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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 2: NCT bias wrecker - Jaehyun✨️

In the a.m.

AN: I was originally planning to post another fic today but, it got too frustrating so, I scrapped it for another day. Fortunately, my brain seems to have plenty of ideas when it comes to Jaehyun. Also, yay to the first NCT fic on the blog :D

Synopsis: Some harmless scrolling on Instagram takes a turn you could've never seen coming.

Heads up: Jeong Jaehyun x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers, Reader going through it because of her feelings for Jaehyun, Reader mentions wanting Jaehyun to choke her one time, Jaehyun being a little shit, mentions of facesitting, dirty talk, video call sex, guided masturbation of sorts (f. receiving), mutual masturbation, praise kink (f. receiving) and Jaehyun calls Reader pet names a lot throughout this.

Word count: 2989

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when you open Instagram.

It's been a relatively uneventful Tuesday night, all things considered. Your laptop sits on your desk, reminding you that you very much have work you should be attending to, but you try your best not to pay it any mind.

Your mindless scrolling comes to a halt when you notice a post from Jaehyun.

It's honestly embarrassing how much just seeing him affects you. Your heart stuttering in your chest as you take in his carefully dishevelled, dark hair and his handsome, almost apathetic expression. You're probably reading more into a singular picture than strictly necessary, but the way his face is angled makes it look like he's looking down at you, and that only causes you to spiral further. Insides squirming violently.

It definitely doesn't help that you wish his hand was around your throat inside of his phone, too.

You're honestly just speechless. You knew you were really looking for ways to procrastinate if you resorted to Instagram of all platforms but, it's a blessing in disguise since you were graced with this.

However, because you're an idiot and you weren't careful, you like the post without thinking. A post he made months ago.

Would it be too much to hope for the Earth to open up right now and swallow you whole?

Panic takes over then. Maybe you could just uninstall Instagram, and he wouldn't notice or get the notification. Maybe you could just unlike it really quickly and he'd never even know-

Luck is not on your side, however, because you notice a message from Jaehyun, and you've never wanted to cease to exist more than right now.

Maybe you could just pretend you magically passed out seconds after liking his post. That wouldn't seem too suspicious, would it?

However, because you're still an idiot and a curious one at that, you open his message.

Jae💕: See something you like?

The fucking nerve of this man. You resent the way your body betrays you. Your face heating up considerably as you just try to comprehend what the fuck is happening. Is he...flirting with you? It wouldn't be the first time. Jaehyun enjoys flustering you, and it works more often than you care to admit. However, flirting with you when you're pretty sure it's around 3 a.m. in Tokyo seems like a little much, even for him.

You: Shouldn't you be asleep? Isn't it like 3.am. there?

Jae💕: Couldn't sleep. Then I got the notification that you liked my post. Isn't it pretty late over there too?

You groan into your pillow. Jaehyun doesn't need to know about you lusting after him so late at night.

You: Yeah, I was doing some work but, I'm pretty much finished for the night.

Jae💕: And you were thinking about me after finishing your work? I'm flattered, baby

Jaehyun has called you baby before. It's nothing new. Honestly, the pet name would make you cringe if anyone else was saying it, but, as you're coming to discover, apparently anything and everything he says and does renders you a flustered mess.

You: No! I was just scrolling, and I accidentally liked it. Don't flatter yourself

Jae💕: Sounds like denial to me~

You: You're so annoying 🙄

What you don't anticipate, on this already fever dream of a night, is for your phone screen to light up with his name. You only hesitate for a few moments before answering.

"I'm annoying, huh? That hurts my feelings," he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice, and the mental image of his dimples hits you like a truck. Though he said he couldn't sleep, his voice sounds gravelly and, you feel yourself squirm instinctively.

"Something tells me your feelings aren't all that hurt," you retort, hoping against hope he doesn't notice the breathy edge to your voice. Talking to Jaehyun always left you feeling a little lightheaded.

"Now you're calling me a liar too? I was being serious earlier. I am extremely flattered that I was running through that pretty mind of yours,"

Yeah, you're definitely going to uninstall Instagram after tonight. You don't even want to begin to unpack him calling anything about you pretty.

With a heavy sigh, you respond, "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope," and he has the nerve to chuckle.

"You really are so annoying. You're lucky I like you and you're cute,"

You were wrong. Now, you've never wanted to cease to exist more. Why in the fuck would you ever say that? Especially tonight? Yeah, sure, some harmless flirting isn't out of the norm between the two of you, but tonight feels decidedly...different. You can't help but feel you're treading a very dangerous line here.

You're half-tempted to just hang up before he responds, "You like me and think I'm cute, huh? If you wanted to ask me out, you could've just said that."

"That's not- I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean to say that,"

"You don't have to get all shy, baby. If anything, the feelings are very much mutual,"

That stops all your higher order functions all together momentarily. What. Jaehyun likes you? Is this actually happening?

"W-what?" Your brain intelligible supplies.

"You really think I just call everyone baby and flirt with them. I'm a little surprised it took you so long to catch on,"

Now that you think about it, he has always treated you...differently compared to your other friends. Johnny and Mark had teased you about it from time to time, but you always thought they were just being little shits. Guess you should learn to take your friends' word more seriously moving forward.

"You could've just been direct with me,"

"Where's the fun in that?" He laughs, but his tone shifts to a more serious one, "I wasn't sure if you felt the same way. I know I joke, and I tease, but you-you mean a lot to me, and I didn't want to jeopardise the friendship we had. I was content to have you in any way you wanted me, even if it was just as your friend."

You were reeling. You couldn't respond to him even if you wanted to for a few seconds. Your brain trying to pull itself together enough to say something.

"You know, this isn't how I was expecting my Tuesday night to go,"

His laugh is warm and throaty and quiet, and all the months of pining finally boil over.

"In case it's unclear, I like you too. Like a lot. Um, yeah,"

"Well that's a relief. I was worried there for a sec," god, you wish you could see his face. You know he's probably grinning ear to ear. Well, you could...

"Jae?"

"Hmm?"

"Could we video call instead?"

"Sure but, do you mind me asking why?"

"I want to see your face,"

You're sure that'll inflate his ego for weeks to come, but you can't bring yourself to care.

You're already proven correct when you see him with the world's largest shit-eating grin and the butterflies in your stomach flutter more violently.

His hair is even more dishevelled than in the picture, and you can see his sleeping shirt cling to his shoulders in a way that heats the blood in your veins.

"Here I am, baby. It's nice to see you too, if I'm being honest," it only hits you when his usually mischievous eyes are heavy with something else entirely as he takes in the sight of you on his screen what you're wearing.

"You're such a perv. I was trying to be sweet,"

"I'm being sweet too! I just have eyes. Also, I saw that look in your eyes. Don't play coy with me,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about,"

"Really?" His grin takes on a more sinister edge, "because I definitely noticed you looking like you wanted to sit on my face as soon as I popped up on your screen."

You're sure you look stupid with how you're gapping at him. Too stunned to speak and your body, once again, betrays you when you feel yourself clench at his words.

He's not wrong but, he doesn't need to just say it like that.

"You can't just say stuff like that, Jaehyun," you whine, and you see his eyes flash so briefly you're wondering if you imagined it.

"Why not? We both know it's true. It's just unfortunate that I'm not there right now to give you what you so obviously want," he drawls, lidded eyes dropping to take in as much of your generous cleavage as he can.

The butterflies shift lower.

"You'd let me sit on your face?" Maybe you're finally learning to just embrace the unexpectedness of this night. You two like and obviously want each other. Fuck it.

He chuckles again, but his voice is already a few octaves deeper, and you feel yourself growing slick. Thighs rubbing together in a way you hope is some level of unnoticeable.

"Happily. I'd do a lot of things to you if you'd let me,"

You're finding it really hard to think straight right now.

"Really? Like what?" You're too far gone for him to even feel ashamed how delicate your voice already sounds.

"And you were calling me a perv earlier," You're not sure if you want to punch him for attractive that arrogant, dimpled smirk of his is or kiss him. God, you really wish he was here too.

He continues before you can butt in, "Well, I'd take my time with you." Your blood feels molten as his lidded gaze takes in every detail of your face, stopping briefly to stare at your lips, "I'd kiss you until your lips were bruised and all you could think about was me."

This time, Jaehyun notices you squirming, and he pounces.

"Aw, is my poor baby already getting all hot and bothered just from me talking about kissing you and letting you sit on my face?"

A desperate whine tumbles out of your mouth before you can help yourself. Between him calling you his fucking baby constantly, what he'd do to you and the gravelly quality of his voice, it's no wonder you can feel yourself begin to leak onto your panties.

"Jaehyun,"

"I asked you a question, baby," his tone is still mostly playful, but you can hear the command clear as day.

"Yes,"

"That's a good girl. Why don't you show me just how hot you are for me?"

Honestly, you should probably feel some semblance of hesitance, but the exhilaration that comes with his praise would likely make you do anything.

You angle your phone as best as you can, the low light of your bedside lamp illuminating the visible wet spot on your panties.

"Fuck, baby," he groans and your pride swells at seeing him just as affected by all of this as you are.

"Can you show me how you touch yourself?"

Your unoccupied hand flies to your panties without much thought, ready to slip a few fingers past the waistband-

"Wait, don't touch yourself directly yet. Touch yourself over your panties,"

"But Jaehyun," you whine, sounding a little pathetic to your own ears, "I'm so wet, and it aches."

He shuts his eyes for a few moments, jaw clenching as he tries to find his words.

"I can't wait to get my hands on you," he mutters, but you don't think he meant to verbalise that particular thought. Either way, the feeling is very much mutual.

"I know, baby, but if you're good for me, I'll reward you, okay?"

You nod almost frantically, and he tuts in response, "Words, baby. Don't make me remind you again."

"O-Okay,"

"Good. Now I want you to touch yourself how you usually would, but over your panties,"

You do as he says. Drawing slow circles against your clit. The brushes of the fabric of your panties and the pressure from your fingers making your eyes flutter. More and more of your wetness drips out of you, making your panties stick to you. Your hips jolt up into your touch sporadically, quiet moans falling from your lips.

"You look so pretty playing with your pussy for me, princess," Jaehyun breathes, his own hand slinking down his body.

You keen at the praise. Adding more pressure to your ministrations against your sensitive clit, "Jae-Jaehyun ah please. I'm so - it's so -" you whimper, your train of thought leaving you with each brush.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so well," groans, his heavy gaze intently focused on the mess you're making between your thighs. His cock throbbing in the confines of his boxers with every twitch of your hips and quiver of your thighs.

"Can I see you too?" You ask, clamping down hard around nothing when you notice his arm moving. Putting two and two together and coming to the realisation that he's palming himself.

"Well, since you've been doing so well. I suppose you deserve some kind of reward," he says after some faux deliberation. Angling his phone downwards. Your thighs squeeze your hand hard, never feeling excruciatingly empty as you take in the way his cock strains against his boxers.

Considering the menace he's been all night, you expect him to tease you. Touch himself over his boxers until you're begging to see him properly. However, Jaehyun loves to keep you on your toes.

The air is knocked out of your lungs when he haphazardly tugs his boxers down. His cock smacks against his toned abdomen, flushed and hard and looking good enough to make saliva pool in your mouth.

"Too bad you're not here to sit on it but, I guess we'll have to make do for now, princess,"

Jaehyun is trying to kill you. That's what this is. An elaborate plot to stop your heart right here and now.

"Jaehyun, please. Can I touch myself pr-properly please? I've been so good. Please," you whimper. Slick walls throbbing incessantly when you notice his cock twitch in his grasp.

"I don't know, baby. How badly do you want to?"

"So badly. Please, please, please, I'll do whatever you say. Whatever you want,"

His eyes glint at that, and nervousness and anticipation course through your veins. Maybe he was more calculating than you gave him credit for.

"Since you ask so nicely, go ahead. Take your panties off for me, and let me see you play with yourself properly,"

In a likely incredibly ungraceful display, you impatiently tug your panties off with one hand. Tossing them aside and shoving your hand back between your thighs. Your eyes shutting when your fingers finally come into contact with your poor clit. Whimpers and curses and moans of his name falling from your lips with every circle.

"Fuck, you look so fucking pretty, princess," he groans and, you open your eyes to look at your screen. Fresh wetness gushes out of you when you realise that he's stroking himself. His tip now broaching into an angry red territory, and he's slick with pre-cum.

"I wish you were here," you whine out, increasing the pace of your fingers in time with each stroke of Jaehyun's hand. The obscene sounds emanating from your phone's speaker going straight to clit.

His chuckle is even more gravelly than before, "Me too, princess. Watching you like this...fuck. You're driving me insane," he mutters, hips jolting up to fuck into his fist. You've never envied a hand more than in this moment.

"Th-the feeling is mutual. I'm so-so ah,"

"Are you close, baby?"

"Ye-yes," you whimper, your toes beginning to curl, and the knot that's settled in your core tightening more and more and more.

The moan that falls from his lips is low and drawn out. His hand picking up its pace considerably as he watches you begin to fall apart on your hand.

"You're going to be a good girl and cum for me, right?" Oh god. The whine that's ripped from your throat is desperate and pitchy, your wetness drips down your thighs and begins to pool onto your sheets.

All your brain can manage is a jumbled mess of what you think is his name and 'please' and choked noises of pleasure. You're so close you can practically taste it.

You're distracted from your encroaching release when you hear Jaehyun's own sounds of pleasure. It takes a considerable amount of effort to open your eyes and, you're glad you do.

You open your eyes just in time to watch Jaehyun cum. His cum spurting onto his toned abdomen, parts of his thighs and all over his pretty hand. Strained, breathy gasps flooding your ears and the soft blush on his face, all combining to send you over the edge.

You try your best to muffle your cries as your hips twitch away from your hand. Insides spasming sporadically and even more wetness gushing out of you. Smearing your thighs and adding to the mess on your sheets.

It takes you both very long moments to regain your higher order functions. The stickiness underneath you and between your thighs quickly becoming uncomfortable but, you can't bring yourself to care right now.

"This is probably the most unconventional way anyone's ever confessed to me and asked me out,"

The laugh he gives you makes the butterflies roar once more. Considering you just watched each other cum, you suppose you have no real reason to be shy anymore.

"It's definitely the most unconventional way I've asked someone out. Luckily, the Japanese leg of our tour ends in about a week, so I can take you out properly then,"

"A whole week huh," you pout.

"Unfortunately, princess. Hey, I'm not opposed to more calls like this until we're able to meet in person," he responds with a wolfish grin.

You resent the way your still sensitive walls clench at the suggestion.

#jeong jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #1k followers celebration day 2 #1k followers celebration #1k followers milestone

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gh0st-author · 1 month

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dress.

pairing: William James Moriarty x reader summary: Oh, tempting William was so deliciously amusing for you to do. To kindle the flame you knew was dancing behind his eyes, to fuel it in its confines and observe him attempting to conceal it and thaw it out.

tags: fluff, very suggestive (nothing explicit but it is heated)

warnings: as i said it is very suggestive, they also unalive a nobleman

A/N: so this wasn't originally meant to be posted, it was just something in my drafts, but since it happened to be William's birthday today i thought i might as well finish it. so happy birthday Liam here's your cake

Another glance in his direction, across the crowded hall. Another hidden smile from him. You knew you shouldn't; this game you were playing was too perilous, too dangerous. You weren't supposed to goad William like this. But you simply couldn't resist. Usually, you or Albert were the ones who found themselves at these events, because as the oldest brother he had too keep up the appearances most often, but this night was different. Tonight, William was present as well. He was right beside his brother, a picture-perfect gentleman, charming and captivating. It was an incredibly rare occurrence as he preferred to work behind the scenes, not really drawing attention to himself more than necessary. And unlucky for you, all your attention happened to be on him tonight, despite the risk of it endangering the mission. But it was too addicting. The music too sensual. The candlelight too dim. The perfumes too intoxicating. And the game you presented him with too enjoyable. Another taste of your wine. Another brush of his gaze. You needed to make sure that no one was the wiser to the desperation building beneath your skin. You were dancing around an open flame, stretching out your body above it, hoping to not get incarcerated by the proximity. Still, you couldn't be blamed, it was so rare for you to see your lover adorned so dashingly.

It was all subtle. Your glass against your lips. Your tongue lightly catching the droplets soaking them. His intense glance catching the act. And it was fun, so incredibly amusing to for once toy with him like this given the chance, to slowly gnaw away at his immaculate control that he prided himself on so and wore like a mask. You still remembered the words you whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom earlier today, the memory of them flashing through your mind making your lips stretch into a devious grin. This is a secret, but my gown for tonight... it was bought specifically with you in mind. Much more than wearing it, I am anticipating what you will do with it later tonight after we return. You could still feel the tremble that raced down William's spine, could still hear his low, tortured groan and uneven whisper of: Do not tempt me, darling. Being aware of the effect you had on your lover and feeling the desire simmering between you too was heady, to say the least.

Alas, no matter how much you wanted to give into your desires, you were a performer, both for him and for the Lord you were tasked with distracting tonight. And a performer had to play her role outstandingly. Your secret moments and glances would have to stay just that— secret. For no one could know you were affiliated with him. You were just another face in the crowd, an unassuming bejeweled rose without thorns. These glimmering banquets were your battlefield, your wit and your charm your weapons, which you brandished flawlessly with every new job you were assigned by the brothers. Meeting William and working with him only served to hone them more— a simple touch here, a sweet whisper there, and your targets were putty under your fingers, ready to follow you wherever you wished. Which usually happened to be their untimely but deserved demise at the hands of you or one of the others from the group. And for as long as they and William had any use of you, you would continue to play your part in their plans without a fault.

Deciding against continuing this game between you two for now, you downed your glass and set out to find your target— Lord Brownlow. He was a local aristocrat rumored to kidnap young ladies from such events and traffic them on the black market. In other words, a perfect target to be bewitched and disposed of by you. After a quick search, you found him, surrounded by numerous important individuals. Even from where you were standing you could see his false smiles and his calculating glances to the women around him. Your act already in place, you sauntered over to him, gown swaying with your movements, your practiced smile of awe and admiration plastered on your face. "Lord Brownlow, a pleasure to meet you."

You were a novelty, a new interesting toy for him to play with. The conversation flowed from your lips effortlessly, each word a careful trap meant to ensnare the Lord's attention, to keep him guessing and wanting more. Each move a thought-out maneuver to entice him and cloud his judgment. You listened to his stories attentively, smiled and nodded when expected, and stroked his ego when he so wished. And what an ego he had. He was so filled to the brim with his own self-importance that he steered you around forcing you into a conversation with any noble he could, no doubt to brag about his own status and to show off how well off he was. Still, you participated beautifully, never letting your true nature show.

After who knows what number of nobles, he turned to you, still keen on continuing. "Do you mind if I introduce you to another one of my acquaintances?

You smiled at him mindlessly, feigned admiration painted across your features. As if you were truly interested in anything he had to say, hanging onto his every word. "None at all, Lord Brownlow. Please, lead the way."

Pleased with your apparent high regard for him and your respect, he hurriedly led you through the throngs of people, seeking out the aforementioned noble. Your gaze darted around, attempting to pinpoint the person in question. Only when his gait hastened with renewed purpose, having found who he was searching for, did you manage to catch a glimpse of the man that had caught his eye.

And...

Oh, well, who would've thought? It seemed that tonight was indeed your lucky night, for he was leading you straight to the object of your obsession tonight. You briefly considered the possibility of William having arranged this beforehand, but the look of delighted surprise on his face as you and the Lord neared him convinced you otherwise. So, a lucky coincidence it seemed. Or a fate-given opportunity? No, of course not. Even though it might not have been planned for him and the Lord to converse like this, it was far from a coincidence. You knew William and him were acquainted, but by the genuine eagerness with which Lord Brownlow was leading you to him, it seemed as if William took the phrase 'keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer' quite literally. Always aligning and governing his pawns, that cunning mind of his.

The Lord halted right in front of him, proudly puffing out his chest. No doubt, hoping to impress you with his arsenal of connections— with his importance. "This is Lord William Moriarty. Second son of the deceased Earl Moriarty. We met a short while ago and happened to become quite familiar with each other."

William turned to regard you fully, his scarlet gaze bright but betraying nothing. As you stood before him like this, you felt weirdly exposed, despite the opulent gown— or maybe exactly because of it. You arrived separately so as to not raise any suspicion so he didn't have the chance to admire you from up close. His face was a perfect polite mask, but you knew he was drinking up your visage like a man starved. Everywhere his gaze touched burned so pleasurably you never wished for it to stop. In fact, all of this silence and patience, waiting and pining in anticipation, made you more eager— made you crave more. You wanted him to trace wherever he looked with his hands, his lips. Your own hands were shaking from holding back from touching him.

Acting like the perfect pawn you were, you buried your need deep beneath your vast experience in lying and deceit, using it as a cover to dampen the inferno in you, and held out your hand courteously for him to kiss. Not a trace of a woman currently longing, yearning, craving. "I don't believe we have been acquainted, Lord Moriarty."

Never taking his eyes off yours, he raised your hand to his lips, leaving it there much longer than necessary. The kiss was almost a promise— or a threat. You weren't sure which. "Indeed we are not, I would have remembered a woman as stunning as you are."

You fought your instinctive pull to draw closer to him, to see just how close you could slot your body against his. To get lost in his knowing gaze. Instead, you chose to slowly pull your hand away and giggle behind it. "Oh, you flatter me, my Lord. I am sure someone of your caliber has ample choice of ladies aiming for your attention."

The smile he gave you was pure serpentine curling of the lips, the look in his eyes pure hunter regarding his prey. "I assure you, my attentions lay elsewhere."

My attention is only on you, his look seemed to say. Your heart stuttered in your chest, beating so loud you were afraid he and Lord Brownlow could hear it. So careful. They had to be so incredibly careful. They were threading a fine line, one misstep and it could all come crashing down around them.

"His attention is only always focused on his work, he never entertains the women around him." Lord Brownlow sighed, seemingly unaware of the building tension between you and William. A perfect figure of an older gentleman concerned for the youth, as if he was giving sound advice out of genuine benevolence. "Honestly, Lord Moriarty, you should follow your older brother's example. Now, Lord Albert knows how to entertain a lady. It's not a good idea for a noble gentleman such as yourself to always keep his head in the books."

William diverted his attention from you to the Lord, chuckling gently as if this entire meeting was just a pleasant interaction. A born noble navigating the labyrinth of high society magnificently. The irony was not lost on you. "I will keep your words in mind, Lord Brownlow."

It was getting harder and harder to keep focused with him so close, yet thoroughly out of reach. It was due time for you to leave and initiate the next phase of the plan. Deciding that one last stunt was in order, you grabbed your target's hand, feigning interest in him, but you were only looking at the man in front of you. "Lord Brownlow, I am sure Lord Moriarty knows how to entertain himself. What do you say we make our way to the dance floor." You ran your hand down the front of your dress as if showing it off, but in truth, you drew attention to the way the corset hugged your curves. "After all, I just bought this dress today, it would be a shame for me to wear it and not be seen dancing in it."

It was a momentary weakness, a flash of that fire in his eyes gone instantaneously, almost as fast as it appeared. Oh, he looked so composed yet his self-control was frying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread with each passing moment. He, too, played his role of a respectable noble magnificently, only the slight sharpening of his gaze and an almost imperceptible sly curling of his lips betraying his rapidly waning restraint.

You offered him your most innocent smile. "Please excuse us, Lord Moriarty." Your words were the sweetest nectar, a saccharine phrase dipped in venom. Another one of your baits successfully eaten, another one of your hooks digging into flesh. You suppressed your giggle as you gave a parting bow and pivoted to twine through the dense crowd with Lord Brownlow, embracing him and slotting yourself into a waltzing position. Oh, tempting William was so deliciously amusing for you to do. To kindle the flame you knew was dancing behind his eyes, to fuel it in its confines and observe him attempting to conceal it and thaw it out. Once again, this game you were playing was dangerous, but you were addicted to the thrill, and you suspected he was as well if the looks he was throwing your way as you glided around the room were any indication.

You felt his eyes on you even as you danced, gossamer and silk flowing around you in mesmerizing patterns. Even as you coyly slipped the slow-acting poison in the Lord's drink while no one was looking. Even as you silently snuck out of the room, vanishing as a phantom, before it took effect. You wouldn't be present when it all happened. A ghost, a shadow, leaving no trace behind. Exactly as William wanted.

Only when you finally arrived at their manor, obscured by the inky darkness of the night, did you let yourself breathe. The still air of your and William's bedroom greeted you pleasantly and you slowly made your way in, haphazardly discarding your numerous jewellery on the desk nearby along the way. Your body was still thrumming with adrenaline from a successful mission, but even more than that it was brimming with something deeper— more desperate. William and Albert would soon return to the estate now that the ball had been interrupted, and the fire that you had been suppressing the entire night threatened to burst out. You had no doubts he felt the same. The fun dance you two have been trapped in the entire night has finally reached its conclusion. The most delightful reward or the most delicious punishment— you wonder which one awaited you upon his arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, slow footsteps sounded in the hallway, unmistakably making their destination known, and the door creaked open almost soundlessly. Your spine tingled as he entered the room, yet you didn't spare him a glance, pretending to busy yourself with removing the accessories from your hair. "I assume everything went according to plan?"

His answering chuckle was accompanied by the rustle of clothes as he discarded his suit jacket. "Everything unfolded beautifully. No one seems to understand how the poison ended up in poor Lord Brownlow's drink." He threw you a conspiratorial grin. "After all, they were all too preoccupied later by the documents a servant managed to uncover in his room, detailing all his atrocities."

You nodded. The tension in the room was palpable, but neither of you wanted to interrupt this tentative stalemate you found yourself in. You were both content to wait the other out— another quick round of your game, this one much shorter and much less torturous. Only when the last accessory left your hair, the mass of it unraveling down your back, did you glance in his direction. "I seem to require some assistance with my dress"

With one hand you threw your hair over your shoulder, body trembling with anticipation as he leisurely made his way to you. It was almost agonizing really, the unhurried way in which his hands traced your arms and shoulder blades down to the corset, leaving in their wake a sea of goosebumps. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck. "You looked ravishing tonight. I didn't have the opportunity to tell you sooner." His fingers made quick work of the lace and countless hidden clasps and buttons of your corset. "That was quite an ordeal you pulled."

You laughed, a little breathless. "Don't speak as if you didn't enjoy it."

William's lips pulled into a grin, lightly nipping your skin. "You wicked thing, I'm inclined to believe you enjoy tormenting me."

You gasped, leaning back closer to him. "Is it truly torment if I give you exactly what I promised?"

"After the torture you put me through I think I deserve at least some recompense for your actions." As you felt the dress slip from your shoulders, silky fabric sliding down and pooling around your feet, his lips caressed the skin of your shoulder. "And I must say the reward for my patience will be worthwhile indeed."

Delightful reward it was for tonight it seemed.

#moriarty the patriot #mtp william #mtp x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william moriarty #yuumori #ynm #william james moriarty x reader #mtp

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 6 months

Text

Not my cup of tea

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: mentions of sex

You voted for this one to be posted, so here you are. I hope you'll enjoy it

I'm sorry for any mistakes as English isn't my first language 🫣

"Y/N, are you listening?" Mor gently touched your hand. The faint smell of cedar and mist reached your nose. He was about to walk in to the living room where you were talking with your best friend.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Actually..I'm afraid I have to go," you hurriedly excused yourself and walked through the closest wall.

It was exactly a week since you slept with Azriel and ever since then you were avoiding him at any cost. You truly loved him and were used to spend a lot of time around him, so this new situation was a real torment.

It all started when after years of flirting with each other Azriel finally asked you out. You were so happy and thrilled that he willed to deepen your relationship. You had eyes for shadowsinger since you two met, so it was a dream-comes-true situation. It took only few dates and you ended up in his bed.

It was perfect until that night, ideal. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that it could turn out this way. Not even the slightest hint. However the night became the turning point for you. Well, sex itself was amazing. He was amazing and you enjoyed that part, but problem was in everything else. Azriel seemed to have a thing for spanking, degradation, bondage and other similar practices that weren't to your taste at all.

You were ashamed and your heart screamed in pain because he was fantastic male who deserved to be loved and especially, Azriel deserved to have partner who would share the same interests. Unfortunately it couldn't be you. As much as it hurt, it was the fact you had to learn to live with. Problem was that you didn't know how to tell him and you were afraid you could hurt his feelings, so you were rather running away and hiding. You needed time to think it over and find the right words.

You were invited to a dinner in the House of Wind and there's no doubt Azriel would be there, too. You wished you could refuse the invitation, but the dinner was in honor of very important guests, so you had to go. All day long you were thinking how to attend and avoid him at the same time, but you didn't come up with anything useful.

And so with a heavy heart you prepared and went to the dinning room. As soon as you entered you scanned the gathered group and with relieve you found out Azriel wasn't there yet. It gave you some time to do the necessary greetings and socialization. It was time to sit to the table and he still wasn't there. You allowed yourself to relax a bit and took a deep breath. Maybe he had to go to some mission or something urgently needed his attention.

You were about to pick up the spoon and start to eat when you smelled the familiar intoxicating scent. You turned toward the end of the table and saw a glimmer of blue siphon. You panicked for a moment, drops of sweat forming on your forehead. There wasn't time to run away without being noticed by the whole party and shadowsinger. For once you were glad you had unique powers and merged with the chair.

Azriel walked into the dining room and immediately glanced over the people gathered around the table. He was sure you would be here, so he was late on purpose, waiting till everyone was seated. Even in the room full of people he could smell your scent, fresh and strong. You were in there.

He spent the week looking for you, but without success. Anytime he thought he caught you, you simply vanished most likely using the powers that he adored so much. It would make you a great spy, but unfortunately you didn't feel up to the job.

Your behaviour was really strange and unusual and Azriel was afraid it had something to do with the night you'd spent together. He thought you liked it and enjoyed it even more than him, but it seemed he was wrong.

Whatever the problem was, Azriel just wanted to hear it from your mouth. He needed to know what you didn't like, so he wouldn't repeat the same mistake next time. He knew how you felt about him and he felt the same way about you, that's why he dared to ask you out. You were perfect for him and he was decided to do anything to convince you to stay with him even though there were moments when he felt undeserving of somebody as good as you.

Shadowsinger spotted free seat next to Nesta, your second best friend. If you attended which you definitely did, she would know where to look for you. He headed towards her and sat down. "Have you seen Y/N tonight?" he asked bluntly.

Nesta looked at him in surprise. "She was sitting right here a while ago. I didn't notice she left."

"I see," Shadowsinger murmured. It was really strange. Your scent was as strong here as if you were sitting on his lap. His eyes widened as he finally realized what was happening. He had to laugh at himself that he hadn't thought of it sooner. Smirking Azriel picked up spoon and started to eat.

Hidden in the chair that Azriel was seated on, you were waiting for the best moment to slip through the floor to the room under the dining room. You were so nervous, you couldn't even remember what was down there. You waited almost until the desserts. Azriel was engaged in heated conversation with Cassian, his full attention trained on him. This was your chance.

You slowly materialized under the chair. You had to be very careful not to touch his long legs or sensitive wings. Mentally you prepared for hard impact from a height and slowly started to merge through the floor. When you were half through, your lower body hanging in the air in the other room, you inhaled deeply, closed eyes and holding breath you let go. Instead of a fall that would end in a great pain you landed on some tall piece of furniture.

Shakily exhaling you looked around. You were in a small family library. You looked down from the bookcase hoping to find a ladder that should be somewhere nearby. You found it resting against row of opposite bookcases. You sighed.

You were thinking about the best way how to get down, when a deep voice startled you. "What are you doing up there?"

Azriel was leaning against the bookcase on the end of aisle, arms crossed on chest, playful smirk on his face, shadows swirling behind his back. Your throat tightened. You totally forgot about his shadows. They most likely saw your pathetic escape attempt and reported it to him.

"I..I was just.."you couldn't come up with any good excuse.

He pushed off of the bookcase, lazily walking closer. "Let me help you," he stopped under you, holding out his scarred hands.

Heat consumed your face, but nodding you accepted. Azriel put you down as easily as if you were just a feather. But instead of letting you go, he pressed you to his broad chest. Smell of cedar filled your lungs and dulled all your senses. You could feel his hot breath in the crook of your neck, his eyes closed. One scarred hand travelled up your back and slipped into your hair. It felt so good, so right that a small moan escaped you. Only then you realized how much you'd missed him, how much you needed him. You wanted to stay like this for the rest of your life.

"What happened?" his voice was so gentle, no more than a whisper. With a jerk you sobered up immediately. It was just simple question, but it stabbed straight to the heart like a dagger. You swallowed hard.

Azriel pulled back a bit so he could look you in the eyes. "Was it too soon? Or did I hurt you? Didn't you like it?" These and other questions haunted him all the week. Now when he had finally found you, they poured out of him like water from a broken dam.

A silver lined your eyes and your lips wobbled. You couldn't look at him any longer. You shook your head, trying to get out of his grip, but he wouldn't let you. His fingers gripped you even harder, pulling you to his strong body.

"Please, don't. Tell me what I did wrong. Please," he begged you desperately. He was so vulnerable at this moment and you knew how hard it's for him to let someone in, to show his weaknesses, to beg for things he wanted. It wasn't easy at all for him to show such a vulnerability. It was against his nature. Yet for you he didn't hesitate.

"You did nothing wrong," you sobbed.

"I had to do something. You are avoiding me ever since then. Please, tell me what it is. Didn't you like the sex?" You shook your head. "So I hurt you."

"No, you never." Brows furrowed, he studied your face, looking for an answer, a hint, anything that would help him to understand.

"I'm trying to understand it, but I can't. I don't want to loose you. Please, tell me what you don't like and I will change."

His words were breaking your heart. It hurt so much to listen how he saw himself, how he considered himself to be bad person, undeserving, hurting others. First tears rolled down your face. "Please, stop it. There's nothing wrong with you. You don't have to change something you enjoy for anybody. It's me, I'm the problem."

He shook head. "Please.."

"You deserve to be with somebody who likes same things. But unfortunately it isn't me. Even though I really wish I could be the one."

"I'm not sure what you mean, but I assure you I can change. Just tell me." Closing eyes he rested his forehead on yours. You knew him enough to notice that he was trying hard to stay calm, not to burst out. You also knew he wasn't angry, not for real. Azriel was just very desperate and determined. "Y/N...Whatever it is, spit it out. Please," he groaned through clenched teeth, gently shaking your shoulders.

There was no other way but to tell him. Azriel wouldn't let you be, if you refused. You couldn't even make up some blunt, because he was the spymaster and he would know you lied. You felt so embarrassed, you had to shut your eyes close. Shakily you inhaled. "Okay..." even your voice was weak and trembling. "I.. well.. you remember as you bounded my hands behind my back, called me your whore.. and the other names.. also those punishments when I didn't answer properly.." You couldn't continue. But apparently it wasn't necessary.

Azriel's hands dropped and he took few steps back. He leaned against the bookcase running fingers through his dark hair. He was pale. "So basically all except the sex part," he mumbled. You nodded.

Groaning he sat down and covered his face with scarred hands. Suddenly he started to laugh so much he cried. You'd never seen him laugh so hard. You were confused and worried. "Azriel.. are you okay?" You wanted to touch him, but you weren't sure if it's good idea right now.

Finally he caught his breath and looked up at you. "Thank Cauldron," he said still smiling wide. "I hated that, too."

Wide-eyed you dropped to your knees. "What do you mean?" you whispered.

"As I said, I didn't like it, too," he laughed again.

"So why did you do that?"

"I thought you like it. That's why."

Now you had to laugh. "But why? Where did you get such an idea?"

"Those spicy novels you read. I noticed there is one you reread again and again, so I thought you must really like what's written there and tried to imitate some of those sex scenes."

Both of you burst into laughter.

"You really read it? Just because you thought I like it?" You laughed so much your stomach hurt.

"I did. Several times to make sure I remember what Im supposed to do," he admitted wiping his tears. You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"It's so sweet of you." He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, enjoying the moment.

"I'd do anything for you." Pulling you even closer he looked deep into your eyes. You wrapped arms around his shoulders playing with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

"Thank you," you whispered resting your head on his shoulder. Surrounded by his calming scent and warmth you sat there in silence for a while.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you whispered to his hot skin.

"Sure," smiling he whispered back.

"I don't like those novels. They are quite too spicy for me and I'm not fond of what males do to females, the way they interact with them. But I like Nesta and the girls. Every time we have sleepover party or just hang out, they talk about those books a lot. I want to be able to join the conversation and that's the only reason I read them."

"Dove, I'm sure the girls wouldn't like you any less even if you didn't read those horrible novels," Azriel chuckled on the last two words. "Nesta is your best friend. No need to push yourself so hard over something you don't enjoy."

"I know," you sighed. "By the way," you bit down on your lower lip, glad he couldn't see your face now, "if you don't like to do it like in those books, then how do you like it?"

Even from this angle you could see his cheeks turned pink. "Well, about that..," Azriel nervously cleared his throat. "I'd love to show you myself, but I understand that after the previous fiasco you might be against it."

One of his shadows picked a book from shelf and put it into his stretched hand. "Maybe this could convince you to give me one more chance." He handed you the book. You gasped when you read the title. It was one of your most favourite novels.

"If this is what you like," you smiled and kissed the tip of his nose," then we could go to your room and try it out. What do you think?"

"I'm in," Azriel said and standing up with you in his arms he headed to his room.

#az x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #sarah j maas #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel fluff

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catboyfics · 8 months

Text

How to be a Hunter [part I]

ALRIGHT!!! finally getting this going! I know i've gotten some notes n stuff on my posts for sung jinwoo x m reader so come get your cake (and eat it too, if you want). this is going to be cannon compliant (with maybe a second part) and WILL contain spoilers for solo leveling. I will also be spelling sung jinwoo without the hyphen throughout the fic. hope you enjoy it!!

You're Go Gunhee's grandson, and Korea's only secret S-rank hunter. After his death, you became the assistant of the new President of the KHA so that you could learn about the position you may be succeeding. While helping out, you meet Sung Jinwoo.

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴: Solo Leveling

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: Sung Jinwoo x m!reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 & 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: fluff, slight angst; male reader; major spoilers, death, slightly ludicrous timing

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺: 4k

The room was somber, silent as people filed in and filled the seats of the table. You sat to the left of the President's chair, the only chair in the room which would stay empty. You fought to keep the tears in your eyes from spilling, needing to stay strong. You could not be suffering at a time like this, a time when the world was in grave danger.

You grandfather's words replayed over and over in your head. 'I would like to pass the KHA on to you, but you need to be ready.' He had said, his crows feet wrinkling sincerely. But you knew that you were not ready.

Finally, the grand doors slammed shut and the room was plunged into silence like no other. A man cleared his throat, the man sitting across from you. The KHA's vice president. His voice sounded out through the room, though it was shaky and filled with sadness.

"The seat of the Korean Hunter's Association has been empty for a week now. Now, we need to choose someone to assume the position. Before we start, I feel it necessary to read out an excerpt of Mr. Go Gunhee's will to honor his wishes. Paraphrasing, it says that he wishes for his grandson, Go (name), to become the next head of the Korean Hunter's Association if Mr. Go (name) feels that he is ready." His voice was unsteady, hands shaky as he lifted the paper from the table. He squinted as he read over the page, his face contorted into the expression of a tortured man.

The eyes of the room turned to you, sitting silently at the table. Nobody was particularly surprised, it seemed, but the Vice President's voice rang out once more.

"Go (name), do you believe that you are ready to take on the responsibility of this position?" He asked, looking you in the eye. You looked up, returning his gaze through your tears. Shaking your head no, you spoke with a hollow voice.

"No, I don't believe that I'm ready." It was quiet, and you weren't sure if the Vice President heard it, but he nodded solemnly.

"If that's the case, I will continue reading the President's will. I'm paraphrasing, but he wishes for Go (name) to act as the assistant for the new President until it seems he is ready. From here, we have the power to choose who will assume Mr. Go Gunhee's position." The man said as he looked around the table, taking in the faces in the room.

"Having an S-rank hunter has been symbolic of the Korean Hunter's Association. Without a central power to control the five big guilds, they will be impossible to regulate." The VP continued.

Another man spoke up, one with a wrinkled face but equally sad eyes. "Are you suggesting that we recruit an S-rank hunter?" He asked, looking warily at the Vice President. "Despite the influence of a top-rank hunter, bringing in an outsider as the Chairman would be dangerous."

The man continued, looking to the man in the seat next to you. "After a thorough discussion, the Board of Directors and I have decided that the next President of the association would be Section Chief Woo Jinchul."

You looked to the man sitting next to you, with long blonde hair and a surprised expression. Despite the Board's decision, he hesitated as he spoke.

"But... why me?"

"Chief Woo Jinchul, as the President's closest advisor and friend in the association, you have been learning firsthand how things work. You have the power to lead the hunters." One of the directors answered.

"There is no rule that the President must be an S-rank hunter, just that he must be someone with influence over the hunters. Someone that the hunters are afraid of.

"As someone who works in the Surveillance Department, arresting hunters and helping regulate, you are the most suitable for the job."

When you looked over at the Section Chief, he seemed very conflicted. You knew of him, but never knew him well. You didn't work in the Surveillance Department, and despite your relationship to your grandfather, you didn't spend much time with him at work.

"In that respect, I am lacking in many ways. I am, by no means, the one in the highest position here, and I am also quite young. You could choose the Vice President, or any of the directors, as well as all the regional directors gathered here today."

He hesitated, glancing at you before lifting his head again and glancing around the room. "Why would you want me to be President Go Gunhee's successor when there are so many here more qualified than I am?"

There was a pause hanging in the air after the Section Chief's words. You felt that the Board of Directors' choice was the right one. From what your grandfather hand told you, he was a very sage and dedicated man, who was only a few years your senior. If he became the President, you felt the KHA would be in good hands.

"The other Directors and I don't have the power to lead the Korea's best hunters, but you do. You have good relationships with the Big Five guilds, and are on good terms with hunter Sung Jinwoo."

There was that name again. Sung Jinwoo. You swore you knew it, and you definitely remembered your grandfather mentioning him a lot, but you didn't remember exactly who he was. You had never been good with names, which was why you didn't end up in the Surveillance Department.

"We may have crossed paths often, but I'm not sure that hunter Sung Jinwoo would feel the same way." The Section Chief interjected, looking down at his hands. He was clearly very affected by your grandfathers death, and you resonated deeply with him.

One of the Directors sighed. "We cannot force our decision on you, but will you please consider this carefully?"

The Section Chief nodded slowly, and the meeting was over.

After the meeting, you ran slightly to catch up to the Section Chief. You had already forgotten his name, but you figured it would be fine if you just addressed him by title.

You tapped him on the shoulder, feeling slightly guilty as he flinched. You spoke quietly, with a somber voice and much respect.

"Section Chief, sir..." You trailed off, finding your words. "I know it is not my place to say this, but I think you would be a good fit as the President of the KHA."

He looked at your gratefully, though you noticed the crease between his brows. To him, you probably seemed like some weak B-rank hunter as it was marked on your Hunter's License. Very few people knew that your grandfather had insisted you keep your true rank a secret.

He thanked you quietly before returning to silence. You hesitated for a second, but walked off in the end. If there was anything more that you wanted to pursue, you would have to wait. So, you exited the KHA building and returned home.

You had been resting at home for a while when the home phone rang. You picked up, hearing the voice on the other end asking for you.

"Yeah, I'm him. What is it that you need?" You asked, a smile in you voice as you tried to be polite.

"This is the Korean Hunter's Association. Please go to the President's office tomorrow at 8:00. Thank you very much." The attendant said before hanging up promptly. You wondered why you had been called, but you planned to go.

You walked into the living room, planning to tell your mother that you would go to work early tomorrow morning when you saw her staring at the TV with tears streaking down her face. On the TV, the Korean news station was talking about the new President of the Korean Hunter's Association.

Woo Jinchul. Your new boss, the one who replaced your grandfather. You didn't know how to feel, but you knew that it was the right decision.

You mother turned around and looked at you, eyes full of betrayal as she pointed at the TV. On the screen was none other than Woo Jinchul, who you'd just been thinking about. Your mother's voice broke through her spilling tears as she cried out.

"They're replacing your grandfather! Replacing him with some useless youngster!"

You tried to calm her down, to console her, but nothing was working. She couldn't understand that Korea would not function if the KHA had no president. She kept babbling about how they were replacing your grandfather, taking away his pride and joy.

You walked back to the house phone, dialing your father's number. You told him what was happening, with your mother, and that you had to go to work tomorrow. Your voice was empty and sad as you spoke, and he only replied with a sigh, muttering a quiet, "okay..." before hanging up.

What had happened spoiled your appetite for dinner, so you told your mother that you were going back to your room from across the house and shut the door heavily behind you.

You needed to think about work, though. It wouldn't be easy, and you would eventually need to reveal that you were actually an S-rank hunter. Now that your grandfather was gone, even fewer people knew your secret. It made you feel guilty using your connections to falsify your rank, but Grandpa had wanted to protect you from a life of publicity. You figured you probably wouldn't have been able to continue your education if it was revealed that you were an S-rank hunter.

The night was, tense. You father eventually came home and comforted your mother, but she was too distraught to do anything but go to bed. You were worried about what would happen at the Association, and you father worried for your mother. It was a night very full of worry.

The morning was hardly any different. You father worried for your mother, enough to stay home from work. Despite your father being Go Gunhee's biological son, your mother had a better relationship with your father's father than your father himself. You, on the other hand, to a shower before forcing on a relatively plain suit. You always hated the Association's dress code, but it was one of the few things Grandpa insisted on.

You didn't live far from the Association, living a few blocks away. You mother always wanted to stay close to Grandpa, and you father worried for his health. It ruined them that even though you were so close, they couldn't do anything to save him before it was too late.

You walked through the summer heat, sweating down your back as you tore your blazer off. It was too hot in the summers to wear suits. After about five minutes of walking, you arrived at the building. You had been going to the Association's building since you were a kid, so it was a very familiar building to you. It felt different, though, now that your Grandfather was no longer there.

You made you way up to the top floor, stepping into the elevator and greeting the people in there. They waved politely, but the ride was otherwise silent. They all got off before you did, hurrying to their respective desks, and eventually, you were alone with your thoughts. Sadness clouded your mind, but you were determined to push through it. You had duties you needed to complete.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, bringing you to the top floor. It consisted mostly of meeting rooms where the Board of Directors would meet, as well as a few higher ups offices. That's also where the President's office was. You walked down the hall, slowly making your way to the very end. As you approached, you lifted your hand to knock on the door, but it swung open without you even touching it.

Standing in the doorway was Woo Jinchul, the new President. You bowed your head to him, greeting him.

"Hello, I am Go (name), your new assistant." You introduced, looking up as he chuckled softly. There were bags under his eyes, though he looked cleaner. His cheeks were hollow, as if he had been forgetting to eat.

"No need for such a formal introduction, welcome in." He said, gesturing for you to follow him. The inside of his office was decorated with a grand desk on one side of the room. In the middle, there was a large table with many seemingly comfortable chairs. He stepped around the table and sat down in one of the chairs at the head of the table, and gestured for you to sit down opposite him.

You sat down, and the man cleared his throat. He crossed his legs and set his hands in his lap.

"As you know, right now, Hunters all over the world are in great turmoil because of the killings of the most powerful hunters. Korea is no different. I will be having a meeting with hunter Sung Jinwoo, and you will be there as my assistant."

You nodded. Sung Jinwoo again. He must've been quite famous if Grandpa and Woo Jinchul both talked about him. Though, there was something else you wanted to ask.

"May I ask what my responsibilities are as your assistant?" Though it seemed simple, you didn't exactly know what your new job entailed. You knew you would be helping out around the KHA, but you didn't know what your explicit responsibilities were.

"Organizing my schedule, speaking with reporters on my behalf when necessary, and giving me advice are mostly it. There are a few other things, but they hardly matter and would make me feel guilty if I had you do them."

It seemed like a rather menial job. You were fine with that, though. There was a reason you didn't want to become a hunter. Thinking about it, though, now that you had finished university, there wasn't anything stopping you. You sighed and shook your head, waving it off when Mr. Woo Jinchul asked you what was wrong.

After a bit more talking about your new job, you discovered you also had an office on the top floor and was lead there. It was a nice office, quite big with a few arm chairs and a nice desk. You thanked the President before he left, and started your day.

It was no wonder he needed an assistant, his calendar was a mess. You had to make a lot of phone calls about timings to clean everything up. After a few hours of work, there was a notification that popped up on your desktop.

"Hunter Sung Jinwoo is arriving in 20 minutes. Please come to Meeting Room #1803 as soon as possible." The email had been sent by Woo Jinchul. You nodded to yourself, planning to go there very soon.

Ah, yes, Hunter Sung Jinwoo. You would Google him. You felt it would be important to know who he was. When the search results did pop up, you were a bit surprised. They said he might be the strongest hunter in Korea. Apparently, he even beat Thomas Andre. You let out a big sigh. You couldn't believe you forgot who he was.

You sat up, turning off your computer and grabbing your blazer from the coat rack by the door before making your way down the hall to the meeting room.

As you stepped inside, you said hello to the President and taking your place behind his chair.

"When he comes in, the front desk will phone the room and I'll need to you get him from the first floor, if you don't mind." You nodded contently as he spoke. You wondered what it would be like to meet him. Despite being with the association, you had never actually met another S-rank hunter except for your grandfather, so you weren't sure how they carried themselves.

Suddenly, the phone rang and you walked over the the small table to pick it up. "This is Go (name) speaking, what do you need?" You asked, expecting that hunter Sung Jinwoo would be arriving.

"Hunter Sung Jinwoo is here. He has an appointment. Can someone come down to pick him up?" The voice on the other end of the phone asked. You nodded, saying that you would be down in a second before nodding meaningfully to Woo Jinchul and making your way to the elevator.

The ride down was quiet, most people working without moving between floors. It was at most a minute before you arrived at the first floor, the elevator doors opening with another ding as you stepped out. You had a clear view of the lobby but you couldn't see the President's guest until you walked further in.

"Hunter Sung Jinwoo, please come with me. I will take you to President Woo Jinchul." You said firmly, seeing a black haired man stand up. He was wearing a black jacket over a pristine white shirt, and a black pair of slacks.

Despite his skinny appearance, his presence was overwhelming. You could hardly breathe standing near him, but you struggled through it. You cleared your throat gently as you started walking to the elevator. You cheeks dusted with pink from embarrassment. You were a grown man, but he still towered over you. You were even an S-rank hunter!

"My name is Go (name), I'm the President's assistant." You introduced, turning towards him but not looking him in the eye. This guy was seriously powerful. It would be difficult to have to be in the elevator with him all the way to the top floor.

He nodded, remaining quiet but for a few words.

"Sung Jinwoo."

You cleared your throat as the elevator doors opened and you stepped inside, looking back to make sure he followed you. You looked up to his eyes and looked down to the floor again, letting out a defeated sigh. You felt his gaze bearing into you and you tried to stammer out something, anything at all.

"Uh, so, um, we're going to meeting room #1803." You forced out, cringing internally at yourself. You had never been good in awkward situations. Hunter Sung Jinwoo must've found you funny, or something, because he looked at you with a strange expression.

After what felt like a lifetime in the empty elevator, the doors finally opened and you hurried to step out. You could feel Hunter Sung Jinwoo's gaze on your back as he followed you, albeit slower. You paced down the hall to the meeting room, almost feeling sick with the amount of power swirling through the air. He followed behind you, not struggling to keep up but wondering why you were walking so quickly.

You emerged through the large wooden door and inhaled a deep breath. Finally, somewhere where he was not. And then, he followed right after you and your mood was soured right again. You gestured to the chair across the from the President before muttering a few words.

"Excuse me." You choked out, footsteps rushing to exit the room and get a break from the power flowing through the air. Finally, as the door shut behind you, you took a deep breath and let the fresh air fill your lungs. So that was Hunter Sung Jinwoo. He seemed to be deserving of the title of 'best hunter'.

After a few seconds standing outside the door, you heard them start talking. So far, it was nothing important, just greetings. They interacted like friends, and you recalled that President Woo Jinchul knew the hunter quite well.

Then, you heard the topic of their conversation shift to you.

"What was up with him? He seemed really uncomfortable?" You heard Sung Jinwoo ask and you cringed. You tried to come off as calm and collected, but you always had trouble around other S-ranks. You found their overflowing power suffocating.

"Oh, Go (name)? He's... sensitive around S-rank hunters." The President answered, hesitating as he came up with a word to describe your aversion to them.

"So he's Mr. Go Gunhee's grandson..." Sung Jinwoo trailed off, the tone of the conversation turning darker with the sorrowful edge to the S-rank's words.

"Yes, but he has been handling the former President's death quite well." Woo Jinchul answered back, managing to maintain his professional air despite the personal turn of the discussion.

Eventually, the conversation turned back away from you and you heaved out a sigh of relief. Even if it wasn't bad, it embarrassed you when people talked about you.

After a few more minutes of waiting, letting yourself recover, you walked back into the room, that overwhelming pressure crushing you again. You choked on a breath but slowly made your way to the wall at the back of the room. President Woo Jinchul turned around to look at you, brows furrowing with concern at your pale face.

"Are you alright?" He said quietly, looking you over to make sure you weren't sick. "If you're sick, it's okay to go home."

You shook your head, leaning down as you answered. "No, I'm alright. Thank you for your concern."

He nodded, though the wrinkle between his brows didn't disappear before returning to his conversation. It wasn't exactly a necessary conversation, more of a cordiality to introduce assets of the KHA to a new President.

It wasn't long before the conversation was over, but during the entire time you had to focus on controlling your breathing with a pale face. The intense pressure in the room that only you seemed to be able to feel pushed the air out of your lungs at every chance it got. You wondered why it never felt this way with your grandfather, despite him being an S-rank. You could still feel his power, but instead of forcing you down, it welcomed you. It felt... like a warm hug.

The power of the other S-rank hunters... whenever you were in the same room as them, it felt as if some otherworldly being was trying to force you to your knees. It was suffocating and engulfed you entirely. You could only withstand it because you, too, were an S-rank.

As the President's guest's footsteps echoed down the hall, you let out a breath.

"So that's Sung Jinwoo, huh?" You chuckled, color slowly returning to your face as you let your eyes close. You were leaned back against the wall, reveling in the weight off your shoulders. It felt like you had been born anew.

Woo Jinchul nodded, smiling gently to himself.

"He's quite something." The man agreed.

"He's incredible. I've never felt an aura like that before." You muttered under your breath, looking up at the ceiling with bewilderment. "As suffocating as it is, I'd like to meet him again."

Then, the President said something that made you pause.

"You know, it's weird that you're so sensitive to power. I've never seen a hunter as sensitive as you are. Even in S-ranks, they can usually only feel it if there's a fight."

You flinched, slightly, chuckling as you scratched at your nose.

"Don't worry about it. It's just some weird anomaly."

He accepted your answer, nodding disappointedly. Before long, you were back in your office, working away at fixing his broken schedule.

Suddenly, a huge influx of calls rang to your phone, overwhelming you. Apparently, a huge gate appeared over the skies of Seoul. You walked to your window, looking up at it with wonder.

You didn't know yet, but you would be seeing a lot of Sung Jinwoo in the coming days.

Whoo! Finally finished. There is going to be a second part of this, and quite possibly a third, but that will come in a while. If you would like me to put you on a tagging list in the coming parts, leave a comment please!

I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. I think I captured Sung Jinwoo's character pretty well, but let me know what you think. I hope you guys like this shot! Remember to drink water!

reblogs > likes <3

Banners from @cafekitsune

#sung jinwoo #sung jin-woo #sung jinwoo x male reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin-woo x reader #sung jin-woo x male reader #male reader #x male reader #reader #x reader #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling #solo leveling x male reader

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corazon-calaveras · 2 months

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The Crow Reboot Rant

NAH NAH NAH, WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO MAKE ERIC DRAVEN LOOK LIKE A DISCOUNT VERSION OF JARED LETTO'S JOKER?!? IMMA THROW HANDS!!! 💀🔪

There's just so much wrong about this reboot and as a fan of the original crow movie and graphic novel I cannot even begin to express how much this disappoints me.

More to rant ahead, just know it's hella long.

I recently saw and heard more news about the crow reboot and upon seeing what to expect I no longer have any interest in watching the reboot, in fact I wish the fans continue to roast the hell out of it to show the people in charge of this reboot that this is NOT what the people want or need.

Now I just want to go on and say that I have no problems with Bill Skarsgard as Eric Draven. I think he's a hella great actor with lots of potential of doing a great job at being the next crow actor, but my issue is with the writers and the people who made the overall decision to make this cult classic "appeal to modern audiences" which that quote alone was enough for me to completely abandon all hope of this movie being any good. I was already skeptical enough about the reboot and my expectations were low but THIS...this definitely made my expectations drop even lower than they already were and that's surprising to me. Honestly at this point the three crow sequels were a lot better and that's saying a lot because if y'all have seen those you'll know they weren't that good either but at least they were entertaining. 😭 (In my opinion at least, feel free to disagree on that).

It gets even better when you find out that the inspiration for reboot crow was Post Malone and Lil Peep. 💀

Like...is that what appeals to modern audiences nowadays? Was that really necessary for modern day Eric Draven? Absolutely not! The original movie and comic took place in the 90's so LEAVE IT IN THE 90's! Not everything has to be modernized for the sake of appealing to modern audiences. What modern audiences need right now are original stories with good and compelling writing (which probably won't happen any time soon since Hollywood proved to be in the middle of an imagination drought).

Sure, one can argue that the original movie wasn't completely faithful to the source material, that being the graphic novel. However, Due to the unfortunate passing of Brandon Lee during the making of the film, James O 'Barr has stated that he had finished the film as a tribute to Brandon who was a sweet and caring man and so decided to write Eric Draven to have some resemblance to Brandon in the film as a way to honor him. With that in mind, it's no wonder people are much harsher about the reboot, myself included, and find that this reboot would be an insult to not only James O 'Barr but also to Brandon. (Those who know the tragic history of The Crow graphic novel would understand why that's the case but in short it was a way for James to deal with grief).

In my opinion, the original crow film does not need a reboot or a remake. It may not be the best or perfect movie in the world but it is a cult classic and is one of the most beloved movies that holds a dear place in people's hearts. Mine included. Which is why instead of making another movie based on Brandon Lee's crow, that the other crow characters get a shot at the big screen since Eric Draven isn't the only one who gets brought back to life by a crow. I can understand how this might potentially not gain enough traction because it's not the iconic Eric Draven, but I do believe that with good writing and loyalty to the source materials, that it can be very possible to make a good and fresh crow movie without piggy backing off of an already beloved and successful film with the help of the fans who most likely have read the other comics.

In my opinion, I don't think this reboot is worth anyone's time (at least for those who are hardcore fans of the Crow franchise) and I have no hope for this whatsoever. In fact, I'm gonna go rewatch the original movie for the millionth time and reread the original graphic novel because I've already accepted the fact that any potential of getting a good crow movie is officially out the window. Not only that but the book and film are my comfort watch and reads so there's that.

For anyone who wants to hear more details about the reboot I recommend looking up articles or watch videos about it on youtube since that's where I heard the majority of the news.

Brandon Lee will forever be the best Eric Draven out there, may he rest in peace.

#the crow #the crow 1994 #eric draven #james o'barr #the crow reboot #bill skarsgård #the crow 2024 #rant post

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fortuna-et-cataclysmos · 1 year

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Collusion and the political victory of Gabriel/Monarch

I have already analysed the quite obvious and less obvious references to the French Revolution in my previous post. Now let's discuss the internal politics at play in Collusion.

Status Quo

At the beginning of the episode, we have the following situation:

André Bourgeois is the Mayor of Paris and he is part of and controlled by the wealthy elite (see how Tsurugi-san asks Gabriel to convince André to accept their business plan)

Ladybug and Chat Noir are recognised as legitimate law enforcers by the state

The Monarch is public enemy

The Trigger

When André Bourgeois refuses to obey Gabriel's wishes, he triggers a series of events that change the status quo:

Gabriel slanders André Bourgeois's reputation thanks to his personal friendship with him

Simultaneously, he creates an akuma victim, Mlle. Sans Culotte, whose sole aim is to rid Paris of André Bourgeois

Simultaneously, he gives Chloé the tools necessary take over the government

The French republican and revolutionary ideals frequently find place in Miraculous episodes. In Darkblade, Adrien's fencing teacher is defeated by André Bourgeois at the mayoral elections and tries to take the Hôtel de Ville by force. In Heroes' Day, the people of Paris set a popular uprising against the akumas to help the heroes (thanks to @halfahelix for helping me find this episode!). In Mega Leech, the students revolt against the Mayor who wanted to destroy the park. And in the s4 finale, despite the heroes defeat, the people get out in the street to support them and to show the Monarch that they are not afraid of him.

The thing is that, always (if there is a counter-example I am forgetting, please let me know) the Monarch is at the opposing side of the people's will. However this once, he is actually supporting, empowering Sans Culotte?

This weirdness is also pointed out by Ladybug:

I find it strange that the Monarch is supporting a revolutionary.

It is, indeed weird that Gabriel is not only empowering the revolutionary, but also her polar opposite, the personification of the elite: Chloé.

We learn the reason for this choice when Monsieur Bourgeois steps down: Gabriel wanted to put Ladybug and Chat Noir in a position that would make it seem like they are involved in politics.

This is no easy task when Ladybug and Chat Noir are so careful in maintaining their distance from politics. In other superhero fiction, especially those which are a bit more on the realistic side, there are instances where superheroes use their excessive force to assume or sway political power. Even in the Miraculous Universe, the President of the United States is a super hero! But coming from this country with a strong culture of republic and democracy, Ladybug and Chat Noir refuse to do so. Even when Ladybug receives a crown as a lucky charm, she refuses to support either side.

Ladybug: It is not us who should decide who is the Mayor and who is not.

Unfortunately, Ladybug and Chat Noir's efforts to be neutral are negated by Gabriel's plan.

The thing is, no matter what would have happened in that room, it would have ended up with making Ladybug and Chat Noir look bad. The moment the video was released, André Bourgeois's days as the Mayor was already over: he would either step down, or be forced by Mlle. Sans Culotte. The fact that Ladybug and Chat Noir were in the room when this dramatic change in power happened is what doomed them.

If you look closely, you can see that both Ladybug and Chat Noir's attention and weapons completely directed at the Sans Culotte. They weren't attacking her because they wanted to give her a chance to reason with the Mayor, but they were ready to if she did anything but talking. Unfortunately, for the cameras which entered the room at that moment, along with Chloé's accusations, it seemed like Ladybug and Chat Noir were the ones who forced the Mayor out.

As such, with his little manoeuver, Gabriel rids of both André Bourgeois (whom he can't control anymore) and his long-time nemeses Ladybug and Chat Noir.

The Coup

If we are to pull parallels from real historical cases, very often revolutions are followed by a vacuum of power and periods of instability. This instability, more often than not, can turn into violence and in many cases, armed interventions realised to supposedly bring stability can lead to the rise to dictators.

In this case, the revolution doesn't turn violent, but only because the Mayor decides to step down by his own volition and Mlle. Sans Culotte decides to drop her arms (by deakumatising). The very real possibility of revoluationary violence (as refered by Ladybug, a Reign of Terror, explained further here), is averted.

However, Gabriel masterfully manages to make it seem that it happened still.

Why? Because of Chloé's Coup. I don't think that it would be farfetched to call it a coup for two reasons: even in this frame, you can see Chloé come into the physical space that represents power (the Mayor's room) with the following:

An army of robocops (force)

Cameras (media)

In a real Coup attempt, the aim is to overpower whomever is in power with literal show of force. And indeed, not only the robocops attack Ladybug and Chat Noir, but also nearly manage to capture them if it weren't for Chat Noir's cataclysm. Which means that the robocops' strengh is similar to that of Ladybug and Chat Noir and do constitute them a real threat.

Secondly, controlling the media narratives following a Coup is what placates the population and attempts to convince them that the Coup was legitimate. It is not for nothing that putshists usually prioritise radio and TV buildings during their Coup. And here we see that thanks to Gabriel and Tsurugi-san, Chloé has the control of the media.

Like many leaders who rise out of a Coup, Chloé also adopts a narrative of democracy, saying that she is doing everything for the will of people. Except that, she can't even spell out democracy, and that shows how insincere she actually is in her promise.

The New Order

Now what? What is the new situation?

André Bourgeois is replaced by Chloé, who is a puppet to both Gabriel and Lila. From one puppet to another. Except that now, he doesn't know that his puppet Chloé is controlled by someone else.

The Monarch, Ladybug, and Chat Noir are declared public enemy. This may make it seem like Chloé is being fair, given that all three of them are declared enemy, but actually the Monarch was already a public enemy before all of this. As such, Chloé's ruling hinders only Ladybug and Chat Noir, and weakens them considerably against the Monarch.

How will things play out for the heroes?

We still don't know what the public acceptance of Chloé will be. She is a spoiled kid in charge of a city, after all. But also she is guided by master manipulator Lila and supported by the ultimate elite of the city, the Agreste and the Tsurugi families.

The Resistance established by Nino had always intended to support Ladybug and Chat Noir, so they will probably continue doing that.

Ladybug and Chat Noir will need to rely on each other a lot more because now they are literally outlaws.

I am quite satisfied that I saw this happening back when I discussed Reunion, and I am pleasantly surprised that André Bourgeois did the right thing for once.

I really can't wait to see more outlaw Ladybug and Chat Noir!

Also, if you liked this, maybe you'd like to check my other analyses here :3

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 5 #ml collusion #from fortuna #ml analysis

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baby-jaguar · 7 months

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John Price; Drop Everything Now.

Part 2

CW: PTSD, Songfic inspired by "Sparks Fly" (Not in a cringe way I promise)

GN!Reader who is a sergeant on TF141. WC: 2,262

AN: I needed to post this before I completely tore it apart (again) and decided to scrap it. LMK if you'd like a part two because I have a good chunk of it but unsure if I'd like to continue this since I want the PTSD to linger and not be just diminished because reader is love of his life (I'd like to at least try to have some realism, rip). This was actually created for a test run of writing PTSD so I am happy to take any constructive criticism or tips for writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Being stationed in the Middle East meant that you weren't used to much besides the hot sun baring down on every activity you did and dust storms that would blow over, which effectively made you shut your mouth to not breathe in the dirt. However, that didn’t mean that Mother Nature would not bless the dry lands with an ounce of rain every once in a while.

You wouldn’t know about the rain usually unless you were outside training or on a mission when the dark clouds would roll in, giving you a rare break from the sun. Other times, the clouds would cover the stars and moon in the night sky, but you wouldn't be able to tell just what kind of clouds they were.

And that, unfortunately, is how tonight is going without your knowledge.

The rain was never an issue on base, its greatest hindrance being the lack of vision, the annoyance of getting wet, and the general time it would take to wait it out. However, there was always the unspoken thought of the thunderstorms that could arise.

You’ve served two years within TF141 as a sergeant, having been recruited and transferred to be on base under Price’s command. Now having some experience under your belt, you’ve seen a thing or two- but nothing compared to your superiors.

From an external point of view and reflection on yourself, it brings a possibility that your mind has yet to realize if the memories are getting trapped within yourself. Your nervous system may have gotten stuck in the past at a few points in time, but while you remain living in the action, your biggest symptom is nightmares and anxiety that you brush off each time.

The same can’t be said for your Captain.

Price, with his two decades of service, has lived through more than you could ever imagine and things he wishes to not recall. He plays the classic tough guy act, brushing his emotions off as something he can deal with when he’s home and not deployed- nor does he want to even believe they are necessary to process, his ways still being a bit old-fashioned.

When you were recruited, his viewpoint shifted a bit. Price wasn’t sure that you would be a good fit within the team, and debated putting you on a platoon further down the branch that he still oversaw from time to time. Yet, during your grace period, he would check up on you- being sure to debrief with you after long days of training exercises or drills that were getting harder and harder. When you had proven your worth to him and the team, an unspoken agreement between you two was formed. You would casually reside in his presence but keep it under the notion of him offering guidance to the rookie. This often resulted in you filling out reports or paperwork on your laptop in his office while he worked at his desk.

Price was not a sharer of his inner turmoil. But, sometimes, you would confide in him and he would allow a sliver of a softer man to peak out in the late hours of the night.

That's how the deeper part of your relationship worked with him. Hard-ass by day, and a mildly reserved man by late night. You’re close with the entirety of the team, but you’ve always had an attraction to Price, classically never trying to show it or verbalize it to anyone. Yet, you had a good hunch that he already knew from your softened behavior towards him when the veil of superior and subordinate came down to friends in the dark glow of his office.

You knew it was a bad idea to ever indulge yourself in having his attention and reciprocating it, but now you over-indulged for the last year and find yourself with a cavity at the sweetness you suck from his words. Your mind is always left in a trance on any touch he unknowingly spoiled you with; a hand to the small of your back, adjusting your elbows if you were using a heavier loadout during training, or a pat on the head after a job well done.

Tonight, the storm rolls in with thunder chasing right behind it.

It's late in the evening as you stand in the common room, having had dinner late, and washing the dishes while quietly humming to yourself. The subconscious part of your mind notices the flashes of lightning and deep thunder that penetrate the barriers of the base but leaving it as a non-threat. You wash your dinner plate, moving the sponge around, but before you can put the plate down to dry, your phone rings with a call from Price.

It's not unusual for him to call when he decides he’d like your presence while completing paperwork, yet your eyebrows furrow as you see the time to be later in the night than his usual request.

Before you can even speak into the phone after answering, your ear is polluted with the sound of his ragged breaths; the sound of rain hitting the ground is amplified more than what you hear while being inside. It sends a roll of skin-prickling anxiety down your spine as your eyes widen. “Price?” You ask after a blink, trying to understand what this call could be.

You hear it when he speaks, a tremor in the back of his throat and you can imagine the adrenaline-crazed look on his face. The sound of your name is called from him, and it almost sounds questioning, as if he isn't sure it's you, even though he called.

“I- I don’t know where I am…” He pants out, sounding choked up, trying to swallow air and the lack of saliva in his throat while in the pouring rain.

Drop everything now

Without a second thought, you drop the plate, the clatter of it breaking once hitting the ground echoes in the common room and snaps everyone's attention on you. Not having any need for apologies or reason, your body is already supplying the adrenaline needed to set into a dead sprint out of the common room as you weave past the other bodies to push through the hallway and enter the stairwell with the clamor of the metal doors swinging open.

“John, where are you- tell me what you see.” You call out as your body gets set on autopilot, practically flying down the stairs of the barracks and onto the ground floor moving into the hallways. “Do you see the training yard or do you see a road?” You pant out while pushing to find the exit door of the base.

It's here and now, that you now actively recognize the roll and clap of thunder as if it's taunting you to hurry up and find Price before it does.

But it seems it already has.

Each door, person, and corner you pass feels like a deliberate obstacle, frustrating you as you try to get outside faster.

“I- I see a road and the-” He’s interrupted by a bright flash, a strong shake of thunder following right after, and you hear him grunt in aggravation at the sound he lacks control over. With a call of your name, he makes a quiet plea. “Please, I need you here. Now.” He manages to ground out with a sharp breath, causing you to almost second guess yourself at what he said.

You bank a hard left, towards the East entrance, finding the door to take you outside towards the main road that leads to the base's entrance. Shouldering the large door, you grit your teeth while taking the metal harshly against yourself, but almost come to a halt when you feel the pouring rain pelt on your body.

Meet me in the pouring rain

“Please.” His voice shakes again through the phone, and the rasp from his panting re-escalates the adrenaline through your body.

It breaks your heart to hear him sound like this as if he’s succumbing to his demons. “John, I’m gonna find you but you need to help me, ok?” You ask as your legs begin to burn from the force that you run through the damp earth with. “-you see the flag pole? ” You bark out while another flash of lightning crosses the sky, closing your eyes as you wince. “Hey- listen to me, focus on me.” You command, praying that he isn’t locked inside his memories.

After a moment, “Y- Yes, I see it. The- the rains comin’ down hard- won't fucking stop.”

The shake in his voice is back; he’s shivering and his irritability is beginning to build up faster as it makes itself evident the longer he stays held within the turmoil of his nervous system.

Running and finally entering the main yard after having had to cut through the detached buildings to make it to the front, you place your free hand over your eyes to try and gain some semblance of visibility while the flashes of lightning aid for a moment.

“Meet me there. It’ll be just you and me, only us.” You pleaded with a hint of firmness, needing to direct him as you move with haste towards the lit flagpole, the light being a beacon through the pelting rain.

While running in the dark and wet ground, you lose footing and slide your foot into loose gravel; your right elbow is now scraped while you clatter to the ground with a “Fuck-” Your voice breaks through the night air, as your yelp of pain staccatos out in the silence between the flash of light and complimenting rumble of thunder.

In a moment before you can stand up, you hear your name being yelled out, whipping your head up in response. The raw tenacity of his voice through the thrumming of rainfall hits when there is no other force of the storm that can distract either of you.

Your gazes find each other; he looks frozen for a moment, then immediately runs to you.

“John-“ falls past your lips in a cry when you spot him. His fatigues stick to his body, his hair wet and bucket hat long gone. Making his way hurriedly, his body slows with unexpected grace as he helps you to your feet. Almost as if in a hurried frenzy, you latch onto him by his arms, blinking through the falling rain as you look up and search his face.

The expression he wears, as he makes sure you’re alright, contradicts the voice he had just seconds earlier; his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he checks over you, quickly placing his large hands on your ribs to stand you upright as if you are a toddler who has just taken a tumble.

“Bloody- You alrigh’ sweetheart?” He asks as the warmth of his panting breath fans across your face while pulling you up against him.

“I’m ok, I just slipped from the rain. Thank you.” You speak while still holding him tight, latching onto him. Your heart aches at seeing him care for you no matter where his mind places him, always putting others before himself.

John nods, letting out a small sigh. The feeling of your warmth against his chest brings him back down as he looks over you, trying to blink the anxiety and rain from his eyes. The feeling of his hands, cold and now gentle, glides up to move the wet hair from your eyes. It surprises you for a moment as he stays completely silent besides the tremoring breaths he takes.

At the silence, you let a small huff of laughter escape before closing your eyes and giving a smile in relief at having him in your sight and arms, before fluttering your eyes open to gaze up at him.

You return the gesture when you move your hand to wipe his hair off of his forehead, the rain having matted it down to his skin. “With me as I’m with you. Always with you, John.” The lull of your voice surprises both of you as it can be heard perfectly in the rain, with no sign of thunder or lightning interrupting your words.

John cups the base of your skull, looking at the raindrops that fall in small splashes and trails along your face. His eyes dilate when focused on you, the sight of him this close and his icy blue eyes keep steadfast on you, leaving a haunting mark on your memory and heart.

He moves his head down to meet yours; pausing for a moment as if he isn't sure this is real- he isn’t sure that this isn’t a dream and his mind is granting him a wish. Is this a true trick of his mind? This can't be a memory, surely-

He looks as if he’s in pain, so you take the last leap of faith for him.

The new and added warmth of his lips on yours is tender. It contrasts the rough environment of where you stand, the life you both live and the constant battles faced within. Your arms and his alike move to wrap around each other in a harsh and tight embrace.

As the raindrops fall all over both your faces, you feel as if you’re in a movie and the climax has just hit when the lovers are united.

You both are soaking wet, but neither of you seems to mind. He pulls you back into him, deepening the kiss with a determined and desperate force.

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain.

#task force 141 #call of duty #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #captain jonathan price #jonathan price #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #captain price x reader #captain price mw2 #cod price #price x reader #captain price #141

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aclowntiny · 6 months

Note

hi!! I know you said soul exchanges weren't necessary for requests, but I'm more than willing to give mine up for this one because it's a universe I adore

superhero!ateez meeting reader. who or what the reader is? entirely up to you 👀👀👀 (the possibilities are endless omg)

((also plz I've been binging all of your writing because it's just so amazing. the cute stuff just gives me lil butterflies and the fuzzies))

yELLS you’re the sweetest actually 🫶🏻 trying to balance all of my stuff & writing, but hopefully what I have out isn’t the last of the butterflies 🦋 & fuzzies I’ll be giving you 🥰 also this is such a good AU idea??? OMG not me spending forever thinking about their powers 🫣 tried not to just drop them directly into famous heroes’ roles… but Yunho HAD to be spiderman & I will not apologize 😤😝 also, I’d be down to do a part 2 for sure hehe

Warnings: some gun/minor violence/death references, some blood, suggestive comment(s), some pain/peril for Reader, long post lol

Meeting Superhero!Ateez

Hongjoong

Magic was not something to be tarried with. It was not a substance one could bend to their will, it was an art and a fickle one at that.

No one understood that better than a person who wasn’t meant to have it in the first place. He hadn’t been tricked into selling his soul, lost himself in some foolish, evil deal, no. Oh, no.

He’d gone and died.

It had felt just like blacking out when he’d been hit, coming to like the collision was barely beyond a concussion. But the world wasn’t the world when Hongjoong awoke.

There was no sun, no plants, only twisted, dead roots, and the people passing by him little more than glowing wraiths, some looking more human than others. His first reaction was to hold his hands before his eyes, exhaling in relief at the sight of their flesh. Except it felt like his ribcage had shrunk; he was unable to get as much air in or out as usual, every fight for air shallowed.

“What’s happening? Where am I?”

“This is the Underworld,” a low voice replied from behind him, sending him shooting up to his feet and turning to face its owner.

A woman perhaps twice his age, one draped in loose black veils falling around the tight shadowy raiment she wore. Her hair like emerald flame wreathing an expression of dark curiosity, like Hongjoong were a bug she hadn’t decided if she was annoyed by.

He was confused, but not afraid. “Well, I want out. There was so much I was in the middle of out there. I can’t lose it all in some accident. I can barely breathe down here!”

The woman chuckled deeply. “Getting sent back is no simple task. We do not idly accept mistakes.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hongjoong urged, stepping forward and gazing into the woman’s blazing green eyes.

“You will never be fully living again. To return is to become a conduit of the Underworld.”

“Will I be a ghost?”

“No, but your humanity will never fully be restored. Death’s connection is inescapable. A part of you will forever be tied to us. Is this what you wish?”

Hongjoong had a career up there. Friends who weren’t ghosts. A hard drive full of projects. A distinct lack of green flame littering the ground. Music. Fashion. Whatever life he could have. Breath in his lungs. The words escaped his shallow chest so quickly he barely realized he’d spoken them. “Yes, it is.”

The deal was sealed willingly and the Underworld faded away, the final sight in Hongjoong’s eyes those points of green burning into his soul.

Nothing seemed different when breath rushed fully back into his heaving lungs or when he crawled from the wreckage of his car. His feet still hit solid ground as he walked back to his apartment under the night sky.

And the next day when he was yanked into an alley by two dark figures, his heart sure beat. And when they, speaking of him being the one they were sent for, raised knives, surely it was a one-way ticket out of his second life. Maybe he’d be like a cat, get nine…

All of the stress, every endorphin pumped through Hongjoong’s newly-reanimated body, dropped from him like sweat and arced out as green flame.

The cloaked assailants recoiled at the flame, cursed as glowing forms rose from it. Two of them little more than skeletons, one of them much more humanoid. More like the wraiths Hongjoong saw. More like the Emerald Lady herself. He couldn't help recoiling himself, glancing down again at his hands in disbelief. That was of his making?

The duo of skeletons lashed out first, parrying dagger with sword. You sealed the deal, slamming the butt of your polearm down upon the concrete and sending cracks erupting across the charcoal grey. Beneath their staggered feet, a fissure opened up, sending the men plummeting to some unknown doom.

And with that, you turned to Hongjoong, head cocked with interest. "You're going to be hunted from now on."

He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. "What did she do to me?"

"Why do you think she let you go so easily? You're the next Crane."

Tempting was it to look away from the burning glow of your eyes, so similar to the ones who bore him half-escape. Hongjoong wasn't the sort to give in, though. "What does that mean?"

"You were never meant to come to the Underworld, even witness it. Whatever your memories tell you, that was no ordinary accident you were in."

Seonghwa

When you first saw him, sparks flew. Literally.

You’d been focused on the mission at hand, hovering above what you hoped was the main jet for infiltration when a burst of the most beautiful glittering energy sparked before you, wavering like the Aurora Borealis at the edges as it struck open the adjacent craft. It was enough to shake you from the crosshairs haze of disabling anything, stealing your gaze over to the sweeping flight of a black-haired man in a dashing caped suit of violet and silver.

Stories of such a man had reached your ears. “You’re the one they call Cosmos, aren’t you?” You called, mirroring the smile that rose to his lips.

He nodded. “And you must be Depth Charge.”

“I will have you know that that was not my first choice,” you replied as you sent a pulse echoing through the jet’s steel, “or my choice at all. It barely makes sense. I go up, not down.”

Cosmos chuckled at that. His eyes sparkled like the stars in his little energy burst trick, giving him an air of innocence despite his trim figure, the way he sailed through the sky in that l roguish suit. Maybe this was going to be a fun fight after all.

He swerved narrowly past a barrage of jet-fire. “Maybe we should talk when we’re not, you know, attempting to prevent the theft of confidential technology?”

"You're no fun," you mock-scoffed, smirking and boosting yourself to the next jet with a pulse of energy.

"And you're not the one getting shot at!" He fired back, blasting more crackling, star-studded energy at the next barrage before ducking below the shrapnel.

"Yeah, yeah, just come back me up, I see our guy," you urged him, crawling to the top of the jet and focusing the waves you felt into a bladelike space.

The hole had just been cut open when Cosmos swooped in next to you. He was somehow taller than you'd pictured once you saw him up close, serious expression completely changing his bearing. You studied his profile for a few seconds before sliding in through your entry hole legs first. Boots hitting hard floor with a wince-inducing jolt up your ankles, you readied another sonic blade and crept closer to the cockpit. Some shuffling at your back told you Cosmos followed close behind.

Two goons rose from their seats at the sight of you, landing a couple of punches to both of you and even managing to knock you over before you sent their inertia right back at them, slamming them against the wall as you held your surely-bruised jaw. For all his spark, Cosmos held his own in hand-to-hand combat. Well, relatively speaking. He ended up knocking his opponent out with a surprising roundhouse kick. You smiled again, giving a shake of your head.

"What?"

"Extra," you chuckled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, extending an arm to the cockpit door, "would you like to do the honors?"

"Thank you, my good man," you humored him, peeling open the door to meet with a faceful of gun barrels.

"I would stay back if I were you," the head thief remarked. Geez, was the guy reading an old movie script?

"I would stand down, actually, unless you'd like to sail through a hole torn in space," Cosmos told him, standing firm.

Your jaw dropped as you turned to face him. "You can do that?"

He gave you an urgent look.

"Sorry."

"You wouldn't risk letting this device go any more than I would," your enemy sneered, tugging his tie into place.

"I wouldn't have to. That's kind of the thing with being able to manipulate gravity. And yes, I can do that."

With that, he raised a hand and the jet flipped upside down. No, wait, you flipped upside down, drifting into the air against your own volition and flailing fecklessly for a few flaps before firing off a balancing pulse. The case drifted loosely in the air, into the hands of one of the gunners, and then right back out as Cosmos summoned it forth. The men opened fire instantly, bullets drifting slowly into air filling with faint whisps of smoke. Both of you banked hard left to dodge the fire, grunting as you hit the wall hard, but Cosmos stood firm again, offering you his hand. Taking it, you felt yourself hurtling through the air, a familiar sensation as speed returned, then the harsh blasts of wind upon leaving the hull.

"Sorry I stole your target," he told you as he drifted and you blasted away, gazes turning from the final jet's descent.

"Stole it?" You snorted, giving him a smile. "I believe that's called helping me. I'm not exactly in this for the brownie button."

"Oh, yeah, what was it again? For fun, right?"

"Something like that," you agreed.

"By the way, if we're going to be working together, we better know each other's names. Real names. My name is Seonghwa." And there were those stars again, lighting up his dark eyes in a manner far too on the nose for his hero name.

Heart fluttering, you gave him your name.

Yunho

Fortunate. That’s how many people described living in a city with a guardian. Hopeful, like if they were to get into trouble, that very man could, in the most literal sense, swoop in and rescue them. It was like magic how he appeared at the scene of wrongdoings- it only added to the feeling that he could see all that occurred through the hustle and bustle of the proverbial concrete jungle.

For Yunho, it was a lot of pressure. Phrases like the man, the myth, the legend hit a little too close to home. What if he were to let someone down? What if one day the mask got yanked off and all everyone saw was a fresh college graduate semi-desperately searching for a job to apply his major to? He didn’t always feel like a hero, just like a man doing his best to help out.

A man with wishes and dreams like any other. Oftentimes that wish was simply for life to be normal again. Like, he had been granted this amazing opportunity and yet it still fell like a burden across his heart sometimes. Especially when he looked at you.

You were his next door neighbor, the occupant of the apartment adjacent to his. Some days you both would be out on your balconies at the same time just staring out at city lights with your favorite drink in hand and you’d glance across the way and smile at each other. Start a little conversation. What do you think those people across the way are doing? Man, you wouldn’t believe this customer at work today. Whatcha got there, the usual?

It dawned on Yunho sometimes in some poetic delusion that you two took and occupied identical spaces, yet they would be wholly unknown to the other. Made reflections of someone still learned. It made him want to clean his apartment, frankly.

It put things into perspective about his powers, too. One time his spidey sense went off and he told you to step back, only for a bird poo to land exactly where your head would have been. As a jest you’d called him your hero, but the jolt that sent through his heart was anything but funny. Fuel, that’s what it was. Motivation to be the man, the myth, the legend, even in the smallest way.

The sense rang through his body, slid down his spine, mere seconds before the cry for help. Yunho would have recognized that voice anywhere.

As he launched a web out and swung closer to the sound, his heart pounded. It had never been anyone he knew before. It wasn’t supposed to be someone he knew. But it was you. Sailing between buildings, he stuck to the top of the nearest one, gazing down at the man before you and narrowing his eyes at his wild gestures. Without warning, though, he was grabbing you, pinning you to the wall and reaching a hand-

Thwip! A hand that was pinned to his side before it could even reach a weapon, touch you again. Swinging out from his viewpoint corner, Yunho slammed into the creep with his feet, kicking him off of you. In retaliation, he landed a punch with his good hand.

“What is this,” Yunho lowered his voice lest you recognize it as your neighbor’s, “‘I can take you with one hand tied behind my back’?”

Before the man could reply Yunho tied him down again, not wanting to stoop any closer to his level of brutality.

“I think I’ll have a word with the police on you. Heard they were investigating a bunch of abductions. It’s about time they got some practice in.”

Footsteps rang out as you ran to his side. “Spiderman! Thank you! I had no idea if anyone would hear me, but I should have known!”

“Hear you? I could feel you,” he replied, “well, er, that is, I… I have this, you know, danger sense and I-”

“Hey, it’s ok. I get it,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a quick side hug, “I know you’re nothing like that guy. Your partner’s lucky to have a guy like you.”

“Well,” Yunho’s voice lowered even more as your eyes peered into his masked ones, as if you could see him, “I don’t actually have one. No one’s really into, uh, yeah.”

“Well, then, can I do this?” With two fingers, you motioned near the edge of his mask, sliding up its corner.

Yunho inhaled, eyes widening beneath their white affects. “Sure.”

Your fingers felt cool when they brushed the edges of his skin, staying true to their word as they peeled up the tiniest section of his mask. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took everything in Yunho not to giggle then and there.

“Thank you again,” you breathed as you leaned back.

“No problem,” Yunho replied, “need a walk back home?”

You put a hand on your hip. “Since when does Spiderman walk?”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “Thought offering a swing might scare you.”

You smiled. “I’d be down.”

“Alright, then, hold on tight and name the address.”

Yeosang

It was just another day on the streets of Seoul. The day's bustle had taken its toll on the sidewalk, crowding the strip with bodies and voices. All Yeosang wanted was to get out of there. No sooner had that thought occurred, though, was he reflexively granted that wish: one of the multitudinous passersby careened sideways into him, and in his startlement he’d disappeared entirely.

Cursing internally, he searched for witnesses, sighing with relief at the simple alley he’d unthinkingly sent himself to. Premature relief, for as he turned to leave said alley, there you were standing as if frozen in a bend over a trash can, eyes wide as saucers. He felt his own eyes reflexively widen, resisting every impulse to disappear again and leave you just wondering if you’d gone crazy, never to see him again in a city that large.

A smile spread across your face. “That was awesome! Dude, you just teleported!”

“No, I didn’t,” he deadpanned, taking a few steps toward the alley opening.

“Ok, gaslighter.”

Yeosang stopped dead in his tracks, turned to fix an eye upon you again, sighed. “You understand what a big secret you just witnessed?”

Straightening, you shot him a finger gun. “So you did teleport?”

“Yes, I did. I know how this works,” Yeosang answered, “what will it take for you to keep quiet?”

“Are you a superhero?” You asked, skipping over a scattering of alley trash to move to his side.

“I-” Yeosang sighed. Most days he felt more cursed than heroic. Burdened with secrecy and threats to all who stood for differences, deviations of any kind. But a mutation like his? Inherently greater safety than most challengers to Seoul folk. Dodging the proverbial bullet. He’d managed to teleport a woman who jumped off a building and have a conversation with her. Weeks later. She saw him again, said she considered him her hero. Humbling to say the least. After the long pause, he swallowed. “I try.”

“That’s so cool! What you need is a sidekick.”

“I’m not exactly spiderman,” he replied sheepishly.

Your eyes darted briefly away, then back to his. “Home base?”

“I mean, I live somewhere already, but-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, waving a hand, “I mean like a secret hideout where you can conduct your operations and keep your research with your…administrative assistant.”

“Ok,” Yeosang chuckled, “that’s a pretty clever workaround for ‘sidekick’. But you have to realize people like me aren’t exactly caped crusaders. It’s not an organized thing, I don’t have a danger sense, I just…help where I can.”

At that, you nodded, eager expression finally sobering a bit. “I know. I had a friend whose family attacked him over his powers. He barely made it out of there. I don’t even know where he is now. I guess I just want a better face for you guys. Maybe I just want to make a hero.”

Oh. Yeosang was not expecting that. His eyes widened, softened, blinked. “It’s a nice thought, but maybe let’s start small.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was even implying an agreement, but he’d been alone for so long. Alone wanting to believe someday the world would change.

“Like some cameras? A red-string sort of situation on local crime? Bullet dodge training?”

“I, uh, I think I’ve got the last one covered,” Yeosang replied, putting his hands in his pockets and finally shuffling toward the alley horizon, squinting as he crossed the sun’s threshold.

“You’ve been in a shootout?” You gasped, following him with a hand out over your wide eyes.

“Shh,” he hushed you, glancing back and forth at the thankfully empty street, “I told you! I try to help where I can. Even if it means making myself a target. I’m much harder to hit than the usual robbery victim.”

“This is so cool. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Yeosang.”

You gave him your name, glanced back at him from the peripheries of his vision. “They ever give you a nickname?”

“They usually just say I’m like trying to hit a ghost.”

“Ghost,” you murmured, “that could work.”

“Maybe it could,” Yeosang murmured back, smiling faintly into your wide grin, “maybe.”

San

Most of the other workers thought you were too young. You looked more the age of the test subjects, they said, despite you denying any presence of the mutagens. All you wanted was to understand them, just like anybody else. After all, harnessing the genetic component that allowed adaptation that fast had both amazing and terrifying implications for humanity. Implications not lost on the subjects themselves. It was for that reason that you were assigned to the one dubbed safest for beginners.

He was a young man about your age, a man with well-sculpted features and a contagious smile-on the rare occasion you got to see it. It wasn’t a happy life, after all, in a laboratory quarters, even if they did “simulate comfort”. It was a lie and everyone knew it- those were no apartments. They were cells. It was no way to live, and there you were working there and contributing to it.

Well, sort of. “Ok, I know they say no pins in the walls, but I keep hearing how the guy who likes to give himself bear claws has practically scratched the entire things off his room, so seems a bit hypocritical. I got your old Day6 poster,” you told your subject, holding up a few pushpins in one hand and his poster in the other.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” San asked, grin emphasizing his charming dimples.

“If they fire me, they lose the latest honors geneticist, so I don’t think they want to risk it over a poster.”

“Good point,” he conceded, accepting your gift and crossing the room to pin it on the wall nearest his bed one corner at a time.

His motions were careful, calculated- far less erratic than many of the other subjects’. Subjects. You kept using that word. Dehumanizing. Was that the end goal?

“Alright, what do you think?”

San’s voice cut through your thoughts, directing your attention to the band now displayed upon his wall. One small addition and the room had that much more personality. That much more San.

You smiled. “I like it.”

He nodded toward all the guys in the picture. “Who’s your favorite?”

“I dunno,” you mused, pointing, “that one’s pretty handsome.”

“Young K? Oh, everyone tells me I look like him,” San grins.

“No, they don’t!” You tease. “You would’ve just said that about anyone I called handsome!”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “gotta have some fun before my daily blood sample, huh?”

Smiling sadly, you just nodded, stepping back to take up your syringe tray from where you’d set it on his bookshelf.

Shrill warnings echoed throughout every corner of the alternately dimming and brightening laboratory, lights flashing their own alarm as your feet struck the smooth, institutional stained concrete. There’d been a containment breach, an immediate interruption to your protein synthesis as battle stations rang.

Restrain. That was the order. As if you could do anything against a guy with bear claws or venomous barbs or someone with the agility of a cheetah. That was why your company wanted the source so badly- super soldiers and all that. Always soldiers. Never curing wounds. Never jellyfish immortality. None of the subjects had thought of that one, either, as far as you knew, but then you’d yet to witness anyone using the mutagen’s power.

What could you do? There was a taser in your pocket, a small standard-issue you’d received in case of this very unlikely scenario. Restrain was about the only chance you had, but the thought of running into the breach barely crossed your mind amidst the chaos of scrambling compatriots and banging doors as the mass escape began.

All you could think of was reaching Quarters 314. San’s room. It was insane, it was stupid, it was the absolute irrevocable death of your career there- but then again, so would all the subjects escaping be.

If a bunch of the most powerful mutants you housed were escaping already, you wanted San to have freedom. Every cent you had, you’d bet that he could walk back out onto the streets and never hurt a single soul. That’s why they gave him to you in the first place- he was complacent. Kind.

304. The moment the door entered the haze of your vision, you slammed your key card on the lock sensor pad and tumbled in.

San was hunched near the doorway. “What’s going on, did someone get hurt?”

“They’re escaping. All the strongest ones,” pausing for a heartbeat, you reconsidered your words, thought about how every man and woman in the building had the same skills, “well, all the fighters. Come on.”

His eyes, shining as ever, widened. “Are we evacuating?”

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “you’re leaving.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This might be your one chance to get back out there and live. I’ve been coming in here every day for weeks. You don’t deserve to live in a cell. As badly as I wanna know how you work, this isn’t a life for anyone. Do you want out?” You asked, tone firm despite your frantic heart, searching his eyes.

San nodded. “Ok. Thank you. I can get us out.”

You frowned. “Us?”

“If this is all on the cameras you stick everywhere, they won’t be your biggest fans anymore.”

“Good point. Are you going to…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.

He hummed in response, those soft eyes you’d seen every day hardening like never before and that sharp jaw setting. He squared…braced himself.

“You don’t like doing it, do you?” The question came out of your mouth before it had fully entered your brain, but to your relief he didn’t look annoyed.

“Depends on what it is. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

You shook your head.

“Well, sorry this is your first time,” San said, and with that, his shoulders squared again, his head falling as if struck down.

Subconsciously, you reached out hands at his pained expression, but what could you do? It was all inside him.

At least at first. Soon, the slick fabric of his moisture-wicking regulation top was splitting, bursts of blood spraying as new bone and tissue arose, tendrils that solidified into sharp flesh-toned blades before bursting into feathers. Tears fell from San’s eyes as he shakily rose back to his feet. He’d just grown wings.

And as if all that blood and tissue and the sheer amount of development occurring over mere seconds was little more than a strenuous workout, he wiped his brow with his left hand and extended his right.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Mingi

Sometimes he wondered why he was chosen.

What it was about him that another race from a different planet would think he had what it took to bear and protect one of their greatest treasures? He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place. The demand had been simple- keep it safe until others arrive for it.

The crash had happened when he was home, a sound so deafening it was like the world was ending. Shaking as he was, Mingi had run outside into the rush of the night wind, out along the smoke trail in the woods to see if whatever catastrophe had had survivors, if victims. And survivors there were- ones a bit odd-looking. Almost human save for the violet hue of their skin, the pointed tips of their ears, the vertical slits of eyelids revealed when the woman’s visor fell from across her eyes. Their skin felt different, too, as Mingi pulled them from beneath crushed metal and fire, firm and with smoothness gently interrupted by texture he could only describe as like small scales.

They didn’t look happy with him, but still accepted his help stumbling between trees and back into his home. They understood bandages, accepted beds. Swore Mingi to secrecy even as they thanked him days later. Be it technology or some uncanny occasion, they could speak to him. They could understand.

The mission they’d set out on was one of guardianship; the relic, something of myth, needed new housing and a new bearer.

“The one worthy will be selected,” the man told him in his deep, faintly accented hiss of a voice.

It was an imposition, sure. But how often did aliens land near one’s property guarding a weapon of legend? Mingi’s whole week had felt like a dream, and until he woke up the least he could do was deepen its lucidity.

“Can I see it?” He asked, peering up earnestly into their snakelike eyes from above the intricately carven and paneled box of steel with the most incredible iridescent shine he’d ever seen. Its contents had to be even more beautiful, right?

They watched, glanced down at the way his hands hovered reverently, stared back into his eyes.

“You are not of deceitful mind,” the woman replied.

“It is not out of depth that he welcomed strangers into his home,” the man shot back.

“No, it was out of kindness,” the woman insisted, waving a hand over the box, “as a reward, you may look upon the Heart of Steel.”

Gingerly, she traced some of the lines that Mingi had barely noticed with the tips of her long fingers, reaching beneath the bottom and holding her hands there until the top of the box simply floated a foot or two above the remainder, held by some microcosm gravity that drew a breath of awe from Mingi. Reflexively his fingers stretched toward the contents of the box, a smooth metal teardrop shape crafted from that same resplendent material.

Heat radiated from its small surface the moment he moved closer, sending him drawing back, but like a magnet it shot after him and into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at both of the beings who still hadn’t offered him names, “I swear I’m not doing this!”

“No,” the woman shook her head, snake-eyes wide, “you are being chosen.”

“And you expect me to believe this why?” You asked him, brow arched.

“Because,” Mingi put up his hands in defense, eyes scanning your form, “I didn’t even want to touch it! Why would I steal this thing I know nothing about?”

“Delskvlln was right. Not a deep thinker,” you commented.

“See? I know him! They ended up telling me their names! His wife was…er…Syssmerlyss? I am so sorry if I’m not pronouncing it correctly.”

“Well, the accent needs work, but I suppose Syssmerlyss was right- you have a certain kindness about you.” You took two steps closer to him, half-tapping, half-pushing him on the shoulder twice in a gesture that probably didn’t fully translate. “Come on, then, we have training to do.”

“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “sometimes the suit doesn't cooperate, but I think I’m starting to get pretty good with the gravity swords.”

“It gave you the swords?”

“Heh, uh…yeah?”

Wooyoung

It was hard sometimes, using such abilities for good. Had he so chosen, Jung Wooyoung could have become a world leader, a dictator even. But that thought terrified him. The pressure sounded unbearable. No fun, either, not that former friends hadn’t tried to convince him countless times to use his gifts for that, too. He preferred the traditional methods of seduction, were he to desire employing any at all.

Accessing minds was Wooyoung’s least favorite skill, in fact. Seeing and hearing thoughts was crushing, uncomfortable, an unfair dominance. Bouncing twice as high as a person should be able to with a force field, though? Making things levitate out of people’s hands? Bee’s knees.

He'd been a rogue in the city, just a wanderer who did what he could to help others when he wasn’t working. Flinging the gun out of an armed robber’s hand, blocking bullets with force fields, even fighting back when he had to.

They just didn’t learn. He couldn’t help scoffing a bit and teasing them when they fired at him.

“Now, gentleman, isn’t this a bit insulting?” He’d ask, casually flipping a hand as the bullets ricocheted and buried themselves harmlessly into walls. “And besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I just think this doesn’t belong to you.”

Cue him summoning the stolen money or goods right from their indignant hands and, eventually, back to the rightful owner. After convincing them all to stand still with their hands in the air, of course.

There had just begun whispers of his presence, trepidation at the prospect of an illegal smuggle or a robbery for the first time, a name for him emerging when he faced the first true opposition.

“So, you’re the Vigilante everyone’s talking about, are you?”

“Is that what they call me?” Wooyoung shot back.

“Guess you aren’t in it for the fame,” you snickered, stepping further from the shadows of the doorway, a tube-shaped device Wooyoung didn’t recognize in your hand.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, glancing at it and crossing his arms.

“Ideally, you to get out of the way,” you replied, flicking something on the device and sending it unfolding with large cracks, climbing up your forearm like a mechanical caterpillar and glowing at the tip once your hand was completely enveloped.

“Out of the way of wh-” He didn’t have time to complete his sentence before a bolt of energy arced his way, his instincts barely kicking in in time for him to launch away from it.

Putting up a force field, he stood his ground, staring at you with new interest. “You’re part of the weapons racket, aren’t you?”

“A plus, genius,” you replied, smug satisfaction glinting in your eyes, “the city isn’t going to need you much longer.”

“You’re right,” he said, “because I’m about to kick your ass.”

Another bolt of purple energy came at him, shattering the faint glow of his field. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, but he quickly righted it as he moved closer. It felt like his whole body clenched as his energy focused on peeling the device off. You winced in pain and jumped back as the gun fired an erratic shot that rained chunks of ceiling down behind Wooyoung’s back, sending a little lightning strike of guilt across his heart, but he kept at it, sending each piece yanked off to your side to fortify the restraints he was making. You struggled, panting and tugging as he worked, kicking aside his work and scrambling toward a panel on the wall. With each button you pressed, Wooyoung slid your feet out from under you, but in the end he heard the dreaded activation beep. The look you turned and shot him was a mix of defiance and resignation that shook him to his core and froze him to the spot. He didn’t even stop you as you ran away, just slid the nearest couple pieces of your contraption towards himself, grabbed them, and made his own flight out before the place blew.

Shielding himself from the heat and sound, he knelt and examined the scraps. Luck was on his side, it seemed; he’d gotten the chunk bearing manufacturer and serial number info. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung wasn’t going to just deflect and run- he was going to chase you down.

Jongho

It was cloudy. It was almost always cloudy. Not exactly ideal conditions for your lot, but what were you going to do? Couldn't exactly bottle sunshine, as they said.

Not that they weren't probably trying. Scientists had gone positively psycho in your city, the hottest trend being harnessing the elements. Success rate? You, at least. It wasn't supposed to be you. Maybe not anyone, for that matter, but the spores ended up in your body regardless. You'd heard that they were supposed to be used or they'd take over, but the call to do so was strong regardless.

Trees planted on the sidewalk suddenly bloomed and flourished. Green sprouted in odd hosts within the concrete jungle. Flowers out of sidewalks and the like. Anything to combat what the rest of humanity was doing, right?

That was all it had been until someone saw you. An older man, betrayingly grandfatherly, began a mild conversation that quickly deepened, progressed to him requesting your help in an investigation on the very place that exposed you to their research.

"Why me? I barely spent any time there. I wasn't the test subject, it was an accident!" Never had you realized you were afraid to return until it was asked of you. The infection was hell until it stuck, pain all over your body like you'd never known, violent reactions as your body writhed and tried again and again to reject the foreign invasion.

Then poof, there you were as the city's chlorophyll ninja.

"Because you have been inside. You've visited once, why not again? They'll never suspect a thing, and if they do, you're armed with something much greater than what I got."

"Oh," you raised a brow, "so this is personal?"

"It's beyond that," the main replied quickly, gaze darting from yours, "but yes. I'm getting older. This sort of mission is getting more difficult. But more than anything they would recognize me in a heartbeat, and I didn't exactly quit on good terms."

"I'm not in this fight. I didn't ask for any of this," you repeated, "and now you want me to go in there blind and alone? Maybe I don't want to be your recon pawn."

The old man waved a hand, the one that wasn't gloved. "You wouldn't be alone, poor dear. You think you're the only escaped lab rat? I used to think I was." Grabbing the hem of his pant leg, he pulled it up to reveal a very elaborate cybernetic prosthesis. "Both are different. But no, I've kept tabs on the place for a long time. Found another much like you."

With that, he motioned to the doorway with his free hand. Guess you could figure out why the other was covered. As your gaze traced the man's one organic limb, your eyes fell to the doorway, where a young man about your age stepped out.

His appearance was pretty innocuous. His hair was short and dark, his expression stony but his features kind. His broad shoulders were draped with a long coat that swayed near the base of his boots, and beneath that he wore a dark turtleneck and jeans.

"How do you do, Neo?" You quipped as your eyes scanned his form.

To your great surprise, that 'mission go' look on his face melted rapidly into a wide grin, a chuckle. Guy had a nice smile.

"It's Jongho. That was good, though." He nodded down toward you. "Was the green intentional?"

You yourself glanced down at your outfit, and you'd be darned. You were wearing green. Apparently this Jongho fellow knew more about you than you did of him. You were surprised he didn't comment on the potted plant necklace you'd gotten from Etsy- the one you'd nicknamed 'ammo'.

"No, but I guess fate has a sense of humor. Do you have beef with FTR Labs too?"

Jongho nodded. "They have my brother."

At that, your heart dropped. Just by the man's tone of voice you could tell he was trying to be brave, but he didn't want to go back to FTR any more than you did. Want, no. Need? Yes. Maybe the old man was right- maybe they were taking their experiments too far. You hadn't even seen what they'd done to Jongho yet. If it had been a fight for his body, too, let alone his brother's.

"Alright," you nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets, "I'll go with you. Do you have a plan?"

"Of course. My main goal is to disrupt their comms first."

"Classic. How do you propose we do that?"

"I figured a little lightning would do the trick."

"Excuse me?"

Wordlessly, Jongho stared at you, his eyes almost glazing over as gusts of wind rolled through the room and clouds drifted over his head, spattering his black-clad shoulders with tiny droplets of rain. Electricity arced between two of the clouds, light flashing like tiny, branched white roots as it traveled down his cheek, through his arm and into his hand as if illuminating his very veins. Harnessing the elements.

Nothing could have stopped your jaw from dropping, but as you righted yourself, you couldn't help smiling with a strange rush of anticipation. "Hey, if you're the one that's been keeping it so cloudy these days, can you at least rain a little on my friends?" And with that, you let ammo grow out, engulfing your upper body with the comforting hug of leafy vines.

"Kids," the old man shook his head, "always showing off."

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cutebutalsostabby · 2 months

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iirc you said in another post that the time between ALTTP and OOT was either 80 or 400 years. i haven’t played ALTTP yet but love timelines - are those numbers in the game somewhere?

I think I came up with those specific figures myself, BUT I do have some in-game and official text basis for them! The reason for the 80 year vs 400 years (or even longer) options is that there is actually some pretty big inconsistency between a) various parts of the game itself, b) the official game booklet, and c) Nintendo's big ole retcon of the Imprisoning War. Or possibly retCONS if we count TotK.

(Idk if you wanted an info dump, but you're getting one lol. THANKS FOR THE ASK!! 💜)

SO. The intro cutscene.

We start by hearing of legends from long ago, about a Golden Power that resides in a hidden land. Many people tried to find it; none ever returned. One day, evil power began to flow forth (we later learn this was due to Ganondorf finding the Triforce), so the King told the sages (originally translated as "Wise Men") to seal the Golden Land away for good. The narrator then describes those events as occurring so long ago that they became legend. Sounds like a while, right?

But then within about an hour or two of gameplay, you meet Sahrasrahla. Sahasrala? Saharasala? YOU MEET MR SALSA. And he ends up telling you a story about the knights that fought to protect the sages and who were almost all killed at the time, leaving YOU, the protagonist, as the last known member of that bloodline. According to Mr Salsa, those events took place only three or four generations ago.

That's not long at all! I mean, the exact numbers may vary depending on whether it's 3-4 generations from Salsa-san's point of view or Link's, as well as whether we give that person a human lifespan or an elf one (ALTTP has some Western fantasy elements, but the later games suggest that Hylians are basically just humans with pointy ears), but that would be where my ~80 years figure came from.

One of the later bits of dialogue then mentions Ganondorf rediscovering the Golden Land after the knowledge of it was lost - which may explain the discrepancy between the intro cutscene and Sahasralah(?)'s own dialogue. (I'm taking screenshots from Youtube FYI - see cutscene compilation here.)

All good so far?

WELP. THEN WE HAVE THE GAME BOOKLET.

By "game booklet" I mean the little brochure thing that used to come with physical games up until someone decided they weren't necessary. Boo and bah humbug. But I digress.

The original booklet for ALTTP, which you can find online, says that the Imprisoning War took place centuries ago. It also adds a bunch of other new lore details, including Ganondorf's last name, Dragmire - which never actually appears in-game. Both of those things are however missing from the truncated lore dump you get in the Gameboy Advance release's booklet:

And then there's Nintendo's Fallen Hero retcon. Lol.

See, the original "Imprisoning War" from ALTTP went something like this:

Ganondorf found an entrance to the Sacred Realm (formerly "Golden Land") and went in. Much like the others before him, he was then stuck there forever. UNLIKE the others before him however, he then randomly stumbled across the Triforce, which offered him the power to make a wish.

He made some unspecified wish along the lines of "I want to take over the world". As a result, the Sacred Realm became the Dark World and started to leak evil magic and demons into the Light World (aka "Overworld").

The knights fought against the demons, allowing the sages to seal the entrances ro the Sacred Realm. Note it's unclear if they even knew about Ganondorf's existence at this point.

Sometime later, Ganondorf manages to partially break free, and sends his alter ego Agahnim out to break the seal on the Sacred Realm and merge the two worlds into one.

And then we have Nintendo's retcon, which introduces the whole idea of the Fallen Hero - as a means of clumsily tying ALTTP to Ocarina of Time. So instead of the above:

Ganondorf publicly swears allegiance to the King of Hyrule, only to later backstab him and take over the castle. He then follows Link into the Temple of Time and grabs hold of the Triforce while the latter goes to take a nice long nap. He only manages to claim part of the Triforce (Power), so his wish remains incomplete. The other parts go to Link (Courage) and Zelda (Wisdom).

Seven years later, Link challenges Ganondorf to an epic showdown and loses. Ganondorf claims the remaining parts of the Triforce and uses them to transform into the Demon King. The seven sages, Zelda included, then seal both Ganon and the Triforce away in the Sacred Realm.

The names of the seven sages (per OoT) eventually become the names of the towns in Zelda II. Any remaining discrepancies are handwaved away as unreliable narrators.

Interestingly, TotK's Imprisoning War is much closer to ALTTP's version than Hyrule Historia's - which makes me wonder if that whole retcon is doomed to be retconned once again. Of course, the Triforce isn't present at all within TotK, but it's also a pretty compelling reason for why seven sages with secret stones couldn't win against the one guy with a secret stone. So there’s that.

But yeah, going back to that initial question: no, there's no specific figure provided for the time between the Imprisoning War and events of ALttP. Just depends on which piece of conflicting lore you feel like using lol.

#asks #zelda lore #zelda infodumping let's be real #PLEASE ASK ME LORE QUESTIONS I LOVE THEM #legend of zelda #Imprisoning War #zelda timeline

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starksinner · 7 months

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Why Didn't You Stop Me?

Summary: You left and you horribly wish he would’ve forced you to stay.

Pairing: Trevor Philips x AFAB!Reader, Franklin Clinton x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sexual Content, Possessiveness, Fuckbuddies, Unhealthy Relationship, Average GTA Stuff

November 16th, 2017.

It was easy to regret not catching a ride back to Los Santos with Franklin in his sexy white Bravado Buffalo S.

Regret is easy, regret you know. Regret can grow and grow it does as you make eye contact with the hillbilly jacking off next to the icebox in front of the Yellow Jack Inn.

After a couple of days gallivanting around the desert shit-pile that was Sandy Shores, Franklin deemed that your weed-fuelled, fuck-filled adventures had reached a necessary end.

Despite his intriguing offers of more shenanigans and freaky sex once you both got back home, you weren’t all that keen on leaving the town of meth production and Republican rednecks just yet.

“M’gonna go see him,” you sighed, resting your head back against the stained motel pillow.

Moments before, as Franklin had fucked you raw into the cheap motel mattress, you were met with the smell of blood and piss and cum as your face was shoved into the shitty cushion.

Despite the abysmal scent, the man was taking you so good and so fuckin’ hard, you couldn’t force yourself to care.

Now though, as you laid sated in your post-climax glow of sweat and semen, the smell against your cheek served as an unignorable reminder of your still bleeding heart.

That man, that asshole, that meth-head-Trevor-Philips-piece-of-fucking-shit—goddamnit.

You still hopelessly, stupidly, selfishly loved him. The fucked kind of love.

Always caked in blood, smelling like piss after running off to get high and grinning like an evil bitch as he came all over your chin and tits. The smell of the Derelict Motel—the sheets, the pillow, the musty air—was all just a nauseating reminder of how much you missed him.

Your therapist was gonna kill you.

“You know that ain’t a good idea,” Franklin murmured, running his thumb over the plushness of your bottom lip.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t help but shiver at the way he looked at you, his gaze so soft and so full of adoration.

He made you feel like you weren't just a burning shitpile of flesh, bones, and substance abuse issues.

Frank is a good friend, a great man, a nice fuck. He was always there to bring you back down to Earth. He was so easy to love and you sure as shit loved him a whole lot. Beautiful fuckin’ man. “He ain’t right in the head about you.”

“We both know he ain’t right the head about nothin’,” you argued, leaning your body over his. Beautiful man.

“And he’s a big boy. He can take it. Whatever I wanna throw at him.” Your legs quickly became tangled, Frank’s hands resting over your hips as you smiled and played with his chest hair. “He can fuck all the people he wants, but I can’t touch or look or fuckin' breathe around anyone but him? He’s a fuckin’ ass.”

“He fell for you, girl. T’s always been crazy an’ possessive, his shit ain’t nothin’ new.” Franklin snuggled your body closer to his, sighing softly as he pressed his face into the warm crevice of your neck.

He couldn’t control himself, not when he had you like this. You were so hot and so sweet and just so fucking delicious.

Shit.

His lips lingered over the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, his tongue reaching out to tease a fading bruise. He did that. He made that. He marked you.

Fuck.

He groaned as you gave him easier access by raising your chin, letting him worship you like the real fuckin’ princess he always thought you were.

“He was fuckin’ paranoid and possessive in all the worst fuckin’ ways, Frank. I fuckin’ hate him for how he acted when I said I was leavin’ but I still...miss him.” You hummed softly as you felt Franklin’s lips suck right over your pulse point, his teeth just brushing over your delicate skin.

You held down the urge to beg him to bite you.

“Yeah, you miss him, but ain’t nothin’ gonna be solved if you both end up killin’ each other...or fuckin’ each other,” Frank breathed roughly against the shell of your ear as his hand wandered across your stomach and down to your aching clit.

He immediately preened at your wetness and teased the bundle of nerves with soft, circular motions. You gasped as you felt his cock harden and twitch against your thigh, begging for your pretty fucking attention.

He grinned and quickly shoved a finger into your cunt, making you moan and writhe oh so beautifully against him. “Jus’ come back home with me, baby…”

You could barely solidify your thoughts, whimpering like you were.

His motions were so smooth and perfect and rhythmic. Frank was good at a lot of things, but you considered his talent of fucking you mindless as one of his top three.

You immediately felt your wetness start to leak down your thighs. “If he still isn’t over it...I’ll fuck off, hitch a ride, meet you back at your place…yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” he gripped your throat just how you like and shoved another finger into you, leaving you mewling and squirming in his grasp. You reached for him, hard and thick in your palm, and squeezed.

The best girl.

If you were parting ways, Franklin was gonna have you one last time. He understood Trevor’s possessiveness. You were great company, a great fuck, a great woman.

Addicting, hell blazing, heavenly—you were everything. So fuck yeah, he was gonna have you as many times as he possibly could. “Lemme take care of you, babygirl, then you’ll be all good to go.”

The Yellow Jack Inn has never been known for its posh customers or regular demonstrations of human decency, but a man jacking it in front of such a fine all-American establishment is still a sight you couldn’t have properly braced yourself for.

As the ash of your blunt falls to the dirt, your eyes stay transfixed on the man by the icebox as he lets out a disturbing howl and drops to the ground.

His pants are stained, his dick disgusting and soft. He lets out a series of groans as he turns to lie flat on his stomach, his cock scraping against the sand.

Jesus H. Christ. What a charmer.

You manage to twist away from the scene in repugnance and perhaps a more sinister part of you in mild delight, settling yourself in the alley next to the bar.

You restlessly attempt to calm yourself against the brick, picking at its shoddy green paint job before you begin rolling another blunt.

You’re stalling. Like a little bitch. It's embarrassing how much a man can turn you into such a conniving fickle coward. Perhaps not just any man. Your paranoid fuckin’ shitshow of a somewhat ex-lover.

Embarrassing. Unbecoming. Completely mindfucked.

You know Trevor’s inside. He’s an enigma, a loud, idiot one at that. Over the noise of clanked bottles and shitty laughter, you can hear him.

Stupid, how much of him you can hear. And see. And smell. And understand. In everything and anywhere and with anyone. He never leaves you even when he’s left you. He never leaves you even when you've left him. He’s a parasite that you’ve coddled, and cared for, and loved and fucked.

The timber of his voice warms you in a special, fucked up kind of way. It’s familiar and it’s settling and it kills you to know that he’s spent fourteen months ridding you of it. Of him. His clinical insanity has rubbed off on you beautifully. You left and you horribly wish he would’ve forced you to stay.

God.

Would he kill you? Kiss you? Fuck you? You’re still stalling.

Maybe all three?

Being the oil to a homicidal cannibal’s match, you could never really know what the fuck you were gonna get. You anticipate an explosion, but you’re clueless to its degree.

You pocket your blunt, walk over the man with his dick in the sand, and open the door to the biggest health hazard in California.

Chapter 2

a/n: found this oldie from 2021 that i was in the mood to refresh & post! i haven't written in literal years, be nice to me! also, happy ten years to this stupid fucking game. i love u. i feel old (i'm not) and i'm tired (constantly) and i hope you enjoyed (lie to me if you didn't) :3

✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ send me an ask / let's chat! ✧

#trevor philips x reader #franklin clinton x reader #trevor philips #trevor philips x oc #franklin clinton #gta v #grand theft auto v #gta fanfiction #gta fanfic #the protagonist #gta online

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our-transgender-experiences · 1 month

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Can you be suddenly trans? I know dysphoria isn't necessary to be considered trans but like as a kid I don't remember much memories where I wished to be any other gender and mostly just didn't think too much about it cuz religious and culture around said you are who you are in genitals that's final and thinking pass that would give you Hell Points ™ (paraphrasing but it feels like that) so I just shrug and not really think about it cuz idk I've never really thought hard about it ig cuz why should I but there were a time I was given a boy cut as a kid (due to lice😨) and people thought I was a guy and I just feel kind of cool and smug about it and try to act like one to strangers (wide stance, straight back, try not to speak too much to not clock like a girl) and that's it I think? Aside from wishing I was a guy so I can not care about looks or go topless without objectification but that's more about objectification

Idk maybe I'm not making sense here. I just feel like maybe I am wrong about me being genderfluid cuz who suddenly becomes trans??? Not much posts online about it or with what I find but maybe somewhere out there is the same or can make sense of it? Idk ~🐸

Gender is weird sometimes, not all trans people always 'knew' they weren't their birth gender, i'm one, and i know there's more.

#transgender

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mirageofadesert · 9 months

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So I watched most of Luo Yunxi's (allegedly) mediocre filmography ... here are some thoughts.

⭕️Ashes of Love (dropped it, will come back for it later) ❤️ ✔️Princess Silver ❤️❤️ ✔️ And the Winner is Love ❤️ ✔️ Love is Sweet ❤️❤️❤️ ✔️ Broker ❤️❤️ ✔️Lie to Love ❤️ ✔️Light Chaser Rescue ❤️(❤️) ✔️Till the end of the moon ❤️❤️❤️ ❌ Immortality 🤡🤡🤡

First off, the words (allegedly) mediocre and "TTEOTM" or "Love is Sweet" are not allowed in the same sentence. That's why I wont discuss them here. These dramas are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique ... next question.

As for the rest... I have some thoughts and I'm willing to share them:

First of all, I enjoyed all of them and that came as a surprise. I had seen fans joke about his filmography with one smiling and one crying eye, voicing that they hope he would soon be a position to pick better scripts. However, on paper I think the scripts weren't bad per se, but the execution is a bit questionable.

The kind of roles he picks ...

... are actually really great. He seem to gravitate towards deeply conflicted and complex characters, that allow emotional and nuanced portrayals. Non of them are perfect, but they try. Sometimes, the script or directing doesn't allow the characters to be as convincing, as they could be. In other cases, the actors he share a scene with, are utterly unconvincing in their performances.

I appreciate that all his chosen dramas have actual plot besides the romantic story and I didn't have to sit through something as boring as a pure romance without any substance (looking at you, Hidden Love). I also would guess, that he chooses his show based on the roles he plays, because those are often considerably better than the script overall.

Trapped by lackluster writing ...

... is a serious problem, especially when it involves cringey lines as well as wattpad level backstories. I think "Lie to Love" had the weakest script, "Broker" had some really over the top and cringe backstories, while "Lightchaser Rescue"'s biggest problem lies with the directing and production. "Princess Silver" was great overall and I wish he played a bigger role. I'm still not sure what went wrong with "And the winner is love", but I guess it's a combination of everything. Kudos to the actors, that pull off these bad or cringe lines with the same level of dedication and passion... I'm sorry, that I had to skip them anyway.

Acting circles around other actors...

... it's not a regular thing, but it tend to happens with some of his FL. It's not even that they are bad actresses per se, but often written with so little character, that there isn't much anyone can bounce off of. Su Xieyi (Cheng Xiao in "Lie to Love") and Chong Xuezhi (Yukee Chen/Chen Yuqi in "And the Winner is Love") are particularly guilty of this. It's also not something that can be blamed on lacking chemistry between the lead actors, as those two did not convey any chemistry with anyone in their perspective shows. A lot of the female characters in cdramas are hard to watch - and it's the main reason I have not been able to watch Ashes of Love yet.

I recently read a reddit post, that pointed out that Luo Yunxi always has good chemistry with his FL, but that those don't necessary give back the same energy. This leads to his characters always seeming more in love with their romantic partners. Luo Yunxi sells every love story... I really wish he would be paired up with more emotive actresses portraying well written characters.

His strengths ...

... lies in costume dramas for sure. He just looks like he came right out of a painting. This is also where his dance background shines the most. His wire and fight scenes are always excellent. However, I do understand that those are strenuous to shoot, particularly in the summer. In addition he excels in portraying suffering and a storm of conflicting emotions. He is a great actor, with exceptional facial expression and good voice acting. As an audience, you can feel his commitment to all of his roles. This becomes even more obvious, once you find out how often he was injured on set and still pulled through. I wont forget that one leaked clip of him doing wire stunts with his wheel chair waiting on the side ...

What I want to see him play in the future....

... is a more comedic costume drama. "Love is Sweet" but with long hair and fight scenes! I also would love to see him as a villain (again), but I guess he has outgrown these roles - at least in dramas. I also need another show similar to TTEOTM, that is more mature than most dramas of this genre and doesn't focus on the romance. Lastly, a 3rd drama with Bai Lu would be great!

What I learned from this going forward ...

... is to give less popular shows a try. So far, some rather popular or loved dramas (Hidden Love, Ashes of Love, Immortal Samsara etc) failed to impress me. I also learned that I need at least one character to latch onto, while starting a show or I will not get into it. A lot of shows sadly lack these convincing and obsession-worthy characters.

#luo yunxi #cdrama #till the end of the moon #love is sweet #lie to love #broker #cdrama review #and the winner is love #princess silver #light chaser rescue

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septembersghost · 6 months

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my queue was supposed to run out tonight (11/19) - i'm nothing if not someone who clings to dates and anniversaries, and exactly a month ago, i realized i had enough posts stowed in it to last until today. of all the days. kismet. you know when it's time to go. but i ended up adding some posts from my (still copious) drafts, and no matter how i finagled it, it was impossible to make them all fit by the time today ended. so it gets a little bit of extra time. maybe, in honor of this blog's existence, that's fitting.

you all know this, i've said it, typically in gratitude, many times already. this blog was never meant to last. i came back in november 2020 expecting a couple of months, maybe to be here until the new year. i told very few people, anticipating the goodbye, not wanting to cause anyone undue anguish when i had to vanish again. something i didn't expect was the sheer (admittedly devasting) emotion that would tie itself to those two weeks when i started interacting again, nor that it would have any outreach or impact, but somehow it did. then time kept spinning on, extending itself, gossamer threads unfurling each day. my following kept growing, far beyond what i could have anticipated, greater than i'd ever established on any of my previous blogs. moving around is unfortunately a pattern at this point, every time for reasons that felt quietly catastrophic. not being able to pay bills for a while. angel's death and the ensuing difficult circumstances. so here, i kept anxiously imagining why i'd eventually have to leave, how to plan for it. poverty issues. the homelessness we were facing through the entirety of a couple of years until last august (and my dad having to be the saving grace). worsening health issues. i never knew, i couldn't predict it, i just worried about it. often tried to brace for it. maybe i got too comfortable this year, because this was when i started to think it wouldn't happen, that i really could stay. little did i know. and the reasons...are not reasons i ever fathomed, why would i have? how could i have? i wish it weren't so. (i wish a lot of things.)

i thought sometimes about the words i would leave you with, none of which are suitable now. i almost wrote nothing, yet found that feeling wrong, couldn't leave without something about parting.

thus it turns out i'm leaving before it's strictly necessary, before it's the fear of personal catastrophe coming to fruition, not knowing what i'll do or where i'll metaphorically go, as that is the downside of chronic illness and isolation narrowing this to my sole outlet. (lyrics keep running through my mind, there are always lyrics stuck in my head. no matter where i go, there'll be memories that tug at my sleeve, but there will also be more to question, yet more to believe...teach me to be more adaptive...help me say goodbye). my body is in such a fragile state right now (my mind not far behind) that maybe what i need to do is rest. just rest for a while.

this blog was never meant to grow the way it did, to take asks and have conversations like i did, that was a somewhat new (sometimes scary! often fun) experience for me. it's one that will never be replicated. to my loyal and lovely anons, i'm so sorry that i had to cut you off unexpectedly and couldn't reinstate communication - i know that you weren't able to reach out to me as soon as i did that, and that certainly wasn't your fault, it was a response to the tenor of this website. i apologize for the hundreds of messages i never had the chance to answer. i'm appreciative of the things you shared with me and all the times we got to talk.

i sincerely hope some of you learn to be kinder and wiser and less reactionary and more willing to learn and to listen rather than to attack those who have never wronged you and who do not deserve that. i'm being too nice, but i hope you learn that misusing your supposed social justice to do harm and foment hatred and stew in ignorant cruelty makes any principles you purport to have utterly void. my hope for that is low at the moment, but it's still got to be there. waiting to be found.

to those of you who have never been anything but kind, you are true treasures, the lights in the darkness, the loving and compassionate embodiment of human spirit. some of you have (quite literally) helped keep my mom and me alive, and i can never repay that or do enough in this life to quantify it. some of you have been here for me every single day, to listen and laugh and cry and understand. i don't think i would've bothered to fight through these past three years had i not had your presences in my life. i wouldn't have had as much of a reason. there are times when i still haven't felt like i had a reason, i struggle through so many varied griefs, but then i continued to wake up, and would come on here and find something joyful or beautiful or affirming that someone had sent or posted, and it gave me an anchor. there are passions and interests i shared or discovered here that were so uplifting and enlightening, and i will carry them in my heart always. being here to find those was such a blessing. being here with you to indulge in them was such a blessing. thank you. i pray your continued paths have more of that ahead. look at all the things you've done for me. there are certain things that once you have no time can wear away.

you know that line from the wizard of oz?: hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable. maybe that isn't true, maybe our hearts being broken is proof of something. there are people who hurt me on such a profound level who i know weren't affected by it at all, but i refuse to define my sensitivity as a negative. my softness (too soft for all of it, indeed) does not quite provide me with a weapon, but it doesn't crumple. hearts can be broken repeatedly and still beat, which i've thought about a lot lately. shattered souls just make a new mosaic. it's a different picture than it was before, but the color and light persists. and in the remains of that, a handful of people have shown me depths of caring and resilience that i wouldn't have gotten to hold onto otherwise, which is an extraordinary thing. the precious rarities have to mean something more, don't they? i would think so. i believe it. or i'm trying. i keep trying with all my might.

maybe i stayed too long at the fair. maybe this is a consequence of overplaying my hand, gambling a little too much with time to where it had to teach me something. maybe i needed the reminder that sometimes we have to fight to retain our spirits, and other times we have to retreat. maybe i needed a reminder that all that extra time was a miracle. i don't take it for granted.

whether we've spoken directly, be that consistently or in scattered flurries, whether we've interacted in very personal ways or simply in liked hearts on the dash, i hope there was goodness and light in it. i hope there's a memory i leave here that's sweet. (as long as i'm borrowing phrases, i hope you'll think of me fondly sometimes.) i hope there was something warm and enriching here. i hope you know what you've been and meant to me. i said so many times that this blog was my cozy haunted house - the ghosts will linger here forever, and i know they'll never mind if you want to step in and visit.

with all my heart, i love so many of you so dearly. i am so lucky to have your friendships. please move gently through life. please hold onto the things that illuminate it for you, and provide that where you can. please do your best to repair even the smallest of tears in the world. you are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

there must be lights burning brighter somewhere.

something yet remains. i remain. and i do my best to be brave.

#bubble wrap around my heart #jess.mess #namarie #gam zu l'tovah #edit: december 2. this was as it turns out too nice #because today this website decided to desecrate something central and sacred #i wish i could verbalize to you despicable people the profound soul deep hurt you're causing #and the constant fear and trauma you're instilling by making every space so blatantly hateful and hostile and unsafe #but you don't get to take a PRAYER away from its people. you don't get that power ever. that light will NEVER be diminished #i have no respect for any of you doing this. you're evil #i have infinite respect for myself now though. i know who i am. and i'm done #you don't deserve me and you never deserved my friendship or my trust or my heart #proverbs 4:23 #goodbye.

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bluewaltz · 1 year

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🐋 — [ Tartaglia. ] 👤 — [ gender neutral reader. ] 🏷️ — [ enemies to lovers, good ending, fluff. ] 📜 — [ fic. ]

You had a mission. Kill the Eleventh Harbinger, through any means necessary.

You had heard the tales. He's a monster, a killing machine that brought with him devastation and ruin. The Vanguard of the Tsaritsa, and someone who crawled out of the Abyss.

It was insanity. Your higher ups must have known that sending one person to kill Tartaglia was a death sentence. But you would carry it out, regardless.

You didn't know what you expected, but it certainly wasn't this lanky, awkward young man, talking with the confidence of a Harbinger. Your organisation had managed to sneak you into the Fatui as a new recruit, and you had been posted to Liyue, which was apparently under his jurisdiction.

"I wish you all glory; glory to the Tsaritsa, glory to our motherland, and glory to yourselves. Dismissed. Your captains will tell you what you will be doing, and Y/N? A word, please?"

You pushed past the crowds, uncaring of how all eyes were on you. Tartaglia was waiting for you, a small smile on his lips. Again, you wondered how he could seem so young.

"You weren't listening at all, were you? Did I bore you?" Tartaglia leaned forward, his tone one of mild curiosity.

You fought the urge to reach for your weapon, instead focusing on keeping your breathing even.

"No sir. Sorry sir, it won't happen again." You replied crisply.

To your surprise, Tartaglia threw his head back and laughed like he'd heard the joke of the century.

"Sir? Why so formal, recruit? Call me Childe; everyone here calls me that." Tar- Childe said, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Understood, Lord Childe." You said carefully, testing the word out on your tongue.

Childe clicked his tongue, looking pleased. "Okay, that's a start. I know exactly where you'll be working. Katya!"

A Fatuus hurried over, turning to Childe.

He turned to you with a conspiratorial grin and whispered loudly, "Ekaterina here takes care of the shady side of things at the bank, so I can go out and play Harbinger without the metaphorical blood on my hands."

"Need I remind you of the times you appeared in the bank with blood all over you, sir?" Ekaterina replied drily, and you noticed that she didn't seem to use that reverent tone of respect most recruits did.

"It's just blood, and it wasn't mine."

"Blood doesn't wash out of carpets easily, and you're lucky it was closing time then." She turns to you, and despite how her face was obscured by the mask, you got the feeling that she was sizing you up.

"Is this who you want, sir?"

"Give them an office at the bank, okay? I'll be going now, I just came back from Inazuma!"

The two of you watched Childe hurry away, his figure shrinking into the distance.

"Good luck."

"What?"

Ekaterina turned to you, her voice dripping with pity.

"Childe isn't an easy boss. Come with me."

Your days at the bank were long and dreary. It wasn't so bad, but there was a lot of work to be done. Mostly it was just the Qixing nitpicking some small detail or other, and your days were filled with passive aggressive letters insisting that the other party was far too kind, and that you would remember this.

All well and fine, until Childe crashed into your office like a dust devil.

"Y/N, can you fight?"

Your first thought was that the bank was under attack. Your second thought was that your cover had been blown, and your hand twitched towards the polearm that always remained just out of arm's reach.

"A little. I'm not too good at it, though." Technically not a lie, since you specialized more in subterfuge and assassination.

Childe seemed appeased by this response, gesturing for you to follow him.

He left the bank at an easy pace, exchanging greetings and words with people on the street. Vendors seemed particularly enthused to see him, and some even asked him where their "source of income was", whatever that meant.

He always replied with a sunny smile, and more than a few times you had to remind yourself that this was a bloodthirsty creature you were dealing with.

He brought you to a wide, empty field, and you suddenly remembered something.

Being the secretary of the Eleventh Harbinger, you heard things.

Things like how he would wheedle his way into spars with recruits, and he would always leave the field looking refreshed while the recruits all looked haggard.

To be picked for a spar with Childe was to have all the flaws of your technique pointed out with a smile. But it was also a good way to see how he fought.

So you let him tug you into position, and you watched as he pulled his bow into existence, seemingly giving you the first move. Not one to let go of an opportunity, you dashed forward, drawing your sword and aiming for his chest.

You longed for your polearm, but it was unwise to show your hand so early. The sword was shorter than what you were used to, but it would be fine.

Childe sidestepped, using his bow to send quick flickers of water at you, throwing you off. All the while, he was watching you intently.

You kept attacking, and he kept dodging. This frustrating game kept up until his face lit up. Then, with a casual gesture, your sword went flying out of your hands.

"You've got a strange style," Childe commented, catching your sword and inspecting it. "I think you would be more suited to a polearm, not a sword. Or, you were trained with a polearm, anyway."

"You barely fought me." You gritted out, glaring at Childe.

He shrugged and passed your sword back. "I didn't have to."

And just like that, another event was added to your repetitive routine. Paperwork, think of a way to murder Childe, and occasionally, indulge him with a spar.

When you took out your polearm and fell into a familiar stance, Childe's eyes lit up, and he actually did trade blows with you this time, though you could tell he was barely using his strength. But he disarmed you easily enough, which put an end to your plans of facing him in head on combat.

You wondered if he checked his food for poison, but then you dismissed it. Too risky, and if he didn't die, he would know who you were, and the mission would be ruined.

As you plotted in circles, you became aware of Childe's tells. How he lied, how he smiled when he never meant it. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and you wondered how anyone could fail to kill this bumbling man.

Childe's behaviour was becoming erratic and strange. Some days, he would be cheerful and bubbly, always chatting incessantly and overly generous. Those were his most common moods.

But recently, he had been moodier of late. More volatile, easier to provoke. He lost more of his spars like that, but he didn't seem to really mind. In fact, he seemed happier after those defeats, often treating you to a meal.

It happened during lunch. The two of you were at Wanmin, and Childe was regaling you with a particularly tall tale about a sea snake and a fishing rod when suddenly, his hand shot out.

Your head was snapped down, and Childe let out a hiss of pain. You scrambled out of your seat, looking down at the neat round hole burned into his arm and the smoking bullet bobbing in your soup.

Childe stood up, ignoring how his arm hung limply. His eyes were cold and dead now, scanning the rooftops and balconies.

"Lord Harbinger-"

"There." Childe hummed, and in the blink of an eye, something zipped past you. You only survived because he wasn't focused on you, but you felt the touch of electro-charged water against your cheek.

Electro? But how did he…

"Y/N, we have to go."

This was your chance. He was injured and distracted, you could easily plunge a fork or your knife into his chest and shock his heart to a standstill.

You grabbed his bleeding arm, ignoring the startled hiss. Of course he'd forgotten about the wound.

"Lord Harbinger, you're injured. Perhaps you should recuperate before tracking them down." You murmured. "People are looking."

"Fine." He snarled, summoning some Hydro to wipe up the blood and pick up the bullet.

He didn't let you touch him all throughout the walk back to the bank, and when he reached the bank, his murderous expression kept people from asking after his arm.

You retreated to your office to get a medical kit and returned to Childe surveying the bullet, turning it this way and that in its watery prison.

"Interesting build." Childe's voice was conversational, and you pulled up a chair to him and started working on the wound.

"What is, sir?"

Childe made a dismissive noise. "Just call me Childe. And I was talking about this bullet. It has been imbued with pyro energy, so touching it would burn very badly."

You tried to school your expression. That sounded like the work of your organisation. Bullets that cauterized the wound as it went, with a dense knot of pyro energy that would dissipate after a while.

But why would they steal your kill? You were promised Tartaglia. This didn't make any sense, so you just made an affirmative hum and continued to bandage his arm.

"Is that all you got?" Even pinned under your weapon, Childe still had that cocky light in his eyes, and he pressed his throat closer to the tip of your spear. A spar. that was all it was supposed to be, until he let slip that he knew your intentions and all of a sudden, it had become far more dangerous.

"Come on," he cooed. "You can kill me right here, right now. Unless you like seeing me helpless like this?"

"Shut up, Harbinger."

Childe sighed heavily, sounding very put upon. "I thought we were getting along swimmingly. What's with the sudden change in attitude?"

"Don't play dumb."

Childe snickered. "But it makes you so mad."

"You're not scared?"

"Why would I be afraid of you?" He cocked his head, sounding genuinely confused. "You were a spy sent by an organisation to do an impossible task. But you still tried anyway. Isn't that enough?"

"I-"

"There's no use arguing." Childe pushed your spear away from his throat and sat up. "I did my research; the organisation simply wanted an easy way to get rid of you."

You gritted your teeth. You had long suspected it, but hearing it laid out so simply… it stung. Discarded like an old tool in order to make way for others.

"So? Are you going to kill me now?" You asked.

Childe burst out laughing. "Ha! I'm not letting myself get used like some attack dog for an enemy organisation. My loyalty belongs to the Tsaritsa alone. Of course I'm not going to kill you."

"What?" You were baffled. Was he really going to let an enemy live like that? But Childe didn't seem to sense your disbelief, his brow scrunched in an adorable furrow.

"I don't see why I need to kill you. Ekaterina already spent so much time training you to be my secretary, and it'd be a shame to put all her hard work to waste."

"I…"

Childe grinned. "Of course, you can still try to kill me. But I will try my best to continue thwarting your efforts."

Well. Who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

#🖋️ — [ outgoing. ]#tartaglia #childe tartaglia ajax #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #gender neutral reader #childe x gender neutral reader

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