me sad for him. He internalized so much it seems. And truthfully, I’m not blaming anyone in his circle (family/friends) because I think part of it was also lulu never wanting to seem weak, which unfortunately clouded his vision of seeing that there were people who probably may have wanted to help. It’s just an all around sad circumstance :(

Sorry for the long write up, don’t feel like you need to provide a long response too! (haha i guess in some ways, i relate to lulu too :)

No, no, please don’t apologize for writing this, you captured this so well! 🥺 I wish I had more to add on, but you literally took all the words out of mine and emphasized on this beautifully.

I also think there’s that duality of having an internal vs. external struggle, where he could easily show and offer empathy towards others like it was nothing, but when it came to himself, it was a completely different story to extend grace. I know he had to internalize a lot, and the physical exertion of carrying all that weight on him had to have shown. I remember somebody mentioning how when he’s in deep thought in some photos, you see all the lines on his forehead—and there’s a lot of them, and once you notice them all crinkled, you’ll never not look at them in other photos. So, he literally has/had so much on his mind.

Reading that part of about his brain fog, about the irony of opening up too soon to your friends, fucked me up, to be truthful. I similarity dealt with this about two years ago, when I experienced two close familial deaths within a month before I started my senior year of college, and I was grieving hard. So many people that I know looked at me and considering my bereavement with the “strong Black woman” trope because I do have a strong personality, and I’ve experienced a lot of hardship in my life, so some felt like that I was gonna be alright, regardless, and kind of brushed off my grief like, “Oh, she’ll be alright, you’ve always managed to go through things” but no, lol. It’s the reality that I think, that many of the “strongest” friends in the group more often than not, face, surprisingly, contrary to belief—it happens all the time. When you’re commended to be a strong, resilient person, people don’t consider you to be weak, as in, you can’t persevere through struggles, but if you do, you’ll be fine, and the suffering won’t take much of an effect on you. But, like anyone else in this world, it still hurts, and it’s still acceptable to just give yourself the space to say that it sucks, and it hurts to be hurting. It’s sort of like, you have that universal perception of what it means to be hurt, but you can’t express that you’re hurt in the same breath.

#💚 mangionebabymama asks

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eclipixels · 3 hours ago

Text

Our past?

Sylus x Reader

Content: After discovering your past life with Sylus and his promise to restore your memories, you find yourself eager to hear the stories of your past from him.

Warnings: : slight angst if you squint your eyes

[2,118 words]

A/N: Sylus’s myth has been weighing on my mind, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. Forbidden love?? Like?? Ugh. I had to write something to make it hurt less :’).

After discovering the truth about your past life, a storm of emotions had raged within you. Anger, betrayal, disbelief. How could Sylus have kept something so monumental from you? How could he have known and simply chosen not to tell you? The argument that followed had been fierce, but in the end, he relented, promising to restore your lost memories tomorrow morning. Now, the fire had dimmed, replaced by a quiet restlessness you couldn't shake.

“Won’t you at least come to bed, darling?” Sylus murmured, his voice softer than usual, his sharp eyes now wide and pleading. You exhaled, exasperated yet unable to deny him. With a tired sigh, you crawled over, settling on top of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you.

"Sylus?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me about our past," you whispered. He had promised to return your memories tomorrow, but waiting felt unbearable. The unknown loomed too heavily over you, making it impossible to sleep.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Impatient, aren’t you? Can’t even wait until tomorrow?"

"You’re one to talk about being greedy," you huffed, shifting slightly against him.

“I know,” he admitted, the grin that spread across his lips filled with something more than amusement, something nostalgic, as if the weight of the past he had once tried to forget was now something he wanted to remember.

He studied you for a moment before continuing, “Did you know you were a princess, princess?” His smirk widened at his own joke, reveling in the play on words.

You rolled your eyes, but your curiosity overpowered your exasperation. "A princess?"

"Ivory City," he said, watching for recognition in your gaze. "They accused you of being a sorcerror because you took pity and sympathy on my kind, so they cast you out."

"How primitive," you muttered, unimpressed by the cruelty of a kingdom you barely remembered.

"Indeed," he agreed, his tone laced with a quiet sort of amusement. "They feared what they couldn't understand."

A brief silence stretched between you before he added, “You also gave me my name, but I already told you that.”

You sighed, tilting your head slightly. "You still haven’t taught me how to pronounce your actual name." It was something you had discovered earlier, before the argument, before the flood of fragmented memories revealed pieces of his dragon life with you in Philos.

Sylus hummed, clearly unbothered by the notion. “It’s irrelevant,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles against your back. “I like your version of my name better. Your claim on me.” His grin returned, sharper now, something possessive glinting behind his eyes. A name you gave him that he’s used ever since. Your lips parted slightly, heart skipping a beat at the weight of his words. You had claimed him once before, long ago, in another life. And now, in this one, you were beginning to do it all over again.

Sylus smirked, his voice dropping into something teasing. “Did you also know that once, back when we still held nothing but disdain for each other, I wrapped my hand around your throat, and you—” He let out a short laugh, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You moaned.”

You jolted upright, eyes wide. “I did what?!” you shrieked, horrified.

His laughter only deepened, rich and unbothered. “It was certainly… unique,” he mused, tilting his head as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I’ve threatened plenty of people before, but never had anyone react quite like that.”

Heat flared across your face as you groaned, burying yourself against his chest in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss against the top of your head.

A moment of silence passed, the air between you settling into something softer, something steeped in nostalgia. “Most nights,” Sylus murmured, “we spent our time together under the moonlight.”

You closed your eyes, letting his voice guide you through the fragments of a past you desperately wished to reclaim. “I can’t wait to get my memories back,” you hummed. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you all over again.”

His fingers curled gently around your waist, holding you close. “There were times,” he continued, voice quieter now, “when you would see my true form, and I expected you to be afraid. I thought you’d run, that you’d look at me like I was a monster.” He paused, as if caught in the memory. “But you didn’t. Instead, you traced your much smaller hand over my scales and horns. You—” He swallowed. “You still loved me.”

“How couldn’t I?” you whispered, pressing closer.

Sylus exhaled, the tension in his body unraveling. “Back then, I didn’t know what love was,” he admitted. “You introduced me to that.”

You lifted your head slightly, gazing up at him. “Really?”

His lips curled into something almost reverent, something achingly fond. “Really.

“That’s beautiful,” you murmured, voice soft with drowsiness.

Sylus smiled faintly, fingers tracing idle patterns against your waist and thighs. “My favorite memory might be when I took you to that flower field,” he mused, pausing expectantly for your response.

But you said nothing. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to glance down at you.

“Kitten, are you asleep?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing. A quiet snore escaped you. You weren’t asleep, but he didn’t have to know that.

His chest rose and fell with a slow inhale before he continued anyway, his voice dipping into something raw.

“The reason why…” he started, then hesitated. For once, the words didn’t come so easily. “The reason why I withheld these memories and this information from you was because I knew it would break you.”

A heavy silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that we have half of our souls in each other.” His fingers curled slightly against your skin. That much, you had already discovered. The truth that the two of you were irreversibly connected, bound by something ancient and inescapable.

His next words came quieter, almost as if he didn’t want to admit them out loud. “But I just… I couldn’t let you know that we were destined for death.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “It was greedy of me. I wanted you all to myself, even if it meant keeping the truth from you. But the curse of a dragon’s beloved is to die. And you—” His voice wavered, the weight of his confession nearly unbearable. “You were destined to kill me, as my archenemy.”

His breath hitched, and he let his eyes fall shut. “I didn’t want you to know that,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I realized… it’s not just my story. It’s yours too. And you deserve to know.”

The words hung in the air between you, fragile and aching. His throat worked as he tried to steady himself, but his voice still cracked, betraying the turmoil he had tried so hard to suppress. Still, you didn’t move, didn’t respond. But your fingers twitched ever so slightly against his chest.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the warm tears spilled onto Sylus’s chest. They fell silently, one after another, pooling against his skin like echoes of a grief you weren’t prepared to feel.

“Sweetheart?” Sylus called out, his voice laced with concern. His arms tightened slightly around you. “Are you alright?”

“It hurts,” you whispered, your voice small, fragile. “Why was our story so sad?”

He exhaled, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I don’t know, my love,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.”

A shuddering breath left you as you stared at the space between you, the past pressing in on your chest like an unbearable weight. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Sylus stilled for a moment before letting out a small, knowing sigh. He tilted your chin up, thumb brushing away the tears clinging to your lashes. “Sweetie, that’s all in the past for a reason,” he murmured. “None of that destiny, archnemesis, dragons-destroying-cities, royalty-and-war bullshit matters here.” He smirked slightly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe the part about our souls being tied for eternity, but I’m not complaining about that part.”

You sniffled, staring up at him with a wobbly frown.

“Oh, and wanderers,” he added, scowling. “That part I do complain about.”

You huffed a small laugh despite yourself, but your expression quickly turned serious again. “You didn’t answer my question, though,” you said, eyes searching his. “Did I hurt you?”

Sylus hesitated. “Well…”

“Stop it. Just tell me.”

A sigh, followed by a lopsided, almost sheepish grin. “Maybe you stabbed me.”

Your mouth fell open. “Maybe?”

“But it wasn’t entirely on purpose,” he continued hastily. “Not out of your own volition. In fact, you didn’t want to kill me at all. That’s why you chose to tie our souls together instead.” He pulled your leg up to wrap around him tighter. “You chose to save me instead of killing me. Our souls became bound, incapable of betraying each other.”

“Incapable of betraying each other?” you echoed, brows furrowing before your expression morphed into something accusatory. “Oh, really? Then what about that time you ate my sandwich I was saving for later?”

Sylus blinked. “Uh—”

“Actually, no. You didn’t even eat it yourself,” you fumed. “You gave it to Mephisto. A mechanical bird. I don’t even know if he can digest organic material!”

“So feisty,” Sylus murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Lifetimes of love, and yet, you’re still a brat.”

“Hey!” You gasped, feigning offense, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He only chuckled, shaking his head. Then, his expression turned mischievous as he pointed a finger at you accusingly. “But, you do realize—I can never die unless you’re the one who kills me.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Oh, I was so smart for doing that.”

Sylus let out a full-bodied laugh, the sound warm and rich with something inexplicably fond.

“What?” You tilted your head, watching the way his grin widened.

“Isn’t it crazy?” he said, voice quieter now, as if he was still wrapping his mind around it himself. “Lifetimes of love… You’ve always been my girl.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest ache in the most bittersweet way. This love of yours, it felt like it was something you’re not allowed to have. You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I still can’t believe you’re a dragon.”

“What?” He snorted. “You thought the horns were just for decoration?”

You groaned sleepily. “In my defense, you don’t always make them visible.”

Sylus smirked. “Would you like me to keep them out more often, then? Just for you?”

“Sylus.” You whimpered, burying your face against him.

His amusement faded as concern flickered across his features. “You’re still upset?”

“I don’t want to kill you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sylus exhaled, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines against your back. “Love,” he murmured, “like I said, you won’t. This is our timeline.”

“But I want you in every timeline,” you confessed, curling closer, as if holding onto him tighter could somehow tether your souls together even more. “Every life.”

Sylus stilled. His fingers stopped their tracing. His breath hitched just slightly. Then, with a heavy sigh, he picked up your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. His lips were warm, his touch reverent.

“I…” He hesitated.

Sylus never made promises lightly. He didn’t want to promise you something he couldn’t keep. But then, he thought about it. About how he had already overturned fate before. How he and you both had defied instinct, rewritten the path carved for each other. Yet, it wasn’t enough. He didn’t just want your soul. You didn’t just want his eye. You were both greedy, greedy creatures. You wanted to consume each other, bones and all. In love. In deep, all-consuming love.

And maybe he could make that happen.

He would need a powerful enough sorcerer. Someone who still wielded magic strong enough to rewrite the very laws of existence. He could find one. He would find one. He would make sure it was just you and him, forever. Not killing each other. Not dying. That would make you immortal, too.

He could have you forever.

Now, wasn’t that greedy?

“I promise,” he finally whispered, sealing his vow with another kiss against your palm, not noticing the soft glow that wrapped itself around you both as you involuntarily resonated.

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