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dearlyya · 4 days ago

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TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Chapter One-Persistence; When a coward turns hero.

Warnings; Angst, pre-canon, hurt/comfort, Zaunites, Piltians, revolution, violence, blood, gore, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex, brothels, drugs, slow burn, the reader is a coward at first, original character (Wynn), strangers to lovers, bittersweet, Old Silco being weirdly sentimental, Jinx being noisy, and major character death.

A/N; I don’t do taglists, sorry. I also want to thank my friend for supporting my writing, proofreading, and character creation of Wynn. Love you, bro.

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Undercity is considered an industrial stain nestled beneath the grand city of Piltover.

With air that hangs heavy, and its people feral. Towering smokestacks belch black smoke into the already smog sky, casting long shadows over the cramped alleyways and buildings. The streets are strewn with discarded scrap metal, chemical waste, and other debris of the relentless production that drives the Undercity's economy.

The warm green glow of the gas lamps casts an eerie, shimmering light over the buzzing market stalls and their wares. Cautious eyes dart about, gripping the crate tightly, as your knuckles white with tension. You trudge through the damp, uneven cobblestone path. Your heavy boots thud, but the market muffles the sound. Wynn strides ahead of you, his boysenberry hair reflecting the green making his hair almost black.

Both of you carry large, sloshing crates of alcohol that clink and bounce with each jostle from the crowded lane. Your tattered cloak draped your form, the hood pulled low to fight against the season's coldness and obscure your face from the lingering enforcers.

You instinctively glance at the enforcers standing near a stall, their voices raised in angry conversation with the stall’s owner, who appears equally irritated. They are likely issuing citations for illegal imports or contraband. Detailed by the other armored man holding up a list and pointing at the merchandise. However, when the vendor suddenly shoves one of them, you quickly avert your gaze, choosing to ignore the escalating commotion and focus on navigating the crowded marketplace.

Fighting wasn’t something you could do against the enforcers unless you’d want a hefty prison sentence or killed. So, you allow them to conduct their inspections and searches, gritting your teeth if their hands linger on your body for far too long.

You did dream of something better, a fictional land where all is peace and harmony, but that's wishful thinking. Life gave the Undercity people the short end of the stick, so now all you want is to keep your life, provide some aid to wanders, and of course keep the tavern: The Last Drop. Afloat.

Some vendors attempt to grab your attention, but you politely shake your head. Keep your eyes trained on Wynn who glides through the people with ease. You stumble and slip between people straining to keep up with your friend. Cursing under your breath at the fact that you could’ve gotten your supply runner to fetch the cargo, but no. Coins have been getting slimmer and slimmer at the drop. One of the many reasons why your resentment, once directed at the enforcers, began to shift towards the rebels who fought against them. While their cause was just, their tactics often made life even harder for the ordinary citizens of the Undercity. Strikes, protests, and their thievery disrupted supply lines which left families and businesses like yours struggling to make ends meet. Of course, this is only rooted in fear.

Fear of losing more.

The mines that delve deep into Runeterra. Extracting precious minerals to fuel the insatiable demand. Workers in harsh conditions, their health and safety were often sacrificed for the sake of profit. Stark contrasts the cutting-edge innovation of Piltover ‘coexisting’ with the rampant corruption and exploitation they cause the city below them.

Down in the fissures, where deep cracks in the earth have split open, a treacherous underground network of tunnels and caverns caused by the relentless mining and drilling operations. Was bustling with the activity of workers, faces smeared with grime.

You and your father worked in those mines, and many families did. Your life narrowed down to one moment. A vivid horrible memory. You knew you should’ve put up a fight, and struggled against the enforcers alongside the others. When the tears finally spilled over, streaming down your face in hot, bitter rivulets. You couldn’t help but cower. You remember his body and the way the world seemed to tilt and spin around you.

When you pushed yourself up, letting go of a rusty pickaxe. A strong arm shoved you roughly back to the ground. It sent shockwaves through your malnourished body. Your coal-covered glove scraped against the unforgiving, rocky ground as you trembled uncontrollably, shaking like a frightened animal.

A cacophony of screams and desperate cries pierced everyone's ears like shards of glass. Through ‘The Gray’ smog you saw people–workers–were fighting against the enforcers with a fury born of desperation, their voices raw as they tried to reach your father, who was knelt on the ground, clutching the back of his head. Blood, vivid red against the rocks, drips steadily from his fingers, staining the earth beneath him. A macabre work of art. The sight of it sears itself into your mind, something you still see to this day.

Your wide eyes locked onto your father, drinking in every detail of his face, committing it to memory, as the screams and shouts faded into a distant, muffled hum.

He met your gaze, his expression was steady and calm despite the chaos that raged around you. He's trying so hard not to look frightened, putting on a brave face for your sake. He gulped, and in that tiny gesture, you saw the truth of his fear reflected in his eyes. But there's something else there too, a silent message of love and reassurance that told you that everything will be okay, that he'll protect you no matter what happens to him.

But the man behind him, the one through the smog, the one who raises his gun high above his shoulder–tells a different story. The gun glints harshly reflecting off the gold on the enforcer. Quick to get to your knees, a firm kick sends you forward along with a harsh boot on your back keeps you in place. You cried out at the pressure, as you squirmed to get closer to your father.

It's a swift blow, brutally efficient in its execution. The butt of the gun connected with the back of his head with a nauseating crack, and he crumpled to the ground. He fell face-first onto the unforgiving rocks. His body would twitch, but the last sliver of life drained away in an instant. You barely heard the final, choked-off words that he never got to finish. His last confession of "I love you" was stolen away by the cruel hand of fate.

Your breathing gets heavy when you remember, each intact a painful reminder of the life that still flows through your veins, even as everything else feels cold and numb. You shakily grip the case. It takes a special kind of strength, and true courage to stand up despite others bringing you down, to crush your hopes and dreams beneath the weight of their fears and insecurities.

You're not sure what you believe in anymore. That day the foundations of your world were shaken when the very ground beneath your feet shifted and crumbled, leaving you feeling lost and adrift in a sea of uncertainty before you were taken by the hand and brought up to a raft. You’ll always be grateful to Wynn. Though, all you know is that life is rather unfair, especially in the Undercity, and all you want to do is survive. Is that selfish?

Perhaps you are one of those pushovers.

You were too lost in thought when you got pushed to the side, sending you to your left, and letting go of the crate to catch your fall, gritting your teeth you look up but notice it’s those same enforcers now carrying off that vendor's supplies. The one that shoulder checks you, gives you a look, and even with its helmet on you can tell that they’re testing your reaction. You look down at your crate. It’s open and bottles–thankfully not broken–have rolled out.

Maybe you've always been that way, content to let others make the decisions, to follow the path of least resistance rather than forging your way forward. But with the aftermath of your father's lifeless body that laid before you and the weight of powerlessness bearing down on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder if there isn't more to you than that.

Maybe, deep down, buried beneath the layers of fear and self-doubt, there is a spark of courage waiting to be ignited, a flicker of determination that just needs the right circumstances to flare into life.

You carefully lift each bottle to the crate, ensuring they are securely packed. Reaching for a bottle of scotch, your hand accidentally brushes against its neighbor, sending the bottle rolling away. It clicks and clanks across the cobblestone path before disappearing into the shadows of a nearby alley.

You pause, considering whether to retrieve the wayward bottle, but the risk of Wynn ringing your neck for wasting good money has you sighing. A broke bitch during inflation is someone you don’t want to mess with. You continue to pack the remaining bottles and get back to your feet, crate in arms.

No one notices you entering the alley, with your head hanging low.

The ground is littered with discarded metal scraps, used needles, and unidentifiable substances. Peering from beneath your hood, you scan the area for any sign of the missing bottle, but your search becomes useless. Instead, you hear labored breathing and pained grunts from further down the narrow way.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the scene before you. The glint of gold and blue uniforms mingles with the tattered red of the man's clothing. The sight is all too familiar. The enforcers’ figures huff up and down, laughing at each other in cruel satisfaction as they rain down blows on the man. Their boots connected with sickening thuds against his bloodied body. You can’t tear your eyes away from them.

The right circumstance is all someone needs.

“Look at you, pathetic like the rest of those revolutionaries. You’re nothing but a filthy rat scurrying in the gutters and trash of refined people.” One of them coo, tilting their head at the body, you step closer.

You should move on, and let them take this man’s life if need be, so you can slip by unnoticed. It would be far more understandable than helping someone out of the kindness of your heart, but you have never felt such a surge of emotion before. The impending doom that bloomed in your gut yelling in your ear with a booming voice telling you that if you didn’t help this man you’d truly be the vermin that topside thinks you are. You can’t explain it to yourself, all your bitter-laced words and morals clashed when you heard them throwing those humiliating remarks.

The right circumstance is all she needed.

The enforcers continue to beat him. You don’t think very much, the few thoughts that pass your mind are typically about personal survival, so thinking about beating these men into a pulp like they are with your fellow scum has you dropping the crate and racing towards them. Your heart is in your ears, bile backing up in your throat, as your coat flies off you. The knife you grip sinks into the nearest Piltie. Into their exposed armor between the helmet and chest plate. An honest, lucky blow to the neck.

He yelps, stopping his assault to cradle the wound that spurts blood between his gloved fingers. He staggers away as the other enforcer finally grasps the situation. With your dagger in the side of the other guy's neck, you quickly skimmed around the alley looking for a possible weapon, you spotted the bottle but you weren’t quick enough. The intact enforcer rushed at you and slammed you against the brick wall of a building. Your head hits it roughly dazing you. Your windpipe closes up when the enforcer pushes your throat with his forearm. His metal suit cuffs dig into your skin. You're frantic now.

Shit–you didn’t think this through. Death was now a concrete possibility, and dying next to the man you tried so hard to save felt like the greatest irony. The pain shooting through your neck grew unbearable, causing tears to well up and cascade down your cheeks, despite the insults being thrown your way.

On this final night alive, you admit to yourself that you might have cared about the revolution after all. Your body was lifted off the ground, dangling up near this blue and gold-clad man. Both of your hands grip his gloves, trying to cause any damage by digging your nails into him. More tears roll. You weren’t crying because your own life was flashing before your eyes, but because you couldn’t save a symbol. A figure of hope.

The enforcer that you stabbed lays slumped against a gross dumpster, his hand weakly clawing at the stab wound in his neck. Crimson blood seeped through his armor, staining it a dark, glistening red. He twitched and spasmed as blood continued to spurt from the exposed injury. Despite everything a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. You had never taken a life before. Your gaze drifted to his neck, and realization dawned on you–your dagger was missing. As you slipped in and out of consciousness, the grip on your neck loosened.

The enforcer collapsed on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight as he sank to the ground his body took you with it. You coughed and gasped, and with a wave of nausea rising in your throat and bobbing pain around it you pushed the body off you. Looking up, you met the gaze of the man you had ‘saved’. He was huffing heavily, his eyes wide and wild mixed with shock on his pale face.

Drenched in blood, sweat, and sporting bruises all over. His long hair clings to his face, some falling out of the low ponytail. His dark red tunic under a dirty gray cut-off vest. His body quivering on the brink of exhaustion. His gaze was glossy, only fueled by the last dose of adrenaline. With a final stumble, he crumpled to the ground. The knife in hand slipped away as he fell. You stare. Watching him lay defenseless, a newfound courage stirred within you, and for once in your life you know your stance. Now not cowering and licking the boots of those higher than you. You own up to the consequences, yet you still tremble. Your chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your heightened adrenaline as the footsteps of additional enforcers echoed.

You crawl to him, lowering yourself to his chest, and pray you still hear a heartbeat, and you do, it’s faint. Now kneeling, you carefully hoist his right arm over your shoulder, providing support for him to lean on. He was heavy, but his weight wasn’t overwhelming, allowing you to walk slowly with him. It was clear that he needed medical attention, and so did you. You can feel the cold blood dripping down the back of your head and the tight, painful bruise forming around your neck. You aren’t some hero, a normal citizen in a position of life and death—you’ll never become a foundation of hope in your city like in your childhood.

And she never does.

Your experience as a kid had given you an edge, as you used to steal from stalls and run away as they tried to chase you. Now, at the age of twenty, you thank your young self for your knowledge of the best shortcuts. It comes in handy when you hide with the unconscious man by your side, evading the enforcers who finally notice their dead brothers. From around the corner, you watch a group of them trek down the main street. You make your dash to the other side, going unnoticed.

“I got you, we’re almost there” Your voice croaks, not sure if you are trying to reassure the blacked-out man or yourself, probably the latter. There's a sign, not from Janna, but from The Last Drop. Dipping into the alley next to the tavern you head around back. Your arm that is wrapped around his slim torso is drying with his blood. More blood pools on your shoulder from his broken nose. You have to prop him up on the wall to open the cellar doors, and you both descend.

Storage racks and unopened boxes flitter the basement. However, in the corner is a cot and stool. It’s the small medical area that you would use to aid people, usually, it was for small wounds like someone with a busted lip because they got into a fight in the bar.

So, with an injured rebel who hangs on your shoulder, you are well below practice. You manage to push the battered man off you and onto the cot. He slumps halfway off the bed, so you gently roll him back, carefully lifting his legs one by one to fully position him on the cot. Your hands tremble slightly as you work, the adrenaline running thin.

You run a hand over your hair, feeling the back of your skull. As you bring your hand back to your eyes, you’re met with deep red staining your fingers. Your wound hits you, and you finally grasp the pounding headache you have. You slowly sit on the stool beside the cot.

“Shit” You mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, despite your possible concussion your priority is the very wanted rebel to your left. Take a deep breath to steady yourself and assess him.

His chest heaves in sparse, and uneven breaths through his busted nose. He’s still grasping onto the little energy his body has left to give. You rub up the bridge of your nose. The gravity of harboring a wanted revolutionary is not lost on you. Though at this moment, all that matters is saving his life, and not falling over while doing it.

You lean onto your elbows while sitting, glancing at the empty bucket and washcloth, getting ready to work.

#arcane silco #silco x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #silco #arcane x you #character x reader #jinx arcane #sevika arcane #silco fanfic #til' we meet again

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ddarker-dreams · 9 months ago

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Better The Devil You Know.

Yandere Chrollo x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, discussions of past minor character death, and descriptions of anxiety. Word count: 2.6k.

You awake to cold sheets and damp cheeks.

It isn’t a peaceful transition into consciousness. You fight for each breath, a losing battle that swaddles your mind in thick fog. The vapors thin out as time drags along. It doesn’t dissipate in its entirety, preferring to linger and prolong your disorientation.

You wipe at your face with your wrists, ignoring the sting accompanying the action. Hesitatingly, you appraise it in a ray of moonlight that snuck past the blinds. It’s clear, not crimson and thick. A normal product of a healthy body. You should feel relieved, you think. Every organ is as it should be. Your brain remains in your cranium, your lungs expand and contract, and your heart pumps, albeit at an alarming speed.

It’s better than the chill of encroaching death.

…

You are alive, aren’t you?

This question prompts an investigation.

Nothing hurts. Your throat, maybe, but that’s a minor ache spurred from thirst. Your skin is warm and clammy. Peeling the comforter off, you squint, assessing your body’s condition. Weary eyes take in everything. Your socks, the lace trimming of your nightgown, its diaphanous midriff, then your chest. Everything appears in order.

Would your incorporeal form accurately reflect your physical body?

You shake your head.

This can’t be heaven — no pantheon would be cruel enough to set the stage of your paradise with props from your captivity.

It can’t be hell either. If it were, you wouldn’t be alone right now.

You blink.

You’re alone?

Chrollo’s side of the bed is notably empty. He must’ve got up in a hurry, the sheets are in disarray. The adjoining restroom is dark and unoccupied, confirming he must be elsewhere. Your stomach churns. Determined to do away with this creeping anxiety, you get up, padding across the hardwood floor.

The night gifts shivers and goosebumps. Wishing to ward off its unwanted advances, you wrap your arms around yourself. You pass through the door that connects to the common area. Although it’s dimly lit, you can tell he isn’t here. The attached balcony is similarly uninhabited. A quick foray into the study confirms your status; you’re truly by yourself.

What should be a triumph or a relief delivers nothing but dread.

You return to the common room to assess the situation.

You’ve never been left alone before. Not without him telling you in advance, normally with a rough estimate of when he’ll return. There’s no way an important detail like that would slip your mind. At a loss, you dredge through your memories for some sign you may have missed. His voice pierces through your head like an arrow. You wince but ignore your body’s displeasure at anything associated with him. The unintelligible noises sharpen, forming consonants and vowels.

The thrum of the air conditioner eases away.

You’re left in absolute silence, until Chrollo’s voice fades away, replaced by another.

“... She was five or six, I think. Right around the age where you start losing baby teeth. There’d been this game she wanted and, y’know, kids aren’t rolling in cash. So she figured, what better way to pay for it than through the tooth fairy? I caught ‘er with my wrench, determined as anything, ready to speed up the process. It ended up being a little inside joke between us.”

Your lower lip trembles.

“... That’s how she ended up getting identified. Her teeth, I mean. Wasn’t anything else left to go off of. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. A whole life she lived, sometimes getting into trouble, but mostly helping others outta theirs. And to have that— all that— reduced to just… just a couple, couple fuckin’— teeth? What kinda joke is that?”

You fill a glass with water until it overflows.

“Hey, tell me. Has that fucker ever mentioned ‘er? … Probably not, right? Probably never knew she existed in the first place.”

Head thrown back, you gulp down the liquid, fighting the lump that longs to form in your throat.

“Who knows? Maybe I’m the one in the wrong ‘ere. Hell, you don’t look much older than her yourself. I don’t— don’t wanna hurt ya. But…”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“There’s no other way to hurt him.”

Someone’s beside you.

You can hear their voice, though it sounds like it’s coming from miles away, carried over by the wind. Warmth sears your bare shoulders. You smell the faint aroma of sandalwood and amber. It’s distinct, this cologne that serves as an ill-omen better than any blackbird or cracked mirror. You couldn’t scrub it from your memory if you tried. That, or the scent of old books, leather, coffee, and red wine.

You dig your nails into something — fabric, perhaps — but nothing grounds you. It’s like you’ve been transported outside of space and time. Existing, yet far from alive. Your stomach falls while your head floats away. Up, up, up, lifting you higher and higher. From this impossible vantage point, you sway, your limbs gleefully ignoring every attempt to regain control.

And there it is again. Your name echoes throughout the atmosphere, beckoning you to acknowledge the sound’s source.

Maybe you should.

Even if you’ll come to regret it.

When you first met Chrollo, his eyes stood out the most, like the universe itself deemed them worthy of veneration. You found the gray depths captivating. The undertone varied, you never could ascertain if they were a cool or warm shade. All you knew was that once they found you, they boasted a vitality siphoned at the expense of your own.

Presently, they can’t. Their unwitting host has been exsanguinated.

“Where were—” You silence yourself, aghast by the implication.

You’d sought him out. So desperate for an anchor, you would’ve latched onto the culprit behind your drowning. There’s no doubt he’d find some twisted satisfaction in the accidental admission. You shrink away, but the solid counter presses against your spine, halting your retreat. He doesn’t advance, you’d barely created any distance.

“There’d been something that required my immediate attention,” Chrollo answers your unfinished question. There’s no thinly veiled derision or curiosity in his voice. You miss the familiarity. “Does anything hurt?”

It’s then that you recall your predicament.

You’re on the kitchen floor, surrounded by scintillating shards of glass. A pool of water gathers to your right. Chrollo’s bent down before you, wearing a heavy coat and a tint of pink on his nose. He must’ve come from outside. He stares unblinkingly, awaiting your verdict, which you deliver by shaking your head. There’s a dull ache in your tailbone but you keep that to yourself. It’s awkward enough that he found you in this state.

You’re sitting on the floor with one leg extended and the other bent at the knee, allowing your short nightgown to ride up. The compromising position stokes your embarrassment. You shuffle around to maintain some dignity. In doing so, you forget the pointed glass strewn about. Before you make contact, you’re hoisted up. Chrollo foresees your struggle and holds you tight enough to thwart its success.

“You’re alright,” he reassures, his sincere gentleness unbecoming. "Everything's alright."

He places you down on the closest couch and sits beside you. While you regain your bearings, he shrugs off his jacket, then drapes it around your trembling form. His scent and warmth flood your senses. You consider throwing it off out of spite, only to decide against it. You’d be the one to suffer the most. Chrollo remains unusually silent as you cocoon yourself in the thick wool jacket. It’s big on you, but not big enough to swallow you whole like you’d prefer.

“Should I grab your propranolol?”

Another head shake.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Foreseeing your tepid response, he adds, “Verbally?”

You clear your throat as quietly as you can. “I got thirsty.”

“Hm.”

You both know he isn’t convinced. It’d be easy for him to poke and prod until you revealed everything — intentionally or not — but his lips remain in a thin line. You shuffle in your seat. The fabric brushes against your wrists, eliciting a sharp inhale. The burn is short-lived yet the memories associated with it rage on.

“... Chrollo?”

He blinks, likely unused to the sound of his name on your lips. “Yes, love?”

“If that man killed me, would it have hurt you?”

A shadow falls over his visage, like a waxing crescent transitioning to a new moon. When you shiver, it isn’t from the cold. Dark hair frames a far darker expression. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to see you better, beyond your flesh, at the crux of your soul. You await whatever comes next, returning his stare with equal intensity.

Finally, he slowly replies, “Yes, it would’ve.”

“Then why was it so easy for you to kill his daughter?” You ask, the words weighing heavily upon you. “You might’ve liked her, if you’d gotten to know her.”

The man revealed enough for you to feel like you knew her. Lana Ellis — a woman with an iron will, sharp tongue, and golden heart. She’d recently been hired to work as a waitress at a business that catered high-end events. Galas, celebrity birthdays and weddings, those sorts of things. It wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement. Lana planned to ditch the gig after saving up tuition money, where she’d then aim for a doctorate in veterinary medicine. According to him, he’d squandered her college fund after the unexpected death of her mother; his childhood sweetheart. He said he’d never forgive himself or the Troupe.

“She wasn’t s’posed to have been there,” he wheezed. “She never should’ve been there…!”

Chrollo shuts his eyes. “What are you getting at, dear?”

His words come out light, though they’re anything but.

“She could’ve been me.”

“Yet she wasn’t.”

“But—!” Your voice cracks, so you take a deep breath and try again. “You… you deprive the world of people you could’ve come to like, be friends with, whatever! All for stuff you eventually do away with. How is that… how can you…”

Righteous anger suits you. It's a sword and shield that requires no skill to wield, reaching for the instruments have become second nature. Their effectiveness doesn't matter so long as you can hold onto something.

“You don’t need to understand.”

This isn't a parry or pivot, he's disarmed you.

“Huh?”

“Yes… if anything, it’s best if you don’t,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His eyes find yours again. “I can’t make sense of your empathy any more than you can grasp my lack of it. If I could, you’d no longer be yourself. Your self-limiting, bleeding heart should remain as is. It’s the one part of you I’ll leave untouched.”

You don’t know what you were expecting.

You slump back into your seat. “... Don’t you think you’re overestimating yourself?”

“Hardly,” he replies. Then, in a softer voice, “You torment yourself, love. This—”

He rests his hand over your heart.

“—Hurts you more than anything I’ve ever done. Yet you believe it unthinkable I’d do away with such an inconvenience.”

“So you’re a coward,” you mumble. The insult is uninspired but it suits your purposes. “You can’t handle it, so you took the easy way out.”

“Rationalize it anyway you'd like.”

Chrollo reaches for your forearm and coaxes it into view. His fingers brush along your wrists, where the man’s restraints left rope burn behind. The irritated skin is slowly recovering. The deeper wounds, those without a cure, will linger after the surface heals. They’re etched into your bones.

“Isn’t going against your morals worse than having none?" Chrollo queries. “That girl’s father knew you had no involvement in his daughter’s death. You’re an unwilling third party, same as she was. And he was ready to hurt you regardless."

Your mouth feels dry. “He didn't hurt me—”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, causing head to flood your cheeks.

“—All... that... much. I don’t think he was going to...?”

“No, not until he was intoxicated enough to stomach it,” Chrollo retorts. “We’ll never know for certain, darling. Thankfully, I interrupted before it could get to that point."

That point, that point, that point...

What could that man have done to you?

Chrollo appraises you like he's yet to decide on something.

After a moment passes, he leans in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your muscles stiffen as he pulls you close. He exerts none of the force you know him to be capable of. The gesture's languid nature gives the impression you could wriggle free if you tried. You don't test this theory. Chrollo's mood seems pensive, not amorous, hence your hesitant compliance.

He speaks your name. Then, he asks, "What's really bothering you?"

Biting your lip, you turn your head away from him.

He doesn't relent. "You can tell me anything, you know."

If you weren't so utterly exhausted, you might've laughed.

"You wouldn't be my first choice for a heart-to-heart."

"How about your second?"

You look at him like he's just suggested the world is flat. He smiles softly, allowing you time to think.

It's weird.

This is weird.

The lack of verbal finesse, designed to extract any emotion or confession he desires. You're used to his cunning, his depravity, his unfiltered self. You've come to expect it, as one would the sunrise and sunset. Briefly, you search for it. The expedition is futile. His normal tells are gone.

Truly, you could almost forget the imbalanced nature of this dynamic and pretend it's normal.

It isn't, however.

So you'll need to keep your wits about you.

"Could... er..." you trail off, uncertain of the best parlance, "Will something like that... happen... again...?"

The claustrophobia of being shut in a trunk. Blindfolded, hands and feet bound, gagged by a rag. Terrified and sobbing. Unable to breathe, unable to scream.

You feel as small now as you did then.

The man told you his reasoning. It tugged on your heart. Wringed the organ for everything it was worth. He deserved justice. He deserved revenge. At that lone instance, the playing field was even. The immeasurable gap in strength between him and the Phantom Troupe's boss meant nothing if Chrollo wasn't physically present. There was a chance for this bereaved father to return the pain unfairly inflicted on him.

But why on you?

Why do you have to be cast into hell for the sins of another?

And why was it so tempting to forgive the devil's transgressions against you, if he provided salvation just this once?

You don't know when you began shaking, but you do know it won't be easy to stop.

"You must've been scared," he murmurs.

This observation makes your throat feel impossibly tight, as if a serpent coiled around your neck. His eyelashes flutter shut and he rests his forehead against yours. He contents himself on breathing in your air while you wrestle with the odd intimacy of it all; this simplicity untainted by needling or provocations.

"I never make the same mistake twice," Chrollo eventually says. "In light of recent events, I've made it clear that you are off limits. Those who still wish to try their luck, well..."

The air itself writhes like a malicious entity. The sensation is brief, but the impression lingers, chilling you on a primordial level. You're reminded that his control, while impressive, isn't flawless. Every surface can fissure, allowing the noxious contents contained within to break free. This concentration of ill-intent isn't even focused at you. To be on the receiving end must be to face the inevitably of death.

"... They can be made examples of too."

Curiosity nips at your heels, demanding satiation.

Your part your lips.

Then his eyes reopen. They're dull, lacking any illumination, like light itself felt the urge to flee.

It's an understandable sentiment.

For that reason, you decide some questions are better left unanswered.

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #reader insert #yandere reader insert #my stuff

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djevelbl · 6 days ago

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I feel like explaining how Branzy's mannerisms look like in my head is SO. HARD bc he feels like SUCH a peculiar and specific type of person, that even if I TRIED there wouldn't be a fully correct way to string words together to paint the picture. But fuck it we ball — lemme try anyway

(ofc, I'm here talking about his character and personality as he portrays himself in his videos; the same goes for any other youtuber I namedrop as I'm yapping. I don't feel like I have to clarify this, but still. covering my own ass out here, media literacy, yadda yadda, you get it)

In the LifeSteal videos I've watched where he participates/is the main focus of (the Heart Factory + Amusement Park saga mostly, so not a lot lol) he has this... This showmanship, this stage presence, like he's standing alone on the stage floor, the spotlight's on him and the little earpiece hung on him has told him "it's showtime." It's like he's the opening number for the Broadway Musical you came to watch, like he's the circus master of the show; he's all you can focus on once he starts talking, really: he's hilarious and charismatic, disarming with that devilish charm of his, that has endeared him to the deadliest player of the server — even if you never see his face, you can hear his smile every time he talks.

For having been on a Minecraft server that prides itself in death, destruction and preying on players' insecurities before shaking hands on a good season played, Branzy wears his emotions very plainly in how he speaks: he doesn't hide his fear, or his amazement, his excitement, his bloodlust. It's how he is, of course — hiding who you are is hard, but Branzy also plays this all up in his favor: faking his reactions when necessary, blatantly able to disregard his current emotional state to match the attitude of those around him (main example being him matching Clown's attitude even through his own fear of the guy), being able to lie through his teeth about pretty important things (like the state of Carnival Mode to Squiddo at the end of season 5), and others.

His poker face is a smile — all crow's feet and charming show of teeth, something happy and elated as he shows his newest killing contraption and explains it out to his soon-to-be victims. And they fall for it hook, line, sinker. A practiced dance everyone follows Branzy's lead in, subconsciously or otherwise. Because how deadly can it be if it's Branzy who made it?

Not just that, but he's very energetic and has a brand of attitude and sass that kinda reminds me of JT Music in The Details in the Devil (stay with me. I SWEAR this makes sense) — it's the over-the-top singing, the way he goes from a higher pitch to a lower one, the way JT Music's voice rasps around the edges; it all has the same vibe and attitude to me as Branzy's showman persona: all glamour for the camera, a big smile to attract new clientele, charm that oozes out of every pore and you don't even notice that it's a deal with the devil you're making. Until he's gone and you're left to pick up the pieces — even then, sometimes you just don't. notice.

A maybe (hopefully) easier to picture example

To me, in a sense, Branzy feels like the in-between missing link of AM from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream and Caine from The Amazing Digital Circus: all the bloodlust, anger, and sadistic tendencies from AM, and all the genuine, kind, goofy showmaster personality of Caine — a weird combo, for sure, but Caine is already based off of AM so like, thought it was as appropriate of a comparison I could make; especially bc Caine is a ringmaster, and Branzy does give ringmaster vibes to me so idk

Ofc, this is him at his peak, in his element, where he controls the playing chips — he's playing 4D chess and everyone's using checkers pieces. This is him gathering and casually using the power and influence he lords over the server — I mean, have you seen how ppl react to his mere appearance?? People love him, that's where he thrives: where people have an attachment to Branzy, Branzy has power; people kept coming back to the rollercoaster bc it was fun and a challenge and bc it was Branzy who made it — throw the credit onto Clown, ManePear, FlameFrags, any other pvp-skilled player, and watch as people run the other way. Branzy is the perfect combo of charismatic, charming, boyfailure-coded, somehow still competent, and fun to amass server-wide cred that wouldn't be broken no matter how many lives he claims via his machinery.

Clown is dangerous, sure — he's good at pvp and intimidating, he can do his fair share of manipulation when needed, but he's ultimately relatively easy to avoid: he follows a set of rules and while he doesn't vocalize them, if you observe him enough you'll eventually learn them. You'll eventually understand what the triggers are, which convo topics are best to avoid and how to best gain favor with him.

Branzy, though? He's very much a loose canon — beyond keeping his good relationship with Clown for protection (and bc he cares, let's be honest here) and whatever he deems fun today, I doubt he cares about much else; these two things are THE. MOST important to him, and there's little you can personally do to control either, if anything at all.

Branzy is SO interesting to me bc he's outwardly all smiles, happy-go-lucky in a sense and a coward — everyone knows this, it ain't no secret, and if it ever was meant to be we've left that station SEVERAL seasons ago. Yet inside there's a raging beast that begs to be released — the only reason we don't see it too often is LITERALLY bc Branzy is HORRIBLE at pvp; we STILL see it though: in how he encourages people to keep trying his deadly park rides, how he dangles prizes in front of their faces so sweetly and so casually so they keep coming back. In how he doesn't hesitate to betray his team so he can gain favor with Clown, a character he believes will be a bigger protection than his team was beforehand. In how he didn't even bat an eye as he bold-face lied to Squiddo about Carnival Mode being broken when it was most beneficial for Clown for it to "be broken". In how he casually makes a bragging joke about having easily killed two of the strongest players without lifting a finger to battle, because they wanted to play his carnival games.

Branzy has two loyalties: first to Clown and second to himself. Everyone else be damned

So coming back to the mannerisms thing — in my head he's extra extra: I'm talking "dangled upside down from a tree branch to scare someone as he introduced them all to the Chicken Launchers" type of extra, I'm talking "he did a handstand on the rollercoaster cart (with his elytra on, he isn't stupid I swear) as it jumped over the tiny lava pit to introduce people to the attraction" type of extra, I'm talking "he designed a mechanical crossbow he could wear on his arm so he could shoot the door locking mechanism trigger at the bigtop tent the most dramatic way possible" type of extra. He's a theater kid at heart, I just know it — he's dramatic and extra and so fun, so of course he'd have fun with it all! He's an adrenaline junkie (honestly? Why else is he still a sucker for Clown?? Adrenaline junkie + that's his work bf) and he will do a dramatic full split in front of Fleshy's to introduce people to the food stand and you cannot change my mind

So. Yea! In my head Branzy's mannerisms are a combo of showman enthusiasm, theater kid dramatics, acrobatics fueled by his adrenaline junkie ways, and random rubberhose-like body movements that are uncanny on like. an ACTUAL normal human body bc he reminds me of Bendy and I. Don't know. How else. To cope with it, so deal with it.

#fuck this was SO ungodly long #fun to type up tho!#i will forever love the way branzy as a character is SO. POWERFUL in all the subtle ways and the fact he NEVER acknowledges it #it's giving “i already KNOW I'm good — why would i need to go around talking about it??” and i love every second of it omg #anyway #demon rambles™#i should make a dedicated tag for character analysis #hmmmmm #later #branzycraft #lifesteal smp #lifesteal season 5 #lifesteal s5 #lssmp #character analysis #GOD i love doing that actually #like. fave past time probably #gonna jumpscare clownscasino with this one when they wake up >:]]]

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beginningofwonderland · 7 months ago

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Die For You - Hongjoong

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem Reader

Genre: smut with plot, plot with smut (18+ MDNI!)

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: When enemies infiltrate the castle, you and your guard have to flee to a hiding spot deep inside the building. But a sudden appearance of enemies leaves your guard deeply wounded. As you tend to his wounds, you can't ignore the rising tension between the two of you any longer.

Tags/Warnings: Hongjoong as your guard, Royal au, San makes an appearance as an evil assassin, blood, death, violence, pretty detailed knife fight, the knifes don't make it into the bedroom though so no warning in that way, dirty talk (a little derogatory), oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (this is purely fictional pls use protection if you mess with your security guard), cumming in mouth I've never written any kind of royal or not modern setting before so bear with me. How do you dirty talk in that kind of au??

The darkness from outside spread over the floor in front of you like a disease. Seeping black all encompassing every step as you ran along the abandoned hallway. You didn't know if the darkness was comforting because no one could see you, or terrifying since you couldn't see much yourself.

The royal guard had decided to extinguish all the torches to confuse the enemies after the invasion began. As soon as the first intruder was spotted, chaos had broken loose. Immediately you were removed from the banquet. Accompanied by only your head guard you were supposed to flee to your second bedroom, which was hidden away deep in the maze-like corridors of the castle as a hiding space.

"You should get rid of those shoes, my princess. They are making quite the noise and I don't imagine them being comfortable either," your guard recommended. His voice was lowered so that the sound wouldn't carry too far.

In the haste of the moment you hadn't even thought of the clacking noise your shoes made with every step. But now you were very aware.

"You're right," you replied in a whisper and stopped to take off your heels. You thought about carrying them but before you could take a single step further your guard snatched them from you and threw them out the nearest window. You stared at him dumb-foundedly.

"If we leave them here it's a clear trace to you and they are only in the way if you carry them," he explained. A slight hint of annoyance clung to his voice as if he was getting impatient with you.

"They were pretty though," you complained under your breath while resuming your path.

You didn't overhear the snort behind you. "I'm sure you can simply buy new ones, my princess."

There was a certain teasing tone to his voice now. It's what you liked about Hongjoong. Even though he held the most important position in your personal guard he didn't treat you like the other guards did. He still let his character show through on the edges of his tough exterior. A smirk that was hidden away in the darkness formed on your face.

A sudden noise from behind you made you lose said smirk in an instant. The sound was clearly of clashing weapons and the fight seemed a mere few corridors away. Your heartbeat accelerated at a concerning rate as you threw a glance over your shoulder. The darkness didn't grant you any information but before you could spy any longer, Hongjoong strode beside you grabbing your arm.

"We should hurry," he advised. The stern voice he had when he was carrying out his job had returned as he was spoke closely to your ear.

The close proximity brought shivers to your skin, which you hoped he wouldn't notice as he dragged you forward by your arm. You couldn't help but be intrigued by your main guard's presence, even in moments like these. He had this strong aura around him that only intensified whenever he bickered with you. But that was something to think of at another place and time.

You both made your way through the maze of corridors in a way only people that knew the place like the back of their hand could. But in the middle of your usual path Hongjoong stopped you by slightly squeezing your arm.

"We should take a detour, I have a bad feeling about going the usual way. If our enemies were able to get into the castles there might be traitors amongst us that know their way around."

You simply nodded at him, trusting his judgement without a doubt. Finally, your eyes had somehow grown accustomed to the darkness and you were able to make out Hongjoong's face again. His expression was determined as he led you down a different way from your usual path.

It had grown terribly silent around you. It was probably just because the distance between you and the main disturbance grew bigger but something about it made you feel eerie. Your breaths came shallow now and you were sure Hongjoong noticed too, with the way he cast you worried glances.

As you turned the next corner he stopped you two abruptly. His arm immediately went in front of you and he shoved you behind himself without ever losing his focus on what laid ahead of you. Three persons had appeared in the darkness before you. They also had stopped in surprise but now they were slowly approaching, their dark figures looking like wild animals as they stalked towards you.

"Look what we have here. The cause of all this trouble," a honey-sweet voice announced. It was the person in the middle of the three and as he came even closer you were able to make out some of his features in the moonlight that fell through the high-arched windows. He had a sharp jaw and cheekbones, elegant eyes and to you personally he looked almost annoyingly attractive.

Hongjoong in front of you let out a snort. "San. We meet again like this."

The name caused a cold shudder to run over your back. San was known as the dark knight of the Choi kingdom. His abilities as an assassin were known beyond the borders of his country especially since your enemies used them as a weapon against you. He had already assassinated important diplomats and close advisers of your father, the king.

Having this man in front of you was the worst possible outcome of the evening. Hongjoong however didn't seem to be as frightened as you felt. His hands only went to his belt in a calm manner, pulling out two daggers. You had seen what he could do with those before and the reassurance of the weapons gave you hope again.

"You're going straight to violence? I thought we could talk this out first," San complained in a whiny tone. His attitude made shivers run over your skin. How could you be so relaxed when facing a death battle.

"If you want to talk, I'm kindly asking you to leave. If that's not what you want then you should prepare to die." Hongjoong took a step forward, falling into a fighting stance.

"How optimistic," San chuckled. But then his voice changed to a more threatening tone: "Get her."

What a coward, you thought. Sending his men first instead of fighting himself. But then your thoughts were interrupted by watching the scene in front of you play out.

The two men approached quickly. It was hard to see clearly in the dim light but you were quite sure both of them carried a dagger as well. Hongjoong threw a calculating gaze at both of them before they faced him. He couldn't move around them so that he would only face one because then the other would have a clear way to you. So his only chance was to fight both at the same time.

And that he did. Hongjoong dodged every single slash or punch they threw at him. It looked like he was dancing with them in an endless rhythm of moving around their blades. His movements were fluid like water and you could have even sworn a smug little smirk tugged on his lips as he countered his enemies.

The first one fell as one of Hongjoong's daggers was buried in his stomach. Hongjoong pushed him out of his way with a kick and then faced the second. A fire was burning behind his eyes now, heavy breathing filling the air between the two opponents. It felt surreal to you, how you just stood back and watched it all unfold. Even more so, since San was doing the same in the back, even leaning onto a wall leisurely.

This guy is out of his mind.

San's second accomplice seemed to be a better fighter as he endured Hongjoong's attacks for longer. A quick slash of Hongjoong's knife gave him a deep cut into his arm but he kept going with the other.

The longer the fight dragged on, the more nervous you got. Your enemies were stalling for time and at any second, more intruders could appear behind or in front of you. Your suspicion was only heightened when out of the corner of your eyes you saw San starting to move. It almost slipped past you with the silent way he moved. Like a black cat sneaking its way through the darkness he had moved towards your direction while Hongjoong was busy fighting.

"Hongjoong!" you screamed out in panic, moving towards him and away from San. A grin spread on your enemies face that only heightened your panic.

Turning around at your pleading words, Hongjoong missed a crucial second of watching his opponent. A heavy punch hit him on his cheek as soon as his attention was interrupted. You gasped from the impact and Hongjoong released a heavy groan. But the hit only ignited the fire inside of him more. Without missing another beat he hit his opponent with a kick, making him bend over before he cut his throat without hesitation.

But he had taken a second too long. Before he was able to face San and hide you behind him, an arm had grabbed you harshly from behind, pulling you close to San and holding a knife to your throat.

It was the first and only time you had ever seen a sliver of fear flicker in Hongjoong's eyes. But he quickly controlled himself again and was back to his stern face.

"Now if I were you I wouldn't do anything I might regret later," Hongjoong warned his opponent.

"I can say the same for you," San laughed and pressed the blade closer to your neck making your eyes flutter in fear. You've been hunted by the Choi kingdom ever since you were born. As the only heir to your severely sick father, with you out of the way, the Choi king could finally take over your country after years of territorial war.

The feeling of being chased was so ingrained into your bones that it now rendered you motionless in panic. All you could look at was Hongjoong. His eyes flickering to yours as if checking up on you.

Why is he not killing me already? you thought to yourself. Isn't that what they wanted all these years?

The same thoughts must have gone through Hongjoong's head as he watched his opponent with a calculating gaze. You noticed how his eyes lingered on the hand holding the knife at your throat.

"To make this all the more interesting," San suddenly started explaining: "the young king Choi has changed his mind. He doesn't want to assassinate the princess as he fears the uproar of the people. Instead he wants to marry her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. What on earth was this now.

"You know," San continued. "Make her attend public events and then lock her up for the rest of the year like the little political puppet that she is."

You could practically hear the devilish grin in his words as he finished that sentence. And it seemed to ignite something in Hongjoong. As pure hatred washed over his face, he threw one of his daggers.

The blade approached you as if it was in slow-motion. Hongjoong had calculated correctly. You were so paralysed into your spot that you didn't move a single inch. The blade then bore itself into San's arm, making him drop his own knife.

"Get back, princess!" Hongjoong shouted as he tore you away from San, using the second of distraction after his opponent got hurt. Finally, he had you secured behind him again.

San ripped the blade out of his arm, throwing it to the side without a single sign of pain on his face. There was only anger. Within the blink of an eye the two were at each others throats.

It was the fiercest fight you had ever witnessed. Both of them were not only very talented but also ruthless. They kept up a rhythm of circling each other and then slashing out with their daggers. Both of them suffered small cuts when not dodging in time but what worried you more was that you could see Hongjoong breathing heavy. After already fighting two people he was simply tired out compared to his opponent.

"You know you can't win this," San provoked him, probably hinting at the same realization you just had. "Just give her up already. I might even spare your life."

"This is not about me," Hongjoong replied sternly. They were back to circling each other, catching their breath.

"So dutiful? I never understood you guards. I do this for money and not for the honour. Or are you doing it for her pretty face?" He was smiling devilishly and San's suspicions were proven true when Hongjoong immediately lashed out at him with his knife. San must've hit a spot with his words.

You could sense Hongjoong losing his focus, blinded by rage, and you knew you had to do something. In the midst of their battle you picked up Hongjoong's second knife from the floor which San had thrown to the side. When you turned back around to face them, San had forced Hongjoong against a wall and your guard could barely keep up with the continuous attacks of his enemy.

In a hasty decision you stormed towards San, knife in hand, ready to bury it deep into his back. But you had underestimated him. Before you could launch your attack he managed to hit Hongjoong's hand with the hilt of his knife, making him lose his last weapon. In the moment of confusion he turned around and slashed his knife after you.

"Thought I wouldn't notice you, little thing?" he asked with a smirk before returning his attention to Hongjoong.

He never intended to kill you, he just wanted to ward you off and he succeeded in that as you jumped back in fear. It took a second to settle in but a burning pain pulsated on your lower arm. When you looked down a long slash opened your skin, dark red blood already running down your arm.

Hongjoong was now protecting himself with his bare hands. His arms trying to direct San merciless attacks. He was littered in cuts by now and you felt the crushing fear of him losing right in front of you. Or worse, him dying.

"Hongjoong!" you tried in a last attempt to save the both of you. You knew it would distract him again, but it was the only chance.

Before he could even look, you threw his knife in his direction. Luckily, he caught on immediately and his hand reached for the blade in the fraction of a second. Surprising San for probably the first time this evening, Hongjoong immediately brought down the knife in between his rips, burying it to the hilt.

San's knife fell with a loud clutter. His face was frozen in that last expression of surprise as he fought for air. The knife must have fractured his lungs and, if he was lucky, his heart as well. As he stumbled a step back, Hongjoong give him one last push while pulling out his knife, making San fall on his back. Blood spread rapidly on his white shirt, soaking through the fabric in a fascinating pattern.

"Quick, my princess. We need to hide before more enemies appear."

Hongjoong once again grabbed onto your arm. This time he was careful not to take the one that had been injured. Your eyes were on the dark path in front of you again, trying to get rid off the picture of motionless bodies, that were haunting you now.

It wasn't far until your secret quarters from here. After two more turns you reached the tapestry that hid the door to your hideout. Hongjoong retrieved a key from his pocket to open the lock before he rushed you two inside.

When the door closed behind you and he locked it again, you released a deep breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you and you leaned onto the nearest table for support, feeling dizzy. Hongjoong first closed the curtains before he lit up some candles. But as soon as soon as he faced you again and saw you like this he was by your side.

"Are you okay, my princess?" His pupils were dilated and he still had a wild expression to his face. The fight still clung to him, the adrenaline not yet washed away.

He took your face in his hand gently to examine you as you looked up at him with big eyes. He had never come this close to you before and you were stunned by the proximity. But as if he had read your thoughts Hongjoong suddenly pulled away his hand again, looking at it in shock.

Swallowing deeply Hongjoong looked at you bitterly: "I'm sorry, my princess. I failed to protect you. We should tend to your wounds."

He turned away from you in search of fresh water and some fabric to care for your injury. You were left in astonishment.

"What are you talking about? Without you I would be on my way to enslavement by the Choi's. You saved both of us!" There was anger in your voice.

"You got hurt, so I failed to protect you." Hongjoong didn't face you yet as he picked up a bucket of water. His voice was stern, regret lacing every word.

Finally, he found some pieces of cloth that he could use for cleaning the wound and turned back around to you. The look in his eyes quite nearly broke your heart. You had never seen him so defeated.

"Sit on the bed," he ordered you gently. "We need to clean your wound."

"You look ten times worse than I do, let me help you first," you insisted in a harsh voice. He was bleeding all over his arms and chest and the punch to his face earlier had opened the skin on his elegant cheekbones as well. You couldn't believe that after all that he cared about your shallow little cut in comparison.

"It's my duty to protect you so let me do my job."

"It's your duty to protect me and I need you alive for that and not dying of blood loss."

Hongjoong was standing in front of you now, looking at you with a stern expression. You stared at each other for a prolonged amount of time. But when you realized he wouldn't budge, you sat down on the edge of the bed with a frustrated sigh. He set down the bucket of water next to your feet, the pieces of fabric still in his hand. For a moment he was just looking at you, eyes boring into yours with an expression you couldn't read. But the intensity of it stopped your lungs from breathing.

"Stop keeping me from doing my job, princess," he said suddenly, with a slight teasing sound to his voice.

"It's not your job to die for me just because you refuse to get help," you answered, thinking of all the possible outcomes of the situation earlier this evening. The fear you felt during his fight.

"But I would," Hongjoong replied in a heartbeat. His tone wasn't teasing anymore now. He was completely serious. Holding your eye contact he sank to his knees in front of you. His hair fell into his face as he landed and looked up at you through dark lashes.

"I would die for you."

With those words he took your arm into his hands. Dipping the cloth into the water he finally started cleaning the blood from your skin. His touch was so gentle you felt like fine porcelain. In contrast, his skin was splattered in blood, not all of it even his own. His shirt was cut up in multiple spots and his hair dishevelled.

You didn't realize you were crying until a single tear landed on your arm, mixing with the blood that Hongjoong was still wiping away. He looked up at you in surprise. His hand twitched as if he wanted to wipe away your tears too but decided differently.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I can't stand seeing you like this," you replied truthfully. "Let me help you too" You sounded pleading now. The desperation even more evident through the tears running down your cheeks.

Hongjoong averted his eyes back to your arm. After a moment of pondering he answered: "Just one more second."

He quickly cleaned up the rest of your blood and bound the cut with a fresh piece of cloth. Then he rose to his feet again. Wiping the remnants of your tears away you also stood up, now shockingly close to Hongjoong in front of you.

Gently you grabbed him by his shoulders and made him sit down on the bed in return. Never before had you realized how beautiful his eyes were until he was looking up at you like he did in that moment. When the intensity of his gaze made your skin burn, you shifted your eyes to his wounds.

"You will need to get rid of your shirt so that I can clean the cuts."

In response he started folding up his sleeves instead. "Only tend to these then," he answered sternly.

"You are bleeding all over and we need to wait out the attack anyway. Let me clean your wounds." Now it was your turn to hold his cheek in your hand. "Please."

His expression softened with the way you held him and looked at him so desperately. He knew he was making a mistake by giving in to his feelings but he still followed your pleads and started unbuttoning his dress shirt. With every button you felt the blush on your cheeks deepening. You hadn't really realized the intimacy of this moment when you insisted on cleaning his wounds. You had only wanted him to heal.

After he discarded the blood-stained shirt to the side, Hongjoong leaned back onto his arms. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander over his exposed body. For once because you were fascinated with the toned muscles beneath his skin. But also because you were terrified by the amount of cuts. Some bigger some smaller, but all of them bleeding over his smooth skin.

"You wanted to help me, didn't you?" Hongjoong suddenly said, the teasing tone returning to his voice by tenfold. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized you had stared at him for a little too long.

You picked up a clean piece of cloth and dipped it in the water before you tended to his wounds. Starting on his arm, you soon realized that the injuries seemed endless. On top of that, you had to bend down to him in an uncomfortable position. But kneeling in front of him was not an option for multiple reasons either.

In a fit of confidence you instead settled for a different solution. "Can you move back a little more," you asked Hongjoong matter-of-factly. He looked confused but obeyed to your request anyway.

Before you could regret your decision you then straddled his legs, sitting down on top of them, your long dress splaying over him. Hongjoong's breath hitched for a second before he returned to his usual stern guard appearance, his eyes focussed on a spot in the distance. Only the way his hands gripped onto the sheets until his knuckles turned white still gave away how affected he was by your proximity. You continued working on his cuts as if nothing happened, ignoring the slight tremble of your own hands.

The deepest cut was on Hongjoong's right arm and you bound it immediately so that the bleeding would stop quicker. You then finished cleaning the smaller spots on his chest. At some point you almost forgot that you were touching his bare skin all over.

That was until only the cut on his cheek was left. As you grabbed his face to stabilize your grip, your eyes met. You were closer to him than you had noticed before and your heart skipped a beat as you looked deep into Hongjoong's eyes. Carefully, you started wiping the blood from his cheek. He had such delicate features. You had always thought that his looks didn't match his profession but still he excelled at it. Tonight had only proven that.

When you were done you returned your focus to his eyes. "You're all patched up," you announced in nothing more than a whisper. None of you made an attempt to move even a single inch away from each other even after you threw the bloody cloth beside you.

Hongjoong lifted his hand from behind him, slowly, as if giving you time to react. Then he laid it on top of your fingers, which were still holding onto his unwounded cheek. The touch felt so warm and comforting, yet it drove electricity through your skin.

"Tell me what you want now, my princess," Hongjoong asked you in a low voice that made your insides squirm. He looked at you as if entranced, eyes not being able to stray from yours.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, voice straining as you spoke: "You. I want you."

Both of you moved towards each other at the same time and your lips crashed in the middle. Hongjoong's other hand shot up to weave into your hair, pulling you closer into the kiss. The feeling was electrifying. The two of you kissed each other with a desperation that could only come from almost dying earlier this evening.

You had always longed for Hongjoong but now you were dying for him. You wanted every possible centimetre of your bodies to touch and so you pressed yourself even closer to his chest. You couldn't care less if he was bleeding onto your dress or not. He slung his other arm around your waist and pulled you higher up in his lap, obviously sharing the same need.

Parting your lips slightly you allowed Hongjoong's tongue into your mouth. He was skilled with it, making your head swim in cotton. There was nothing on your mind but Hongjoong. All danger was forgotten as his hands held your body tightly. All the hesitation he had shown earlier was lost to his pleasure.

When you ground your hips into him, Hongjoong released a low whine. The sound made you shudder and you felt the desperate desire to hear more sounds from him. Snaking one of your hands behind your back to open the lacing of your dress, Hongjoong stopped your kiss.

His pupils were dilated as he looked at you, lips swollen and wet from the intense kiss. "Are you sure about this, princess?" He had always called you that but his deep tone now made it sound a thousand times better than ever before.

"I've never been so sure about a thing in my life," you replied with a smirk, which Hongjoong reciprocated immediately.

"Then let me take care of this, my darling" he proposed. The new nickname rolled of his tongue so easily but it made your heart flutter tremendously. Seeing him finally break out of his dutiful persona had a weakening effect on you.

He moved his hands behind your back towards the strings of your dress. But you clearly hadn't paid enough attention to his hands as he suddenly cut through all of the lacing at once with his dagger.

A noise of surprise came over your lips as you felt the dress slowly sliding down your body already. Hongjoong marvelled at your expression, a sly smirk resting on his lips. With some of the black strands of hair falling into his face and the candlelight contouring his face he looked so perfect in front of you. You wouldn't ever be able to look at him the same way you did before you had kissed him.

Hongjoong held you by your waist as he got up from the bed. As soon as you were standing, the dress slipped down from your body, pooling at your feet as he continued kissing you. You could only lace your fingers into his dark hair as his head dipped into your neck, placing kisses on the sensitive skin.

"I would love to mark you my darling but I fear that might get us in trouble later," he admitted through a chuckle as his lips travelled over your neck.

"Then do it where people can't see," you replied breathlessly. You wanted him all over you, his lips, his marks, his everything.

Hongjoong pulled back at your words, looking at you with dark eyes. The intensity was similar to when he had attacked San earlier only know his energy was directed towards different purposes.

"Everything my princess desires," he replied, suddenly spinning you around and gently placing you on the bed again.

Before you could say another word he was on top of you, his lips all over your body. Kissing down from your neck towards your exposed breasts, sucking at the skin that was usually carefully hidden benath your dress. He looked up at you through fluttering lashes before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He circled the tender skin gently with his tongue, making you moan beneath him within seconds.

In the meantime his hands kneaded your skin all over from your waist to your hips. When his lips wandered down even farther, your breath turned shallow. He felt intoxicating. There was so much desire and desperation in the way he touched you that you just wanted more and more.

His kisses turned softer and slower as he made his way to your lower stomach. Through those dangerously glinting eyes he looked up at you for approval.

„Please go on, Joong."

He suddenly stopped his movements. "Joong?" he asked with a low chuckle.

Your face reddened as you realized you had called him a nickname by accident.

"I've only kissed you yet and you're already calling me nicknames?" He snickers. "I can't wait to hear more."

With that he removed your underwear. His eyes glistened as he looked at you before him. Glazed in lust like any other emotion was an impossibility to him.

He looked at you one last time before he lowered his lips to you. He started kissing you softly, barely giving you any stimulation. The softness was unexpected to you, not fitting his tough image. But you soon realized that these weren't acts of carefulness but rather his menacing plan to tease you.

As soon as you started to squirm beneath him, trying to get more friction between you and his kitten licks at your core, he held your hips down with a firm grip. Feeling his strength on your own body made you shiver.

"Please, Joong," you beg him for something you can't even put into words but he chuckles in response to your neediness.

"On this bed, you belong to me, my princess. I'm not taking any more orders from you," he said looking up at you with a menacing smile.

A shudder passed through your body at the deep tone of his voice and you had no choice but to give yourself up to his mercy. And nothing had ever felt better to you. Turning off all thought while Hongjoong was pleasuring your cunt in an almost torturous tempo was somehow the most blissful thing you had ever experienced. It made you forget all the panic and anxiety you had felt just minutes ago.

When an overwhelming feeling of heat built up in your lower stomach and your hips desperately tried to grind against Hongjoong's tongue against his relentless grip, he suddenly stopped. He looked up at you through messy strands of black hair hanging in his vision.

"Not yet my princess, I'm only getting started with you."

He got up from the bed only to slowly discard his pants with his eyes still glued onto your figure. As soon as you saw his hardened length you sucked in a breath of air, feeling your heartbeat accelerating. You felt like he was touching you with his intense stare alone before he was back on top of you. His eyes searched for yours and his hand cupped your cheek surprisingly gentle before Hongjoong shared a deep kiss with you.

It was like nothing else existed besides his lips on yours. You had never felt so much longing for a person in your life as you deepened the kiss and pulled him closer by the back of his head. Once you wound your fingers into Hongjoong's hair and pulled on it he groaned into your mouth, sending shockwaves through your body at the sound.

He interrupted the kiss to stare at you with eyes filled with lust, a fire behind his gaze that spread onto you immediately.

"Tell me to stop right now, princess. I know I'm not supposed to have you but I will ruin you for everyone else if I can have you just this once. You will never want anyone else but me, I promise you."

If anything his words only made you want him more: "Please," you pleaded him, voice not more than a whisper. "I'm all yours. I don't want anyone else."

And your words were like gasoline to his fire. His lips were back on yours in a heartbeat and you felt him spreading your legs apart with his knees. Never once breaking the kiss, Hongjoong held his cock and slowly let it glide through your folds, collecting the wetness between your legs and taunting you even more. You were still sensitive from his tongue and whined into his mouth as he continued teasing you like this.

"Please, Joong," you whined in between kisses. "I want you so bad."

He chuckled into the kiss but actually listened to you as he finally lined himself up with your core.

"So eager, my darling," he teased you, breaking from the kiss only to watch your reaction to him finally pushing into you. As soon as his tip entered you, your eyes fluttered shut and a low moan left your mouth.

A content smile spread on Hongjoong's face as he watched your brows draw together once he bottomed out. You felt so good around him, so hot and tight.

His thrusts started out slow but harsh and with every jolt you felt him hit a spot deep inside you, you didn't even know existed. Once one of his hands started caressing your breast, thumb rolling over your hardened nipple, you opened your eyes again to watch him.

Hongjoong looked ethereal. His delicate features barely illuminated by the candles, eyes darkened by lust and his black hair moving in time with his thrusts, the visual alone almost made you come.

"Having fun, my darling?" he asked tauntingly with a particularly harsh thrust that made you gasp. "You look so pretty moaning on my cock like that."

You felt like choking from his filthy words. Your head guard was usually not the chattiest person apart from his occasional teasing remarks towards you. Having him talk to you like that made your legs soften in the best way possible.

Knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you, he sped up his pace, increasing your moans that you were desperately trying to hold back.

"Can't even talk anymore? You don't know how long I've been wanting you to shut up on my cock like this."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you could feel the heat in your stomach building up fast. Hongjoong felt you tightening around him and was determined to make you finish. His hand wandered down from your breast to your core and with two fingers he started drawing circles into your clit while continuing his menacing pace.

Your hands grabbed onto his underarms in response, nails digging into his skin as you felt your orgasm approaching quickly. He knew exactly what would drive you there and finished you off with his words alone:

"Let go for me, my darling. Come on my cock."

And just with that a wave of pleasure rushed over you, breath being knocked out of your lungs. You felt like fighting for oxygen as you calmed down from your high and Hongjoong whispered praises into your ear:

"Such a good girl for me. That's my pretty princess."

When he felt like you had recovered enough, Hongjoong pulled out of you carefully and settled on the edge of bed, sitting down. With a menacing glance over his shoulder he beckoned you to come closer to him.

"Get on top of me, princess. You were so eager to do that earlier I feel like I should show you what you deserve for being so needy."

When you got up from the bed to straddle him, your legs almost gave in from being so weak after your high. Hongjoong's hand latched onto your hip to steady you as he slowly pulled you onto him.

"Slowly, my darling. Don't want you fainting on me now when I'm not even done with you."

Knees safely situated on the bed next to his hips, you hovered your core over his member. Your faces were so close that your noses touched as you devoured each other with your eyes alone.

You slowly sank down onto his length while holding eye contact with him the entire time. It was the first time you saw him getting a little weak as his eyes fluttered and a small grunt came from the back of his throat.

You wanted to hold onto his shoulders for support, to move on top of him but his body was littered in cuts, that you didn't want to touch. Hongjoong felt your hesitation and let his hands glide over yours, gently placing them on both sides of his face. You felt like you were holding the stars in your hands with the way his eyes sparkled up at yours. It wasn't just desire speaking from them now but something else too as his arms snaked around your waist.

"Let me make you mine, princess."

With his words he gently lifted your body and let it drop down, burying his cock deep within your walls. One of your hands wound into his hair again, keeping you grounded by slightly pulling on his strands.

He fucked you by lifting you up and down his cock like you weighed nothing in his hands. You already felt like coming undone again as you once again pulled him into a kiss. This time he was moaning into your mouth as well, the low vibrations going straight to your core.

You couldn't hold yourself back anymore from moving on top of him too. As you moved up and down his length Hongjoong let his head fall back into his neck in bless.

"You're killing me, princess."

"I thought you would die for me?" you asked back teasingly.

Hongjoong's eyes glinted at your words. "Well that's not how I meant that."

Using his legs he suddenly thrust himself up into you from below and you knew you wouldn't last long like that. His hands digging into your skin and his cock so deep inside you you felt the pressure in your core once again tightening.

"Can you come for me one more time, princess?" Hongjoong asked you with a strained voice. Judging by his clenched jaw you could tell he was close too.

"Yes, please," you begged him and somehow he managed to speed up his tempo just a little more.

Once the orgasm hit you, you couldn't help but let your head drop into the crook of his neck, moaning into his soft skin as he continued thrusting into you. His name tumbled from your lips over and over again making him feel intoxicated of the sweet sound.

"I'm close, princess," he groaned into your ear, thrusts faltering.

"Please let me finish you," you begged him.

"God, please," was all he could answer and you got off of his lap, kneeling down between his legs instead.

You grabbed onto his length, gently stroking him while your tongue lapped at his tip. Your eyes raked over his body marvelling in the way his abs tensed under your touch and his breath came in short gasps. When you finally took him into your mouth as far as you could, Hongjoong spilled his hot seed deep into your throat. His hands wanted so badly to pull you farther onto his cock but he grabbed onto the bedsheets in desperation instead as he came undone.

You moaned as you felt the liquid trickling down your throat and the vibration only heightened his pleasure as his cock twitched inside of you. You sucked him dry before swallowing all of his come with a dazed look on your eyes.

Hongjoong felt like he was in a dream, watching the one person he had always longed for devour him so passionately. He gently lifted you up from the ground only to lay you back on the bed. He held your body like it was the most fragile thing in the world, cradling your head to his chest and stroking your hair gently.

The sudden softness almost brought you to tears. You had never felt this cared for in your life.

"Joong?" you softly called him and he looked down at you, releasing the grip on your hair so you could face him.

"What is it, my princess?"

"I don't want you just tonight."

A flicker of confusion passed over his handsome features. You laid your hand on his cheek, stroking the soft skin.

"I was the one to pick you as my head guardian," you spoke softly, the memory of it still vivid in your mind. You had kept this information a secret until now, carefully stored in the back of your head but now it was begging to be let out. "Ever since you had joined the royal guard I've had a crush on you so I begged my father to make you my head guardian, telling him I didn't trust anyone else but you."

Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise. He had always thought he got lucky with such an honoured position. He had never imagined you out of all people wanting him to be so close to you. Yet he couldn't quite grasp the gravity of your words.

"What do you mean? You can't be with a guard." He was thinking rationally. All this time he knew there was no way for him to ever have you but now you gave him hope that he didn't want to allow himself just yet.

"It is only a matter of time before my father passes and I become queen. And as the queen I can do whatever I please."

Hongjoong slowly shook his head, disbelieve evident on his face. But you went on:

"I can't imagine anyone else by my side than the one I trust the most, Hongjoong. And even if you don't love me back I want you to be at my side when I need to run this kingdom."

He stared at you for a second, mind running crazy at your words. You wanted him. Out of everything in the world that could be yours you wanted him.

"Who says I don't love you back?" was what he finally replied with the tiniest hint of a smile playing around the corner of his lips.

This time your eyes widened in surprise. "But you were always annoyed by me?" you answered in slight confusion.

Your response made him chuckle and stroke your cheek affectionately. "Darling, that was me trying really hard not to fall for you even more than I already did."

There it was again, that look in his eyes that felt like he was watching the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It rendered you completely speechless.

"I'll always be by your side, my princess. I'll worship you until the day I die."

And with that he pulled you in for another kiss. You felt a tear run down your cheek as you desperately latched onto his lips. You would never let go of him again.

This entire thing was single-handedly inspired by Hongjoong falling to his knees in Inception which says a lot about my mental health if you ask me but okay.

I hope you enjoyed even if it was different from my usual settings/plots!

Taglist: @voicesinmyhead-rc @yoonjikim

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #beginningofwonderland #smut fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you

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lady-0f-the-wood · 2 years ago

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A very detailed character biography to help build characters. I found the original template HERE and edited it to make it more suitable for the characters I'm creating, and also to add some more details, such as a mental illness checklist section to use for myself to reference (because it helps to know what's wrong with your characters) and other details. You may not need so many minor details for a character, but you never know if you'll end up needing an explanation for something. I'll be using this template myself so I figured I'd share it in case it could help others too. I have edited it to better suit my own medieval fantasy characters, so I'm not sure how well it will work with other genres. Enjoy. ♡

☆Trigger Warning - Sensitive Mental Health Topics☆

Character 1

• Character’s full name:

• Reason or meaning of name:

• Character’s nickname:

• Reason for nickname:

• Character’s titles & what they mean:

• Birth date/season:

Physical appearance

• Age:

• Appears how old:

• Race:

• Gender:

• Weight:

• Height:

• Body build:

• Shape of face:

• Eye color:

• Skin tone:

• Distinguishing marks:

• Predominant features:

• Hair color:

• Hair type:

• Usual hairstyle:

• Voice:

• Overall 1-10 attractiveness scale:

• Physical disabilities:

• Usual fashion:

• Favorite outfit:

• Jewelry or accessories:

• Tattoos:

• Miscellaneous:

Personality

• Good personality traits:

• Bad personality traits:

• Most common mood:

• Sense of humor:

• Greatest joy in life & why:

• Greatest fear & why:

• What event would be most devastating & why:

• Most comfortable when:

• Most uncomfortable when:

• Most angry/furious when:

• Most depressed/sad when:

• Most happy/joyful when:

• Priorities:

• Life philosophy:

• Biggest wish & why:

• Character’s soft spot:

• Is this soft spot obvious to others or common:

• Political views:

• Greatest strength:

• Greatest weakness:

• Greatest vulnerability:

• Biggest regret:

• Minor regret:

• Biggest accomplishment:

• Minor accomplishment:

• Most embarrassing event & why:

• Character’s darkest secret, if any:

• Does anyone else know this secret:

• Miscellaneous:

Goals & Dreams

• Drives/Motivations:

• Immediate goals:

• Long term goals:

• How to accomplish the goals:

• How others will be affected if the goals are achieved:

• How long has character had the goals:

• Goals that character thinks are hard to achieve:

• Goals that character thinks are easy to achieve:

• Goals that character has already started working on & how long:

• Dreams:

• Miscellaneous:

Past

• Location of birth/childhood:

• Socioeconomic status:

• Cultural traditions:

• Parents Socioeconomic ranking:

• Parents involvement:

• Type of childhood:

• Siblings/other family involvement:

• Friends/Acquaintances:

• First memory:

• Most important memory & why:

• Childhood hero:

• Pets:

• Dream job:

• Education:

• Religion:

• Wealth/inheritances:

• Miscellaneous:

Present

• Current location:

• Currently living with:

• Type of residence & who owns it:

• Possessions/Owned assets:

• Weapons owned:

• Socioeconomic ranking & how it was achieved:

• Cultural traditions/practices:

• Religion:

• Sexual orientation:

• Occupation:

• Wealth:

• Acquaintances/Friends/Lovers:

• Pets:

• Miscellaneous:

Family

• Mother:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with her:

• Father:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with him:

• Siblings:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with them:

• Spouse:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with him/her:

• Children:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with them:

• Other important family members:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with them:

Favorites

• Color:

• Food:

• Form of entertainment:

• Story/Myth/Legend:

• Mode of transportation:

• Most prized possession:

• Location/place:

• Season/weather:

• Miscellaneous:

Habits & Activities

• Hobbies:

• Training:

• Magical/special abilities:

• How he/she would spend a rainy day:

• Spending habits:

• Smokes tobacco:

• Drinks:

• Drugs/herbs:

• Activity does too much of:

• Activity does too little of:

• Extremely skilled at:

• Slightly skilled at:

• Extremely unskilled/terrible at:

• Nervous tics:

• Usual body posture:

• Mannerisms:

• Peculiarities:

• Places visited for fun/interest:

• Miscellaneous habits:

• Miscellaneous activities:

Traits & Flaws

• Optimist or pessimist:

• Introvert or extrovert:

• Daredevil or cautious:

• Logical or emotional:

• Disorderly/Messy or Methodical/Neat:

• Prefers working or relaxing:

• Confident or unsure:

• Easy to anger:

• Easily pleased:

• Manipulative:

• Apologetic:

• Accepting of advice:

• Easily bored:

• Mentally/Emotionally strong:

• Accountability:

• Ambitious:

• Work ethic:

• Demanding & bossy:

• Submissive & subordinate:

• Playful or boring:

• Brave or cowardly:

• Chases power/success/glory:

• Protective of loved ones:

• Doubts themselves or others:

• Talkative or quiet:

Mental Illnesses

• Trauma & why/who/what/when:

• Addictions:

• Depression:

• Anxiety:

• Paranoia:

• Hallucinations:

• Personality disorder:

• PTSD:

• Obsessive compulsive:

• Bipolar:

• Stable:

• Triggers:

• Miscellaneous:

Self-perception

• Feelings about himself/herself:

• One word the character would use to describe self:

• One paragraph description of how the character would describe self:

• Character considers their best personality trait:

• Character considers their worst personality trait:

• Character considers their best physical characteristic:

• Character considers their worst physical characteristic:

• Character thinks others perceive them:

• Character's aspect they would change about themself:

• Miscellaneous:

Relationships with others

• Opinion of people in general:

• Does the character hide opinions/emotions from others:

• Most hated/Biggest enemy & why:

• Most loved & why:

• Best friend(s):

• Love interest(s):

• Who to go to for advice:

• Who they're responsible for/Who they take care of:

• Who character feels shy or awkward around:

• Who character openly admires:

• Who character secretly admires:

• Most important in character’s life before story starts:

• Most important after story starts:

• Opinion of relationships with family:

• Opinion of relationships with lovers:

• Opinion of relationships with friends:

• Treats strangers:

• Treats authority figures:

• Opinions of authority figures:

• Treats subordinates:

• Opinions of subordinates:

• Treats the opposite gender:

• Opinions of the opposite gender:

• Treats other races/cultures:

• Opinions of other races/cultures:

• Treats children:

• Opinions of children:

• Treats others with different tastes/interests/activities:

• Opinions of others with different tastes/interests/activities:

• How they treat others who admire them:

• How they treat others who love them:

• How they treat others who betray/harm/bully them:

• How they treat others who disrespect/harm others:

• How they react when someone needs their help:

• How they react when someone tries to help them:

• How they react to sexual/romantic advances:

• Opinions of sex & brothels:

• Miscellaneous:

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spirit-lanterns · 9 months ago

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THE BOSS’ CHARACTER SHEET

A semi-detailed post about the Boss’ character information and personality. Certain pieces of information are REDACTED, but will be unlocked in the future.

All information available for the Boss, is under the cut:

BIO:

FULL NAME: ??? “The Boss” {TO BE UNLOCKED}

GENDER: Female

PRONOUNS: She/her

AGE: 38 years old

HEIGHT: 5’8

MODEL TYPE: Tall female

TYPE: Playable character

FACTION(S): The Rabbit’s Foot

WORLD: Penacony

RARITY: 5 Star

PATH: Harmony

COMBAT TYPE: Imaginary

OVERVIEW:

The Boss is a woman of mysterious origin. No one in Penacony recalls just how she set foot upon the elusive planet of festivities, yet The Rabbit’s Foot, her most prized casino, is quite popular amongst the people of Penacony for all the riches and Bunnies she has to offer…

A mature woman of high status and a slacker to boot, the Boss is quite a mixed bag as no one really knows what to expect when conversing with her for the first time. People expect her to be a lavish, elegant, and proper woman, yet if you ask the Bunnies of the casino, they’d all say their Boss is a well-known “lazy bones.”

Besides sleeping at her office and lounging with her Bunnies, the Boss enjoys collecting intricate tea sets and watching Broadway shows.

APPEARANCE:

The Boss is a tall woman with long, blonde hair, always pulled up in an intricate updo with multiple hairpins and clips, light blue eyes, fair skin, as well as a darkly colored kimono with floral patterns. On her “lazy days” however, the Boss likes to leave her hair down, her clothes often not worn properly as she has a habit of wearing her clothes in a way where it exposes her shoulders and other assets.

She has a detailed sleeve of tattoos on her right arm (your left) that depict a branch of colorfully pink sakura flowers. It can sometimes be shown when the Boss doesn’t wear her clothes properly.

PERSONALITY:

The Boss is a lazy, yet mature woman that has a habit of napping in her office whenever she’s left alone. She’s a slacker through and through, and she never really does her paperwork unless her Bunnies force her to.

She’s also quite into adult indulgences, such as alcohol, smoking, gambling and sex. Not afraid to show off her wants and desires, the Boss can also be quite straightforward whenever she wants something of her affection. Besides coming off as a lazy bum however, the Boss cares deeply for her Bunnies, as she’s always looking for ways to keep them satisfied.

Sometimes when she’s left alone, the Boss can be seen frowning and immediately lighting her pipe for a smoke, before quickly changing her downcast expression to an aloof one.

BACKSTORY:

{TO BE UNLOCKED}

VOICE-OVERS:

FIRST MEETING: “Ah…a pleasantry to meet you. My name? Hah…just call me Boss, sweetheart.”

GREETING: “You’re back! That was fast…did you want to rent out a Bunny? Or perhaps…you came back for me?”

PARTING: “Come back soon, the Bunnies always miss you, I know I do…”

ABOUT SELF: REAL NAME: “My real name is not of importance, people know me as Boss and I stick to it. The Bunnies never really asked, but you are the first person to push on this topic. Heh, what? Don’t look at me like that, I like being called Boss.”

ABOUT SELF: SMOKING: “Sorry, I know the smell of smoke isn’t pleasant, but I can’t help it whenever I’m stressed. I know, I know, it’s a bad habit, but…gambling is a bad habit too, right?”

CHAT: BUNNIES: “Ahhhh I just love my Bunnies so much! They’re so cute and bouncy, but goodness are they hyper. I had to build an indoor gym just for them in the casino, just so they could get their zoomies out.”

CHAT: NAPS: “I love napping. I hope it doesn’t show my age, but napping just replenishes my energy so much that sometimes I coax the Bunnies into napping with me in my office. They make the perfect cuddle buddies.”

HOBBIES: “I don’t drink tea, but I love collecting tea sets. I have an entire cabinet at home just filled with different sets from all over the galaxy. I even have one that has little bunny teacups!”

ANNOYANCES: “I hate drunk people. Why would you drink so much if you know your alcohol tolerance is low? (Sigh) At the very least, my Bouncer Bunnies are able to take care of it.”

SOMETHING TO SHARE: “If you scratch a Bunny’s ear at the base of their scalp, their foot will begin to tap rapidly against the floor. Hm? How do I know this? Aha…I like exploring with my hands.”

KNOWLEDGE: “When you drink alcohol, you have to do it fast. Slow, leisurely sips make the alcohol burn your throat longer, yet if you drink it in one go, you are able to enjoy the taste.”

ABOUT: (BUNNY READER): “Ah…(Bunny Reader)...why won’t she stay with me? Oh! How long have you been standing there?”

ABOUT: KAFKA: “She’s not a criminal under the casino, she’s a customer. However, I won’t lie and say that I am completely thrilled that a Stellaron Hunter is renting out one of my Golden Bunnies every week. I can’t imagine what she’s doing to my poor Bunny…”

ABOUT: HIMEKO: “I like Himeko, she’s a very sweet woman and her coffee recipe is divine. I’ll have to visit her on The Express one day and see her tea set collection myself.”

ABOUT: BLACK SWAN: “I never really know what’s going on with that woman, but she’s a very efficient dealer. She puts some of my Dealer Bunnies to shame with how quick her hands are, hehe.”

ABOUT: ACHERON: “The Galaxy Ranger, right? She’s not the best gambler, but her ambition is admirable.”

ABOUT: FIREFLY: “Ohhh, that poor girl. She’s been tackled in the casino sixteen times now by my Golden Bunny.”

ABOUT: ROBIN: “She’s probably the worst gambler I have ever seen, yet she seems to be a favorite of my Golden Bunny.”

ABOUT: TOPAZ: “She’s cheated in a gamble before, but thanks to Black Swan she was caught and punished accordingly. I would’ve kicked her out of the casino for this, but (Bunny Reader) loves to keep her around for some reason.”

ABOUT: SERVAL: “I hire her sometimes to play live music in my casino. The patrons and Bunnies love her very much, so she gets discounts sometimes if she wishes to rent out Golden Bunny.”

ABOUT: CONSTANCE: “Logically she’s much more dangerous than Kafka, but I can’t help but trust her more. Maybe it’s just because I’m a little biased and we have wine together sometimes.”

TRIVIA:

The Boss’ real name translates directly to “Spring Princess.”

The Boss uses her smoking pipe as a weapon when in combat. The smoke from it can increase the stats of party members.

Her alcohol tolerance is extremely high.

The Boss has talents in dancing and embroidery.

She is bisexual.

The Boss claims she is an ass woman because “everyone has an ass, therefore ass is the best part.”

The Boss is a criminal. For what exactly is a secret and will be revealed in her backstory.

GALLERY:

Left Art: @e-hibiscus on Tumblr

Right Art: @deadflyartlogs on Instagram

#🕯️ghost post #casino au

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shesjustanothergeek · 2 years ago

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His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part One

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: This is based on the depiction of Aegon in HBO's House of The Dragon and not the books, though I do change some details about his character here and there. I fully recognize that he is a horrible person in the show, especially, but it still makes me want to fuck him just as badly. Please give me hate for this, so I know what to add to the story to piss you Aegon haters off. Toodles!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of childbirth and complications, death, reference to sexual assault, Aegon speaking inappropriately to a minor.

Screams echoed throughout the dark streets of Flea Bottom, the sound emanating from one of the many brothels that occupied the townspeople and even certain royals. The usual moans the whores had listened to were gone, replaced with their encouraging words and the shallow pants of a woman in labor. The establishment was closed for the night, which was unusual. They were always open, even on holidays that were supposed to be observed in silence, but this, they believed, was far more important.

One of the fellow women was giving birth to the firstborn daughter of Daemon Targaryen, a bastard.

"Push Elaina! Push!" the Madam commanded, holding her sweating hand.

The whispers of the other girls were the only thing Elaina Black could hear, even over the pound of blood through her ears. She had taken all the proper precautions to avoid this, but it seemed the Gods had other plans for her. Elaina had been the private whore of Daemon Targaryen, reserved only for his cock. Typically, the Madam would refuse such a demand, but he was a prince, and only the best were given to the Highborn.

"I can't," she whimpered, tears streaming down her temples. Unable to hold herself up, she lay on her bed, legs held open by her fellow girls. It had been hours, and the babe had not breached the canal. She was exhausted, sweat coated all her limbs, and she had given up on the birthing chair.

"You must!" A young girl to her side whispered, dabbing her forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

"The babe is stuck," the Madam said, her gruff voice turning into a soft, worried sound. Her callused hand rubbed her stomach.

"I-I need something, anything, for the pain," Elaina cried, her whole body feeling like she was lying in a bed of flames.

"I am sorry, sister, but it might harm the child," a girl holding her leg spoke. Elaina grunted, baring down and pushing with all her might with a scream. She felt as if her eyes were going to pop out of her head with force.

"Yes!" The Madam shouted. "Yes! Yes! Keep going, Elaina! It is moving!"

"Oh Gods," she groaned, attempting to roll on her side, but was held down.

The Madam had a bright smile as she stuck her hands inside Elaina's canal, feeling the soft hair of the newborn as it slid forward. She could feel the child's head moving against her pelvis, creating an indescribable pain. A few more contractions and the babe would be free.

Elaina tossed and turned, gripping the stained sheets and nearly ripping them in half as a soft tuft of brown hair appeared. She screamed, her back lifting as she bared down, knowing that would be the last push.

A searing pain surged through her body from her core, traveling up her spine. She felt like she was being ripped open, all her insides tearing apart and coming out with the babe.

"Good. Good," the Madam soothed, the cry of a newborn echoing in the room. "You may rest now, Elaina."

And Elaina tried, she did, but the contractions did not stop. She kept pushing and pushing. The sighs of relief all the whores let out were all that could be heard. They left Elaina to tend to the babe, ignoring her raspy breaths. Though they were still in the room, she felt so alone and helpless, lying there with her legs spread open. She assumed her body kept pushing for the afterbirth, which was something to be expected, but she didn't think it would happen so soon. She felt her body pop like a plug pulled from a drain, which she assumed was the placenta exiting her body. She finally relaxed, her body exhaling all her pain and tension.

"May I see them?" Elaina asked softly, barely containing any energy.

The women finally turned to Elaina, and the newborn swaddled in one of their arms. Their faces all paled, the Madam passing the child to another girl as she ran to her parted legs.

"Wh-what is the matter?" Elaina looked down, seeing a pool of blood between her thighs. She sat up, finally gaining the strength to move before someone could push her down as she saw her organs.

She nearly fainted in shock but willed her eyes to stay open. She could not be done until she held her child.

"My baby," she whispered, but nobody listened, everyone panicking as they tried to get Elaina's internal organs back inside. "My child," she shouted, finally finding her voice. "Give me my child."

The young girl holding the still crying babe looked to the Madam, asking permission. She nodded, hands wrist deep into Elaina's heat.

Finally, she got to hold her child, numb to the poking and prodding of people's hands inside her. She wrapped her arms around the small bundle, the child as if knowing they were in their mother's arms instantly calmed. Elaina shifted the blankets to see the babes sex, smiling to herself.

"A girl," her trembling voice whispered, covering her daughter back up and whispering her name. "My beautiful girl."

She rubbed the soft lanugo hair on her head, noticing a small block of skin lighter than the rest of her scalp, white hair growing from it. The newborn closed her eyes at her mom's soft stroking, a yawn escaping her tiny mouth, smacking her gums. She knew that her daughter would have a piece of her father with her, even if she never knew him. Elaina had never felt such love for another being in her life. How could such a small thing make her feel this way?

She was oblivious to the panicky talking of the Madam and other girls, a few entering and exiting the room with different supplies. All that mattered in the world right now was her daughter in her arms, her eyes slowly opening as she stopped stroking her head. Rings of violet wrapped around her pupils, almost sparkling in the candlelight.

Suddenly, the babe was removed from her arms, and Elaina shouted, attempting to jump out of the sweat and blood-soaked sheets, but was shoved down by four women. Her daughter's cries mirrored her mother's, wanting to be in her warm embrace again.

"Where," Elaina's breath caught in her throat, realizing how exhausted she was, "where are you taking her?"

"Elaina, calm yourself." She ignored the girl's words demanding her to hold still.

"Give me my baby! Give me back, my child," she screamed, but no one listened, holding her down with all their strength.

"I need to stitch you up, Elaina! The babe tore you down to your arse!" The Madam shouted, getting frustrated with her violent squirming.

"I do not care! Give me back my child!"

"Restrain her."

"We are trying, Madam," the four girls responded as Elaina managed to free a leg and kick one of them in the face.

"Get her Milk of the Poppy, now."

It was only mere moments before a whore came in with a small glass bottle, asking another girl to help her open her mouth as she poured the liquid. Slowly, Elaina began to calm, her thrashing coming to a halt as her mind left the realm. Her child still wailed its deafening cries, never ceasing even as her mother settled.

"There, there little one," the girl who had taken her cooed. "It's alright. Your mama will make it out alright. I am sure of it." The babe continued to cry, almost as if she could sense her lies.

"Lyra, shut her up or leave the room," the Madam said, her voice returning to her routine. Lyra chose the latter, closing the door quietly behind her as she rocked the newborn in her arms.

The infection took Elaina Black in three days' time. Even though they managed to stitch her together, her insides still kept coming out. It was as if her body refused to heal without her daughter's presence. The Madam refused to let the child see her dying mother for fear that she would somehow make her sick, but she could not handle seeing her in that state. She felt like a failure. Letting one of her whores get pregnant in the first place was shameful enough, but her dying from said pregnancy under her care was terrible. She was supposed to take care of her girls, and she failed.

It was early in the morning, a week after Elaina's death, and all the brothel women were confused about why the Madam decided to call a meeting instead of letting them sleep. They all gathered around in the small room they designated for meals, waiting for Madam to address them finally. She was babbling to the bundle in her arms, letting her play with the finger she was swirling over in her face.

"I called you all here today because word has gotten to me. Rumors that some of you have broken our unspoken agreement to keep the child safe," she spoke, her eyes never leaving the babe.

"Madam," Lyra spoke up before anyone else could dig them a deeper grave. "We would never put the child at risk. Whatever whispers you have heard are false."

Madam hummed in response, finally looking at the frightened girls. "You all know her parentage and why she should be kept out of your mouths, and yet," she paused, looking at every one of their faces, "someone has spoken, and word has made it to the Red Keep." They gasped, knowing what this could mean for them and their business.

"The child is my concern, and I want no word of her to anyone. Do you understand?" The sternness in her voice was enough to make even the strongest of men falter. "Or I will have you all kicked to the streets."

They all nodded without protest, knowing that she would follow those threats. Madam took a breath, turning around to dismiss them as she kissed the babes forehead wordlessly, her purple-lined iris' glinting up at her. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide her from the royal family forever, but she would try. She'd be damned if she failed you too.

Several Years Later...

You giggled as you ran along the Streets of Silk, a mischievous grin plastered on your face as you dropped a few apples from your tiny arms. A few City Watchmen chased after you, and their shouts for you to halt fell deaf on your ears. You weaved your way through the crowds of people like a snake in the grass while the guardsmen ran through them like bulls, bumping into almost everyone they saw.

It was easy for you to get away, slinking down an alley and hiding behind a corner in your dark cloak. You turned, making sure the men ran past before you stepped out of the shadows, putting the rest of the apples into your brown satchel but leaving one out to eat. You took a bite, smiling triumphantly that you had gotten away with your crime as you skipped back to your home in Flea Bottom.

You had just reached the back entrance of the brothel you called home, always listening to what Madam said as it burst open, revealing an incredibly drunk patron as you fell to the dirty sandstone, the cloak of your hood dropping.

"Ouch," you cried, rubbing the back of your head from where it hit the ground. All the apples roll from your bag.

You looked up at the man, only to realize it wasn't. It was a young boy, barely looking at the age of ten and three, with a leather patch over his left eye and tears in the other. He, too, had a cloak of his own, now pushed back and revealing hair as white as snow. It took you a moment to comprehend what that meant, a young boy with hair like that, but then you realized, quickly scrambling up into a clumsy bow.

"Your grace, I-I did not mean to-"

A hard shove knocked you back to the ground, but this time you caught yourself staring at him with an angry look. You knew you couldn't do anything to him, he was royalty, but that did not stop you from trying.

"Get away from me whore. I have had enough of you." The prince rubbed his tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve as you attempted to get up again, but he pushed you back down, stepping on your hand as he ran away.

It was your turn to cry now, the pain and anger mixing as you whimpered, clutching your hand to your chest. What had you done to offend him so dearly? It was his fault he ran into you. Maybe he could have seen you if he wasn't such a baby. You did nothing wrong. You had half a mind to chase after him for hurting you the way he did as you got up, debating if you could catch up to him in time. You probably could. He was a selfish, pampered palace ass, not a street rat like you.

"A bit young to be whoring yourself out, aren't you? But I suppose it never hurts to start young." A tall but stocky man stood in the door frame, eyes roaming your body. He had the same white hair as the boy from before, only shorter and curly and reeking of sweat. You stepped back, trying your best not to scrunch your nose up in disgust at his smell.

"I am not a whore," you spat, putting your hands on your hips. He crossed his legs, still leaning in the doorway as he observed you, an almost calculating look on his face.

"Ah, my apologies then, dear maiden. I only meant whore in training," he said with a smirk. You scoffed, fixing your pouch as you knelt to pick up the red apples on the ground.

"Hardly. I do not whore myself, nor will I ever."

"A pity," he said, crouching down to be level with you, "for I would love to see your body once fully grown."

You grabbed the last apple, ignoring his comment and putting it in your bag as he placed his hand over yours, staring into your eyes. You grew uncomfortable at his unwavering gaze, heat rising to your cheeks as he ran his fingers through your white strand of hair, comparing it to your eyes. If you weren't any brighter, it would seem like he was about to kiss you. He hummed to himself as if he was inspecting a relic he did not understand.

Your name being called sharply moved your gaze from his, standing up as you shoved the apple back into your satchel. The prince stood up, his knees cracking as a part of his tunic moved, showing an indentation of teeth in his skin, and suddenly you remembered why he was here in the first place.

"I am coming, Ma." You brushed around the stranger, his fingers ghosting your arm, sending gooseflesh throughout your body. "I brought us some apples," you offered in peace as she clutched you to her bosom, hiding your face from his.

"Thank you for your patronage, my prince. I hope on your way home, you and your brother offer the upmost discretion of your time here." She stroked your soft hair as you peeked, catching his eyes for just a moment before Madam pulled you closer. "After all, it was a joyous celebration of Prince Aemond becoming a man, and special memories like these are best kept close to the heart." You knew she was trying to protect you, as she did with any man or woman you met on accident, but this time she spoke in riddles.

A thick air of uncertainty hung between them before he responded. "Of course, Babette, I would not dream of soiling such a memory with loose lips," he replied, walking away with a curious expression. "Though," he said, causing Ma to tighten her grip on you, "I must admit, your daughter has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen." She nearly suffocated you now, shoving your face in between her breasts. "The hint of violet in them, oh, how exquisite. They remind me of my own," he turned to her with a devilish grin, "or perhaps someone else who has frequented this brothel, my Uncle, maybe?"

You weren't ignorant to his words, you knew what he was implying, but you did not have any of the same features of Daemon Targaryan. You did not have the same silver hair as him, nor the purple irises he has. You would hardly call yourself related.

"Thank you, Prince Aegon. To have my daughter be compared to the likes of royalty is the highest compliment of them all." Ma bowed her head stiffly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a business to run."

Before he could utter another word, Madam shut the wooden door, locking it with the keys she always kept on her swaying hip. She released you, crushing your small frame with her large one.

"Oh, I love you, little one," she let go before smacking you on the side of your head. How many times were you going to get hit today? You didn't want to know. "Don't you ever talk to a stranger again, or else I will have to send Lyra to be your chaperone." You tried to squirm from her firm grip, but she tugged you closer.

"Ma, I cannot breathe," you complained. She laughed, nuzzling her face into your neck.

"If you can speak, you can breathe," she said plainly, waiting a moment before letting you go. "Now, what did you say about some apples?" You smiled, showing her the bag as she took it off your shoulder. "How did you get all of these? I did not give you that much coin."

You giggled, looking away as you tossed the money she lent you. "I am very good at haggling, Madam." She sighed, knowing you must have stolen them, as she pulled you into another hug, kissing the top of your head.

"Oh, my sweet girl, whatever shall I do with you," she jested. Half scolding and half praising that you managed to get a dozen apples on your own without getting caught.

You ignored the loud moans and squeaking beds from the rooms above, going to the cramped kitchen. You stood next to Madam as she began peeling the skin off the apples, handing you a knife to do one. Ma had made you gather some ingredients throughout the week, but she did not tell you what she was planning. She knew how much you loved this dish.

It was your mother's favorite, too, so she should have known. Madam did not make it much for her, though, as she was just one of her many whores that came and went. She did not care for Elaina until she realized the prince had taken a liking to her. He had brought in most of the brothel revenue at the time, and when Elaina fell pregnant, she was angry. Any appreciation Madam had towards her was gone. She thought Elaina's stupidity would surely bring her to ruins under the realization that she would have to refuse prince Daemon now in fear of the bastard child's life, but the Gods seemed to favor her when another prince decided to frequent the halls. He made up for any loss in profits.

Madam did not want to lose you; she had grown quite fond of you over the years and knew the girls under her care did too. She didn't want to turn Aegon away, for that was a risk she could not take, but your safety came first. She would have to be more thoughtful about this. Madam would need to pull some strings and ask some favors of people to make sure you were either hidden or not here when he came. That was the only way you could remain safe.

"Ma, will I be a whore when I am grown?" Your question nearly caused her to faint, shocked something like that would even be on your barely-of-age mind.

"No, sweet thing, you will not," she answered curtly, cutting off a big chunk of fruit instead of a peel. You paused your actions, pursing your lips in thought before asking another question.

"What will I be then? Like you?" Madam sighed through her nose, putting the apple down on the cutting board.

"If you want, yes." She placed her hands on her wide hips. What had Aegon said to you? "Why do you ask, sweet one?"

You mirrored your caretaker's actions but didn't reach her eyes. "I-I do not know, Ma. It was just a silly thought. It does not matter." She could see you recoiling within yourself, hugging your young body. Her urge to comfort you overpowered any worry she had as she softened her posture and voice.

"It is not silly for you to have thoughts. Do not ever let anyone say that to you. Everything you think or feel is valid." You furrowed your brows at her, confused at where this sudden sentiment came from. "But do not worry yourself with thoughts of the distant future; you still have the breasts of a toddler." Madam pinched your slowly stretching skin as you yelped and swatted her hand away, chastising your guardian. "Now, go to the cellar and fetch me the items you got at the market this week." Your face brightened at finally knowing what Ma was going to make you.

"Apple Muse! Oh, Ma, I love you so much," you squealed, wrapping your arms around her in a bone-crushing hug before running down a hatch. Madam smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. For now, she was worried about the thought of your future.

I know, I know— such a boring chapter. No smut, which is crazy for me, but don't worry, it'll get nasty eventually. On that, I can promise you. ;)

Master List of Series

#hotd aegon #aegon the second #aegon the usurper #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #haelena targaryen #aegon x reader #aemond one eye #daemon prince #daemon x rhaenyra #aegon smut #aegon targaryen smut #house targaryen #targcest #aegon targaryen fanfic

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withthewindinherfootsteps · 2 months ago

Text

Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part Three

For Xiantober Day Five: Past and Present, in which the author gets very unhinged about what parts of the past are shown and how that’s affected by the present!

(Part One | Part Two | Full version on AO3)

The Power of Agency: Shaping the Narrative

When I've discussed Wei Wuxian's agency previously, I’ve talked about how what’s shown and omitted tells us about a character, and we’ve talked about the character himself. Though this is a niche topic, it’s not necessarily something out of the ordinary to analyse, and we can assume everything up to here has been in some way intentional.

This? Linking structure to a character’s in-universe preferences?

This is where we get unhinged.

Before I start, let’s quickly establish something which will be important later: although Wei Wuxian is the central character, MDZS isn’t strictly from his POV. While omitting events a character doesn’t like to dwell on and concealing things the character wishes to hide is common in books with only one narrator, MDZS has multiple narrators which it switches between relatively quickly. This includes Wei Wuxian, but it also includes nearly every major character that appears in the story, and omniscient narrator as well. As a default, this format doesn’t lead to this deliberate shaping and omission because of one character’s preferences, since we have many other sources of information and events – which is what makes Wei Wuxian’s influence over the narrative and structure so interesting. We could have access to a lot more information, and access to it at different times, than we do (and that’s not an insult, quite the opposite!).

To begin: we’ve established that times such as Wei Wuxian’s time on the streets, his three months in the Burial Mounds and his loss in the Siege aren’t shown because Wei Wuxian has little agency there. But that’s not the only special thing about them. They’re also the three most traumatic times in his life, and so moments Wei Wuxian himself either can’t remember, or doesn’t like to dwell on.

This is why discussing Wei Wuxian’s treatment of tragedy in his life was important. Firstly, it shows he doesn’t focus on the tragedy in his life, so the idea that the narrative not focusing on this tragedy relates to his character has merit; secondly, it affirms that this is not a passive trait, but a choice. Therefore, when the narrative omits events due to this aspect of Wei Wuxian, it’s respecting not only a character detail – which would be cool by itself – but also an active decision. One that shapes the story it’s made in.

In other words, its very structure is respecting Wei Wuxian’s agency!

Now, of course there are flashbacks to other moments of his past he probably wouldn’t like to dwell on, too. But within the structure, they’re only shown when Wei Wuxian is thinking about them (or when he has reason to)!

Wei WuXian hadn’t woken up yet. His eyes were still tightly shut, yet his hand didn’t let go either. He seemed to be dreaming, muttering, “… Don’t… Don’t be angry…” Lan WangJi seemed somewhat surprised. His voice was gentle, “I am not angry.” Wei WuXian, “… Oh.” Hearing this, as though he finally felt assured, his fingers loosened. Lan WangJi sat beside Wei WuXian for a while. Seeing that he was motionless again, he was about to stand up when Wei WuXian grabbed him with his other hand, hugging his arm and refusing to let go. He shouted, “I’ll go with you, quick, take me back to your sect!” Chapter 63, EXR translation

Which, of course, is him dwelling on…

Lan WangJi spoke one word at a time, “Go back to Gusu with me.” Hearing this, both Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng were surprised. Quickly afterward, Wei WuXian laughed, “Go back to Gusu with you? To the Cloud Recesses? Why go there?” He immediately seemed to realize, “Oh. I forgot. Your uncle Lan QiRen hates crooked people like me. You’re his proudest disciple, so of course you’re the same as him, haha. I refuse.” Chapter 62, EXR translation

…the painful flashback immediately preceding this. The third set of flashbacks (which are also painful) are a similar case. Look at the contex:

He lifted the bottom of his robe, revealing a prosthetic leg made of wood, “This leg of mine was destroyed by you, that night in the Nightless City (…)” (…) “Wei WuXian, I won’t ask you if you remember or not. Both of my parents died by your hands. You owe too many people. You definitely won’t remember them either. But, I, Fang MengChen, will never forget! And never forgive you!” (…) “In the fight at Qiongqi Path, my son was strangled to death by your dog Wen Ning!” “My shixiong died by poison, his entire body festering due to your cruel curse!” Chapter 68 (immediately preceding the flashbacks), EXR translation

And Wei Wuxian’s own thoughts and words:

Wei WuXian looked at the cultivators before the Demon-Slaughtering Cave. Their expressions were the absolute same as those of the cultivators from the night of the pledge conference, pouring their wine on the ground as they took the pledge to scatter the ashes of the Wen Sect’s remnants and him. (…) Wei WuXian, “Now it’s time to ask just whom it is that treasures it so much. It’s like Wen Ning. Back then, some certain sects or so were scared to death of the Ghost General. They said they’d kill him on the surface, but behind their backs they hid him for over ten years. How strange. Who was the one that said his ashes had been scattered back then?” Chapter 79 (immediately succeeding the flashbacks), EXR translation

Once again, Wei Wuxian’s own thoughts relate to the flashbacks we’ve just been shown. And, as I previously mentioned, though all the events which are shown are tragic, they’re also events which Wei Wuxian’s own choices and actions shaped – which he has this to say about:

“The things I did, not only do you remember them, I remember them too. You won’t forget them, and they’ll stay even longer in my mind!” Chapter 82, EXR

Admittedly, this applies more to the third set of flashbacks than the second (which is still fitting as the third set was the most recent), as in the second, although he still had agency within and influence over his circumstances, the majority of the pain was caused by others’ actions (excluding, of course, the Golden Core transfer… which is something we know stays for a long time in his mind, albeit with a caveat we’ll soon discuss). But it’s still important to note – especially considering that otherwise, focusing on this very painful time in his life wouldn’t seem like something very in-character for Wei Wuxian to do.

Of course, this can all just be explained by good writing. It is best to insert flashbacks when they’re relevant to the characters and events in the present day! But it is interesting to compare these to the start of the (not painful) Gusu flashbacks, which open this way:

At a later time, Wei WuXian pondered upon the reason why his relationship with Lan WangJi wasn’t good. Getting to the root of the matter, everything started when he was fifteen, coming to the GusuLan Sect with Jiang Cheng to study for three months. Chapter 13, EXR

Again, considering the circumstances around which these flashbacks take place – returning to the Cloud Recesses for the first time since the lectures, and meeting Lan Wangji once more – it makes complete sense for Wei Wuxian to be thinking about these events*. So it does fit the pattern of Wei Wuxian dwelling on something, thus leading to the narrative dwelling on it, too (and being shaped by his thoughts)… but there’s another layer to this. Importantly, it is the only flashback where Wei Wuxian’s present thoughts don’t lead to this happening, with his thoughts at an unspecified future time leading to it, instead. I like to interpret this as the text saying that, since these events aren’t something Wei Wuxian wouldn’t focus on in normal circumstances, he can dwell on them at any time. Therefore, they’re free to come up in the narrative at any time as well, even if he’s not dwelling on them in the present moment!

So, to summarise: Wei Wuxian’s decision not to focus on the painful times in his life directly influences the narrative to not focus on these times. When painful times are brought up and shown to us, it’s in the context of him thinking about them in the present day, and even then, his most painful moments still aren’t shown to us. His agency in this regard is still respected by the narrative structure.

This is the main way his agency influences the structure of the narrative, but I’d like to talk about the revealing and concealing of information, too. For example, I said I’d talk about the Golden Core transfer – though Wei Wuxian does think about this many times, as evidenced by his internal narration in Chapter 103. But unlike everything we’re shown through the flashbacks, this is something Wei Wuxian is actively trying to hide from others. And the narrative respects this choice (Wei Wuxian’s agency, again), never reveals it even when it would be relevant in the flashbacks, and we find out not through narration, but through a character’s dialogue!

And to clarify – I know these aspects may not be in the book for this exact reason. Showing flashbacks in relevant moments is good writing, concealing an important plot point you want to do a reveal for is necessary writing, and MXTX has said she didn’t want to write about Wei Wuxian’s time in the Burial Mounds, due to not liking to write transformation sequences (and also because it would not be pleasant at all, which likely also applies to Wei Wuxian’s death). That doesn’t prevent it from also being intentional – MXTX’s intelligence is shown in many aspects of this book, and there’s nothing disproving it – but there’s no proof for either option, so I won’t pretend there is. I bring this up because I know this feels like I’m overanalysing, as I feel that way as well.

But, whether it’s intentional or not, it exists in the text, and I adore it – so, regardless, it’s something I’ll explore. Because taking this into account… We aren't just told about Wei Wuxian having agency, we aren’t just shown it in the text, we aren’t even just shown it through which parts of his past are shown and hidden in the structure of the text (as I talked about in Part One). The parts of the past that are shown and hidden also have an in-universe reason for being shown and hidden, this reason being the choices he makes! Agency is the ability of a character to influence the story they’re in, but Wei Wuxian’s agency, as a property of a character who only exists in-universe, shapes the out-of-universe structure as well! That’s how we’re shown its importance! How cool is that?

At The End Of The Road: Summary and Final Thoughts

In this essay, we’ve covered how important Wei Wuxian’s agency is not only to the events of the plot, but to the structure of the narrative as well. The narrative omits periods in which Wei Wuxian has little or no agency, in favour of showing us periods in which he does, even when important events happened in the former. This indicates that who Wei Wuxian is without agency isn’t important enough to be shown to the audience, and therefore that his agency is an integral aspect of his character in MDZS. We’ve discussed how both in-universe and out-of-universe, tragedy does not define him – out-of-universe, the tragic events in Wei Wuxian’s life are used not to build sympathy but rather to show his strength of character and who he still is despite going through them; and in-universe, he chooses not to focus on the negativity and resentment caused by his circumstances or others’ actions, instead staying true to his moral compass and enjoying his life in the present day. Finally, we’ve also explored how this choice is another reason for the omission of certain events from the narrative, resulting in his agency shaping the story in a very literal way – it affects the out-of-universe structure, as well.

It’s quite fitting, for a story whose essence is about defying a conventional narrative – that of righteous clans rising up and defeating a great evil – and about a character who defies many conventional narratives on his own – that of status defining how skilled you could be, that for a golden core being necessary for cultivation and other paths being unavailable, that of a tragic but complete story of someone killed for staying true to their moral code (instead, that character returns to life and has a happy ending) – to have its own narrative play a role in such an important and interesting way.

(Or, if an image would be preferable:)

Thank you for reading!

(Part One | Part Two | Full version on AO3)

*This strong relation to the present day circumstances is another reason I love the flashback placement so much (and why I think it’s such a loss both screen adaptions altered it so strongly)!

#get ready for tag thoughts because there are a LOT of them #it’s for THIS reason that fanon wwx bothers me so much (didn’t want to get negative on the acual post)#bc so often all the changes are changes that woobify him!#self-sacrificial idiot wwx?? only doing things because… poor him he has so many internal issues and values himself so little-#-so of course he’d sacrifice everything before thinking of another option? woobifying #(whenever he sacrifices something it’s a deliberate choice to act on his morals because he values his morals so much – and he’s also very-#-capable and DOES often find ways for no people to get hurt!)#wasn’t aware that what happened to him at lotus pier was wrong and needs lwj to tell him that for him to have any idea if it?#woobifying (as we see in the lotus seed pod extra he KNOWS it’s unfair)#(he downplays it retroactively in his memory (links into not focusing on the bad things in his life))#(but that’s the actions themselves that are being downplayed not their fairness!)#he chooses to act! he is defined by acting! not tragedy – all the more impressive in the face of the amount of tragedy that’s happened #he could SO EASILY have been a woobie but instead he’s the opposite of one: defined BY his agency instead of the absence of it #that doesn’t mean he’s not impacted by tragedy or trauma – he is! but it’s not the most important aspect of his character (bc he doesn’t le #it’s also something that bothers me about the changes cql made #by making qq path and nightless city the fault of someone else it means he IS someone who’s more a victim of circumstance than anything els #he had no control over the tragedies of his first life at all #apart from ig his death being controlled by him? because he just leaps off the cliff during the nightless city siege?? but in THAT case it’#i watched that part recently (i’m getting through it very slowly) and yeah it reaffirmed my love for this aspect of the book even more #despite. having these exact thoughts for two years already #he also dwells on the past events a lot more than book wwx which adds to that version of him BEING defined more by tragedy rather than who #anyway over 7.3k words total (and 400 more in the tags apparently)... it'll be posted to ao3 in its completion this evening!#mdzs meta #my meta #wei wuxian #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #魔道祖师 #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #gdc

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dovithedarklord · 11 months ago

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Stucked

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

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Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains violence, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

This idea came to me while I was running and I had to write it down.

Just a short story that will have a sequel, I guess.

The story is inspired by this manhwa: https://cloudrecess.io/manga/dreadful-night

If you can, read it, it's great!

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You stare out of the car window with glassy eyes, and although it's not the first time that the lush green of the forest bathed in the light of the setting sun slips by on the horizon, it still manages to put the tension back into your stomach every single time. The peace out there could lull anyone into a false sense of security. But not you. It can't fool you anymore.

The same female voice comes from the radio, and you already know every single word of that damned song by heart. But even if you would show your displeasure, even if your companion sitting in the passenger seat would look for another radio station, the next time still the same godforsaken music would be playing. This is the background noise every time you return to the starting point, and it has almost become a habit that this melodic introduction starts your suffering all over again.

At first, as you woke up from your slumber in the back seat, the unfamiliar surroundings made you feel as though the vague world of your dreams had bled into reality, and now you found yourself in some bizarre fairy tale. But this is the twenty-second time that you come to your senses in the vehicle moving down the bumpy forest road, and you slowly start to get used to the stomach-turning cheerfulness repeated in a loop, which welcomes you every single time. And it was enough for you to feel the metallic taste of the blood filling your mouth once, and find yourself here again after feeling the icy pain of the knife slitting your throat, to understand that you are not in reality. Although the rough material for your jeans under your fingers, the floral scent of the perfume in the car, and the bitter taste of stomach acid creeping into your mouth seem perfectly real, just like the agony of your latest death, but you've learned that it's all just an appearance. An illusion. In which you have been imprisoned for weeks, and for exactly that long you are forced to die again and again, because you won't escape until you finally find the way out at the end of the mysteries that keep multiplying.

You don't know how you got here, but that doesn't matter anymore. The important thing is that you’re stuck in a game, and you have to find out how to get out of it before this madness consumes the last shred of your sanity.

A loud laughter comes from the front, the blonde girl sitting behind the wheel recounts with a grin, how her ex-boyfriend tried to perform an erotic dance to this song, and how it ended in a late-night visit to the ER. Pam is that typical obligatory extroverted character, whose only role in such games is to be brutally murdered when she's about to get naughty with someone. She's a nice but stupid girl, and it's not her fault that whoever created her intended her to have this tragic end.

Rebecca, your other companion, who only laughs at Pam's story while sitting in the passenger seat, shily hides the blush rising on her face with her hand. And although she's a charming girl, you've seen her bloody corpse too many times for you to remember her blank, worldless eyes and her pale mouth frozen in an eternal scream instead of her radiant smile. She is the first to die. Always. And you might have felt sorry for her in the beginning, but you no longer have the strength to have compassion for someone who only exists in this nightmarish world.

As soon as the outline of the homey cabin appears at the end of the road, the foreboding appears in you like a familiar friend, which slowly closes your insides in an iron grip, as if the pull of the stress that awakens in your veins would help anything. After all, it always ends the same. You search for a clue, you die and you end up here. And the only thing that keeps you from going crazy is the faint hope that the more secrets you uncover in this goddamn purgatory, the closer you get to the exit. Maybe.

The car slows to a stop in front of the location of your late autumn vacation, and the two girls jump out of the car with excited laughter, arguing over who will occupy which guest room in the huge house. The same dialogue, the same room layout, the same ear-splitting giggles from Pam's mouth that remind you of her screams cutting through the silence of the night, as she gets gutted like a trapped deer. You've seen her mangled body too many times for her laughter to revive the images of the delicate, wet glistening of her intestines, as the pale light of the moon surrounds her lifeless form on the cold wooden floor.

With a weary sigh, you grab your backpack resting next to you, mentally preparing in advance to once again suffer through the excruciating play that, like a prologue, leads up to the horrors that await you in the night. You list the thousand steps you have to take to find out where you are in the game, to discover if your previous death was in vain. Did you get a new puzzle that brings you closer to the finish line? Has another path been revealed for you to continue on, one that might finally take you back to the real world? Your chest hurts when you realize that you don't even remember what it was like to not live in this hell. With each passing night, the memory of reality floats further away, and the ghost of tears burns your eyes when you realize that even your real name sounds like a false fabrication in your brain. As if you never existed outside the confines of this dreadful place.

The door of the cabin opens with a loud creak, and this disturbs you from your thoughts that are spiraling into ever darker depths. And as a man appears on the doorstep, you almost taste the bitterness of anger on your tongue, because although anyone would be fooled by the wide grin on his face, anyone would be enchanted by those vivid blue eyes, and anyone would be swept off their feet by the playful friendliness he embraces your two traveling companions in his strong arms with as a greeting, but you already know him all too well. After all, Johnny has killed you at least eleven times, with the same sickly sweet smile on his curved lips, with which he now turns to you again.

"Bunny!" He beams, and you have to use all your strength to suppress the stomach acid rising in your throat from the nausea that fills you from the fake kindness emanating from him. "It's good to see ye again!" He pulls you into a tight hug, as you shamble to the small terrace, and as he presses you to his broad chest, his scent, which you would recognize from everywhere, creeps into your nose. The aroma of his cologne, the saltiness of his skin, and that smell that you couldn't quite place before. The smell of blood clings to him like a faint, barely perceptible phantom that only you can sense. You've witnessed it too many times.

"You too, Johnny." You reply, each word burning your tongue like poison, but that's the script. You have to get into this act because there's no point in resisting. The story progresses the same whether you oppose it or not. The weirder you act in their eyes, the more the game will punish you later. And so you lose the chance of finding that tiny crumb that might help you get closer to your escape.

And from this point on, time crawls on leaden legs, and you sit through the impromptu dinner with gritted teeth, which was made by the man for you, while he was waiting for you to arrive at his modest little shack. He invited you here to celebrate your birthday. Your birthday according to the game, that is. You remember your own more and more faintly, and this makes you fall into despair enough to drag yourself through the events with a forced smile, like a puppet being pulled on a string by an unknown hand.

Sometimes you have the stray thought that you might be stuck here forever, and that you are forced to fight again and again in an endless circle, without end, without hope. And this suddenly makes the food taste like ash, which you force into your mouth with automatic movements.

"Is somethin' wrong, hen?" Comes the worried question, and blinking in confusion, you look up from your plate to Johnny, who is eyeing you with his dark brows furrowed in worry, as if your behavior would really disturb him. And you just shake your head with practiced happiness, putting a faint smile on your lips that doesn't reach your eyes.

"No. Not at all. My stomach is just a little upset. But it'll pass." You explain, quickly gathering your faux, artificial cheerfulness, because you can't deviate from the story now. Tonight you might have a chance to discover where the last clue leads to, and you shouldn't attract any unnecessary attention if you want to continue your search later. Let everything go in its own way until the shit inevitably hits the fan. But you still have work to do before that. It's only a few hours. You just have to bear it for that long.

This seems to calm him, for in an instant the lines of doubt disappear from his features, to be replaced by that disgusting kindness. And you are already familiar with the barely visible glimmer in those beautiful eyes, which makes you feel like a startled little rabbit being cornered by a fox. Johnny is a threat wrapped in honeyed words and friendly smiles, which was able to lower your guard one too many times. And you paid the price of your carelessness every single time.

And when the whiskey bottle, which was brought out in your honor halfway through the dinner, is finally empty, and the cake, which the man so generously bought for you before he came here, has been eaten, then the essential part of the evening arrives. Rebecca's phone rings, and she hastily apologizes so that she can go out into the cool night and immerse herself in the argumentative conversation she is having with her boyfriend. And you almost start to feel sorry for her, that death finds while she tries to get her love life straight. She doesn't even notice how deep the forest swallows her in the middle of the fight, and she is easy prey in the desolate wildness of trees and bushes. After the first three times, you no longer go after her or try to save her. You can't protect either of them. They are all animals for slaughter in the eyes of the game.

Johnny also retires for the night, claiming that the alcohol has gone to his head, and wishing you a "good night" he goes upstairs to sleep. For a while, you believed that he was indeed sleeping every time, and you honestly fell for the innocent performance he gave you, when the corpse of one of your friends was found. You seriously wanted to believe that he wasn't a threat to you. But then he broke your neck as easily as a twig. You will never be naive enough to trust him again.

"What a pity that you can't fuck your friends." Pam sighs longingly, and she almost undresses the man walking up the stairs with her eyes, biting her lip as her gaze glides over his broad back hidden trapped in the tight shirt. There is no denying that Johnny is an attractive man. It's a shame he's so handsome and even knows it. But the most evil creatures tend to be the most beautiful. You have learned this well.

Finally, you are alone after Pam has also left to take a shower, and you can begin what every nerve fiber of yours has been screaming for for hours. You jump up with nimble movements and hurriedly head in the direction of the kitchen, dropping the feigned serenity from your face. Last time, you found a dirty, yellowed picture in the woodshed, which took a while to decipher, but then you realized where to look. As you enter the small room, you pull out the photo to hold it up in front of you, comparing it to the room bathed in the warm light coming from the living room. Although Johnny renovated this house, you can still easily find the wall where a refrigerator now rests, but based on the bright red circle in the photo, you have to look for the next clue somewhere there. You slip the picture back into your pocket and try to search for something suspicious with the flashlight of your phone, so you can better see what you're dealing with, there's no other use for this damn device anyway. You can't turn on the lights because that would immediately alert the other killer lurking outside. You learn a new lesson every time you fuck up, but you get smarter with each attempt. You'll be out of here soon. You have to get out of here.

As you peer under the fridge on all fours, squinting, a board creaks under your palm, pressing down a bit under your weight as you lean on your hands. You know that this is a sign, and as you kneel up to look for something to pry open the wood with, your eyes settle on a knife left on the kitchen counter. The whipped cream is still smudged against the cool metal, and suddenly the unwanted image enters your mind as the same blade slowly sinks into your chest, breaking through the protection of your ribs to then penetrate your lungs, pouring warm blood into your throat. You swallow hard, forcing the memory of the metallic taste out of your mouth, and steeling yourself, you wrap your fingers around the knife so you can get back to work, because you can't dwell on this right now. There's no point.

You stick the knife under the board and carefully pry it open, making sure to stay as quiet as possible because you don't know what will trigger the next death flag. Even though you are now aware of the signs and actions that lead the attacker to find you, this miserable game still has many surprises in store. With a soft squeak, the wood pops open, and as a small dark hole is revealed underneath, you take your phone in your hand and cast light on it, and like a wild animal pouncing on its prey, you reach for the small object shining in a golden light. Your fingers find the relic resting there, and you examine the key in puzzlement, as you pull it out of its hiding place. What does this open? Too small to be for a door. Maybe a lock?

The realization hits your brain like a bolt of lightning, and you spring up and turn back towards the living room. The hope that you might find something valuable rises in you, so you hurry through the room still shrouded in intimate silence, to sneak upstairs with silent steps when you reach the stairs. You know, if Pam shows up to the noise, she'll be on your trail the whole time, and that way you'll only attract trouble sooner. It might be selfish, but it's easier to let her die alone than to be hunted down together. You need time, and the more you waste on supporting characters, the less you have left to progress. But even because of this, your sense of guilt is starting to fade.

As soon as you reach the upper floor, you see the door at the end of the long corridor, on which even at such a distance you can faintly see the padlock that keeps it closed. Until now, this fact wasn't important to you, because it immediately became clear that you can only get in if you have the key. You can't hack it with anything else, you can't tear it down, this damn diabolical place will only let you in if you find the right clue to it.

You stalk like a cat in the darkness of the corridor, and the sound of your footsteps is absorbed by the soft carpet running along the floor. You consider your every move, because a new way out is possibly within your reach, and you fear that the chance to find the next important hint may disappear at any moment. Your own soft breathing sounds deafening to your ears, and each heartbeat feels as if your heart would want to burst out of your chest. Every inch of your body fills with anticipatory tension as you creep closer and closer…

And then you hear the voices.

At first, the muffled sighs seem like nothing more than the soft snores of one of your sleeping companions, but then you hear a moan, and you are overcome with confusion. The closer you get to the door opening from the middle of the corridor, the louder the panting and the gentle rustling of the bedsheets become, and you try to recall who could be hiding there according to the script. But nothing comes into your mind, because that room has been empty until now, without role or importance.

And as soon as you get close enough, you understand what is going on behind the door left ajar. The only source of light in the darkness of the room is the moon peeking through the window, but you can perfectly make out the movements of the tightly entangled figures. Johnny looks almost otherworldly as the pale light paints the dance of the corded muscles on his back as his mouth smooths over Pam's throat, eliciting a lustful moan from her. One of his strong hands slides along her breasts, and soon after his lips stray there, he almost viciously bites her nipple, to receive a pained gasp in response. His palm rests on her hips, and as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh, his hips only meet hers with vigorous movements, filling the heavy air with almost obscene, wet sounds. And as he kneels up, his fingers glide along her thigh almost teasingly, so that, hooking his hand in the bend of her knee, he directs her leg to his shoulder, locking it in a vise-like embrace that makes his biceps bulge. He brushes his lips against her calf, and you see his teeth flash for just a moment before he sinks them into the delicate skin, drawing a lewd whimper from her mouth opening in surprise. His movements are restless, each thrust seems violent and desperate, and she just grabs at the sheet and starts pleading, encouraging him in tears to sink his cock into her pussy just a little bit harder. And with each passing moment, Johnny looks more like a beast lost in his pleasure, as low grunts and moans erupt from his throat as he pushes himself closer and closer to the edge. And your feet are almost rooted to the ground, and you're unable to tear your eyes away from them, as you lose control over your body from shock and disbelief. Even though you know you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be watching them, suddenly too much information rushes through your senses into your brain to process what is happening.

But as Pam's back arches with a loud cry, and Johnny's hips stutter with a growl-like sound, the surreal image ends, because the man turns his head towards you as if he knew you were standing in front of the door, frozen in astonishment. Your stunned gaze meets his eyes, dilated pupils swimming in lust, and you feel like a deer stuck in the headlights, waiting to be hit by a car speeding towards it. His mouth stretches into a lazy, satisfied grin as he slides out of the panting girl and slowly begins to rub his cock, as if to tell you that it could be you if you would just give in to the temptation.

And that clears your mind in the blink of an eye, and you back away hastily, almost running to the door resting at the end of the corridor, before you would have time to further analyze the features of the man's face filled with post-orgasm bliss. What the hell is this new scene? This has never happened before…

You reach for the lock hanging on the door with trembling hands, but your fingers are still clumsy from the adrenaline pumping through your veins, and they only find the keyhole after many tries. And in the middle of your fumbling, you don't even notice how a dark shadow appears behind you, and you only realize that you're late and have failed, when a gloved hand grips the back of your neck and smashes your head into the hard wood of the door with an almost painful strength. The force of the impact resonates through your skull, and you clench your teeth with a yelp as the sharp pain rips through your head.

Black spots swim into your field of vision, and you have trouble when you try to focus your eyes to decipher who attacked you this time. And as soon as you catch a glimpse of the skull-like mask out of the corner of your eye, you realize that this time you only managed to get this far. When the knife glints in the killer's hand as he strikes you, you only bitterly realize through the blood filling in your mouth that the game is trying to divert you from the escape with more and more vile methods. Because you're convinced that Johnny's action was just another death flag that ended your search prematurely. And you surrender yourself to the darkness with the knowledge that you cannot let this happen again...

When you come to, you're sitting in the back seat again, and the melody of familiar music reaches your ears only as a low hum, because you know you're back at the beginning of the game. But what worries you much more is that you walked into a scene the previous night, which not only completely deviates from the usual pattern of all the events until now, but also represents a downright disturbing new development. So far, the script hasn't gotten sidetracked from the main story in the case of the supporting characters, and Pam should have been waiting in the shower for the killer to appear when you sneaked up to find the door with the lock. The fact that this story has changed so drastically helps the icy fingers of dread wrap around your stomach. Because you have no idea what kind of difficulties this will cause you.

The usual conversation takes place between the two girls, and when you arrive at the wretched cabin, they leap out of the car with the same enthusiasm, as if they weren't heading towards another painful death. But it doesn't matter to them anyway, because surrounded by carefree ignorance, they don't even know what awaits them.

When the door opens and Johnny's well-known figure appears, his face filled with desire flashes before your eyes almost on a cue, and you forcefully push the memory out of your head. This little interlude distracted you just enough to know you shouldn't fall for the game's nasty tricks again. Because you are more and more certain that it actively wants to hold you back and trap you here forever. The heated spectacle of the previous evening can only be due to this…

"Bunny!" The man greets you with the same bursting, false joy that he always shows you, but now you have to forcefully drive away the moans echoing in your ears, which surface in your head when you hear his deep voice. "It's good to see ye again!" He says enthusiastically, and as his strong arms wrap around you, every single muscle of yours tenses, as the stress wakes up in you as a result of the fear that grips your insides. But it's even more worrying, as new fragments of memories flood the canvas of your mind, because the experience of seeing those hands glide over the body of your companion is too fresh to quickly overcome your embarrassment.

But you don't have time to think about how to get over these tangled emotions and continue the play, because suddenly you feel the man's hot breath on your ear, and in an instant, every part of you freezes like a frightened animal when the predator digs its claws into it.

"I hope ye liked what you saw, bonnie." The man grunts softly, and for a moment you think you misheard it. But as one of his hands creeps down to rest on your waist, and he presses you closer to him, the air gets trapped in your lungs with an almost painful force. "Because ye'll be next..." He whispers, and in his voice lies such a dark promise that it makes your blood run cold.

And as if nothing had happened, the moment ends suddenly, and as he steps away from you, he only looks down at you with his usual nauseating smile. But you see the dangerous predatory sparks in his eyes, and his gaze makes the little hairs rise up on your neck. And you soon realize that something is very wrong with the game. Fuck.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #soap #soap mactavish #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap cod #alternate universe #horror #soap x reader #soap x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #soap mw2

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imlostinmy20s · 4 months ago

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Just little details I found while playing Kaveh's hangout event.

And just my thought about these two after Cyno's second story quest. Cuz I'm in awe and I can't stay silent.

Anyway, soooo

In Kaveh's hangout event, you have an opportunity to walk around Alhaithams home (which Kaveh also call home?? but i might be delulu).

There is a main entrance, which leads to a living room. Here, you can see a table, sofas (? not sure if it's the right word.), bookshelfs. But when I first played the main storyline, I missed some details in Alhaitham's house - back then, I didn't give it much thought. Well, there are a lot of books, books are everywhere, and... decorations? vases? Ok, whatever. Suddenly - a pair of musical instruments?

Oh, wait, the table? There are two pairs of cups (for coffee?) and wine glasses. And.. A lot of fruits. Maybe I'm delulu, but, in Kaveh's voice-over (in "favourite food", to be specific) was stated:

"Oh, I'll never say no to fresh fruit". Just like in a scene from Cyno's second story quest:

- "Can you see if the cookies are still on the table?" - "The are. And so are the fruits"

After that Kaveh appeared on a screen from the right side of the house, where Alhaitham's.. Office? Study room is located? Whatever. I'm sayng, besides that office, there is no other room in the right side of the house.

And, well, there isn't much about that office. It's.. Lots of books, a table, which also contains books both from outside and inside. Pretty much in Alhaitham's style.

But I wonder what's this thing on the left of Alhaitham's table? Kinda looks more like an architect's tool. Maybe it's not, but there is just another thing in this room that makes me think that way:

A smaller table with two seats🤨 , that has a coffee cup and a coffee maker and..of course, fruits. Wait a minute. A camera? It's... kinda out of place, isn't?

Why a camera tho? May I assume that this is Kaveh's camera, which he uses to take.. idk... references for his projects? Or, maybe, which he uses to get better undrstanding of enviroment for his projects?

Idk. But if Kaveh has his own room, why his (possible! maybe they are not) belongings (and fruits!!!) are located in Alhaitham's study room?

In Cyno's SQ 2 we had a scene with Kaveh and Alhaitham having a casual conversation (gossip flavored one 🤭🤭🤭). A the start of it, we have Kaveh looking for wine glasses, which he washed. So, there has to be a kitchen, right? Anyways

In the left side of Alhaitham's house we have two more doors. One with yet ANOTHER bookshelf and second, with a painting on a nearby wall. Let me assume that books are leading to Alhaitham's bedroom, and the painting is leading to.. Kaveh's room? (cuz in "A parade of providence" Kaveh stated, that he does have his own room) But that raises a very important question. where the HELL is the kitchen and bathroom? 🤨🤨🤨

ANYWAYS. It's just nice to see these two blended in eachother's life, since their first interaction in main story quest was.. erm... kinda uncomfortable to watch. But I should note that in the beginning, we didn't know much about both Kaveh and Alhaitham, and so we had zero clue on why they were acting like this.

Later we got Kaveh in the game and his voicelines, "A parade of Providence" event, and, oh my god, Cyno's 2nd story quest. It was my last straw, because now I want to make a comic about kavetham\haikaveh, but I still have to learn a lot about these two. Especially Kaveh. Cuz if I'm being honest, CURRENTLY I relate more to Alhaitham and the way his brain works. My past self, tho, would relate more to Kaveh and his feeling of guilt, struggles as an artistic and idealistic person, but those are quite dark times in my life, even my memory is kind of blurry\toned sown 💀💀💀 So it will take time to explore Kaveh's character.

In the end, thank you for coming to my YAPtalk and reading my "nothing burger" of a post. See you in my next drawing!

#genshin impact #genshin impact kaveh #genshin impact alhaitham #genshin kaveh #genshin alhaitham #kavetham #haikaveh #feel free to correct me on this post #i really want to know why the hell there is a camera in alhaithams study room #its just so out of place

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writing-with-sophia · 1 year ago

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Describing a villain's appearance in a natural way

Someone asked me how to describe a villain's appearance in a natural way, so today I take a little time to write this post.

One of the first factors to explain when a character emerges is their appearance. To make those descriptions more natural and less restrictive, you should combine them with other positive aspects such as personality and behavior. Here are some tips:

Use sensory details: Consider the five senses when describing the villain's appearance. What do they look like? What do they smell like? What do their voices sound like? What texture do their clothing or skin have? Is their appearance pleasant or unpleasant to the senses?

Focus on physical features: Describe the villain's physical characteristics such as their height, weight, body type, facial features, hair color, and eye color. Use descriptive language to give the reader a clear image of their appearance. However, you should just chose and describe what is most prominent, noteworthy, and can be considered a unique feature of that character. If you describe everything, including hair, face, eyes, lips, clothes, hands, etc., it will be incredibly long and uninteresting, and it will not impress the reader.

Use metaphor and simile: Using metaphors and similes can help create a vivid image of the villain's appearance. Comparing the villain's appearance to something else can help create a clearer image in the reader's mind. For example, you could describe the villain's hair as "wild and unruly, like a tangled forest."; their eyes as "cold as steel" or their skin as "pale as death."

Consider clothing and accessories: The villain's clothing and accessories can also give insight into their character and background. For example, a villain who wears all black and has a lot of leather might be perceived as more menacing than one who wears bright colors and flowing fabrics. Or, if the villain is very well-groomed and dressed in expensive clothing, it might suggest that they are wealthy or have a high status.

Use context: The context of the story can also help shape the description of the villain's appearance. For example, if the story is set in a medieval fantasy world, the villain might have a more archaic appearance, while a modern-day villain might have a more contemporary appearance.

Avoid cliches and stereotypes: While it's important to give the reader a clear image of the villain's appearance, be careful not to rely on cliches or stereotypes. E.g. describing a villain as having a scar on their face or a hook for a hand can feel overdone and lacking in originality.

Consider the impact on other characters: The way the villain looks can have an impact on how other characters react to them. For instance, if the villain is very imposing or intimidating, other characters might be scared or intimidated by them.

Don't forget about body language: The way the villain carries themselves can also be revealing. E.g if they are slouching or have a sneer on their face, it can suggest that they are arrogant or dismissive.

And here is an example of how to describe the appearance of my character who is a villain:

"As soon as he stepped into the room, he commanded attention. With his broad shoulders and imposing stature, he seemed to fill the space with his presence. His suit was impeccably tailored, the fabric hugging his powerful frame like a second skin. But it wasn't just his appearance that made him stand out - it was the air of confidence and authority that surrounded him. He moved with purpose, his gaze sharp and calculating, and his voice dripped with honeyed charm that was as dangerous as it was seductive. It was clear that this was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get it."

In this example, the villain's appearance is described in a way that reflects his personality. His imposing stature and tailored suit suggest power and wealth, while his air of confidence and charm hint at a ruthless and manipulative personality. By using description that reflects the villain's personality, the reader can get a better understanding of who the character is beyond just their physical appearance.

Remember that ultimately, the way you describe the villain's appearance should serve the story and help create a clear and compelling image in the reader's mind. By using a mix of descriptive language, sensory details, and context, you can create a vivid and memorable villain that readers will love to hate.

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eminsunnytoons · 12 days ago

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Just know, y'all, before ya start readin' this list, just know that this list will always often be edited since I always add again some new characters here. Y'all can read now! =^/////^=

🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹

Here's finally the official characters list of the 'back to the SING!' reboot:

🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹

Note: the eight main characters all appear in EVERY single episode, and I'll make these notes for each types of characters lists

Main characters - Sunny, Li'l D, Madison, Philly Phil, Tamika, Eddie, Kim, and Kam

Note: in the antagonists list, each one of the antagonists appear in each episode, and some characters that often act evil or villainous will be added here

Antagonists - Dr Nefario, Big D, Salieri, Lil' G, Addison, Brooklyn Bill, Bambi, Freddie, Jim and Jam, Big D, Mr Yin snd Mr Min, Gunther and Inga, Principal Luna, Kaylie and Mackenzie (they're sometimes good), Tanya, Jared, Zelda (often), Dustin and Preston, agent one, agent two, Ms. Jaspers, Karl, Vladimir, Scranton Sue, Dylan and Ronald (Jared's friends), Ruby, Bi-Bi, Kee-Kee, Maya, Jesper, Maximus (them six are actually also often nice unlike Tanya)

Note: the main reccuring characters all very often and nearly always appear in the reboot along with the main characters, and are important to the reboot ofcourse like always

Main reccuring characters - Mila, Cheddar man, Bianca, Kaylie and Mackenzie (I'll add them here, along with Tanya and Jared), Tanya, Jared, Lucius, Jan, Bullfrog, Ms Noir, Sherri and Carrie, Coach Barnum, Petunia Squattinchowder, Albert Schwartz, Efron, B.R.O.C. (he can often be a evil), the Beast, Santa Claus, Mrs Claus, Sulu, Momo the Gorilla, Sherry Stevenson, Ruby, Bi-Bi, Kee-Kee, Maya, Jesper "Jes", Maximus "Max"

Note: just like the main reccuring characters, but these ones are the NEW ones, like, they're my own characters for the reboot and they will often and nearly always keep all the original characters company

NEW main reccuring characters: Oliver Starz, Agathe Dubois, Amy (she's Agathe's student) Soleil, Valien the alien of the solar system, Dakota the humanoid android, Meowster the cool cat, Cam the iguana, Margarete the Queen Spider, Ms Rubystein, Moony Nights (he can often appear here), Cheddsy charsy

Note: just like for the NEW main reccuring characters, the NEW antagonists are my characters for the reboot, that will ofcourse, also keep the original characters (even my own characters) company in the reboot

NEW antagonists - Sunil, Kitty McBitty, Mozzarela sir, vampiric-medusas trio (Aelius, Barbara and Gouda gentlemen), Robotic Sunny, T-Top dog, Robotic Li'l D and the robotic westley kids

Note: the just reccuring characters are the characters that often appear in the reboot, but aren't really important to the reboot

Just reccuring characters - Agathe's students (I gave them names), Miss Counter, Eddie's servants and cooks, Billy

Note: the minor/background characters are all the other unimportant or background characters that I've found on the behind the voice actors site, and in the reboot, they aren't important to the reboot but are just the part of it just to be background characters

Minor characters - all the other background guest roles on the behind the voice actors site:

🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹

And this is even for all my loved ones in my big tumblr family, so they all can know more information and details of my reboot (even all my other series/shows for the 'sunny toons productions' company), even tho some of them aren't really into class of 3000: @0lemonadefox0 @kxllboii @cheezekennith @aquamarine-dream-queen @dayzsac224 @oscarandgrinchfan @moshywoosh @ilovescaredysquirrel2 @nuggetaubrey @sharkyy599 @nightkit92 @familyoffood @animatronicdoozer @thelazzyblogzz @sugar-miss1 @shrimpathizer @shypeachrunaway @iggyguyy @sayuri-does-skits @peaceforpeople @ben5569 @oxxjustfrankieandmikuloverxxo @ducktopia90264 @artismeyou-12 @blackstar044 @dieguin-san-theartist2009 @nia1sworld @rumplestiltsbear @s4gefr0g @beeware-of-lulu @leafith @bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing @blo0st4r @fancytigercupcake @classywinnerpeace @dackychansworldofhoshino @itzbluecl0udd @moonlightrosebud2000 @avaford2009 @ghostytoasty726 @devillemon085 @untitled14360 @dynastinoble @kornyart and @elizachangreaves and even some class of 3000 fans here on tumblr, and outside of tumblr =^///////^= 💖💖💖🩷❤️❤️❤️🧡🧡

I hope y'all will like this list =^.^= 🎷🥁🎻🎸🎸🪈🪘🎹

#class of 3000 #co3k #class of 3000 fandom #class of 3000: back to the sing!#co3k:btts!#co3k:btts! lists #co3k:btts! stuff #emin rambles

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unboundndd · 1 year ago

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Hi everyone >:3

The Yone lover anon is here again!!!

OMG PARANOIA IS SO AGKSHSKABSHSHJSJSKS *convulses*

I have been analyzing every detail of the video clip and I have seen the statuses and tweets from the official platforms, it is always a pleasure to see our favorite swordsman interact <3

Well, getting to the point, I have already asked for this request but I wanted to see your execution cause, wow girl, I love your writing, it is exquisite :')

The request is this: Maybe a Yone x fangirl!reader?

Buuut, but but!! That their first face-to-face meeting was a surprise, I explain, she and Yone had met on Discord and had been interacting a little, when the two agreed to meet then she gets a BIG surprise, I hope I make myself understood

Sorry for the amount of text, I have expanded here

Anyway, I hope you take care of yourself and enjoy the new content that is coming out as much as I do

-🍄

Omg hi 🍄 anon!! ♡ Thank you so so much for your very inspirational Yone musings, I hope that me spacing out on the wordlbuilding a bit will not influence the pure fangirling that is going on in our heads!

In this universe Yone strikes me as someone who actually knows a lot about technology and i'm sorry... he produces music for rythm games. And yes he does those extremely complicated and highly detailed songs that are like the hardest charts in the game.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- Yone's career as a producer and DJ has not been the easiest one, the genres that fascinated him the most were usually not appreciated by a wider audience. The busy notes of electronic samples overlapping one another weren't designed to appaise the need for easy listening music in convenience stores or to climb the charts by becoming viral on social media, in fact the most recognition Yone's music had gotten before heartsteel was in the small niche of rythm game players.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- It was never the big game developers that contacted him, they had collaborations with world renouned producers and famous idols that voiced their characters. On the other hand smaller studios would often ask him to make one or two tracks for their games, which Yone would gladly accept to do. Despite the limited reach the producer was still proud of his work, always buying a copy of the games where his music appeared and keeping in touch with the communities that formed around them with a discord account that would't reveal who he really was.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You were just a casual player of one of those games, sometimes coming into its dedicated discord servers to chat with like minded people. When people asked you about your favorite songs in the game you would most likely reply with one of the songs Yone produced, often going into detail about what made them resonate with you so much and what made them so unique in your opinion.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- Under the guise of anonymity Yone would sometimes join the conversation, asking questions and indirectly getting some feedback from you, even finding it helpful with his writer's block sometimes. It was enough for the man to send you a DM to discuss more of your shared music tastes, hoping you'd reply.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- Your discussions quickly settled into a developing friendship, you knew the man had an extensive knowledge in music theory as he would sometimes ramble about it with you and he also told you that because of a new job offer he would become more and more busy as time went on. You'd still keep recommending songs to each other but the conversations would be less and less, you missed your friend but you knew that his work was more important than chatting about music.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- That was until Heartsteel's debut was announced with a small teaser, showing all the members and a small snippet of their new single. You immediately recognized the familiar electronic sound of the songs that made you and Yone bond in the first place, the nostalgic feeling making you smile. You decided to send a link of the teaser to him, asking for thoughts and sharing the hype about the new band.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- Yone had never felt so guilty yet glad that he never revealed that he had produced those rythm game songs to you. You were so familiar with his style that you spotted it immediately, you could've uncovered that he was actually part of the band! He tried to stop himself from asking more of what you thought of the members, thought of him, but quickly surrendered to the fact that hearing you gush about how much you liked his music gave him even more reasons to keep going.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- When he asked who your favorite member was he almost spit water on his midi keyboard, causing Aphelios to turn around to see if he was alright. Yone composed himelf quickly, yet the message you wrote kept resonating in his mind. "Oh I'm totally in love with Yone, looking at him and his interactions on twitter he sounds like a bit of a band mom and I find it really endearing! He looks like a really calm person who surrounds himself with a ton of unhinged friends! Too bad he hasn't revealed his voice yet! "

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- Of course all of this didn't go past Aphelios, Kayn, Sett, K'Sante and even Alune. They realized he was spending more time than normal on his phone, reading your thoughts on the new promotional materials that were being posted. Kayn was the one who confronted him first and could not stop laughing when he realized Yone had started to develop some feelings for you, scrolling trough the messages the younger man could also see that you were starting to feel the same way for him.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- As much as the Kayn was amused at the absurdity of Yone falling for his online friend turned fangirl, he alsoknew he had to help his fellow bandmate, barging into the common room to tell everyone what was going on and fill Ezreal in as he was oblivous to the whole ordeal. It took all of them a good half hour to concoct a plan to make a meeting between you and Yone happen, then another half hour was needed to convince the producer that this was indeed a good idea and that you would not take it as badly as he imagined.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- When Yone said he wanted to voice chat with you out of the blue you were a bit confused but excited. You were happy to hear his voice after one year of being friends and made sure to reserve a few hours just for him, as you went about your day your mind started to wander a bit about what it would sound like and if your conversations would flow just as smoothly as they did via text.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You were starting to feel a bit nervous when you picked up the call, timidly muttering a "hello?" and waiting for any sort of reply. "Oh Hello, it's nice to finally be able to associate a voice to the person." You could not help but squeal a little on the inside, who would have known that his voice sounded so rich and felt so mature? The two of you talked for a while about how long overdue your call was and how time had flown since you first met, it truly didn't feel like your first conversation at all.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You finally gave into the curiosity and asked him if there was any particular reason for Yone to have wanted to voice chat now and his reply almost left you speechless. "So... I'm know that you're very excited about the debut of Heartsteel, one of my coworkers managed to get two VIP tickets and backstage access. The thing is that the person they bought the other ticket for cancelled last minute and they gave it to me." A carefully crafted lie exited Yone's lips, all to give you an excuse to go meet him.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy for how lucky your friend was but you wanted to be supportive and expressed your joy for him and how excited he must have been. "Wait, you've got it all wrong. I wasn't planning on keeping the ticket." You froze for a second, all sorts of possibilities racing trough your mind. Then you heard it the notification of a discord message from Yone, he had just sent you the ticket. "Wait... so you want me to go?" You heard him chuckle as you were slowly realizing what this would imply, your heart couldn't race more than this. "You deserve to go and see them, you've kept an eye on them for a long time now. I don't want to impose it onto you so think about it for a while and let me know, will you?" Useless to say that you spent a very long amount of time asking him if he was sure about it and then thanking him profusely, this truly was one of your dreams come true.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- During the day of the debut concert the Heartsteel's members grand plan was put into motion: security was well aware that as soon as your ticket number was checked in they would have been able to identify you. Security notified their manager Alune and gave her a detailed description of your looks, she too felt happy about what was going on in Yone's life and told him and the other boys to concentrate on the performance while she took care of things in the background and made sure to give you and the producer ample time to talk.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You had the time of your life at the concert, seeing how much energy and stage presence Heartsteel had in real life made their music video pale in comparison. The stage felt electric and once it was over you couldn't help but feel dizzy and overloaded but also oh so happy, seeing Yone and Aphelios playing alongside the other members was the highlight of the concert for you.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- So many things were going to your mind when you were queued up for the small meet and greet that was beeing held backstage, you were one of the last people and when it was your turn you couldn't help but feel like Sett, Kayn and Ezreal were all treating you like they somehow knew you already... and they were all hiding something. You felt their gazes following you as you finally approached Yone and even he looked like something was amiss.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You tried to ignore the feeling, you were about to meet the artist that managed to capture your attention so easily and always kept you wanting for more. You would not let this special occasion be ruined by your gut feeling! You took a few steps and prepared to greet him, hopefully having enough time to tell him how good his performance was and how much you enjoyed rooting for his success. Before you could even say a word he anticipated you and for a second you thought you had misheard everything he said.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- "Wait... how do you know my discord username?" You heard a few of Heartsteel's members chuckle, you did not realize how quiet the room had become as you were the last of their fans there, the laughter was interrupted by Yone speaking again. "Cut her some slack everyone, it's normal for her to be confused right now." Yone could see your eyes widen in realization you recognized his voice, he was your online friend! The one who would always listen to your rambles about the latest chart topping songs and give you his insight on what would make them so popular, the man who somehow knew your taste better than you at this point and was able to always give you spot on recommendations... ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- The grounding touch of his hand on your shoulder snapped you back into reality, you blinked at him in disbelief and confusion... and then realized about how much you fangirled about him while being unaware of who you were talking to. "There must be many questions running trough your head right now and I don't blame you if you're angry at me for never revealing who I really was. If I hadn't been under such a strict NDA at the time maybe things could have been different..." ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·- You gave the man a reassuring smile, you understood why he did what he did and suddenly him asking you what you thought of all the new trailers and promotional materials made sense. You were kind of honored to have been able to give feedback -although unknowingly- to a talented artist such as him. "Maybe I could clear some things up for you over dinner... I was too nervous to eat anything before the concert." You gave him a quick nod and he motioned you to follow him, you saw him gather his laptop and headphones and haistly put them in a sleek looking backpack and then taking out the keys to his car. The rest of your time spent backstage was a blur, his hand around your back was swiftly guiding you through the various areas and muttering to security guards that you were with him if they happened to enquire about you. Once in his car he could finally drop the persona and relax a bit more, the Yone you had met online was starting to show himself more and more. "Do you have any particular preferences for food?" He asked while making his way through the still packed streets of the city. "Mmh... I think I'll leave the choice to you, after all you just performend in front of thousands of people on an empty stomach." You replied, smiling at how kind he was being to you even though he must have been starving for hours. "Fine, I saw a ramen small ramen place on my way here before the concert. It will give us enough privacy for me to finally make things up to you."

#lol x reader #yone x reader #one ticket to delululand for me pls #lol yone

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