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nonclassyparty · 1 year ago

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pretty on the outside [masterlist + preview]

summary:

just take off that disguise, everyone knows that you're only pretty on the outside

It's not a secret that you like to get around despite the trail of broken hearts you leave behind. Jeong Yunho, the sweetest prudish frat boy in the history of frat boys, is supposed to be just another guy you'd discard after you grew bored of him. Very soon, you realize you bit off more than you can chew and that Jeong Yunho might not be so easy to handle.

pairing: jeong yunho x reader, choi san x reader, mentions of past jung wooyoung x reader

status: work in progress

notes: *evil giggles* hello! enjoy the little preview of my new series that i'm working on (i will be using this post as a masterlist for it) and it won't be posted until i'm done with soot. it will have nine parts, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for it just reply below <3

my main masterlist // playlist // moodboard // click to donate to Palestine

first chapter preview;

In his earliest surviving work of dramatic theory Poetics, Aristotle wrote, “A whole story is what has a beginning and middle and end.” This is not only fundamental to storytelling, it’s the closest reflection of an entire life cycle. It can be applied to anything in this life. Everything has a beginning, middle and end.

Which is why when San introduces you to his new girlfriend, you try not to be too bothered. Not only because it's his seventh new girlfriend this year but because, as all relationships, just like it had it's beginning and middle - it will have an end too.

Her name is Mijoo, her bleached hair is curled and looks slightly fried and the only thing that you've learned since she sat down with you is that her interests include pilates and taking care of her Instagram feed. They met at a frat party two weekends ago and hooked up in a stuffy room on the second floor, as romantic as it sounds.

San eats his lunch next to her while she scrolls through her phone and plays with her water bottle, looking absolutely unbothered that he barely knows his new girlfriend and seems like he has no intention of getting to know her better either. Hongjoong and you share a knowing look.

You can already tell that this is one of San's relationships where he calls it a relationship just so neither one of the parties participating feel like whores.

Still, the fact that he'd be in a relationship with just about anyone manages to leave a bitter taste in your mouth as you swallow down the last bite of your sandwich and clean your hands with a napkin.

You clear your throat, "I have to go. Have class in ten minutes."

San's head lifts up from the screen of his phone that he held in one hand as he ate, "You didn't answer if you're going to Vortex with us tonight?"

By 'us' he probably means him and his girlfriend and some of his other sleazy friends that he managed to make ever since he started going to the gym freshman year. It's definitely not Hongjoong because Hongjoong wouldn't be caught dead in a nightclub for college students that could only be classified as a dump.

You deadpanned, "It's a Wednesday."

San stares at you like he's not seeing the problem as Hongjoong snorts from next to you, "Like that's stopped you before."

You roll your eyes at him before looking back at San, trying not to dwell on the way his soft hair falls over his forehead. "I have my first midterm on Friday, so no."

"Ah, sucks." He says with a scrunched up nose and you look away quickly as you plaster on a smile that definitely looks sarcastic and a little sour.

"Well, see you guys later." You say, standing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder, "Bye."

San's new girlfriend gives you a sweet smile that makes you hate her.

You think about her and your own hypocrisy as you make your way to class. You barely spoke to her, she's done nothing to you and it's unfair to dislike her simply because she temporarily has...maybe the only person that you ever truly wanted but will never have.

You sigh as you pass through the door of the classroom that's already fairly filled out. The board stationed in the front filled out with a list of students attending the class, stops you in your tracks.

Partners assigned for Lab Exercise 1-3. is written in big bold letters at the top of the board.

You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes as you curse your professor who suggested this as an elective class. He said this class was a breeze to go through. Anything that has lab exercises is not a breeze.

Your eyes sweep over the list before they land on your own name. Y/L Y/N - Jeong Yunho, table 6.

Never heard of him, you think to yourself which isn't much of a surprise. The campus is huge, you'll always meet someone new.

Alas, you make your way to your designated table and are satisfied to find it empty which means you can slide to the seat near the window and hopefully make it know that it's your spot from now on.

You sit for the next ten minutes, scrolling down your phone and checking for your partner because almost all of the seats in the classroom are occupied by now and class is supposed to begin in two minutes. You'll be pissed if you have to do the first lab exercise alone.

Soon enough, a tall guy walking through the door a minute before the professor is supposed to show up catches your attention. He walks to the board, eyes roaming over it, he turns around and skims the classroom before his eyes stop on table labeled with a big number six and he makes eye contact with you.

You immediately look away through the window, trying to hide your grimace.

The guy, Jeong Yunho, even without ever meeting him before, looks undoubtedly like a frat boy.

A dark blue cap turned backwards sits on his head and his backpack hangs off of one shoulder. He's handsome in a boy-next-door type of way and tall. Definitely plays a sport of some sort (maybe soccer) judging by his broad shoulders and fit build. Frat boy and a jock. How boring.

"Hi." He greets you with a small smile that you return quietly with a squeamish smile as he sits down next to you. The smell of his cologne is instantly overwhelming. It's a smell that you can't describe as anything else except male and you feel like this is about to be the longest three weeks of your life. "I'm Yunho."

"Y/N." You say politely, again making eye contact with him that he tries his hardest to hold as he leans on the table by his elbows and his mouth quirks up. Oh God, here we go.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around, are you a Chemistry major as well and just new or is this your elective?" You blink at the question.

"Ah, yeah, this is an elective." You respond, glancing at the door again to see if the professor will show up soon.

He hums, "The Chem branch is a really small circle here so everybody knows everybody by now, that's why I asked."

"Right." You blink at him again, observing this Jeong Yunho as he starts pulling out a notebook, calculator and a wide array of pens out of his backpack. The last frat boy you knew, Bangchan or Chris as they like to call him because his real name isn't sleazy enough, came to class with a pen and a folded piece of paper tucked in his back pocket.

So, maybe you're a little judgmental. Who isn't these days?

The class starts and Jeong Yunho continues to make you hide your surprise at him as he actively participates in the discussions. From what you can tell, he's very articulate and smart.

That does absolutely nothing for you but still, it's a little surprising.

Not because you think all frat boys and jocks are stupid or something (even though most are, you know from experience) but because the way he speaks and carries himself is nothing but respectful and nice and it just does not fit the stereotype. An hour in, you expected at least a crude joke during the presentation but it never came. Hm.

Since you were extremely competitive, you wanted nothing more than to beat him to answering the professor's questions but you knew jackshit about polymer chemistry so all you could do is sit, faintly annoyed, watching someone be better than you.

After class is done and you're packing your stuff while texting Yeosang, Yunho gently touches your elbow with his fingers to get your attention. You turn to him and he quickly withdraws his hand.

"Would you like to...uh, go work on the exercise at a coffee shop nearby? I think it would be good to get a head start since we're not yet busy with out other, actually important, classes." He chuckles before checking the watch around his wrist, "I have free time now."

You bite your lip, thinking it would probably be the smart thing to do but you were texting Yeosang. Making plans to see him. Scratch that, making plans to fuck him.

"Uh, how long would it take exactly? Just so I can organize the rest of my day-"

"Oh, well, I have practice at six-thirty so I was thinking until six." He shrugs, his backpack hanging over one shoulder and making him look like a poster for golden college boys. "Does that work for you?"

It works better than having to work on the exercises on other days of the week. It just means seeing Jeong Yunho more than necessary, one day a week is perfectly enough in his presence.

You bite your lip again, glancing at your screen one last time before texting Yeosang that you'll see him at seven. "Yeah, let's go."

Yunho leads you to a coffee shop near campus that you've never heard of. Hidden deep between buildings and almost entirely empty, there's no regular customers let alone anyone from campus.

"I study here sometimes if the library is full. Nobody comes here." He chuckles, holding the door open for you and motioning for you to go in. He almost seems shy to let you know that he goes to the library. It's, unfortunately, kind of cute.

After you both order and make yourself comfortable in the small booth you've picked out, you start to work on the assignment. Yunho leads the way, as a Chemistry major, he's much more well versed in this subject. You, a future engineer, are completely lost so you just scribble down whatever he does and keep quiet.

He likes to talk a lot, you notice, after every done question, he makes sure to ask about you, your interests, hobbies, whatever and you shut it down every time with a dry response.

It's not that you dislike him, really it's not. It's not even that he's a frat boy and a jock that bothers you anymore because it's obvious that he's a little bit of a nerd as well. It's that, in the hour and a half that you've spent sitting here with him, you realized just how much he reminds you of San.

And that's enough to make you keep your distance from him. You don't want him, you don't want anyone like San.

The corny jokes, shy smiles, a blush that spreads all the way to his ears when he gets flustered, attempts to be cocky but then growing absolutely embarrassed by it that it ends up being endearing - it's all very San-like. And it's a version of San that not many people know.

Once it starts nearing six and you both start packing up your things, Yunho clears his throat next to you.

"So, uh, would you be interested in getting a cup of coffee sometime, like, in a non polymer chemistry related way?" He nervously stutters out, ears already burning red. You slow down the action of pulling your jacket on as your phone is in one hand, the chat with Yeosang opened.

Maybe you should've seen this coming.

He wasn't shy about the fact that he found you attractive since the moment he sat down next to you. You just didn't expect for this to happen so soon. Geez, how awkward will the next three weeks be after today.

You sigh, pulling your dark red hair from under your jacket. "No offense Yunho, you seem nice and all but you're not my type."

He seems almost offended by that as he chuckles, "You barely even know me?"

You give him a once over.

The matter of fact was that you did not, under any circumstance, date anyone or get into relationships. You had hook-ups, one night stands and no strings attached agreements.

If there was any way to describe your mindset it would be pretty simple - men, women, people you were attracted to - you treat them like horderves served in front of you. You'll take a bite (might save some for later) but that's about it, you make sure not to get full because there's way too many flavors, too many of them to try, taste, pick apart...

And if someone really managed to impress you, maybe you'd pick another plate up.

But that didn't happen often and when it did, it usually didn't last.

Jeong Yunho, in every single way, reeked of romance and good intentions.

The typical boy next door type. He seemed like a momma's boy that wanted a proper and traditional relationship, brought flowers and texted you 'good night' and 'good morning' religiously and had extremely romantic but bland missionary sex. The type to want you to wear his jersey to his games so he could take cheesy photos with you in it and, if he was religious, maybe he'd want you to go to church with him on Sundays. He was the last thing you needed.

If Hongjoong and Seonghwa found you with someone like him, they'd never let you live it down.

You open your mouth to respond to him but your phone rings and you look at it - a photo of Yeosang lighting up the screen. He's always so impatient. You told him at seven, why is he calling already?

You wave your phone in front of Yunho's face, pointing out Yeosang's photo that you took one drunken night while the two of you were messing around after leaving the club and that you've been using as his contact photo ever since where he's in all black, long hair tucked behind his ear as he lights up a cigarette, "My type."

Yunho blinks at the photo before looking at you again resembling a kicked puppy, you sigh feeling only slightly bad but still you have to say something more out of courtesy. "I have to go, I'm sorry if I seemed rude or something, it wasn't intentional and nothing against you but I'm not interested. I hope we do well on the lab exercise though."

He opens his mouth to say something else but you're already standing up and walking towards the entrance of the small, dingy coffee shop.

The discomfort you feel is only temporary because, once again, everything has its beginning, middle and end. This 'partnership' with Yunho will end soon so why bother yourself by feeling guilty.

#jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez smut

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chirpycloudyrobin · 27 days ago

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Alien Stage Actor AU - Ivan KProfile

heehee kpop-fies your actor!ivan. here's my headcanon of idol era ivan in OFF THE RECORD

Navi (Ecliptic) Profile and Facts

Stage Name: Navi (나비)

Birth Name: Ivan Artemiyevich Dragomirov

Korean Name: Jung Seung Hyun (정승현)

Position: Main Dancer, Lead Vocalist, Maknae

Birthday: February 14th, 2002

Chinese Zodiac Sign: Horse

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Height: 186 cm (6’1’’)

Weight: 78 kg (171.9 lbs)

Blood Type: AB

MBTI Type: INTJ

Nationality: Korean-Russian

Representative Animal: Wolf / Butterfly

Instagram: @/naviclipse

Navi Facts: [under the cut]

He was born in Vladivostok, Russia

He spent his childhood alternating between Saint Petersburg, Russia and Ilsan, South Korea

His father is Russian with Bulgarian ancestry, and his mother is Korean

His mother is a famous ballerina and won a Benois de la Danse

He speaks Russian, English, and Korean

He learned Korean from his grandparents so he sometimes sounds like a harabeoji

Siblings: 3 older (1 brother, 2 sisters)

He is cousins with actress Jeong Su Ah

During family reunions, he is in charge of entertaining the younger cousins

He became a trainee when he was 13 years old

He loves his snaggletooth and has consistently refused to get rid of it

He became interested in acting because of his cousin

He is closest to Luka among his members

He has a spoiled Russian Blue cat that he named after Luka since they have similar personalities

His favourite animals are cats

His hobbies are eating, sleeping, and bothering Luka or Su Ah about his latest K-Drama obsession

His fans call him “Yapper Prince”

He knows how to play the drums

Among the members, he is the best at girl group dances

Ideal Type: "Let's keep it a mystery until I find The One <3"

Other things not on the in-universe KProfiles

Etymology:

승 [ 升 ] : to rise, to go up, to soar, to ascend 현 [ 銀 ] : to shine, to dazzle

Reads fanfics of his members for fun

He was assigned the "mysterious dark prince" persona at the start but his natural cutesy nerd tendencies shone through in the end

He and Sua are related through his mom and her dad

Diagnosed autistic. More shutdowns than meltdowns. Alexithymia.

Paternal family has a history of neurodivergence

He discovered actor!Till when Till acted with Sua in a K-Drama that eventually became his most favourite K-Series of all time

Till took Ivan under his wing for the Alien Stage filming and the poor guy has been nursing a steadily growing crush since then. Ivan is not aware. Till may be aware. The rest are watching a romcom probably.

Idol life eventually wore him down and he and Luka promised to quit together once their contracts are up

His father is kind of emotionally absent since typical rich dude with a business. His mother makes up for it as much as she can

His maternal grandparents taught him Korean because his mother immigrated to Russia at a pretty young age and her own Korean was rusty by the time she got married

His eldest brother is pretty much his primary parental figure

If he didn't become an idol and rose to prominence near-overnight, his father would have pushed him academically so he'd end up in one of the SKY Universities or in Skoltech

Tech dude of Ecliptic

Had his gay awakening at age 13

Had his demiromantic awakening at age 20

Pretty much has zero relationship experience

#alien stage #alnst #alnst ivan #alien stage ivan #off the record #actor au #behold my newest blorbo #i love him so much please talk to me about him he consumes my thoughts daily

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whimsimille · 6 months ago

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POMEGRANATES

Jeong Jin-Man x female! reader

Pandemonium overtook the cabaret, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering pierced through the cacophony.

Before you found refuge in the room and made a beeline for the closet, your eyes had taken in the eerie spectacle. The grand chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast ominous shadows that danced on the walls, their movements dictated by the tongues of flames consuming the room. Smoke, ashen and thick, curled upwards, a grim proof of the chaos below. It originated from multiple sources: tablecloths set ablaze, furniture upturned and broken, and bottles of discarded alcohol shattered upon impact from stray bullets. The stench was overpowering—a sickening cocktail of gunpowder, sweat, and blood.

One man clutched his stomach where he'd been shot; another woman sobbed uncontrollably near an upturned piano while cradling her head wound; yet another lies motionless near a pool of crimson liquid.

Imagining the worst case scenarios playing out of the reach of your eyes, you hope that whoever's shooting will miss their target.

But then again, if they did, they wouldn't have come here in the first place. This place was a haven for criminals, a den of vice—no honor among thieves—and it looked like someone wanted to reclaim the turf or send a message.

You didn't care about any of that; all you cared about was survival. And Min-Hye.

Through the cracks in the closet door, you watched in horror.

Bodies lay scattered like broken dolls, some screaming for mercy or moaning in pain, while others just lay still—dead or unconscious. It's hard to tell which is worse. Blood drips from their wounds and mixes with spilled alcohol on the floor as chaos ensues around you both.

Men in black tactical gear methodically searched each room, their eyes glazed over with a cold detachment that sent shivers down your spine. They moved swiftly and efficiently, leaving little room for error or hesitation. Their guns were cocked and ready to fire at any sign of movement.

Your Korean wasn't as good as your English to understand everything they said, but you caught enough to realize that they were looking for the girls.

Holding Min-Hye tightly against you, you notice how her soft curves nestled into your own body—the direct opposite of the flimsy lingerie she wore.

Your own clothes were practically torn to shreds from when they'd dragged you into the back room, and your skin was bruised and battered from their rough handling. But there was no time to mourn that now.

Min-Hye let out a whimper as the scream of a woman rang out, but you quickly grabbed her face and put it on your neck.

"Shh, shh," you whisper into her ear, gently stroking her hair as you try to calm her down.

The older woman shook in your arms, her frightened breaths hot against your neck. They were almost upon you now; you could feel their presence through the closet door, like a foul wind that reeked of sweat and gunsmoke. One hard kick and it would all be over. But you couldn't just let them take her—not like this. Not while she was clinging on to you so desperately, trusting in your protection. You had to do something—anything.

"You're going to be okay," you whisper, even though you know you might both end up dead.

Strangely, you feel calm and detached. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or perhaps it's because you've been in similar nightmarish situations before.

Growing up, your home was a battlefield. Your mother, with her razor-sharp words and fists as hard as talons, and your father, a drunk who spent more time stumbling than holding a job.

Your childhood was a blur of violence and fear—trying to drown it out with the solace of books. But that didn't stop bullets from flying and bombs exploding, or men with guns barging into your home, looking for who knows what. You knew how to survive in these situations. How to stay quiet and hidden, how to move without being seen or heard. You were an expert at keeping yourself alive, you learned never to show fear, never to scream, and never to go down without a fight. You learned to toughen up, to leave scars on whatever dared to harm you.

The closet you're in now is cluttered with discarded sex toys, torn dresses, and stained undergarments. Amid the chaos, you spot a pile of black leather items—remains of some BDSM act performed earlier tonight.

You quickly gather them, creating a makeshift cloak for you and Min-Hye to hide underneath.

“I-I’m scared!” Min-Hye interrupts your crafting, her head falling onto your shoulders as she weeps.

Without moving your lips, you pull Min-Hye's head back and gently remove the blonde wig from her head, revealing her short black hair that is matted with sweat and tears. You remember your own hair being pulled, yanked as a form of punishment or control. But that's a thought for another time.

"Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. Slow and steady."

Letting go of the cover, you find her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to transfer some of your calmness to her.

She must have picked up on your trick because she slowly started to mimic your rhythm.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the room as someone kicks in the door of the suite you two were in.

You hold your breath as you hear them approach your closet, feeling the vibrations of their heavy boots on the wooden floor. The knob turns slowly, and you flinch, expecting the worst.

Sweat begins to form on your brow as the door creaks open ever so slightly, revealing only darkness at first. But then, a sliver of light from the hallway enters and you see a pair of cold, impassive eyes gazing straight at you.

Your makeup smeared as you rolled out of the closet, your eyes fixed on the intruders—two men who stared back at you in surprise. You can see the shock on their faces when they take in your nude body and Min-Hye hiding behind you, her eyes wide with fear.

Adrenaline makes you swift and sure. Your hand snakes out, grabbing one of the discarded leather straps from your makeshift cloak and whipping it towards them.

The strap catches one man off-guard, wrapping around his neck and yanking him backward with a crack. He chokes, gasping for air as you twist it tighter, your fingers digging into his skin like claws.

Meanwhile, his comrade takes aim at you both, finger squeezing the trigger. But before he can fire, you dive forward and slam into him with a grunt of effort. Your shoulder crashes against his stomach just as a bullet rips through the air where your head was moments ago. You sink teeth into his neck to muffle his cry of pain until he goes limp beneath you.

The second man, dazed but still breathing, tries to bring his knife up, but you're too quick. His eyes widen as he sees your hands wrap around his neck and then narrow in anger when you squeeze. You smell the sweat on his skin as you twist, feeling his windpipe bend under your grip like a rubber band under pressure. You can hear him gurgle and wheeze for air—a pathetic sound that fills you with satisfaction. This is how it should be—every single one of these bastards deserves to suffer like this.

With a final crack of bone breaking under your hands, the man goes limp and drops to the floor with a thud.

For a moment, all is silent.

Your eyes land on Min-Hye, cowering behind the overturned table, her eyes wide with fear yet still following your every move intently.

From the moment you were unwillingly brought to this place, the youngest and the last to be ensnared, to be handled around Chinese men like a sex toy, you had taken Min-Hye under your wing, offering her the care that had been denied to you, even when she was 5 years older. And now, you would do anything to save her.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as more gunshots ring out.

Glass shatters behind you; someone else is breaking in or shooting through another windowpane. You barely register it as you kick the men away from you and push yourself up to your feet with a snarl. Your legs tremble underneath you but adrenaline carries you forward nonetheless.

You snatch up a shard of broken glass from the floor as another shot rings out—too close for comfort—and throw it with all your strength at a third assailant who had just entered through the doorway. The sharp piece hits him in the eye and he cries out before he falls to the ground.

You could hear others getting closer, their heavy boots stomping on the floorboards. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.

You needed to get Min-Hye to safety, but how? The exit door was locked and there were at least two of them guarding it. The window was your only option, but it was high and covered by metal bars. And even if you managed to open it, the drop would surely break her fragile body. You didn't even know if she could climb or if the fall would kill her instantly.

A sudden thought hit you like a lightning bolt: the ventilation shaft! It led directly outside; perhaps you could squeeze through the tiny opening with Min-Hye and make a mad dash for freedom before they caught on to your plans.

Frantically, you reached for the fallen gun in one hand while dragging the unconscious men with the other, positioning them into a corner. It was a spot that was out of sight from outside yet still provided a modicum of cover while you prepared to make your bold escape.

“Damn it!” you hissed when you checked the gun, finding the chamber empty. Your heart sank as you checked the other bodies, but it was the same story.

In desperation, you ripped off one of their masks, revealing a scarred and rugged face that mirrored the cold determination in his eyes when he was conscious. You swiftly grabbed his discarded weapons belt, strapping it around your waist firmly, now armed with a knife and a baton.

"Y/N..."

"Shh, calm down. I have a plan," you reassured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted around the room, landing on a chair nearby. In quick strides, you rushed to it and jammed it under the doorknob. The chair was old and rickety, its wood groaning under the strain. But it held. This makeshift barricade would buy you some precious time.

Now, it was time to get Min-Hye to safety. She was still shaking, but she didn't resist when you lifted her into your arms, her bare legs brushing against yours as you placed her on top of the table.

With trembling hands, you started to unscrew the bolts that held the grate in place. The monsters outside were cursing loudly, their threats and taunts blending into the cacophony of the chaos beyond the door. Your fingers slipped several times, smearing grease and dirt on the metal, but you were determined.

After what felt like an eternity, the last bolt came loose. You quickly pushed the grate aside, revealing a dark and narrow passageway. The shaft was barely big enough for one person to squeeze through. The air inside smelled musty, filled with the scent of dust and rusted pipes, a testament to the age of the building.

"Min-hye," you said, looking at her, making sure to hold her gaze. "I need you to trust me and crawl through here, okay? Can you do that?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. “But…what about yo-?”

“Just listen," you said, cutting her off. You pointed down the shaft. "Follow it straight, then take the second left. There'll be an opening that leads to the alleyway behind this building. Wait for me there.”

"But..."

"Just trust me, okay?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't question you further. With one last look at you, she crawled into the shaft.

You watched as she disappeared into the darkness, her silhouette fading until all you could see was the black void of the vent. You turned your attention to the pipes running along the ceiling. They were old and rusted, snaking their way across the room and disappearing into the walls. You followed their direction, guessing they led to the main water supply...which meant the main exit was in that direction.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Min-Hye called out from the shaft, her voice echoing slightly. "Why aren't you following me?"

You didn't answer her. Instead, you reached down and grabbed one of the knives from the belt you'd taken from the unconscious man. The cold metal was comforting in your hand; its weight was somehow reassuring. You tested its balance, swinging it a few times before strapping it securely to your thigh.

Then you turned back to the shaft, forcing a smile on your face. "I'll see you soon," you told her, then you closed the grate, leaving her alone in the darkness.

You moved back to your hiding spot, a small alcove behind a heavy curtain that provided somewhat of a shield from the view of the door. The fabric was thick and velvety, muffling the sounds from the other side of the room as your heart pounded in your chest.

Just as you settled into your hiding spot, the door to the room burst open.

A tall man stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He was imposing, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He was dressed in dark clothes, the material stretching over his muscular form. He smelled oddly good, like a mixture of citrus and nicotine.

His eyes were deep-set and intense as they took in the room, searching. They were the colour of storm clouds, cold and unforgiving.

You left your hiding spot, charging at him with a primal roar. He turned just in time to see you, his eyes widening in surprise. But he was quick—quicker than you'd expected. He grabbed you mid-air and threw you to the ground, his grip like iron around your wrist.

You groaned as you hit the floor, and the wind knocked you out.

He was on you in an instant, pulling you up by your hair and pressing the cold barrel of his gun against your throat.

Unlike the others, his eyes didn't rake over your nearly exposed breasts, or the blood pooling around your inner legs from being used earlier, or the bruises marring your body. His gaze didn't possess the leering, predatory glint you'd come to associate with the men in this place. Instead, his eyes met yours and held them.

It was almost as if he was assessing you, looking beyond your physical appearance and into your core. It was as if he were asking himself if you were a morning or a night person, if you enjoyed the silence of the library or the hustle of the city. It was as if he cared more about what you preferred, pink or blue, rather than the color of your lingerie.

You didn’t close your eyes or tear up; all that you did was look back at him through your damp eyelashes, smirking.

The man arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your defiant response. But to your surprise, he eventually let go of your hair and sheathed his gun. With a swift movement, he shrugged himself out of his jacket and gently draped it over you, his hands careful not to touch your bare skin.

As he bent down and lifted you into his arms, you couldn't help but think of the ancient Greek myths you had read as a child.

Now you were Persephone, trapped in the underworld of this criminal haven, and he was Hades. But unlike the myth, there was no pomegranate seed to bind you to this hell and no mother to plead for your return.

The only hope was your own survival instinct and the strange mercy of your captor.

Knock Knock

"Which cheese is the most dramatic?"

"Gorgonzilla."

"Correct. And which cheese is always on time?"

"Swiss, because it has holes in it, like a clock."

"Good. And which cheese suffers the most?"

"Grated cheese."

"Excellent. You may enter. Oh, and by the way, you're bleeding, noona."

Those are the first words that Jeong Ji-An utters as you stumble across the threshold of her uncle's house. Her eyes, glazed with the artificial glow from the television screen, flicker to you momentarily before returning to the unfolding nature documentary she's engrossed in.

It was something about lions in Africa; she seems to be really into wildlife documentaries these days. She always shares a few interesting facts about cheetahs that make their legs super flexible when running at high speeds and how they have spots to camouflage themselves against the tall grasses as they hunt for food.

As her routine requests, she's curled up on the worn-out couch, her small hands coated with a thin veneer of butter from the popcorn she's munching on. The rhythmic crunching of the kernels punctuates the silence of the room, the only other sound being the low hum of the narrator explaining the predator-prey dynamics in the wild.

"Hello to you too, baby.”

As you bend down to plant a soft kiss on her head, the scent of her strawberry shampoo and the cigarettes she smokes fills your nostrils, momentarily washing away the gritty stench of gunpowder and blood that clings to you.

You're not much older than Ji-An, but the bond you share with her feels deeper, stronger. She's the one precious jewel whose value is immeasurable. Maybe it's because she's the spitting image of Jeong Jin-Man, a tiny version of her uncle. Or maybe it's because she, like you, carries the weight of a world much too harsh for her tender years.

"Did you two have dinner yet?" you ask, changing the subject, trying to bring some normalcy to the situation. You glance towards the kitchen; the smell of something burning is still lingering in the air.

You can already imagine Jin-Man's reaction when he sees what happened. He'll probably grumble something about his niece not paying attention while cooking or being distracted by the TV again.

Ji-An finally tears her gaze away from the TV, her eyes lingering on the bloody wound on your ribs with an unspoken concern. "I did, but he didn’t. He was probably waiting for you.”

A sigh escapes your lips and your heart clenches with an emotion you can't quite name. It was always like this. Despite his gruff exterior and chilly demeanor, he'd always wait for you, working obsessively, neglecting his own needs until he was sure you were safe.

"And where's our workaholic now? Is he holed up in his room again?"

“Office. He's been engrossed in managing the missions with Pasin, poring over the site data ever since you left home at dawn," she replies, gesturing towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

“Is Pasin there with him now? They have been working together a lot lately.”

“No, Pasin left a while back. He mentioned that he was going to check up on Min-Hye at the safehouse first, then head to his restaurant. It's almost closing time there, actually. I should start getting ready for my Muay Thai class with him. He's been teaching me some new moves, and I don't want to be late."

"Ji-An, it's already past your bedtime. Your class can surely wait until tomorrow," you attempt to reason with her, casting a worried glance at the vintage clock hanging on the wall. Its hands were inching closer to midnight.

"But noona," she protests, her voice taking on a whiny tone too high for a 17-year-old girl. She puffs out her cheeks and bats her eyelashes, a well-practiced display of aegyo. "I've been practicing my punches and kicks all day. I'm so excited to show him the progress I've made. I just can't wait!"

You sigh, a fond smile tugging at your lips. You know when you've lost this battle. Ji-An's determination was always a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, but on one condition," you stipulate. "You must promise me you won't mention this late-night training session to Jin-Man, okay?"

Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she grins widely, revealing her perfectly aligned teeth. "I promise, noona. Your secret is safe with me. Furthermore, you once again have a battlefield odor."

You chuckle, your hand reaching up to affectionately ruffle her slightly messy hair. "Alright, alright. I hear you, Ji-An. But�� before you go," you add, holding up a finger to catch her attention as she's about to spring up from the couch. "I need you to do a few things for me."

She looks at you expectantly, a frown forming on her forehead. "What is it, Noona?"

"First, go put some warm clothes on. It's cold outside, and I don't want you to catch a cold. Second, remember to turn off the TV before you leave. And finally," you say, pointing at the pile of dishes in the sink, "wash the dishes. We can't have ants invading our kitchen."

She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "But noona-"

"I know, Ji. But we all have to do things we don't like. It's part of being responsible. Now, go on. I need to get cleaned up."

“Yes, mom.”

With a dramatic sigh, she nods, pushing herself off the couch to do as you instructed. You watch her go, a small smile on your face. She may be a handful at times, but she always listens to you in the end.

Turning your attention back to yourself, you head towards the bathroom.

As soon as you open the door, you take off your jacket and immediately spit out blood into the sink, wincing at the sound of it hitting the porcelain like a bullet casing echoing through an empty chamber.

There's a persistent ringing in your ears—maybe from gunshots, screams or just stress. But it doesn't matter now. You grab a bottle of painkillers from under the sink and swallow two dry, feeling them slide down your throat like tiny pebbles.

Caught in the mirror is an unflattering reflection: dark circles like bruised moons under your eyes, mascara smeared across your lids like the inky strokes of a careless painter, strands of long hair, reeking of sweat and clinging to your forehead. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, souvenirs of the hours spent digging through the earth looking for something you weren't supposed to find.

Your hand reaches for a washcloth, dipping it into the warm water as you lean against the sink for support while taking stock of your wounds. Your skin is scraped raw from crawling through unmarked graves and dodging bullets; there's a deep cut on your left thigh and shallow ones along your arms where you used them for cover. Your ribs ache where that bastard shot you, but at least it was only grazed. That bullet could have done some real damage if it had been an inch to the left. You grit your teeth against the pain and scrub away the blood with vigor.

Despite the pain and the exhausting work, nothing can change the fact that you did what needed to be done. Murthehelp is always like this—dirty, dangerous, and hazy at times—but someone has to do it. And you do it very, very well.

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Jeong Ji-An pokes her head in. "Do you need anything else before I head out, noona?" She asks curiously and her face softens when she sees the bandages peeking from under your torn shirt, her mouth turning down into a worried frown.

"No," you reply with a small, weary smile. "Just admiring my handiwork."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't comment—she knows better than anyone how tough life can be sometimes. You can hear her rustling around in her room before returning with some clean clothes for you and announcing that she turned off the TV and did the dishes like a good girl.

“Great, baby."

Looking down, you see the baby blue lacy pajamas she knows you love to wear.

"It's your favorite, right, noona?" She says this, holding up the soft fabric. "And you know, Uncle Jin-Man always says you look nice in these." She adds with a teasing smile. “Maybe wearing these will make him less angry at you for coming home shot again."

You laugh at that, despite the pain it causes in your ribs. "I'll keep that in mind, Ji-An. Thanks for the tip."

With that, she gives you a quick, warm smile, her eyes twinkling with that youthful mischief, before she heads for the door. "Don't let him put you in a wheelchair. I like it when you’re able to walk, you know. It’s not as fun when you’re all bandaged up and grumpy.”

“Yah! Jeong Jin-An!” You shout, feigning anger. But the girl was already gone, her laughter echoing in the hallway.

“That brat…” You mutter under your breath, a small smile playing on your lips despite the pain.

Gently, you peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking to your sweat-drenched skin. You leave them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

With a sigh, you sink into the water, wincing slightly as it stings your fresh wounds. Yet soon, the warmth starts to seep into your muscles, loosening the knots of tension and easing the throbbing pain.

There, in the bathtub, you lower your head beneath the water, closing your eyes and holding your breath. You imagine what it would be like to be this weightless always. It's quiet and warm, and your mind is empty of anything other than the comforting lull of the water against your skin.

You think about how every inch of your body screams in agony, and how, in this moment, submerged in this warm bath, the pain is bearable. You entertain the thought of what it would be like to let go, to surrender to the quiet peace of the water.

Then, your mind wanders to the feeling of the porcelain against your skin. You recall a memory from a few weeks ago when you were sitting in a bathtub similar to this, and only then were you engaged in a deep conversation with Min Hye. Her voice was punctuated by the sound of her smoking, the bright red lipstick staining the cigarette’s filter. There, you weren't holding your breath. You were telling yourself to remember that moment, how it made you feel alive despite the danger lurking outside your door.

You think about the bruises on your knees, the deep purple and blue hues, the tenderness you feel when they brush against each other and even though they hurt, they'll fade in a few days, just like the pain from your past.

You think of how your lungs are starting to ache, and it reminds you of running through the park with your sister, rolling down a hill and picking leaves from each other's hair. You then think of the day she died, how you held her lifeless body in that same park, and how the world seemed too cruel and too big.

It was like the earth was mourning for her, groaning, opening up its foundations like an old and creaky house, revealing its rotting insides. And yet the wind, the rain and the cold weren’t the cause of the shivers that raked her body, making her hands tremble and her eyelids twitch.

A body left to rot, to return to the soil, to turn into dust. A name scratched from the books. A face lost to the turning tides of history.

You contemplate all these things and more. You ponder everything that comes with living and being alive. All the things that hurt, sting and break skin, and then all the things that are light, gentle and happy. You weigh the two in your hands; the pain and the joy are so intertwined that they're impossible to separate.

After what seems like an eternity, the water begins to turn a pale pink from the blood seeping out of your wounds. Your skin is raw and red, stinging from the hot water and the rough scrubbing. Despite the pain, you can't help but feel a little cleaner, a little less tainted by the night's events.

Slowly, you pull the plug and let the water drain, watching as the pink swirls spiral down the drain until only a few droplets remain.

You reach for a towel, wrapping it around your body and wincing as the rough fabric brushes against your tender skin. The mirror is fogged up, but you don't need to see your reflection to know the extent of your injuries.

Moving to the sink, you retrieve a first-aid kit and start to stitch up the deeper cuts. The process is tedious and painful, but you've done it countless times before. Your hands shake slightly, but the thread goes through the skin with practiced ease. Once the stitching is done, you clean the area one more time before applying a bandage over it.

Dried off and bandaged, you put on the pajamas and head to Jin Man’s office.

The office door is slightly ajar, revealing the familiar sight of his desk cluttered with papers and screens, each displaying different angles of surveillance footage or diagrams.

A map of Seoul sprawls across the large desk, littered with notes, files and printouts from their last job. On the screen of his computer are grainy photos taken from a distance; they appear to be of two men meeting in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. One man has his back turned towards the camera while the other gestures wildly with his hands, most likely giving orders or directions.

You push the door open further and step inside, wincing at the loud squeak it makes under your weight. It needs oiling.

Jeong doesn't even seem to notice or mind; he's too absorbed in whatever he's working on. A half-empty cup of cold coffee sits on his desk, the steam long since dissipated, next to a plate with crumbs from a hastily eaten sandwich that looks like it was abandoned mid-bite.

You take a moment to appreciate how he wears his work like a second skin—it defines him, molds him into something almost apart from human—and you feel a pang of guilt for disrupting his routine like this.

His office smells metallic and antiseptic; it's always been like that since you can remember. Not unpleasant but not inviting either; it matches his personality perfectly. Outside, the world continues its mad rush of people, cars and noise. But here, there's just the hum of machinery from his computer and occasional typing noises.

"Done playing the tough guy, huh?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"You walk like a cat," he replies, not missing a beat, "And after a shower, you always smell like a mix of vanilla and lavender. It's a comforting scent, but it doesn't cover the stench of danger that follows you."

His words hang in the air, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. You watch him, taking in his stern expression and the way his fingers dance over the keyboard. His words are stoic, almost passive-aggressive, but you know him well enough to see the flash of worry behind his icy demeanor.

"Could you at least look at me when you're lecturing me?" You snap, regretting the bitter edge in your voice the moment it escapes your lips.

He finally looks up, his eyes hard and unreadable. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm merely stating the facts."

Surpised, you watch as he fixes his table, clearing a space amidst the clutter. It's a spot you know well, a space you've occupied many times in the past. It's an unspoken invitation, a silent concession on his part. Despite his harsh words, he's still making room for you.

You hop onto the table, wincing slightly at the sharp pain that flares up from your ribs. He doesn't comment on it, keeping his attention fixed on his work, but you notice the slight tightening of his jaw.

Provoked by his dismissive attitude, you reach for a lighter and a lone cigarette that's been left on the edge of his cluttered desk. It's a mint flavored one, you notice, the kind Ji-An prefers and sneaks in from time to time, despite her uncle's constant disapproval.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You challenge, striking the lighter and bringing the small flame to the end of the cigarette. The pungent smell of the tobacco fills the room as you take a deep breath, the smoke curling in the air around you.

He finally takes a long sip of his coffee before turning to look at you. "No," he says finally, "it's supposed to make you think. Think about your reckless actions and the consequences. Think about the people who care about you and worry about you. You could have avoided this," he adds, his gaze dropping to your bandaged ribs, "if you had answered my calls or asked Pasin for reinforcements."

"I was handling it just fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"Do you think this is a game?" He hisses, his icy composure finally breaking. "Do you think you're invincible?"

"You're not the only one who can handle a mission, Jin-Man," you snap back, ashing the cigarette on his pristine desk. "I can take care of myself."

In a split second, he’s on his feet. He moves so fast that you barely have time to react. One moment he's sitting behind his desk, and the next he's standing in front of you, his hands on your knees, forcing your legs apart to make space for him. He steps in between them, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

Before you can utter another word, he pulls out a knife from his pocket, a switchblade with a sleek, matte black finish that glints ominously under the harsh fluorescent lights. He presses the cold, razor-sharp blade against the tender skin of your throat. His touch is light, but you know he can cut deep if he wants to.

Simultaneously, he snatches the cigarette from your hand, crushing it under his boot. The smell of burnt nicotine fills the air, mixing with the sterile scent of his office.

“Hey! I need my nicotine fix-”

“Quiet!" he hisses. “I don't know if your goal is to live only for 2 or 3 years more, but you're so reckless, and you're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

The words hang heavy in the silent room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare back at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's close—so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His jeans brush against your bare legs, and you can't help but shiver, feeling the wetness between your legs spread.

"I didn't save you from that cabaret to watch you bleed out. I didn't let you raise my niece as your daughter, only to let her see you getting home wounded. I didn't invite you into my and Ji-An’s lives just for you to get yourself killed." A thin line of blood appears where the blade grazes harder against your skin, but, no, he doesn't pull away; he's only watching as it blooms red against the pale expanse of your neck.

"You don't get to decide what I can and can't handle. I'm not the damsel in distress you saved from that grimy cabaret. I'm not your innocent niece who needs protection. I'm not your responsibility. I'm a killer, just like you."

"And what if you are? What if you're more than just a responsibility to me? I don't even know where you end and I begin." He moves his face closer to your collarbones, and his tongue darts out to taste the saltiness left behind by the blood trickling down from the cuts on your neck. It's a possessive kiss—like he wants to claim every part of you as his own.

Suddenly, you are very aware that he is a man who's been through hell and back—not just with the scars from bullets and knives but also from the way his eyes seem to hold so much pain yet desperation for something more.

"I'm tired of watching you put yourself in danger. You can't keep doing this."

For the first time in years, Jin Man sounds truly vulnerable. His gaze stays locked on yours as if waiting for an answer or maybe hoping you'll finally say something that will change his mind about caring for you. But all you can do is breathe in the scent of his cologne, which mixes with sweat.

You feel yourself slipping away from sanity, wanting him to save you from the chaos within yourself.

"I don’t need someone but myself.”

He sighs heavily.

His large hands shake as they grip your knees tightly for support as he leans against them, staring down at your groin, taking in your arousal staining the PJ shorts.

“Yeah? Can you take care of this yourself, too?”

Pulling the blade out of your throat, he carries on, pressing the blade against your skin gently, tracing it along one hipbone, then the other, as if he needs to make sure everything is okay down there. His hand brushes against the tender skin of your thighs before slipping inside your shorts to touch where you're wet from anticipation and fear mingled together.

It's intimate but also terrifying—you can't help but squirm under his touch as he traces the outline of your labia teasingly while looking straight at you with those dark eyes that have haunted your dreams for months now.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling as he starts cutting through the fabric of your shorts, and you hear the soft rip of cotton tearing apart.

The air in the room feels heavy with anticipation and tension as he caresses your mound before pushing inside. It's cold against your heated skin, making you squirm slightly under his touch.

The knife glides through your folds effortlessly, causing you to gasp in surprise when it hits something soft and sensitive inside you.

He withdraws the blade slowly, the cold metal leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. A small cut on your flesh blossoms like a tiny crimson flower, the evidence of his intrusion.

A bead of blood forms at the edge of it, growing in size until it's too heavy to cling to the blade. It drips onto the floor between your legs.

With a calculated motion, he discards the bloodied knife onto his desk, the clattering sound echoing in the charged silence of the room.

"So experienced yet so innocent. My little lamb," he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he smears his finger on the little pool of sweet nectar seeping from between your folds.

"What are you doing?"

His dick strains in his trousers, throbbing at the unsure, confused tone that layers your question. It sears through him like a midsummer heatwave—the flash of bright sunlight after the clouds of a storm have parted. Jesus, you’re too good at this; you know exactly how to get under his skin.

“Teaching you to not play with fire.”

It's clear he's not going to let you hide behind a wall of anger and defiance anymore. Each word he says seems to peel away another layer of your armor, exposing something raw and fragile underneath. Something that craves his touch, even when it hurts.

"Ouch!" You exclaim sharply as his strong hand grips your arm, yanking you around and forcing you to stand upright again. The abruptness of the movement causes a jolt of pain to shoot through your body, making you wince.

Before you have a chance to protest or push him away, you're bent forward, your chest pressing against the cool, polished wood of his desk. You try to push yourself back up, but you're stopped by a firm hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, effectively pinning you in place.

“Stay still.”

You let out a whimper, your hips instinctively shifting in response to his forceful command. Slowly, you let your body go limp, surrendering to the dominating position that Jin-Man has forced you into.

“Do you know,” the man begins, fingers trailing down your lithe back, along the length of your spine, all the way down until his fingers can tuck under the hem of the rest of your shorts, "that in the old days, rulers like this were not just used for measurement?"

You know it. But you won’t answer; you won’t give him the taste. So you shake your head and make a whining sound as your boss begins to push the fabric down over the swell of your ass.

"They were also used for discipline against wayward children.”

Your whole body shivers.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Long lines of red across your thighs and ass marks to remind you not to act like such a slut…” Jeong emphasizes the words with the drag of nails against the newly-bared skin. “You’re just asking to be punished.”

Shaking your head again, you try to deny the accusation.

“Oh,” the man says, feigning surprise and removing his hand from your backside. “You don’t? You don’t want me to spank you for your insolence today? You want me to stop?”

There’s a small thudding sound as you let your head bump into the desk a couple of times in self-punishment. When you speak, the words are straining and shaking. “N-No, Sir.”

“What was that?”

You groan in frustration. “Yah, Jeong Jin-Man, come on! Ah!”

Fingers wound tightly in your hair, Jin Man pulls your head back from the desk, baring your bruised neck. “Excuse me?”

“Sir! Sir, I’m sorry; please, I’ll be good, I–” You mumble, probably aiming for politeness, but the words come out more sulky than you likely intended.

Jeong Jin-Man ignores it in favour of getting your bloodied shorts down, pushing them over your thighs until they fall to a puddle on the floor around your ankles. Spreading the cheeks, he can see your stretched and cut pussy, can see the throb of your clit, your smaller, puckered hole also smeared with wetness from just how much you had been oozing out.

Lifting his gaze, he surveys the room meticulously. His eyes linger on the worn-out leather chair with its loose stitching, the stacks of paperwork teetering precariously on the edge of his desk, and the dimly lit ceiling lamp that casts long, sinister shadows on the wooden floor. His gaze then falls on a wooden ruler resting among a chaotic array of stationery in an open drawer.

He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around it and lifting it from its resting place. He turns it over in his hand, feeling the rough texture of the worn wood against his skin. He tests its weight, swishing it through the air and listening to the soft whooshing sound it makes.

He thinks he will only stop once your ass and the backs of your thighs are neatly lined in red, with touches of crimson and purpling spots showing through the skin where patches of bruising are going to form.

Jin Man knows your skin has always been easy to mark, flaring eagerly with scarlets, pale rose and smatterings of plum. The warm colours are quick to fade, replaced by blues and greens, mottled yellows that cover the fragile arcs of your cartilage, flesh pasted with echoes of tender, affectionate violence.

It’s so pretty, so lovely. He has always preferred charcoal and pencils when setting something on paper, but when it comes to this particular canvas, he likes to paint.

His free hand settles on your ass, squeezing it hard and leaving his large palm impression on your skin, making your lips quiver.

"One," he says, and the sting is immediate as the ruler hits your right cheek, leaving a blossom of searing pain that radiates across your body, making you gasp. "Two," he continues, and this time the ruler hits your left cheek, making you shudder violently.

The sting is fierce but not enough to distract from the strange pleasure that courses through you. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each strike.

"Three." He slaps your left side, causing a wave of heat to wash over you as he repeats it on the other side.

The room seems to echo with the sounds of his hand connecting with your flesh. This time he doesn't stop at five but hits six and seven times on both sides before pulling back to admire his handiwork.

The welts are already bright red and tender, ready for him to take more if need be. He runs a finger down each one gently, tracing their edges before trailing it lower between your legs, where he presses against your clit roughly. You moan loudly this time, needing him to continue even though it hurts so good.

“I-Is it over?”

He chuckles, the sound dark and low, resonating from the pit of his chest. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine and has you clenching your thighs together in anticipation. He lifts his finger, coated with your arousal, and presents it to your lips. "Taste," he commands.

You parted your lips obediently, taking his finger into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around it, tasting your own arousal—salty and bitter, with a hint of metallic tang from your earlier exertion. It's a taste that's uniquely yours—a taste that he's come to crave.

Once you've licked his finger clean, he pulls it away and grabs hold of the ruler again. He brandishes it in front of you, the wooden surface gleaming under the harsh lighting. Another line of pain sears across your ass cheeks, making you jerk in surprise. This time, when he pulls back, he commands, "Sit on the desk and spread your legs.”

Again, you hesitate. You can feel your fingers twitching, itching to claw at him, to show him your defiance. But you know better than to challenge him now.

Crack!

Jeong snaps the ruler against the desk and you flinch. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

No, you think, but you're not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you say it. You scramble into action, hopping up onto the desk again, scooting backwards until your knees hook on the table’s edge when you open your legs. The sting of the cut intensifies, making you wince, but you refuse to let out a sound.

One more time, he steps between your spread thighs. “You asked if your punishment was over. Do you really think that after all your disobedient, inappropriate behavior today, those measly strikes were all you deserved?”

Shaking your head desperately, you babble, “No, sir, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Jeong Jin- Man stuts. “And now you’re lying…”

“No, please, I just want to be good, I–” You are cut off with a hiss as your boss cracks the ruler down half-way up the center of your inner thigh.

He doesn’t lift the ruler, instead dragging it over your skin, up, up, up until he reaches the crux of your hip. You shiver, your eyes wide and your lips caught between teeth.

Glancing down at the ruler, you see the point of which is laying mere inches from your cunt before looking back up.

Jeong can tell that you’re trying to hide how hungry you are and how much you want this, want more, and need it. But you are so subtle about it; he can only tell because he knows where to look.

“You don’t need to count this time,” he says, seemingly casual. “Just do your best not to make too much noise, hmm? We don’t want Ji-An to come back home and hear you like this.”

“Yes, Sir.” Your reply is curt, but the edge in your voice is unmistakable.

Jeong doesn't seem to mind your defiance. If anything, it seems to amuse him, admiring the way the muscles in your thighs tense up as he uses the ruler to part your soft labia. He presses the wooden corner harshly against your clit.

“Fu– Mmph.” A sharp, snapping sound breaks through the air as you clap a hand over your own mouth, cutting off the curse before it can fully form itself.

The man smirks and twists the ruler, maintaining the heavy pressure.

Smack! Smack!

Puffy lips must cushion the blows, just slightly, but he is still sure that it’s sharp enough to hurt when the blows make contact with your swollen clit. The impacts sound moist, and the slick covering your skin likely makes the sting a touch more severe.

Jin-Man doesn’t give you a moment to recover between each hit, unleashing a stream of spanks in quick succession, each one causing your entire body to jump and convulse as though you had been electrocuted.

“Ngh, ngh, nghh—Mmph!” You have both of your hands covering your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut and your knees jerking inward on every impact. You try to bare your teeth at him, a growl of defiance building in your throat, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, as if you're a dog trying to show aggression to its master.

It only takes a few more smacks against your pussy before the man’s free hand has to grip your thigh and hold it still, keeping you from allowing your legs to close.

Resting for a moment, Jeong lets the flat side of the ruler lay overtop of your cunt. The already-flushed skin is now a darkened red rather than that rose-petal pink, the colour of your mouth. He is sure that it would be hot to the touch, glowing with heat from the abuse.

“Please!”

Dropping the ruler to the floor, he steps forward. Reaching down with one hand to click open the buckle of his belt, he buries the other in your hair. "Please, what?" he asks, his hand tugging on your hair, tilting your head back to expose your delicate throat. The threat of teeth grazing your skin is electrifying.

He takes his time, slowly unbuckling his belt, the leather sliding out of its loops with a soft whisper of sound. His pants drop to the floor, pooling around his ankles, revealing a hard thickness straining against the fabric of his boxers.

With a swift tug, it's freed, standing erect and proud.

Your eyes widen at the sight, heat pooling in your lower belly. The tip of his cock is flushed a dark red, throbbing with anticipation, the veins on the sides bulging and straining, ready to claim its prize.

A whimper escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily. The heat radiating off his dick is palpable, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel sliding into you, filling you to the brim.

On seeing your reaction, a predatory grin spreads across Jeong's face. He moves closer, his hand gripping your head firmly and holding you still. He positions himself at your entrance, his fingers gripping your hips, pulling your legs wider apart.

And as he thrusts into you, claiming you entirely, the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone rings in your mind again.

Only this time, you are not a helpless Persephone being whisked away to a foreign underworld. Instead, you are a willing partner in this dance of power and desolation, a queen finding her throne in the deepest depths of hell. And Jin-Man, your Hades, is not just your captor but also your savior, a dark god offering you a sanctuary built on shadows and secrets.

As the underworld of his life consumes you, you realize there are no seasons dictating your stay, no harvest goddess waiting for your return. Your fate is braided with his, and in this underworld, you are both the rulers, bound not by pomegranate seeds but by a desire as relentless and binding as the river Styx itself.

#jeong jin man #a shop for killers #lee dong wook #lee dong wook x reader #seo moonjo #seo moonjo x reader #yoon jongwoo #floriculturist #imagine

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mystverse · 1 month ago

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CURRENTLY READING & TBR - SMAU : : NCT & SKZ

CONTROL ALT + LOVE : : @strrykais

being a girl in the world of gaming is hard, that's why you've kept your identity a secret. after years of intense grinding, you have earned the title of the strongest mage player in the non-professional server. gaining the attention of an esports team they extend an invitation for you to join as their mid-solo.

having to overcome the fear of being a girl in the male dominated field, you come to learn maybe defeating boys - or specifically a certain boy - is something you could get used to.

RENT-A-GIRLFRIEND.COM : : @jji-lee

maybe you should've deleted that stupid girlfriend rental website you made years ago. and maybe you should've ignored park jisung's very desperate request to pay for a fake girlfriend. but hey, it's easy money, not like you'll fall in love with him or anything... right?

basically, even though the rent-a-girlfriend site isn't actually in service... who would say no to $34 an hour and free dates with park jisung?

(NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER! : : @mrkified

huang renjun x fem!reader

never in a million years would you ever be bold enough to talk to your biology partner renjun outside of school — which is why you came up with the bright idea to leave sticky notes on his car to catch his attention

ROSES : : @nneteyamss

✰ .ᐟ summary: during your freshman year of college, you had a situationship with jaehyun. despite both falling for each other, issues got in the way, and jaehyun ghosted you. it's been 2 years since, and he never got over you, and he'd do almost anything to get you again... including writing a song to get your attention.

IN PERFECT SYNC : : @yutarot

synopsis: your dance college wasn’t the easiest to get into, let alone was it easy to stay. so what happens when your college decides they need to cut two of the dance teams from competing ever again, the ballet team and the hiphop team. will both teams get along in order to solve their connected issue, or will they fight to get their own team back to competing again? only you and hip-hop dance team captain, jeong jaehyun, can decide your teams fates. but there’s one problem, you hate each other.

NIGHTWALKER : : @viasdreams

'No human blood' is an extremely grueling rule for Donghyuck to live by, his fledgling vampire urges, consuming his every thought. Some days, he finds himself struggling to hold onto his humanity, constantly fighting against his insatiable cravings. His human facade slips one night when he passes you, your bloody hand unknowingly guiding his monstrous actions.

or haechan accidentally sucks your blood, and drama ensues

MATCH OUR HEARTS! : : @chenlesfavorite

being a love consultant is definitely a one of a kind job, but hey, all that matters is that you like it! even if that means hearing all sorts of stuff from your clients…

renjun, on the other hand, is a peaceful bakery owner… well, he was peaceful until he fell in love with this girl that visits the bakery almost every day! he’s liked her for a while but he can’t bring himself to confess and he doesn’t have the slightest clue about love… so his friends come up with the genius idea that he should go to a love consultant.

but falling for the love consultant was not on his list when he requested your help.

CATCH THAT GOMDO! ᵔⰙᵔ : : @jungaji

synopsis: neo city zoo and aequarium have been fierce competitors for years, fighting to outshine each other. what would happen to the two attractions when you decide to pocket a cute bear keychain lying near the jellyfish display for yourself, blissfully unaware that it belongs to the infamous zoo-keeper lee haechan?

RIDE OR DIE : : @yutarot

synopsis; you knew very little of jeno lee, but who did? he scared most people and hated the rest. so what happens when you accidentally walk in on him removing his race jacket, identifying him as the famous, faceless f1 driver you and everyone else know under the name samo. do you run around the college telling everyone of his secret? or do you take the opportunity to strike a deal with him, a deal which changes both of your lives, forever. a fake relationship.

ZOOM, CLICK, PANIC ! - @jji-lee

virgin nerd!hyuck x camgirl!reader

with your platform growing, it's about time you get your own personal cameraman! you probably should've put in the job description that the position involved working with a camgirl... maybe then sweet virgin nerd lee donghyuck wouldn't have applied for the job. now he's stuck with you, but he's determined to make it work.

alternatively, hyuck is a photography nerd who needs money for new cameras and lenses, and you're a camgirl in desperate need of a cameraman.

EMPTY PROMISES : : @mrkified

all your friends told you that lee jeno wasn’t worth it, but you didn’t listen nor care. to you he was more than the ‘empty promises’ that your friends seemed to think he gave you.

LOVE HURTS (LITERALLY) : : @wonbin-truther

Doctor! Renjun x reader

the first time yn ended in the ER, it was a complete accident the other times, however ... maybe there was a certain ER doctor on call who sparked the sudden visit. when Huang Renjun got his medical degree in emergency medicine, he didn't plan to use it just to treat the same girl who comes in with a new injury just to see him.

COMMUNITY : : @peacheeeliz

PARING ⤏ nonidol!mark x nonidol!fem reader

SYNOPSIS ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?

MARK LEE VS. THE WORLD : : @winwintea

PAIRING ↬ bassist!mark lee x fem!reader

SUMMARY ↬ mark has never wanted anything in his life. the lead bassist for 'dream on', unemployed, and quite literally a loser, mark expects he's hit rock bottom from here. that is until you, the girl of his dreams quite literally skates out of his dreams and into his life. mark has never wanted anything more. but is love really worth the emotional baggage when you have seven evil exes, who each possess superpowers and are intent on defeating him?

LOVE ON THE (DANCE) FLOOR : : @v1si0n

SUMMARY: jeno was not thrilled about you joining his dance team, especially because he starts messing up every time you’re around. is it really his fault that he gets distracted by how good you look when you dance?

: MYST

#myst rec list #fic recs #nct smau #nct dream smau #skz smau #smau

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xerotiny99 · 7 months ago

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Strangers // Ethel Cain #2

Strangers (Part One: Knuckle Velvet)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: cannibalism, graphic depiction of cannibalism, violence and death, smut, and heavy on angst.

Note: sequel to knuckle velvet, adaptation of the song "stangers" by Ethel Cain.

Gist: having lost all hope for Yunho's return, you go on about your life to find him back at your doorstep in a couple of weeks; with much more menacing personality than before, he continues to play you along to his tunes. You don't realise how detrimental he was for you, not until you were counting last of your breaths.

Song Rec: Strangers by Ethel Cain

Word Count: 2,568

Reader's Perspective.

"Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love."

My mom would always tell me to stay away from strangers. I kept her words in my head until the day I met Yunho. The moment my sullen gaze was casted on him, everything in my head turned to mush; I saw him in the home supplies aisle of our local supermarket. He stood confused, contemplating what brand of bleach to buy. It seemed ridiculous, for a guy to ponder on the brand of bleach. I used to work at the supermarket, it was my humbling duty to help him out. And surprisingly, we hit it off quite quickly then.

For a mere minute, I believed he was genuinely interested in me, and maybe he was. Who could even resist his presence, or his tantalising words? He was irresistible in every sense, be it his personality or his appearance. I still remember the day we first went out. It was a drive-in theatre; they were showing the old classic, notebook. Though, there wasn't much watching involved when we were both busy sucking each other's faces off. Kind of vague and pathetic, I know. It's the reason why I knew we'd never work out.

My doubts were soon blown out to my reality. He was abusive, irresponsible, and arrogant. A complete three-sixty from the face he had. One might seemingly assume he's one of the angels, a dearie. He's not. He never was. I still carry the marks and bruises on my skin, he left them with much malign he shrouds in his heart. I'm a tattered piece of his rage, evermore stuck and hellbound to the torturous depths of his anger. Yet, I never learn. I never learn to rid myself of him; he isn't a part of me. He doesn't define me. Then why do I run back to him the moment he acts a little different?

After he left that day, I stayed close to the door, hoping for his return. He didn't come. He never did. He was never going to. Though, a couple of days ago, I saw him hanging out by the pier, rolling blunts and smoking them with his friends. It hurt me; I'll admit. But with the way things were left between us, I wasn't hopeful he'd come back to me.

And then the unthinkable happened.

He was standing on my front porch, heart in his hand, apologising. He made this face, almost like a despondent puppy, reeling me in with those tearful eyes. My heart lurched in a minute, believing his apologies, believing him.

"Come with me, sunshine," he said, "come with me, and we'll be forever together." He took a long pause then, "I've changed my ways, I've made myself better. I want to be better for you."

I believed him.

I stared at his hand, extended, outreaching mine.

I laced our hands together.

And together, we left my old house.

A house accommodating my schizophrenic mother and no one else.

He took me to a better place. His place. A house on the prairie. Secluded. It was our own paradise.

A paradise I would soon start to resent.

───────────────

I heard your footsteps outside. Outside this basement door, in the mere darkness I was trapped in. Was the darkness just in my head? Because you said this place would be mine to live, mine to roam, mine to stay. Then what am I doing in your basement? Lying in cold, under the ambiguous ceiling of stone, I wonder what you're doing standing outside all alone.

I knew it then, when the door rattled open. I shouldn't be keeping hopes with you again. You're not here to make me feel better about this situation. You're here to do what you do best. Seeming to help me. It's funny how I never considered myself tough. I fell in love with you without weighing my thoughts. I gave myself to you so easily, never putting up a fight when you had your way with me, with your fists and teeth.

"Hey, sunshine," your soft voice calls out, "how are you feeling today?"

You're so handsome walking over to me. A piece of art, as I'd always considered you to be. Sculpted by the Gods, your face so comely and beautiful. It brings butterflies to my belly every time I see your face.

Lifeless, I've surrendered myself to your ways. If I could mumble out a string of words, they'd be all about how pretty you are. You know that, right? You know you're too pretty for me, right Yunho? It was my mistake to fall for a handsome face, rather than for a handsome heart. But you went on to make me believe you were virtuous. Who knew you'd be so sinister.

You crouch down next to me. And me, unfazed by your presence, keep staring at the ceiling. I don't know what I'm thinking about, though it's certain I'm thinking about you. Ruminating mindlessly about your face, and your warmth.

"Come on, won't you sit up for me? I'm here for you." your feigned affection is a deadly concoction of hate and love. Should I even be concerned? Should I believe you like I usually do?

"Be a good girl for me, sunshine," you prompt, cupping my face with your cold hands.

"I haven't been a good girl to you, so far?" I mumble, my eyes darting to your face; you had a frail smile on your lips, murmuring, "you have."

You pull me up, forcing me to sit straighter. "You've been such a good girl for me."

"Am I really no good for you, Yunho?"

You shake your head, as if to push my worries away. "Sunshine, you are. You have been good for me."

"I just want to be yours." I whisper my words, rambling, "can I be yours? I am yours, right?"

"Yes, you are," you state, stroking away the stray strands of my hair from my face. "You're mine. And I'm yours. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah." I bite my tongue, contemplating speaking.

You have this look in your eye, as if you're satisfied, yet tempted to devour me. You've been doing it for a while now. Devouring me raw.

"Just tell me if I'm turning in your stomach and making you feel sick."

"No, sunshine. You're not." You lean in to kiss me, capturing my lips in haze which burns in my head.

Our touches have always sparked my desire for intimacy, our bodies are so compatible with each other. Is that why you've been cutting off my flesh and eating it? Do I taste any better? Do I make you sick? I don't want to make you sick. I love you too much for that. Our kiss blazes, growing to an intimate extent; we were lost in the carnality, in the darkness of your basement. And then, we made love for the first time.

I vaguely remember what happened afterwards, but you, taking care of me was burnt in my soul. You didn't keep me confined in your basement since then; instead, you put me in a room. It was comfortable, decorative and warm. Just like you. Though, you were delicate with me, my thighs felt sore. Why was it? Was it because you had taken away the flesh from my thighs? I felt so light. Agony was slowly creeping up my stomach, making me sick. I don't want to complain about you cutting off my body, you can have as many pieces of me as you want.

One early morning, you took me to the local supermarket. We were buying some ingredients for the meal tonight. You said you'd cook me a meal, treat me with dinner and make me forget about the pain. I trusted you. I trusted you blindly, anticipating for the night planned out in front of me. You held my hand so tight in yours as we roamed aisle to aisle, picking out the different ingredients needed for the meal. I mellowed down when we came across the dairy aisle; my mom would come here every day, grab two cartons of milk and leave. If I meet her here, I'd run up to her and embrace her in one of the warmest hugs. But she wasn't there. My heart sunk to my gut; if she was there, she'd cry.

We came back home after a long tour of the supermarket. It was almost the time for dinner preparations. The sun was setting on the skyline, painting the horizon with hues of orange and red; somewhere in the purple sky, the moon started to peek out. A world hushed with our whispers, when you lead me up to the house's attic. You said you had a surprise for me. I was eager.

Coming to the attic, my senses were numb. You had decorated that small space with all my favourite things; a shahmina sitting in the centre, fairy lights on the ceiling hanging low in curves, and countless pillows littered the mattress under the shahmina. You led me further inside, by my hand. We drifted to the night breeze crawling in through the open window. And the cold made us find a way to warm ourselves.

You kiss me then, your lips tingling on mine as I straddle your lap; we're going at it, hands roaming each other's bodies, wanting to strip each other bare. I was tugging at your leather jacket, anticipating. In some carnal enthusiasm, I do rid you off your clothes, keeping you warm to me only in your briefs. You were eager too; I could feel it in the way your cock rubbed my belly. Sinking into your lap, you break the kiss to tear my clothes off.

I watch the pieces of my dress lying around me, torn by your brute strength; wearing nothing underneath made you drool, salivate at the way my body was still holding the bruises you left behind. Every scar on my skin is a reminder of your ways with me, when you'd abuse me to your heart's content, make me mewl and whimper your name.

You don't want that now, do you Yunho?

While we're in each other's arms, pushing all our limits to be one together, the moon outside is brightening up the sky. Your grasp on me is tight, your fingers digging into the remaining flesh on my thighs; you want me so badly and I did too. I was grinding myself in your lap, getting any friction I could get from you.

"You're too eager, sunshine." You mumble, kissing my cheek and then trailing your lips under my jaw. "We've got the whole night. I'm not going anywhere. So aren't you."

I should've known what you meant by it then. But I was too engrossed in the way your hands seared my skin, pulling at my chest and tugging at my prodding nipples. Your bare fingers dance along my skin, tracing lines to my belly and then further down to my cunt; when your fingers curl inside me, I feel so cold. It was the good kind of cold. Should even I be feeling good about it? I don't know.

We made love then too. All night. You, fucking my brains out, as if I was the last person on the planet with you. God, it was so euphoric in some strange delight. We stayed in each other's arms till sun broke out from the dense of the night, we were tangled in each other's bodies; tired from all that we had done, forgotten about the dinner completely.

You told me then, "you're happier here, sunshine. You should be."

I believed you.

I believed every single word you said to me.

I believed every lie you fed me.

I believed even when I didn't want to.

I believed even when I saw straight through your lies.

You sat my dying body in front of you, staring straight through my eyes as you put a raw piece of meat in your mouth. That was me, right? You were devouring me, as you would. You're so handsome when I'm all over your mouth. When my blood smears on your lips, it makes me feel we're connected to each other on a spiritual level; we should be right? Because we're lovers.

I tried to be so good for you. I let you have me. I let you have me as you pleased. You're really breathtaking when you have me all over your face, the littlest streaks of crimson, and the sweetest taste of my flesh on your tongue. I am a good girl for you; though, as far as I'm concerned, I don't know who I am or what I am anymore. I wonder if others are missing me, worried about me? Sad for them, the only memory they'd have of me is the polaroid in evidence.

"Am I yours?" I asked with my dying breath, and you nodded your head, "all mine."

"Do I make you sick?"

"You do not."

It was then I knew, I was no longer in the position to keep going. Am I making you feel sick? I don't want you to feel sick. Am I making you feel sick? I don't want to...

Please tell me if I'm making you feel sick. I don't want to make you feel sick, I don't want you to fall sick because of me.

────────────

In the last moments of my life, I thought about my mother; how she must have been waiting for me, sitting by the window of our old house, patiently watching me come home. But I found her in my memories, only to tell her I've made it real far.

To tell her, I never blamed her for raising me the way she did, while she was torn apart. While she had her own woes to take care of. I don't blame her for my heart, or the way I turned out. I knew just how much she was going through to raise me right.

I'll wait for her here.

"Don't think about me too hard, I know you have trouble sleeping." She'd never sleep a wink again at night, knowing what had happened to me.

"Don't worry about seeking me or my eyes. I know you'd miss them."

"Mama, just know that I love you. I really do. And I'll see you when I get here."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho angst #ateez angst #yunho angst #angst

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narrativelysignificantturtleduck · 1 year ago

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I don't know if you mind me asking this, but how different would things be if Jeong-Jeong accompanied Aang, Katara, and Sokka to the North Pole? Would Jeong-Jeong be ok with Pakku's sexism or would he against it? Also, would Jeong-Jeong try to save Zhao from the giant ocean spirit or would he let him die?

i don't mind at all! if you ever sent me an ask and i didn't answer it's probably just because i forgot.

i've thought about jeong jeong joining the gaang before (i think he and toph would have a fun dynamic) but having him along for the northern water tribe storyline is something i haven't really explored. i think he'd be very eager to visit the north pole, to see waterbending in action and learn more about it. the pakku dynamic would be interesting. on one hand pakku would be the person vouching for him not being a dangerous firebender (since they're both in the white lotus) but on the other hand i think jeong jeong would support katara. under different circumstances, he might be like "healing is better, why do you want to bother with combat?" but he's seen the war, he knows what she's up against and why she wants to learn to fight. and i think pakku's condescending attitude of "go back to the healing huts with the other women" would piss him off BECAUSE he respects waterbending healing. how dare you act like that's an inferior place to be!

i've mentioned before that i'd love if we had another episode in the northern water tribe exploring

why the north & south gender roles are so different

pakku actually reforming, becoming less of a mean teacher

aang learning healing

and i think jeong jeong would be especially relevant to that last one. after burning katara in jeong jeong's episode, aang is scared to firebend for fear of hurting someone again. learning waterbending healing might make him more comfortable learning firebending because he knows if something like that happens again he can fix it. and jeong jeong would want to sit in on the water healing classes out of curiosity, and maybe he'd figure out how to adapt their techniques for firebending. it could help heal both of their relationships to fire and make them more capable of being teacher and student again.

(jeong jeong still might want to hold off on lessons until after they find an earthbending teacher though. like he's got a point about learning the elements in order)

jeong jeong's role in the siege of the north would be interesting. his wall-of-fire style isn't exactly suited to defending a city made of ice, and as a former admiral of the fire nation navy he could provide information that could help them take down the fleet. maybe he leads the undercover plan, and it's more successful bc his intel is only 10 years out of date as opposed to 80. or he might avoid active combat entirely, staying in the healing hut and using his new fire-healing to help with battle injuries. in any case, i don't think he'd affect anything that goes down at the spirit oasis. whether he's in combat or not, his knowledge would probably make him more useful closer to the front lines.

throughout the whole thing, he'd definitely have this feeling of "if i hadn't come to my senses that could've been me". i don't think admiral jeong jeong was like zhao but i do think jeong jeong sees some of his past self in zhao. as a character, zhao is a one-note imperialist, existing simply to represent the fire nation's cruelty, to be the embodiment of their ideology of relentless conquest. jeong jeong as a powerful firebending military leader was supposed to be that person, but he eventually realized that's not who he wanted to be.

i think if you asked him he'd say his past self had to die. but in the moment, like zuko, he would reach out a hand. he's not cold-hearted - that's why he had to leave - and he might deep down have some compassion for his past self. caught in a horrible system, made to be a horrible person.

but zhao would reject him just like he rejected zuko, because he's not jeong jeong and he's not zuko. he'd rather die than touch a traitor. he'd rather die than show any ounce of vulnerability or regret. he's just not that deep.

...this was a really good ask thank you

#ask #jeong jeong #nina's personal log

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ryuntv · 7 months ago

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yoo yongha, twenty5, male, he/him. ─── 3, 2, 1 — action! everyone, we’re here at jincheon national training center, and this time i have with me our national taekwondo team’s very own jeong ryun. you might know them for being a repeat gold-medalist at the world poomsae championships, but if not, don’t worry. they’re here to field all your burning questions. let’s dive right in.

sparknotes biog

born to a "single mother" january 13, 1999

not actually born to a single mother, but his dad is an absolute ghost of a man — he'll come out of himself every now & then, but spends most of his non-working time isolating himself. definitely battling some kind of mental health dilemma but 🤷 anyways... you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped and as an adult, ryun DOES NOT interact with his dad outside of when he visits home to see his mom

was always a "cute kid", luckily never had a (physically) awkward phase like... it's been smooth-sailing from birth. got a lot of compliments from friends of his mom, teachers, was popular among girls in his grade, etc etc, and it was often speculated (not super seriously, just in a silly "what if?" kind of way) that he'd end up pursuing a career in entertainment / "putting his face to use". he'd always shy away from the topic 'cause he did NOTTTT have ANYYY self-esteem and his tendencies were very similar to his father—do what has to be done (go to school), come home and spend the rest of his time rotting. he couldn't imagine any other kind of life

luckily, his mom is a gem of a woman. extremely compassionate & as soon as she realized ryun was starting to take after his dad, she realized she needed to intervene and help him find an outlet; she signed him up for taekwondo classes one summer when he was ~12. he didn't like it at first (mostly because of self-esteem and anxiety issues) but it didn't take long for something within him to awaken (s/o to his addictive personality)

learned quickly, obviously had his weaknesses but overall having something that he was good at and continuously getting better at made him feel a bit better about himself. plus, he was making friends who shared similar interests & when he was abt 15, they ended up forming their own little "street crew" in which they combined dance and poomsae and performed to k-pop songs, arnd this time ryun started seriously considering chasing an entertainment career considering he'd always been told to anyway... but it was that vs taekwondo; success with becoming an idol wasn't guaranteed, whereas he was very confident with his taekwondo skills so he let dancing/musical interests continue to be just a hobby

let me not bore y'all to tears with the details... tl;dr: placed in his first major competition @ 16 / was notably a triple threat & took home gold @ the world poomsae championships in 2018, 2019, 2020 / joined the national team in 2019, scouted after his second victory at the poomsae championships / figured he had "made it" and could kick back a little (LOLLL) and thus decided to take a break to participate in a kpop survival show in 2021, which he claimed he was "just doing for fun" and "wasn't serious about it" / made the lineup for the temporary group as the fans' choice, didn't train with the national team much throughout 2021, became somewhat more active in 2022 and 2023 but was still "busy" often / now that the group's disbanded, ryun feels kind of directionless. starting to realize maybe he liked being an idol more than he likes being an athlete, and his coach gave him the ultimatum of qualifying for the olympics (which he's never done before, and poomsae isn't included in the olympics which means he's gonna have to be able to SPAR on an olympic level... yeah good luck with that) or giving up his spot on the team so LOLLLL... let's see what happens next!

misc info

was extremely popular on the survival show, resulting in him being the "fans' choice" in the group lineup; however, for a number of reasons the widespread popularity kind of fizzled out once the group was actually formed & starting to promote

the main reason being that the company was eager to flex that they had a "national athlete" in their group, and many of the the choreographies incorporated some kind of stunt or trick for ryun to carry out — which you'd think would only increase his popularity, but they were very physically draining, and despite being a vocalist he was observed as not being able to hold a note which some people criticized him for while the die-hards were like "but look what he's doing!!!! of course his voice is unstable!!!! it's ok!!!"

(spoiler: his voice was always unstable anyway LOLLL)

plus there's the fact that many of the stunts/tricks weren't things that he could confidently perform over & over, and he ended up getting somewhat badly hurt abt a year after the group debuted. it took him a few months to heal (though he did make a full recovery! hooray!) but during this timeframe he was shit on SOOOOO hard... "not so interesting now that he can't do tricks for you, huh?" type beat. his confidence plummeted again around this time 'cause he was a strong dancer/performer but, again, his vocals were notttt that good

luckily he had fully recovered by the group's last two releases and finished out on a high note <3 some wld say his vocals had even improved (finally)

so here he is now... retreating to the national team admittedly less excited than you'd think... he sold out. he's a diva. let's tell it like it is.

mama's boy. has mentioned his mom in every interview he's ever given and will continue to do so, as he owes everything he has to her.

personality

very kind, but somewhat insincere.

cares a lot about the people around him, to an extent. he wants everything to be good, he wants everyone to be happy, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make those two things coincide as long as it doesn't entail him sacrificing anything. quite selfish, and puts his own wants and needs above others' almost always.

he's somewhat of an instigator and will (indirectly) start shit just to then sit back and act like he had no involvement in it. but he's the type of guy who will never say a mean thing to your face; extremely good at playing the mediator/deflecting when necessary, doesn't easily give in to people trying to start shit with him, and "is always able to find the silver lining". pretty unserious/utilizes humor to get people comfortable with him. most people who know him casually will say that he's a great guy, but perhaps a bit too chatty.

anyone more deeply involved with him is likely to see the bad aspects of his personality, as he's not that great at hiding them. he tries to play this "confident, but humble" character, when in reality i think he's got a big ass head—and yet it is easy to (temporarily) bring him down, as the low self-esteem never truly left him. all these things come together to form the insincere, instigating side of him, where he's prone to sabotaging others' friendships or just overall starting shit to then look like he's the honest one just looking out for the homies.

very caught up in media & appearances. he'll preach about disconnecting from the internet and experiencing things as they truly are / forming your own opinions, but he's quite easily swayed by what he reads online and his screentime is astronomical. he might pretend not to know other famous people, but TRUST! that he's done a deep-dive with whatever info the internet had to offer as soon as he realized he had any chance of encountering them (@ hall of famers)

wanted connections

someone who doesn't/can't take him seriously—probably an athlete who is only in this for the sports, and finds it ridiculous that ryun is occupying a spot at the jincheon training center when dude took an extended break to pursue idoldom like... are you kidding

the ex who got the short end of the stick. probably someone ryun met at a national sports event and really hit it off with / pursued a relationship with, and they were still with him when he decided to audition for the survival show. they were probably a little uncomfortable w the idea, but he assured them that it wouldn't change anything about their relationship — and then dumped them when he made the lineup, citing the "no dating" clause in his contract (aka: he wanted to fuck around freely). perhaps he's trying to win them back now that it's "back to the real world"....

one or two really good friends. people who've seen ryun's worst and vice versa and they still love each other just the same!!! ride or dies... 4lifers...

where the starstruck fans at??? let him have his christopher wilde moment... your character knows of him, but makes it obvious that they were never a fan/they don't like him... cue christopher wilde: "u don't like me??? but u don't know me... i think if u knew me u'd really like me" and now dude's always in their business trying to change their mind about him / alternatively just someone who doesn't rly give a damn abt anyone and ryun wants to be the exception

former friends??? maybe people ryun suddenly "didn't have time for" during his time as an idol and they're NOT amused by him trying to act like they're still buddy-buddy

new friends too!!! people he's very recently begun getting to know but so far it's going good!

there are no other taekwondo athletes at the time i'm writing this but whenever there are: the teammate whom ryun confided in regarding his current dilemma, and they're doing everything they can to help him qualify for the olympics in what little time they have

etc etc etc. open to brainstorming!!!

#gtvintro #sorry 4 being late #do yall hate me for talking so much

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absentcaryatid · 2 years ago

Text

The Library Patron

A LA POEM Minseong fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

Your work as a small-town librarian is brightened by a favorite patron with wide-ranging taste in songbooks.

1.9K words, Content note: all ages, gender neutral reader, food mention ~ Now that the months were colder, you had settled into the off-season routine of a quieter workplace. As a librarian you were always in demand, but without the bustle of vacationers looking for the latest beach read or series for their kids, you could devote more time to the smaller number of locals. Of course, there were also always people who made their way to your small town for the special collection of European songbooks donated ages ago as part of the library's founding. Over the decades the selection had been supplemented by newer purchases to broaden the scope to music from around the world and the modest building become quite a regional draw for those interested in the topic.

“It feels good to be surrounded by books again.” The somewhat imposing man with a beard that did not quite hide the size of his chin stood before your desk. You could hear him inhale the familiar scent of aged but well-preserved paper. “I miss the music library at my old school in Germany.” The man with the wistful smile introduced himself as Jeong Minseong and came with a substantial list of books he hoped to access on his visit.

You already felt warmly toward the new patron with his wide-ranging music interests including classics and opera. A good number of the items were present and could be checked out with the non-resident library card you promptly issued. As you waited for the lamination machine to warm up, you assisted with others he was searching for. Some of the research would take time and you promised to keep him informed when anything came in for him. Arms stacked high with books, and more in the library supporter tote bag on his shoulder, he left with a smile on his face and a promise to return them on time.

The three weeks passed quickly. Enjoying the hunt, he had you delving into some of the most obscure libraries in the world to arrange inter-library loans, often managed through the help of an interpreter. Mr. Jeong had a strong passion for Chinese lyrics from the past thousand years, but also made requests for music from various other continents and in every language imaginable. He soon became your favorite patron both for the challenges he brought and his kind personality.

Knowing how much he was putting you to work, including the time you went above and beyond to pick up a songbook yourself from another library, his regular visits became accompanied by a bakery item in thanks. He understood you would have to save it for your breaks keeping your hands clean for handling books, but his genuine gesture of appreciation touched your heart. It was about this time you stopped using family names with each other.

The habit developed from then on for Minseong to join you at the picnic table out back, weather permitting, and enjoy the break time treats he would arrive with, now supplemented by coffee for two. He'd listen with an arm on the table, head propped up by his hand as you would talk about anything, seemingly as happy to be in your presence as you were in his. The alarm from your phone dragging you back to work life always felt too soon as you could never get enough of his pleasant company.

Months passed and every time he appeared with a new desire it was a pleasure marshaling all your research skills to locate the treasure. Usually you could proudly email that the book he sought had come in, though there were also times you had to make do with scans of books too precious to travel. Occasionally, what Minseong was after was long out of copyright and sometimes turned up after careful internet sleuthing. It also helped the library had access to database subscriptions the sweet man did not have access to on his own. His taste for learning had you swooning because you were strongly drawn to people with deep knowledge of a subject.

There were physical aspects to your appreciation as well. Minseong carried himself with something akin to stage presence. Even his attractive, low-pitched voice was ideal for library discussions that would not disturb the few other patrons. Lost in thought on his latest visit, it took a while to notice Minseong had quieted as well. Shaking yourself back to the present, you noticed his interest fell on the flier displayed upright on the desk. As the year had moved on to warmer weather, the library's annual fundraiser concert was approaching. It was a big deal in your little town, a casual night providing the most amateur of entertainment.

In a snap decision that was far more successful than you could ever have dreamed, you let Minseong know it was not just for locals. “You seem musical based on your reading history, you are welcome to join in if you wish. Perhaps you play something, or like to sing?”

Minseong's smile was enigmatic. “Your concert to raise library funds sounds like something I would enjoy participating in, especially for such a good cause, but I need to check my schedule.” Within the week he called with a yes and the request to be last on the program. As the staff member in charge of scheduling, this was something you could promise.

The day came and the weather held beautifully despite earlier hints of rain. Balconies of the apartments nearby, really just subdivided houses, were full of neighbors ready to enjoy the amateur entertainment. Everyone was welcome, voluntary donation or not, and the festive evening began. Casual musicians and singers took the makeshift stage at the outdoor concert with supporters on lawn chairs or picnic blankets spread out on the library's lawn. Some couples on the periphery took the opportunity to dance along to a few of the songs.

On the off chance you could persuade Minseong to join you before he closed the event, you had made sure to pack dinner for two and luck was with you. He had arrived early and generously assisted setting up, then eagerly took you up on the offer of a seat at your side. Between bites, he listened attentively and had nice things to say about each act, even able to praise enthusiasm when talent was yet to be developed.

At last his turn came and your co-worker acting as master of ceremonies welcomed Minseong to the stage. Wanting to remember this night, you took the opportunity to ask for permission to record his song on your phone. Minseong must have been sure of his abilities, for he agreed with a slight modest head bow that still let you see a grin.

He made his way to the stage and took a moment to introduce the song. “Those of you who have seen me spending hours at the library with my head buried in classical music tomes might be surprised I know a few current songs too. Usually I song this with three of my friends, but tonight I'll be on my own. I present 'Answer' by ATEEZ sung without accompaniment.”

From the first few lines you realized the kindness it was that no one would have to follow Minseong's presentation. What you and everyone else in earshot discovered was that your favorite patron was no hobbyist singer. His rendition of 'Answer' was majestic and you were left in awe of his ability.

The night ended with a standing ovation. Minseong thoughtfully waved all the other participants back up to share in the copious applause. Your job then complete, you left cleanup to the breakdown crew and the star of the evening walked you to your vehicle. Many people came up to congratulate Minseong on his skill. It made a nice change from the apparently standoffish attitude you had witnessed from the other patrons because when engrossed in his reading Minseong could appear quite intimidating. It pleased you to know others had now seen a different side of him, the one you were more familiar with.

Right on schedule three weeks later, Jeong Minseong, soloist and member of the crossover group LA POEM arrived with the latest books to return. A little internet sleuthing based on his name had told you quite a lot about your friend's high-profile. You chuckled. “Here I was thinking you were an academic with all your research and then you wowed all of us with that amazing voice. Our library’s YouTube channel has never had so many views and we’ve been getting donations from all the globe thanks to the finale you let me post. Thank you so much for that.”

Minseong blossomed at your praise, again giving a shy smile you found endearing.

“I had no idea you were a professional, and with a worldwide fan base too! No wonder you have such an extensive knowledge of music across quite a range of time periods.”

“I was glad my label Studio JAMM got permission from KQ Entertainment to let me help this way. This place, and you in particular, have been necessary to my research. It felt good to support your library that has given me so much.”

Now it was your turn to glow from his words. “Our collection of songbooks will grow thanks to you. I'm so grateful.” Taking a wrapped gift from your desk drawer, you handed the thin rectangle to Minseong.

Gingerly he unwrapped the delicate object revealing a book he had been trying to locate for months.

“In the end I found a copy for sale instead of at a loaning institution. This is yours to keep.”

“You could have added it to the library's collection for me to borrow.” Looking up in wonder, he joked, “I hope you are not trying to get rid of me.”

The vehemence of your answer startled both of you. “Never! It is the highlight of any day when you come in. I love talking with you.” A little wistfulness crept into your voice as you concluded, “I could see you forever.” You abruptly cut yourself off. That was far more than you had intended to admit, and about a library patron too.

Minseong smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything because, well, you are at work and you could be that friendly with everyone, but perhaps I have my answer. May I take you to dinner in thanks for this much desired book?”

“You owe me nothing, I have had the pleasure of resolving your quest and did it to thank you for your service to the library.” Catching the way his face began to fall at your apparent denial, the reassurance came quick, “And yes, I would like that very much.”

Relief apparent on his face, that very afternoon began the first of many times Minseong would pick you up from work. In no time at all he became your boyfriend, then live-in partner once you relocated to his apartment. The lengthier commute to the library was more than compensated for by the ability to see each other all the time. Your workplace was also flexible, granting you time off as needed to be with Minseong on tours. That understanding worked in the library's favor as you often returned with a suitcase full of new library acquisitions from far-flung cities.

With little coaxing from Minseong, all the members of LA POEM began to use your library's resources regularly. Sunghoon found an endless supply of French songs from all eras to add to his repertoire and Kihun discovered the same for the genre he was drawn to, Italian classics. Their leader Chaehoon spent more time browsing the modern collection, and even he came away satisfied with some discoveries suitable for future concerts, some of which they later put on for the library's benefit.

Masterlist

#LA POEM #Kpop Fanfic #Kpop Fluff #Jeong Minseong #diverseinsertknet #gender neutral reader

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asfearlessasamango · 3 years ago

Note

Sorry if this is late, but 🔥 for the ask game?

🔥 pick an atla character to ship zhao with

the clownery of me writing this jokey question then me having to answer it. omg. okay. you CANT ship zhao with any northern water tribe characters— i just refuse. zhao + most main characters are also, ethically speaking, in “what the fuck” territory due to the fact that zhao is a grown man in a kids’ show and the age/power gap is way too much. bee tee dubs, if i’m going to be romantically fiddling with zhao for some well-adjusted joyful relationship, i’m also going to be planning an at least 10% redemption arc as well, as if zhao has survived his failed attack oh the nwt, and has perhaps been disowned/exiled or taken prisoner.

zhao has some options:

iroh (no) (okay it would be really funny watching zuko react but)

ozai (no. this is a strangely popular pairing, even tho it wrecks ozai, zuko, azula, and the fire nation’s entire deal. also i like the idea that zhao is an illegitimate child of sozin’s, that he is ozai’s and iroh’s brother and zuko’s uncle, so zhao is fighting for the power he believes he should have. he's so bitter and ambitious, particularly towards zuko, because of his situation. his illegitimacy is also why he’s gotten so many promotions.)

ursa (they could bond over ozai i guess? but NO bc ursa is a very passive wilting character who wished to leave and zhao is all fire and ambition— they wouldn’t be able to stand each other)

jeong jeong (more important for zhao to seek out his old teacher and apologize and learn jj's enlightened ways, i think)

piandao (huh?)

but quite frankly, for zhao to have the best most dramatic romance and plausible half-redemption arc, he must venture outside of the fire nation elite and its exes.

zhao must... date from another kingdom.

hakoda, bato, or a swt warrior (NO, because bakoda is too important)

king kuei (no??)

king bumi (no??)

aunt wu.

yes.

after failing in his attack on the southern water tribe, but wimping out of actually dying cause he's a puss puss, zhao is hauled back on board fire nation ships to promptly be exiled. his former soldiers begin sailing him to the earth kingdom, where they'll toss him ashore. it's a strange and ego-breaking trip for zhao, their former commander. none of his young soldiers will look him in the eye or pay his orders attention, not even the few that liked him. the rest humiliate him. they blame him for their loss, for the losses of their comrades. by the time zhao is literally thrown onto random sand, he's nearly glad to be kicked off his own ship.

zhao is in the middle of nowhere, on purpose. mentally/emotionally he is also in the middle of nowhere. what is he even supposed to do?? he wants power, he wants revenge on his ex-soldiers-- but he can't have the only power he wants anymore. he doesn't want to overthrow the fire nation government. he wants it to succeed. he doesn't fully comprehend that he'll never be able to go home. zhao has no idea where he is, at all.

after a few hours of sitting where he was thrown on the sand, watching his ship disappear forever, zhao realizes he has to start walking. zhao may be morally rotten, but he's not stupid-- he steals clothes from clotheslines to disguise himself as an impoverished refugee. which is totally not what he is, okay? he's just casually begging for work because he kinda needs something to do.

this is where he runs into the reality of what he and his country have done to the earth kingdom-- the first little town he finds is poor as shit. they have nothing to offer him besides a bowl of thin soup, a bed of molding straw, directions towards the next town, and a ride to it, if he shares the ostrich-horse of a young son moving there to look for work. zhao accepts. what else can he do? in his mind this life is still temporary. an adventure to recount to his cousin when zhao gets back to caldera, eventually.

the son is stupid and fascinated by this world-weary traveler. zhao wishes he'd pretended to be mute or injured. anything so he could stop mumbling a fake backstory that contradicts itself every few sentences. mostly, zhao decides to describe the time he razed an earth kingdom village two years ago as if he was one of the villagers, not the razer, and even throws in a killed fianceé so this boy will stop asking questions.

the son asks, "don't you fucking hate those firebending bastards?"

and zhao snaps, "firebending is the greatest sport on earth."

the son looks at zhao and says, "is that why you have firebender sideburns and a hoity-toity caldera accent and yellow eyes?"

the son is not as stupid as zhao thought.

zhao arrives at the next village covered in bruises, with an old injury in his leg absolutely screaming in the language of fucked-up, tied up at the hands and ankles, the son's half-hour rant against the fire nation still rambling on, and is once again promptly and literally thrown-- this time into jail. "the jail" is an old horse stable with not even a guard. it does not bode well to zhao that they believe he has nowhere to escape to.

but this village is larger and nicer, with better houses and a beautiful volcano behind them. zhao almost feels at home, looking at the volcano through the small window in his cell, for the hours they leave him there.

until gross earth kingdom farmers show up after a day in the fields and start evaluating him.

he can't be treated as a welcome guest or a new villager because... it's pretty obvious to them, after the son shouted all about it, and zhao refused to deny it, that zhao is definitely from the fire nation's military. possibly the upper ranks.

"can we ransom you?" one of the farmers wants to know.

"no," zhao says, scowling. even that bratty prince wasn't so openly stupid. "they'll kill me if they see me again."

"you must've not been a very good soldier."

zhao grits his teeth so hard they almost break. "i saw a girl exiled for eating her commanding officer's dinner," he tells them. (because zhao had just wanted to eat his own fucking dinner, okay??)

in the end it doesn't matter. they decide zhao isn't their problem to punish, but he certainly isn't their exact problem to take care of, so if he's not opposed to the idea, he could be reaching the next village by nightfall.

except zhao can walk about two feet per minute, with a cane.

let's just call aunt wu, one man says next. as zhao is sitting on the barn floor in humiliated silence, trying not to touch or massage his injured leg in front of anyone, doing the math on exactly how far he has fallen in the past 72 hours, the most beautiful woman his age he has ever seen in his life sweeps into the room. she's wearing goth white robes and raises a contoured eyelid at him.

"i knew you'd be here sooner or later. but i didn't predict you'd be so dirty," she says.

her solution is pretty simple. zhao, after being pressed but not smirked at, quietly admits that he is willing to work for food and a bed. aunt wu needs a helper around the house, for weaving, dish washing, gardening, and keeping an eye on meng.

aunt wu looks at this filthy beaten-up fire nation exile who probably has money, somewhere, and a tragic backstory, probably, and an elite family, maybe, and is just a fucking miserable unloved human and is like "this is my new poor little meow meow".

zhao looks at this single milf his age in his area, who 1000% has all the power she wants or could need, with everyone eating out of her palms out of love, not fear, (everything zhao has ever wanted!!) and this look on her face like ZHAO!! KILLER OF THE MOON (for like a minute)!!! could not do a single thing to sway her smug opinion of him, and is like "what the fuck."

thus begins zhao's campaign to overthrow/impress/intimidate aunt wu. it's two months of increasing shenanigans and shouting and zhao demanding fortunetelling just about every day (he's gonna prove it's wrong! it's a hoax! he'll kick aunt wu from grace and he'll have the power! he also maybe likes it when aunt wu holds his hand!) zhao has sympathy-kicking bouts of nightmares and trauma symptoms (you! will! sympathize!).

aunt wu, who has zhao sleeping in her small house, definitely wakes up to his nightmares in her house, so they end up sitting together nightly. it's zhao seeing this impressive woman alone at night and learning more about her lonely, impoverished childhood on the streets of a different village, where she learned to read people like open books. aunt wu, when pressed, tells him quietly about her husband, buried beyond the volcano after a yearslong withering illness, leaving her alone. how she adopted meng, an orphan of the sickness that swept the villages a few years back, when no medicine could be found.

zhao does mental math about a trade blockade the fire nation set up on the earth kingdom around then and feels sick. aunt wu presses him for details about the war and the world and he tells her how much both things suck. he describes caldera, a red-coated city where people make a living off trading cruelty. it’s not like here, he says. aunt wu raises her eyebrows. you think we’re kind here?

zhao evaluates his hands, stabbed with 400 needles, raw from scrubbing dishes, and stained with paint from a project of meng’s he helped with. he thinks about how he could not more clearly be a guilty bastard. and how wu took him in anyways, as her own problem. and how wu insists fire lord sozin was wrong to not acknowledge zhao as his son, that ozai is cruel and wrongs his own blood, that zhao is her favorite out of all the fire nation bastards.

yes, he says, and wu smiles and tilts her head, and the next morning zhao's palms apparently say that his soul has chosen a new path.

and then zhao’s leg heals. he keeps exaggerating his limp and pain to put off leaving. because he has to leave, right? he has to keep wandering around in this penance purgatory until he dies, right? or finds some shittier village to scrape by in? he keeps meaning to mention this to wu— that he’ll be leaving soon. but the thought of leaving her alone with meng again is something he can’t do.

and wu never mentions zhao leaving, either. so... he kind of just doesn't. one day he walks without his crutches or cane, and no one mentions it, and to make his intentions clear, zhao goes ahead and walks around the village all the next day to do wu's errands and shopping and comes home to her at dinner with an extra tapestry he thought she would like.

(it's ugly as fuck. zhao got it with his own money, tho, and wu is blushy anyways.)

and it's like, not a full redemption, and it's not a soulmate romance-- it's mostly fueled by foully horny middle-aged sex and practical acts of service, the nice aspects of companionship. zhao is 55 with bad joints but he can go shirtless and carry around wood to uhhh. repair aunt wu's roof with the best of them. they both learn more about what things actually, emotionally fill you up and aunt wu teaches admiral zhao where the clit is (i'm so sorry) but it is what they deserve. they deserve each other! these two ambitious bastards could help each other settle down! i'm sorry! i ship aunt wu and zhao now.

the emoji atla ask game

#avatar the last airbender #atla #zhao #admiral zhao #aunt wu #mango speaks

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barnesbabee · 3 years ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ- ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

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