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gojosatoruwifey · 3 months

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ㅡ恭喜发财

✑ greeting everyone as lunar new year enters ♡(◕ᗜ◕✿)

✿ warning/s: fluff, jealousy, slight sexual insinuation, swearing, use of chinese terms, nothing much has changed it's just chung myung with a dragon tail, starts with pbss and ends with mhdd, let me know if i missed something!

✿ character/s: chung myung/cheong myeong, g/n! reader

✿ alt. title: telltale tail

📜🖋️🎀SUPPORT MY KO-FI🎀🖋️📜

straight and thumping on the ground impatiently. fast rhythm beat with 0.95-second intervals.

—and with that crease between his eyebrows, pout so evident in his lips, eyes boring through the side of your head. there’s no need to turn front to see the literal dragon of mount hua is displeased at the slow pace of his order shīzitóu. it’s not like you can afford to flat-out be rude to the half-huili jing server eagerly asking for more affirmations about their restaurant’s food. goodness, you’re not chung myung…

“the sauce? is it sweet enough? or perhaps you like it sticky…” the half huili jing server’s voice lowered in a purr. “..daozhang?”

you’re about to correct the server when a sarcastic, gruff voice enters the conversation. “no, they don’t like sweets that much and they prefer thin consistency sauce to sticky.”

speaking of, your companion finally spoke up. the entire time chung myung is either grunting or clicking his tongue to respond as you put out the orders on the menu. you wanted to let out a heavy sigh but held it in. he spoke up but at what cost?

chung myung tapped his palm on the table a little bit too hard. “put the shīzitóu down. that’s what i ordered.”

faced with the natural hierarchy’s top one, how could a huili jing fight against a dragon? even more to a half huili jing? with a graceful movement, the half huili jing set out the tray full of appetizing meals rich in different flavours and seasonings.

the silence was too loud despite the busy chatter heard outside the private room and so, once the sulky half huili jing strolled away, you picked up the chopstick, ready to eat. that’s how you and chung myung spent the rest of the evening with occasional banters, two unfilled cups holding beads of alcohol, and an abandoned bottle of peach baijiu in the side.

moves languidly

the elders and the youths alike have watched a certain senior-junior pair dance around with each other. be it when they are younger than they are now—the plum blossoms in winter’s seasonal bloom and summer’s jovial heat sighing at the young man finding himself to get the point across and you dodging every little thing almost nil. the terrified junior brothers betting on who will try to make a move first.

so far the winning score is on those who placed bets on chung myung’s side…

a group of junior brothers set aside their lunch once they saw the two together with the taller one carrying a box with decorative materials for the spring festival and the other having a ladder.

you propped the ladder to the wall and started climbing on it while chung myung set the box down.

“will the elder make a move?”

“shush.”

“come on, shixiong. he is right. how about we bet if the elder makes a move on them this time?” junior brother lu nodded to the oblivious pair. he pushed his lunch forward, “i’ll bet my lunch set a, elder chung myung will make a move.”

junior brother ming, the shixiong, responded dryly. “i’ll bet mine he will not.”

“i’m with brother lu!”

“shixiong, you can’t possibly think elder will not when you also saw him–”

“watch.”

“huh?” instinctively, junior brother lu inclined his head just to see you playing with the ends of the red lantern for the spring festival, let it brush to your senior’s nose as chung myung sneezed. sending you a harmless glare as you laugh loudly. elder chung myung may be directing witty remarks to you but this little junior brother lu can see the tail of the elder languidly swishing behind him.

he sighs and thinks, elder chung myung is almost never too honest and yet his tail is saying otherwise.

wiggles in excitement

a new series of tomorrow awaits as the booming fireworks line up to the dark skies, below were the firecrackers noisy and frizzled. the sect adorned in red lanterns and spring couplets can be seen hanging on the doors. the disciples of mount hua gather all around in different places; some are in the dining hall, some are burning bamboo sticks and firecrackers, laughter fills up the festive mood, and some are watching the abundant glowing light flutters seen above to the lowered ground.

a single stick fell out from the fortune shaker.

you stare at it, losing interest in picking it up as each second passes by until the black-clad swordsman nudges you with his shoulder in a bump, snickering. “will you look at that.”

you can’t believe the gods had decided to be mean to you on the eve of the spring festival. the harmonious atmosphere feels like mocking you as the fortune stick reads ‘misfortune.’

then you shove the stick back into the cylinder, shake it violently, a stick falls out and you’re miniscule away throwing away the damn fortune shaker. tsk, should’ve known it’s a sham.

chung myung clutches his stomach from too much hysterical fits as he then grabs one of your hands that was choking the cylinder. surprised at his gentle touch, chung myung easily slides his fingers between the gaps of yours as his stare pins at you with a gaze swirling playful pink billows, night light kissed skin. suddenly, peering up into him through the shadows settled by the moon feels intimate as the two of you sit on the rooftop.

“there,” he whispered. “i’m sharing half of my great fortune with you.”

you swallowed thickly, wanting to squeeze your heart to shut up.

a comical exclaim escapes out of you, shiny eyes admiring him, “gege!”

chung myung reacts to your address with a sudden burst of triumph. his tail wags frantically, displaying his excitement. hearing you calling him 'gege' has clearly delighted him, and he seems eager to engage whatever his mind is scheming.

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rathesy · 4 months

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Trying different medias

Instagram tests

The posts has actual captions ;)

*Don't have actual dates or time lmao

#x reader #manhwa #manhwa x reader #webtoon #webtoon x reader #cheong myeong #chung myung #return of the blossoming blade #return of mount hua #return of the mount hua sect x reader #return of the blossoming blade x reader #return of the mount hua sect #rotbb #rottmnt #smau #x reader smau

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enihk-writes · 5 months

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[hard to recall]

part of the [architect!reader] series can be read together with the other fics or as a standalone

pairing: pbss!chung myung x gn!they/them!reader

will be alternating povs from pbss!chung myung and mhdd!chung myung

summary: a hundred years and a few remnants later

word count: 5.50k

author's note: i got very demotivated towards the end but the og plot was supposed to be reader comes back from work to see mt hua in shambles and they tear down all the buildings they built just to secure funds and that's why the current sect looks so bare, and it's heartbreaking because reader is an architect and this was their life's hard work and cm knows that too and he realised there was virtually nothing left of that could remind him of them, like they put their soul into these structures and now it's gone type of thing,, and in the chaos of the aftermath when there was no one to lead the sect as the remaining elder they have to do it and everyone knows they tried their best and that they died miserable,, cm was supposed to find this out bit by bit through hyun jong and the other current elders... BUT like i said, i got suuuuuper demotivated towards the end because of writer's block so i scrapped the og idea... maybe i might come back to try writing it, but not in this story rn...

═══════════════

what does it mean to be loved?

what does it take to be loved?

power? fame? money? or was it a good heart?

═══════════════

they've always had a good head on their shoulders. some have said that it was a little too good. poised steady and head held high no matter the situation, had they been able to carry a sword like he, who knows what they could have accomplished?

but alas, they were not destined for such things.

the natural state of their qi clashed with the martial arts of mount hua. like water on fire, and it had left them weaker after each training session. they were lucky, having discovered this flaw early, or else they might have suffered more down the line.

talent is something you nurture to bloom.

he looks at them, eyebrows raised in questioning.

i'm going off to see what else i can do.

and just like that, they left. nothing much changed in his life. though, sometimes, he does feel as though it wasn't as noisy as it should have been. it's almost like there was a hard-to-ignore scratch on a perfectly polished marble.

the food tasted more bland now that they weren't watching over the cooks with an iron fist. the clothes didn't feel as crisp now, since the ones on duty these days didn't leave it out in the sun for as long as they used to. and dust was now left to collect in corners until it became too much to ignore, it wasn't like that when they were here — they would have gone down on their hands and knees to clean those annoying places obsessively.

he also might have missed that there was someone who talked to him like a peer, an actual peer, over most of the others who either talked to him like a child, their unreliable junior, someone to be feared and respected. it's nice to have someone your age to talk to, and he never really thought he needed that sort of companionship until they were gone.

well, he doesn't mind waiting. he was a pretty hard worker too, and wouldn't it be a little embarrassing for him if he had nothing to show for when they came back?

three years flew by so quickly, and he walks up to the front gates one unassuming day to find them reaching over to knock on the door.

he was a little shocked.

well, not shocked in the ah sense. but in the ahhhhh sense.

when they stood next to each other side-by-side, his mood went a little sour when he sees that they were still not much different in their height. he was hoping that he had grown more then they did.

welcome back.

mmh, i'm home~

he didn't ask about what they've been up to in the past three years while they were wandering across the country.

the elders seemed pleased when they all walked out of that long meeting, the elder in charge of the finance hall in particular looked a little happier than when he walked into the room.

huh. he would be lying if he said that this didn't make him wonder what happened to them in the past three years.

still, he kept his mouth shut, preferring to watch from the sidelines instead. grinning at them when they walked over in his direction, slinging an arm over their shoulders, annoying them like they hadn't ever left home.

dinnertime was noisy, the table where they sat was swarming with so many other disciples — all wanting to hear of their stories of the outside world. chung myung can't blame the others much, most of them weren't allowed to leave the sect grounds until they reached a certain age.

oh, him? he didn't get permission either, he just does it because he never cared about the rules. and it was this mindset that had all his seniors and other elders of the sect rubbing their temples in exasperation.

he watched from across the dining hall, chin propped in his hand, as the littlest ones tried to garner their attention by pawing at their thigh with small and chubby hands.

they laughed at the children's antics, carrying the youngest up from the ground, resting her on their lap as she was lulled to sleep against their chest. for a moment, they caught chung myung's gaze, looking at each other through the gaps between the crowd of people. they smile shyly at him, looking away when one of the older sect sisters asks them something.

chung myung's lips pull into a thin line, looking down at his half-empty plate of food awkwardly.

he wasn't sure why he wished for a moment that they were the only ones there in the dining hall then. maybe he wasn't used to having to share them with anyone, it was always just the two of them. with how chung myung was so quick to pick fights, nobody his age wanted to hang around him. only they had the patience to even try. and because of that, they slowly lost their friends — because if anybody wanted to be friends with chung myung, that person surely had something wrong with them.

he felt bad. knowing that he was the reason why nobody wanted to associate with them was a shitty feeling. he tried to chase them away in the beginning, never resorting to hurting them but he wasn't ever nice to them either.

go away!

nuh-uh!

that was always the way they greeted each other back then. he would hide from them in the tallest cupboards in the kitchen or in the trees or even the rooftops but they must have learnt something from his chung mun sa-hyung with how they still caught him each time effortlessly.

right.

this is how it's supposed to be. seeing them surrounded by so many people, all looking at them in awe and wonder. this was how they should have lived all this time.

the usual appetite he had vanished. pushing the food away, chung myung gets up to leave, slipping away into the cold night and away from the action.

white puffs of air float upwards at each exhale, gravel crunched under his feet as he drags them to bring him back to his room. he doesn't make it far though — there was a pitter-patter of light footsteps coming his way. he sighs and chuckles to himself.

he would know that sound of footsteps anywhere.

looking over his shoulder, he sees that the toddler sleeping soundly in their arms. it was amazing, how they managed to carry the child running without waking her up from all that shaking. he wonders for a moment if...

chung myung-ah.

he tilts his head.

let's put her to bed. she must be tired from staying awake for so long, poor baby.

he listens to them coo softly over the little girl's nose scrunching up from the cold. chung myung curiously pokes at the mounds of fat stored on the child's cheeks, snickering when the kid frowns in their sleep, grunting in protest.

they gasp and slaps his hand away.

hey! don't do that!

they whisper-yell, cradling the fussing baby's head closer to their chest, shushing her cries. rocking their arms, hoping the child would go back to sleep, which she thankfully did.

chung myung only looks away from their accusatory gaze.

═══════════════

there used to be a nursery a little aways from the main dorms.

it wasn't there anymore. much like most of the buildings that used to stand here in mount hua back in its heyday.

it was just one of the many little things that had been torn down from trying to salvage sellable materials. that was nothing more than a product of time, and the actions taken by a sect struggling to feed the mouths living there.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

why would you do something this pointless?

chung myung couldn't understand them. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, talking to them through their window, with him on the outside as they were drawing out lines on a parchment paper by candlelight.

hm... but i don't think it's pointless though?

they state simply, not once looking up from their work. feeling neglected, chung myung whines a little. they were finally back after a good few years and now that he wanted to spend time with them, they're too busy? please look at me. he wants to say, beg even.

you're awfully clingy these days.

he hears their breathy chuckle. and the corners of their eyes crinkle up, lips barely hiding that wide toothy smile he'd missed seeing. though, it looked less childish than he last remembered. that's right. they're both grown up now, they're both adults now.

he wishes that they could be kids forever.

mostly because kids don't think too hard or dwell too long on things that hurt their brains. and whatever new winds that have begun to sail on the ship since they've returned to mount hua, was bringing them to a different destination than he thought they'd end up. he wasn't going to gamble on the possibility that they might have taken notice of this subtle change like he did too. all these thoughts hurt his head.

he listens to the sounds of the calligraphy brush dragged across the paper, tingles travelling up to his brain. it was late, he should be back in bed... but...

ahh...hnn...

chung myung yawns, not bothering to be polite around someone he's known his whole life. he hears them giggle again, but this time, they set their brush aside. leaning across the table, their fingers fiddled with something, soft clanks of wood bumped into each other for a moment before the window was finally thrown open.

come inside.

they call out to him with that same soft smile.

woah there! you shouldn't be inviting a man into your private quarters so easily like this! what if he misunderstands something... this is so intimate you know...

he gasps dramatically, even if this wasn't his first time in their room, this was his first time in their room as an adult. it was very much a significant thing to him.

they laugh again.

...you jest. we're friends, what's there to misunderstand?

ah. of course. they were only friends. nothing more, nothing less. what was there to get confused about?

he wordlessly climbs in through their window. taking off his boots before putting his foot down on their pristine floorboards. it's hard to forget about that time they scolded his ear off for dirtying the floor they had freshly cleaned.

you still remember to take your shoes off huh?

they mumble quietly.

you don't have to do that anymore though. i'm not as nit-picky as i used to be. i can always clean it up again.

he thinks they've certainly changed quite a bit.

his thoughts wander more, but his gaze never once leaving the drawings that came into being on the paper. thin and thick lines that formed into what he recognised as the entire scale layout of the current mount hua seen from above. he marvels at their small drawings of furniture in each of the miniature rooms.

he moves to stand behind them, eventually sitting on their bed after changing into the spare set of sleeping attire they've kept in their wardrobe just for him.

as the night wore on, he finally succumbs to his tired state, burrowing under the covers of their bed. he calls out to them to go to bed too, but it seems they've chosen to ignore him in favour of their work. he didn't have half the mind to try again — not when they had that look in their eye. it was almost like a possession, some innate obsession that they'd somehow unearthed within themselves in the three years they were gone.

he doesn't remember them ever being like that. if anything, they were the most laid-back person he's ever known. with no particular ambition, no wants beyond what they needed... not much plans for their future. he didn't know what happened to them before they decided to leave, he still hasn't asked them about what happened in the time they were away. they've changed, and deep down he feels a little bitter for getting left behind, falling asleep with those thoughts running in his mind.

the next time he woke up, it was the beginning of daybreak. the room was still dark even with the sky slowly turning into a pale violet. he felt the covers lift and they climbed into bed as quietly as they could, not realising chung myung was very much awake.

ah!

they gasp, startled by the red of his irises staring right at them from under the blanket's dark shadows.

you scared me...

they mumble and whine tiredly, falling into his chest, his outstretched arms circling their waist, pulling them closer.

m'sorry...

his lips ghost on the crown of their head, a hand hesitates to cradle the back of their neck. what if that was too much? sure, they've huddled together under the covers on cold mornings like this countless times before... but they were younger then. now, things have changed. but maybe it's more him than they, or it was both.

he could think about that later. right now, he feels so warm and relaxed he feels himself drifting back to sleep again.

═══════════════

that day when he had dug into the ground to find the secret vault for the ledgers, he just barely missed the pile of scrolls sitting on the bottom of the bookcase.

he got curious, opened them and saw a set of familiar drawings.

the lines were faded from a vibrant black to a faint grey and the parchment had also turned a little yellow on the edges. his fingers traced over the writing at the corner of the paper. it was a signature of that person's name. he tries and fails to remember the way their hands held onto that brush they'd often used.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

recently, the elders have been discussing about what to do with some of the main halls.

you see, they've neglected the management of the buildings in favour of setting aside the budget for other matters like investing in expanding the local businesses or other miscellaneous affairs. they'd figured there wasn't really a need to keep up with building maintenance, not when these halls have been standing well and good for the past few centuries.

though the main issue now was that there was a wee bit of a nothing-too-serious case of termite infestation going on in the wooden frames on a select few of the said buildings. ugh, more work everyone around.

oh! but it's not for chung myung though!

he remained blissfully unaware about the current plight of a certain person until he comes across them slumped against the outer walls of the back gates, head in their hands.

hey...

there was a slight hesitation in his voice.

hm?

they look up to meet his worried gaze with a confused, sheepish smile. loud growling of their stomach interrupting the moment.

he feels his irritation grow. seriously! they were old enough to take care of their own needs! no sane person would choose to ignore those needs to keep on working!

nausea hits them hard when chung myung pulls them to their feet, the world around them spins as their knees grow weak and buckle. thank god for his reflexes, catching them before they fall to the ground — but now what?

he does what chung myung does best.

throwing the poor and sick, now his supposed patient, over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

they don't even bother fighting back instead, they fade in and out of the intense feeling of wanting to throw up on chung myung or passing out — wondering to themselves if this guy was genuinely trying to put them to an early grave.

put me down...

nuh-uh. you need to eat.

they groan in exasperation.

and they passed out soon after.

in the days following that fainting scare, everyone agrees to take a step back. probably feeling guilty that they were driving one of their own like a workhorse. but that isn't enough to stop someone who's a known workaholic. chung myung doesn't remember them being like this before.

though a friend was a friend, and he shoves down the ugly feeling slowly brewing in the pit of his gut to take care of them. he was dependable when he wanted to be. just don't expect it to happen every time.

he knew the corners of the sect they liked to be, and in each of those corners, he'd put down his clumsily made step-stools — uneven and shaky, made from scrap pieces of branches and logs he found. it wasn't the best workmanship in the world, though they were delighted that he did this for them nonetheless.

not long after, there was a second, more polished and well-made stool that stood next to each and every one of those misshapen ones. and in the duo's later years, a third one was added to the lineup.

it was a common sight for the younger disciples to see two of their elders and another guy hunched over, roasting water chestnuts by the back gate like a bunch of delinquents until sect leader chung mun would drag their two elders by the collar as the third person trailed behind sheepishly.

═══════════════

the back gates once made out of brick and stone had been torn down with only a low fragmented outline left behind. chung myung walks around that area until he stumbles on a mound of dirt by a wall still standing.

curiously, he kicks off the top layers of soil, revealing a splintered and rotting piece of wood. the more he unearths, the more the mound begins to take the shape of three step-stools.

his mouth waters at the smell of roasted chestnuts wafting from the kitchen. he hasn't had that in a while.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

loud banging noises from dawn till midday were the norm this past week.

almost everyone bit their tongues from complaining. it was a necessary process, after all. even the elders held back from commenting on the ruckus. of course they did, this whole mess was their fault! who asked them to neglect building maintenance!

they were perched on a bamboo scaffolding, mumbling curses under their breath. straining to pull out rotted wood, trying not to squirm at the disgusting look of wet mold. cleaning out the gaping holes and filling them out one by one was a cheapskate way really — but what the elders ask for, they had to deliver. no matter how tiresome the job was, they have to prove themselves.

somewhere in the back of their mind, a voice was always condemning them. telling them over and over on repeat how useless they were, not being able to pick up on the basic skill of using a sword in a martial arts sect. the odd one out, the nail that stuck out, the stubborn thorn that got on the soles of one's foot. all descriptors that applied to them. their master, a man whose name they didn't want to speak of, was a cruel one. they always felt like a freeloader, taking and taking like a parasite, his words, what use did they have other than being another mouth the sect had to feed?

just as the rest of the world faded into a blur, a familiar voice cuts through the fog of their spiralling thoughts.

he calls out to them, face red from a combination of alcohol, running away from the seniors and the heat of summer. he clamours up the scaffolding with a small basket and a bottle of wine, trying to hide himself from view.

you aren't expecting me to hide you from our seniors... are you?

chung myung laughs nervously.

i'm not going to lie to someone to cover your ass.

urgh... you sound like those shaolin monks talking about the five virtues of righteousness...

they were about to snap back when a flurry of footsteps came their way — chung myung retreats further into the shadows, stilling from making any more noise. they glance over at him, before turning over to continue with their work.

a few of the junior brothers stop at the foot of the scaffolding, panting a little. the boys look up to their senior, nudging amongst themselves to ask the whereabouts of their other runaway senior.

uh, senior... have you seen...

the timid voice of the junior was interrupted by the loud banging of the hammer against the wood. and every time there seemed to be an opening, the banging quickly resumed again.

the boys decided to just give up and report to the elders that they'd lost track of their runaway senior. grumbling amongst themselves about how they've wasted their time.

chung myung remained in his spot, only coming out when the coast was completely clear. all while they were still hard at work, pulling out the wood, and filling out the holes.

he reached into the basket, plucking out a kumquat from the bunch. he blows the dust off it and wipes it clean before nudging the fruit to the other's lips.

open your mouth... ahhh...

the kumquats were just as sweet and tart as expected. they chew on it thoughtfully, gathering the seeds under their tongue to spit it out. chung myung's hand moves to hover under their chin, and they raise an eyebrow in question.

you can spit the seeds on my hand.

ew. that's so disgusting. what are you? a pervert?

the man looks at them indignantly. urgh, they were so rude! it's even worse than when they first left mount hua! to have believed life outside shaanxi would have changed this block-head potty-mouthed person was a pipe dream after all!

you... you're cussing me out, aren't you?

chung myung shakes his head quickly, knowing they weren't above tattling to their elders if he pissed them off. he's known this first-hand since childhood, and it doesn't seem like things were going to change in adulthood either.

you can buy my silence with some of those mooncakes you have or with the mandarin oranges in the basket.

he sucks in a breath. they were asking for his favourite mooncakes... they were so cruel... evil, evil bastard! what friend? this was clearly the devil in disguise, maybe he should have brought talismans to test that theory...

oi.

he grumbles in defeat, getting to work by diligently peeling the skin off the mandarin oranges, splitting the fruit into its little segments, and feeding it to them piece by piece with slices of mooncake in-between each fruit to cleanse their palate.

mmh... our chung myungie can be such a good boy too eh~

shut up!

they cackle and drown out his insults with the loud banging.

═══════════════

the sect had been gifted a few carts of mandrin oranges by the merchant guild. chun myung had taken a few to snack on in his free time, and as he peels the skin off the fruit, he thinks about how nice it'd be to have someone to share these little slices with.

he bites on a piece.

it was sweet, but not like he remembered. and there was also a bitter aftertaste that left him feeling emptier than before.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

═══════════════

war was such a devastating thing.

beyond the obvious loss of lives, there was also the grief gained from seeing someone who is still alive and kicking lose all that made them... them.

chung myung hasn't been himself in a long, long time. he barely remembers through the haze of liquor-induced stupor the type of person he used to be before this endless bloodshed. he smiled less, got agitated more often, and even for someone who had always seemed to attract wayward troublemakers this was all too much. he wonders what went wrong, did that person also notice something was wrong with him?

no. that person surely noticed. they were an architect for god's sake — being observant was part of their job description. he wanted to ask them why they hadn't been so hard on him like everyone else. the tension hanging in the air had made the sa-hyungs lash out at him, he somehow became the scapegoat that took on the blame for the smallest errors. not that he minded, he understood they didn't mean it, but it doesn't make it any less hurtful.

myung-ah.

he looks up, eyes clouded over and dazed. a vaguely familiar figure makes their way towards him, talking with someone, presumably the tavern owner, in hushed voices before a hand caresses his head gently. chung myung leaned into the touch, it was as comforting as it always was. he hasn't been seeing them as often as he'd like these days... he frowns at the realisation.

myung-ah. let's go home.

he groans as he feels them lean him against their shoulder. he's been told he smells like plum blossoms, most of the other swordsmen that practised the plum blossom divine arts did too — but they didn't, and he becomes curious about what they smell like. nuzzling his nose into the side of their head, he catches a whiff of what could only be described as laundry left under the sun.

this person... how was it possible for someone to be this comforting in every aspect of their being? it doesn't make sense, they were human were they not? how was someone able to have such a clear mind at all times? even chung mun sa-hyung slipped up once in a while, losing his patience, just like he did earlier today when he chastised chung myung for not taking things as seriously as he should have been.

do you... do you also think i haven't been doing my best?

he mumbles under his breath, voice strained and cracking just a little. he felt his stomach drop, out of nervousness or dread, he wasn't sure. maybe it was even both.

the two stop walking. they were at the foot of the steps leading up to the front gates. he looks at them, afraid to hear what their answer would be. he tries to laugh off his question, peeling himself off them and was just starting to go up the steps when he feels their hand grip at the back of his uniform.

they pull him back towards them and hesitantly pushed him to sit. chung myung watched the expressions on their face morph through the gaps of his hair hanging over his eyes. he was the most terrified he had ever been in his life — ever since he'd come to terms with the fact that he saw the person standing before him as someone more than a family or a friend, any prospect of them thinking of him in a negative light was enough to have him running with his tail between his legs.

he dare not say he was in love with them. not when he held so much unresolved resentment towards them for leaving him behind. he wished, still to this day that they hadn't gone off to find what they were good at. they should have stayed within the walls of the sect, they should have stayed here with him, where they would have never bloomed their talents and made everyone want to take them away from him. they could have been all his if they stayed, and he could have held them as close as he wanted, envelop them with his whole being. his love, all his, his, his.

chung myung-ah.

he tried not to make a face.

our chung myung works hard in his own way. i don't know about the others, but i do. i know you have your own ways of working hard.

they brushed his hair back, tucking some strands behind his ear. he hated it. he hated how it made him melt under their fingertips, hated how even after all these years he didn't have the courage to admit to something this simple.

they didn't know all of him. if they did would they still touch him this tenderly?

his hands find their waist, and then their hips. musing at the way their pupils dilated and shook, he tugged them towards him. they stumble over their feet, falling into his chest. there was a stupid grin plastered all over his face as the other tried to get up from the embarrassing position. his arms circle around them, pulling them in once more, setting them on his lap.

...you're drunk. you know that right?

they push away his face that had been inching closer. he holds their hand covering his mouth, pressing his lips against the inside of their palm — kissing it once, twice, a few more times until he felt satisfied, before moving their hand to rest on his cheek. he rubs his sand-papery jaw against their smooth palm, the tip of his nose tracing their wrist, thumb pulling down the long black bracer so his lips could reach the thumping vein lying under the thin layer of skin.

their breath hitches as his teeth grazes over their wrist, he ponders for a moment before biting down on the flesh. hard enough that they wince, whimpering softly, but not enough to draw up blood. they feel the back of their ears grow heated, not really wanting to find out whether it was from embarrassment or arousal. hitting at his shoulder with their free hand, they chide him for doing something so indecent out in the open, where anyone could see.

do you hate it?

that's not the point!

but... you don't hate this... right?

they turn away from his prying gaze. he wasn't wrong, they didn't hate that he was doing this. it's just... what if...

chung myung clicks his tongue. with a snap of his fingers, the alcohol in his system leaves completely in a translucent haze. he scoffs at the way their nose crinkled in disgust from the overpowering smell. he cradles their face into his chest, saving them from their little predicament. now sober, he agrees that he had been a little too carried away, so he digs his heels to the ground and kicks off into the air — still carrying them in his arms, jumping on rooftops until he reached the front of his private residence.

he refused to let them down even as he walked inside, despite their balled fist thumping on his shoulder. using that same scolding tone, still said in a soft voice, not once raising it in annoyance or anger.

with wide strides and feet falling heavily on the wooden floorboards, he locks every door and window in the residence — just in case someone becomes too nosy. tense body only relaxing in an exhale when they were both in the privacy of his bedroom. setting them down on the soft covers, he kneels at their feet, resting his chin lightly on the plush of their thigh, mumbling about how sorry he was for the roughness earlier.

it's okay.

their hands work their way through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, cupping his cheek and turning his face up towards them.

chung myung was a beautiful man.

he knows it, but their look of quiet admiration made the blood rush to his face. he wasn't used to seeing someone look at him so lovingly, not when men and women would throw themselves on him from the lust they felt, not when most people closest to him always had a furrow on their brow from the antics he pulled. this was so new to him, he didn't dare move, lest it broke this tender moment.

have they ever looked at anyone like this?

probably not, he thinks, closing his eyes to savour the smooth pad of their thumb drawing circles on his cheek. smile tugging up the side corner of his mouth as the scent of the sun grows a little closer, their lips brushing over the hard lines on his face, his sun-kissed skin.

═══════════════

he doesn't have a lot of joys in this second life.

though there was one that everyone around him seemed to have picked up on. it was strange that someone as seemingly money-hungry as he was found content in the simplest things — his bedding washed in plum-blossom-scented soap, freshly dried to a crisp under the blazing sun.

what the others don't see was how behind the closed doors of his sleeping quarters he would hold onto the sheets so tightly in his grip his knuckles turned white. burrowing his face into the fabric, he breathed in deeply, trying to recall the face of his sun.

a hazy figure, a blurry visage.

it's been a hundred years, after all.

#enihkwrites #return of the mount hua sect #return of mount hua #return of the blossoming blade #rotbb #rotmhs #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheong myeong x reader #chung myung x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #return of the blossoming blade x reader #i was supposed to release this on his birthday... sorry guys... i got distracted... my bad....#time management skills are so wack like genuinely it has impacted my life negatively

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kyannae · 6 months

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HIS NAME，↷ cheongmyeong.

summary: in which, these were the times where you called his name. a hundred years later, he finds himself reminiscing about it.

category: ANGST. and maybe some fluff???? like...5% i think...

warnings: gn!reader , idk how bad the angst is to others but personally i find it quite sad , i think that's all

a/n: ERM. SO. whenever i open tiktok i only see cheongmyeong. i see him everywhere. and it's all angst. so i am sad. 😓

"cheongmyeong!" you would call, looking at him with a stern gaze. the said boy would glance at you from the tree he was on, before smirking. "oh? i swear i heard senior y/n for a second...i must be hearing things." he'd joke, before chugging down more alcohol. looking at your exasperated expression, he'd laugh again, taunting you by waving his bottle of alcohol.

"cheongmyeong." you would say, frowning at him as you hav caught him, yet again, stealing alcohol. "ehehehe ...." he'd laugh sheepishly, slowly moving towards the door and making a dash for it. "cheongmyeong! come back here!"

"cheeeongmyeeeonnggg~" you'd call, throwing yourself onto him during drinking sessions. (which you only participated in once in a blue moon.) "ack! get off me!" he'd complain, but make no effort to pry you off. tang bo would snicker, teasing the man endlessly.

"cheongmyeong..." you would say softly, embracing him and planting a kiss to the crown of his head, comforting him when things got tough. before he was the plum blossom sword saint, he was just cheongmyeong.

"cheongmyeong, the sect leader is calling for you." a hand was placed on his shoulder. the boy whipped his head around, and he swore that he saw you for a second- smiling at him softly. but then he blinked, and it was just jong yoon. "cheongmyeong...?" jong yoon hesitantly vocalized, seeing as he didn't respond, but was also afraid that the younger would beat him to a pulp.

"yeah, yeah." cheongmyeong got up, dusting himself off. placing both hands behind his back, he headed off to the sect leader, carrying a mountain of responsibilities along with him- jong yoon missing the wistful and melancholic look on his face.

#cheong myeong #chung myung #x reader #x y/n #x you #fluff #cheongmyeong x reader #chung myung x reader #angst #return of the blossoming blade #return of the mount hua sect #rotbb #rotmhs #gn!reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #☆ kyan's fem alinged #fem reader #male reader

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janelovespineapple · 25 days

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ROTB bumblebee reacting to having a crush on human reader

-hes in denial at first

-he did not expect to like someone that is a completely different species from him

-still acts the same around you, but you noticed that he was hanging around you more often

-whenever you guys are talking he would definitely be more shy or playful

-if I'm being honest I don't think he would confess right away.

-don't get me wrong he really wants too but he does not know if you'll like him back (bc he's literally a robot) and he doesn't know if Optimus would approve

-if he does talk to Optimus about it, eventually Optimus would be okay with it. at first Optimus did not approve because "they aren't planning on staying on earth for any longer" or "it won't work out."

-eventually if you prove your loyalty and earn his respect to the autobots he would be fine with it.

-he does not want to put you in danger

-during the fight with scourge he always kept a close eye on you to make sure you are okay

-if he does confess he would take you somewhere private and quiet.

-he just wants to enjoy your presence

-you can tell something is up by the way he avoids eye contact and struggles to say the right words, switching back and forth on the radio

-he decides to play ur favorite love song then uses a line from it.

-if u don't understand he will have to be more direct and just use a confession quote from a movie

-he's totally nervous while doing this and hopes you will say yes. but whatever happens is up to u

#transformers #bumblebee #transformers rotb #optimus prime #acree #rotbb #bumblebee x reader #rotb bumblebee #transformers hcs

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chungmyungenthusiast · 24 days

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Banter

Notes I Pure fluff maybe + chung myung content ?!?! woah.. keep in mind that this is not edited and checked :3

Chung Myung will never let you live this down. No way. Especially when he, quite literally, had you pinned down. "Give up yet?" He asks, his tone teasing as he looks down at you with that shit-eating grin he knows you have a hate-love relationship with. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so bad. "Love," You start, your tone seemingly pleading as you look up at him. The one and only Mount Hua's Divine Dragon, Chung Myung, swore he could explode at any given moment. And while that normally is a threat to the other disciples, it means something else now. Slowly but surely, you lean closer to him. You then pout, "Please.." A kiss, then you turn the tables on him. For a split second, he was caught off-guard with that kiss; you didn't waste any time switching your positions. How cute he looks when he's under you. "I'll kiss you, okay? So please, keep your voice down."

Notes II Chung Myung deserves all of the kisses and hugs in the world.

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farejourney · 6 months

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REPAST - Prologue

(manhwas x reader)

"One.. four.. six.... and just eight jars of glasearls? I think I need to go out more..." The owner of the restaurant mumbled to themselves. They are currently double checking all the items in their shelves to get ready for the opening of their restaurant.

They were then interrupted by the frantic beeping coming from their phone, that was on the counter outside of the kitchen. They rushed out of the kitchen to turn off the alarm reminder which simply says, 'It's time.'

The sigh and picked up two keys by its tags from the board on the wall, near the pony wall that shows the inside of the kitchen. One key has a pink and white tag while the other has a red and gold tag. The tags itself has writings on it. Out loud they read the writings, "Return of the blossoming blade.. or SSS-class suicide hunter...? Hm, I might have to change the designs of my items and change my clothes in general or become a wandering food market for pink... Maybe red isn't that bad? Definitely a hassle to deal with however..." Deep in thought they murmured, their indecisiveness has strike once again.

Pink and White or Red and Gold?

*By the time you found this now, chapter 1 has been published.

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iicomet · 7 months

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(Every year, he receives a box.) (Happy birthday, Chung Myung.)

Every single year without fail, Chung Myung receives a small box of mooncakes sitting on his opened windows he swore he had closed. Even as the cold air forced its way in and kissed his skin, causing goosebumps to rise from his neck, Chung Myung felt a sense of warmness at the sight of the familiar box. Although he isn't sure who gave him the box, he always had an inkling of the gifter's true identity. But if he tried to ask them about it, he would always be met with a confused hum and a swift denial. Perhaps they took him for a fool, because the small glint of happiness shining in their eyes always seemed to betray their nonchalant attitude. He wasn't going to complain though. A gift is a gift, and who was he to reject such kindness? It's definitely not because it brings a smile to his face or because the gifts always seem to be of his liking, it's just because he is a benevolent person who knows how to be grateful. Yup, that's definitely it. As one hundred years passed, Chung Myung still finds himself looking at the windowsill that feels oddly empty on his birthday. As he attempts to walk closer towards the closed window, his eyes caught a glimmer at the corner of his sights, distracting him from his reminiscing. A polished decoration atop a box that stood so out of place as it wasn't there in the morning. Chung Myung walks towards it, eyebrows raised. His expression morphing into one of surprise and curiosity when he finally examined it closer, a deep sense of nostalgia and hope filling him briefly. Why? It was just a box underneath a tree he often hid away in in his youth. But, he knew, it wasn't a mere package, for it held the intricate design he was oh so familiar with, and the insides that used to be filled with joy and blessings. It was a box they would always give him on his birthday, with ways even he could never decipher. But how could it be here? He was sure he wouldn’t be able to receive such favors after a hundred years. After all, the original gifter was long gone. But, he as well, disappeared before, so who’s to say that the other wouldn’t reappear as well? It was a far fetched theory, but he brushed it off as he held the box in his hands, looking at the small card on top of it with his name signed on the top, the sender’s signature missing as always. The handwriting never changed, remaining the same standard elegant mess. He couldn’t help the smile from forming on his face, feeling a wave of nostalgia when the smooth texture of the wrapping grazed his skin and reminded him of the feelings from a century ago. It was a box filled with memories and happiness, a box that brought the guilt and longing of the sender to the hopeful receiver. A gift that wished him a happy birthday, even after a hundred years of death.

#return of the blossoming blade #return of the mount hua sect #rotbb #x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheongmyeong #chung myung x reader #chungmyung #cheong myeong x reader #rotbb x reader #no im not late #happy cm day #happy birthday to cm woooo #they celebrate the day he was given life even after a hundred years of death guys when is it my turn

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gojosatoruwifey · 3 months

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ㅡdreaming torrents

✑ the what ifs random snippets postwar rotmhs that no one asked for (◕∇◕✿)

✿ warning/s: fluff , g/n! reader , swearing, tell me if i missed something!

✿ character/s: pbss! chung myung , junior! reader (feat. small baek cheon)

part of the senior reader agenda (tba)

thumb ring

sleepiness seems to overlap either day or night. the issue used to not bother him but now that being groggy is catching up to his body, chung myung finds it hard to stifle a yawn. bed hair of ink black falls to his shoulders, white robes thrown in haphazardly as if he’s not bothered by the incoming scolding from his tidied junior later in the dining hall he will be meeting for breakfast, drowse clung to his eyes, hand busy itself to close the door of the room.

“sahyung,” a voice called out from the side.

chung myung glanced to see a cultivator disciple in black, a carefully embroidered tassel hanging on their sword as it sways from side to side with each step they made, a thin sheet of sweat cling to their forehead making people who see them want to applaud at the sight of an outstanding figure doing work once the sun is up, there is a tender smile on their face as their hand waved at him from afar. “your hair isn’t tied up. want me to do it for you?”

like sent into a trance, chung myung wordlessly gives to your awaiting hands his green ribbon, it was brief but he catches a band around your thumb. “were you wielding a bow? you have a thumb ring.”

“i went out hunting,” you stood up behind his sitting figure as your fingers card through his fluffy hair. on the side of the doorway of chung myung’s room, there’s a wooden side table with two chairs you can pull under. it’s a highly convenient furniture that chung myung bought on a whim. who said impulse buying is always a bad thing? they clearly haven’t seen the side table. the craftsman was so happy that his ‘unusual’ invention was bought and seeing that it was the highly regarded plum blossom sword saint, his spirit reached the heavens.

chung myung perks up, “does my dear junior willing to give me their catch?”

he may have his back facing you but you well know that he was wearing a teasing expression, a grin on his lips as he closes his eyes while you tighten up the ribbon. “sure. i wonder if senior can eat all of them up, though. as they say 'time is of the essence'. tang bo is waiting. hurry up, or face the consequences of being beaten."

“damn, that guy is already here?”

you patted his shoulders, laughing. you step to the side as chung myung stands up to his full height. you leave first but not when a callous warm hand lifts your hand with the thumb ring closer for chung myung to look at. his eyes glimmer with an unknown light you can’t name. so you just let him hold it like that — his own thumb stroke it a few times before he let it go — matching your pace as the both of you walk to the stoned pavements,

later that day, before you turn around to go back to your room, chung myung tosses a shiny material to you which you catch with a heart in your throat. who wouldn’t be surprised, anyway? you were about to mind your business and sleep after a whole day of labour then your sahyung passed something to you without any words. opening your fist, a beautiful jade thumb ring sits on your palm as your wide eyes flicker to chung myung’s self-satisfied figure.

a huge batch of char siu is due.

fuzhou fish ball

you can’t believe the day will come that a certain senior who hasn't taken a single disciple in that long life of his finally arrives. it’s strange to see a small figure beside his imposing height, much more strange that it was a kid once they got nearer and a clear view of a refine-looking boy, with straight hair and a pair of big, strong eyes that remind you of a stone with a similar colour on them, they bring you a sense of refreshing waft of salt in the air accompanied by a low crashing of waves.

there was one question you badly want to voice out.

annoyed by your staring, chung myung huffed. “What?”

“...you didn’t kidnap this child for a ransom, did you?”

chung myung looks scandalized, “what the fuck are you sayi–”

“sahyung! the kid can hear you!”

“so what? he will soon learn that.”

you cleared your throat and knelt to level your gaze at the kid. the last thing you want is to frighten him. with the bickering that just happened right now, you give him a timid smile and the boy’s shoulder drops a little as he hides behind chung myung’s legs. it’s a small change, nevertheless, still change and you’re happy to see that his guard is down and not up. “hello.”

he shyly returned a small ‘hello’. if you’re not a cultivator trained to have good hearing, you’ll not catch it, his greeting might get lost in the wind.

“don’t hesitate to tell me if this bad guy is threatening you, okay?” a giggle slips out from the kid.

“yah!”

“you should eat something.” you ignored the glare in your way as you offered a cheery smile to the kid whose name you haven’t known yet. “this one is called y/n, third grade disciple of mount hua. can i have the pleasure to know the young one before me?”

the kid blinked at the figure in front of him. an air of dignified pillar surrounding you making you appear trusty. having a good intuition, he opened his mouth to say his name but he was beaten to it by the older man.

“the kid wants to change his name.” chung myung said.

“oh,” a click of understanding registered on your face as you nodded and stood up. “after eating, do you want to meet the sect leader? he will bless you with a given name if that’s what you want. feel free to say to this elder here, hm?”

as expected, once the three of you stepped foot inside the courtyard, everyone bombarded questions as they gathered you to the center. the sect has always maintained a family ambience yet it feels the bond is deeper now that the war is over and a child especially the one that is picked up by the plum blossom sword saint is seen as a blessing. the excitement never dies down even when the sun is starting to set as the women with their daughters prepare an impromptu banquet. long line of tables decorated with vibrant red and gold, a group of baek disciples tying the plum blossom flags in the ceilings, another group carrying boxes of drinks and the others keeping the places tidy.

an auspicious occasion is what the old people say.

“just where did they get the money to get those expensive things?”

“sahyung, you didn’t know? the government may keep away from the events of the martial sects but the emperor owes the mount hua sect big time.” you explained. “i handled that matter a few weeks after the war ended as per the sect leader’s permission. the bank notes and everything else is in my care, the treasure chests are with the financial hall. you see those wines?” chung myung glanced at the spot you are focused on where the two older baek disciples are carrying a box with care, then followed by another set of disciples. “gift from the emperor. the ones that reached early were only one-third. the second deal of the agreement…do you remember those men fixed the damages to our sect? that’s the second deal and the last, ownership rights documents of land properties. it wasn’t long ago that these hidden precious gifts were placed underground.”

“hundred years ago is not long ago!”

chung myung side-eyed your relaxed figure, completely baffled at the way you casually bring you’re a walking dungeon. “you hoarder…are you sure you’re not a descendant of dragons? you seem to stick your nose in places with mountains of rewards.”

it’s your turn to glare at him. “i don’t want to hear that from you, of all people. now, where is that cute fuzhou fish ball?”

“what???”

“your first disciple.” you clarified. “he is like a fuzhou fish ball.”

“he is with the sect leader and why are you calling him fuzhou fish ball? are you hungry? you can go eat first, you poor thing.”

awaiting for the last dance

whimsical as the shower rain, you spent a sleepless night opting for a productive path — train. the music of sword cutting the air with the intent of precise point, feet steady to the ground yet agile as a feline, it’s a footwork to allow yourself an escape in a bind, unsettled water that was agitated and quelled. the blade flared cold light, striking a purpose, a sword dance following an illusionary image of an empty plane as the void of life suddenly comes alive with the arrival of plum blossoms.

nights at mount hua are cold and unforgiving. they take advantage of the light clothes worn, crackled frost nipping on the skin turning to a hungry bite, the scenery of plum blossom trees deep red under the chilly moonlight and mocking the pitiful soul to catch a glimpse of it as the first fall of snow buried them. your graceful form in the wintry night comes to mind. chung myung leaned his back on one of the trees as he watched quietly and listened to the light tappings of your boots, sounds heavy landing a blow, wind urging the leaves to dance and chung myung tip of his head to the sight as the vicious swift blade tore the trunk.

it’s hard to discern the difference between the petals drifting slowly in the air from the plum blossom tree sprouting in the ground and the petals unfolded by two elders of the sect. the musings of the night giggled, the series of fists either blocked single-handedly or avoided in a way his body is angled to the side. second slower, you will come to scathe the vital points of this hailed saint. chung myung leapt back, putting distance as you come emerge in the shadows, swinging your leg to kick the side of his face and like your other attempts, it also failed. chung myung seized the opening — suddenly dropping as he pivoted a leg to lose your footing. unprepared, you immediately tumbled, closing your eyes to embrace the impact that never happened, a deep chuckle reverberated above.

chung myung had his arm wrapped around your torso, carrying you like you weighed nothing as he had you hoisted, the feeling of floating strange as he walked back to the newly established dormitories. he passed by the same tree that your sword had pierced in its spot, he applied a spell as it hovered in the back. “that’s enough training for the night, dear junior. i’ll never hear the end of sect leader sahyung’s nagging to find out you sneak out.”

“looks who is calling the kettle black. put me down.”

“no.” still childish at his age, he stuck out his tongue to make fun of your worm-wriggling figure.

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blossoming-mind-palace · 6 days

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Chung Myung x Reader: "Not Jealous!" (SFW)

Summary: You and Jo Geol are talking about the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, and you can't stop gushing over him. Chung Myung gets jealous

CW: Mild jealousy, GN Reader

“Do you guys ever wonder what the Plum Blossom Sword Saint looked like?” Chung Myung’s ear twitched when he heard you say this. “Well, all of the stories make him sound like a badass, so he probably looked the part, too,” Jo Geol chimed in. “What does a badass look like to you, Jo Geol?” You inquired. “Well, he must’ve been a giant. I bet he had a bunch of scars from all of the battles he was in! He probably had an intimidating gaze, too.”

“Respectfully, I disagree.” “Oh? Then what do you think he looked like?” “Hm…” You paused for a second. “I bet he had women all over him!” Chung Myung coughs on his drink and almost spits it out on the dinner table.

Everyone’s eyes are on him. “Are you okay, Chung Myung?” You turn towards him with a concerned look on your face. “Mhm!” He is a terrible liar and is visibly nervous. You decide to not comment on his face because he looks like he doesn’t want to talk about what just happened.

“Okay, back to what I was saying. He seems like the stereotypical heroic type, right? There’s no way he wasn’t popular with the ladies! Especially if he was big like you said. Who doesn’t want a giant and buff knight in shining armor?” Chung Myung is making mental notes on what you're saying. That must be your taste in men, right? His ears turn red while he eavesdrops on your conversation with Jo Geol.

“I guess that makes sense. If he was like that, I’d want to get to know him too!” “Exactly, you understand now!” “I wonder what other features he had…” Jo Geol thinks out loud. Chung Myung has gone quiet and his face is as red as a tomato. He’s stopped eating and can only look at his lap while listening to you gush over his previous life. He wants to scream.

“I don’t know, but he must’ve been a hunk! I bet he was the chivalrous romantic type, too. It’d make sense with the whole heroic reputation he has. Hah, sounds like my type of guy-” “I think you’ve been reading too many fairytales!” Chung Myung snaps at you. You notice he’s pouting, and decide it’s a good time to tease him. “Okay, why does that concern you? I’m just speculating. It’s not like he’s in the room with us, anyway!” “Whatever, I’m done eating!” He stands up abruptly and leaves.

Jo Geol looks startled; an upset Chung Myung is the last thing the disciples need. “I wonder why he’s so pissy? It’s not like he’s cared about my taste in men before!” You sigh and watch as Chung Myung slams the door on his way out.

Everyone except you knows why he’s like this. They’ve watched him steal glances, listened to him praise you after training, and noticed the special treatment he gives you. He doesn’t steal from your plate, he sneaks in booze for you and gets jealous when other disciples spend too much time with you. Jo Geol has seen this all before with other disciples. He knows for a fact that Chung Myung is in love with you and is currently jealous!

“Maybe you should go talk to him, (Y/N)?” Jo Geol suggests. The sooner you smooth things over, the sooner peace will return to Mount Hua. “Why?” “Well, something you said must’ve upset him!” “But I didn’t do anything besides praise the Plum Blossom Sword Saint!”

“Look, (Y/N), if he’s still like this tomorrow he’ll make training feel like hell on Earth. Please, smooth things over with him for all of us! We don’t want to face his wrath tomorrow!” “You’re being dramatic, but okay.” Jo Geol breathes a sigh of relief when you finally leave the dinner table.

Knock knock knock. “Chung Myung, is anybody home?” You ask and wait. A couple of seconds pass by with no response. You knock again. “Chung Myung, can I come in? Please?” You’ve started using your gentle and sweet tone. It’s the one you use when you want him to be soft towards you. “Fine.” He opens the door and has a massive pout on his face. This grown man looks like a kicked puppy, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control you have to not giggle at him. He moves to the side, lets you enter his room, and closes the door behind you.

You look him in the eyes, and you’re ready to confront him. “What’s up with you?” “Huh?” “Your mood suddenly changed during dinner, and now I’m concerned.” “It’s nothing!” His cheeks and ears are turning red again. He looks adorable when he’s like this!

He starts to panic as you close the distance between you two. Since his face is flushed, you decide to check his temperature. His eyes go wide when you put your hand on his forehead. “What do you think you’re doing!?” “I’m just concerned about your health! Your face is red, you feel hot, and you’ve been acting weird!” “Look, I’m not sick, so back up! Please…”

His tone softened at the end, and you decide it’s high time to stop teasing him. You remove your hand and back up. “Then what’s your problem? You were obviously upset at dinner. Was it something I said?” “...” “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to figure it out myself!” Your mind replays all of the conversations you had during that time. You guys talked about food, how hard training was today, legends and heroes… Wait, that’s it!

“You weren’t upset until I started praising him!” “W-Who!? I have no idea what you’re talking about!” “The Plum Blossom Sword Saint! You’re jealous of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint!” “I am not!!” “Yes, you are!” “Am not!” His face couldn’t get any redder. This is ridiculous! Why would he be jealous of himself? “Just admit it! You’re jealous because I kept talking about how attractive he must’ve been.” “So what if I am!? What’re you gonna do if I say I’m jealous, anyway?” You pin him against the door. “Do you wanna find out?”

Chung Myung feels like he’s going to explode in any second now. When did you become so assertive? And who do you think you are, pining your senior to the door like this!? Your face inches closer to him. “Say it.” “No!” “Say it!” “Absolutely not!” “Pretty please, sahyung?” You purr into his ear. “That’s it, I’ve had enough of your shit! Why do you even care so much? Do you want me to be jealous!?” “Maybe…”

The tables turn when he trades places you. You’re caged between his arms and the door, and there’s no escaping at this point. He asks,” Why are you like this?” “Because I like it when you’re flustered. It’s cute.” Your hand raises and you softly caress his face. He grabs your hand, but instead of ripping it away, he buries his face into it.

“You think I’m cute?” “Mhm!” You’re pleased with your progress. It seems like he’s starting to calm down now. His eyes are still furrowed, and while he looks you in your eyes, he asks,” Do you think I’m cuter than him?” “Pardon?” “Don’t make me repeat myself!” Oh, he’s so cute when he’s flustered!

“Yes, Chung Myung, I think you’re cuter than the Plum Blossom Sword Saint,” you say as you cup his face in your hands. “You’re probably stronger than him, too.” “Hah, I don’t know about that…” He rubs the back of his neck. All of these compliments are making him nervous! “I do, and I think you’re the strongest, hottest hunk Mount Hua has ever seen!” You start peppering his face with kisses. His heart feels like it could explode in any second!

His eyebrows have relaxed and now he can’t stop smiling. “You have the prettiest smile, too! Oh, and your eyes are so captivating! I could stare into them forever!” “Stop it, I’m not that handsome…” He’s rubbing the back of his neck as he sheepishly looks away. You can tell he’s nervous.

“I disagree,” You kiss his forehead, and look down at his lips. “Hey, Chung Myung…” “Hm?” “Can I kiss you here?” You ask innocently as you poke his bottom lip with your pointer finger. His heartbeat can’t go any faster; you’re going to be the death of this man! “Y-yeah…”

You grab his chin and pull him forward. Your lips meet, and when you try to pull away Chung Myung pouts. “Oh? Why’re you upset now?” “You know why!” You smile softly at him and give him a couple more kisses, but these are more drawn out than the first one. You’re both panting when you finally pull away.

“There, are you happy now?” “Maybe…” “What do I have to do to turn that into a yes?” Your response makes him feel shy, and he goes quiet while trying to figure out how to reply. You decide to take the lead. You grab his hand and lead him to the bed. “Lay down so I can coddle you,” you tell him. He obeys, and you follow suit. He lays his head on your chest, meanwhile your hand is running through his hair while the other rubs circles on his back. He feels like he’s on cloud 9.

“Are you happy now?” “Mhm…” he mumbles into your chest. You whisper under your breath,” You’re such a big baby…” “Huh!?”

The next morning, the disciples noticed Chung Myung was acting weird. He was happy… a bit too happy. They definitely weren’t complaining! A happy Chung Myung is better to train with than an angry and violent one. Jo Geol will have to thank you later.

#rotbb #return of the blossoming blade #rotmhs #chung myung #return of the mount hua sect #cheongmyeong x reader #chung myung x reader #cheongmyeong #cheong myeong #x reader #fanficion #fanfics #sfw fanfic #fluff #jealousy

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rathesy · 5 months

Text

I made a text between you and Chung myung

Yeah this is probably occ but I did it‼️

Should I do more??

#x reader #manhwa #manhwa x reader #webtoon #webtoon x reader #cheong myeong #chung myung #chung myung x reader #cheong myeong x reader #rotmhs #rotbb #return of mount hua #return of the mount hua sect x reader #return of the blossoming blade #return of the blossoming blade x reader #fake texts #rotmhs fake texts #rotbb fake texts

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ge · 2 months

Note

🐌: my thoughts writing every rotbb man x fem!reader - never let a woman stop you from meeting your husband (chung myung)

sometimes.. a man hurts every woman who comes into his life because his true soulmate is a man..

#actually i read ur tang bo x fem reader where theyre arranged married and arent in love but r best friends instead and tc is endgame #I LOVE GAY INFIDELITY.....!!!!!!! I EAT THATSHIT UP OM NOM NOM NOM

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enihk-writes · 8 months

Text

[homecoming]

pairing: past!chung-myung x gn!they/them!reader

summary: the night before he leaves mount hua to subdue cheon-ma and the demonic cult, chung myung pays a visit to the small run-down shed at the edge of the village.

content warning: reader is implied to have depression stemming from their eventual disability due to internal injuries healing wrongly // reader is implied to have some minor form of age-related memory loss later in life // canon-compliant chung myung death from the opening of the novel

word count: 4.0k

author’s note: yea,,, so uh,,, i got hit with an angst-a-tron MK3500 at 10pm on like a monday night one(1) day before i have to go back to campus for my semester 2 classes.... this fic somehow ended up being a fucking monster longest fic i’ve ever written in my career 我的天啊。我发神经病了是吗？这么突然能够写的这么多字？我老师看到这个肯定会把我两个脚从我学校四楼 tie together and 丢我下去。

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

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the chatter in the bustling dining hall died down as he walked further and further away from the crowd and towards the sect gates.

past the open gates, he notices the older man with greying hair standing serenely, looking out at the nightscape and the village that surrounded the base of the mountain down below.

sa-hyung

when did that guy grow so old? he knew the sect leader was getting on in years but, looking at the crow’s feet crinkling from the smile his sa-hyung gave him, it’s just hard not to get sentimental, you know?

are you going to see them? the sect leader asks, a teasing, knowing tone in his voice. like he was aware of something chung myung wasn’t. it was a little annoying, but this was nothing he wasn’t used to at this point.

chung myung grunts, not really wanting to answer the sect leader’s questions. truthfully, it was a habit everyone around him knew about. no one ever asked him about his relationship with that person out-right though, they were smarter then that, and were rather happy to stay curious.

tomorrow's mission won’t be like any other. the sect leader muses, looking out again into the distance.

you should tell them.

chung myung looks at the sect leader incredulously, like the man had grown a second head and was speaking unhinged gibberish.

about what?

you know exactly what i’m talking about chung myung. i know you’re not daft. a deep belly-chuckle came from the good-natured sect leader, even as old men, he still wanted to tease the younger one.

chung myung stays silent. he would rather not confront the matters of his heart tonight. he will in due time, just not now. it was better for the both of them — that person, and himself.

the sect leader chuckles again at the other’s unusually quiet demeanor, turning to go back into the bustling dining hall.

it seems i’ve held you back long enough, run along and come back on time.

the younger man clicks his tongue, scratching his neck and looking away in embarrassment, he felt too seen by the elder then — but he still promised to return before morning. tomorrow was an important day for the sect and the world as a whole, after all.

at the base of the mountain was a forested path leading to a thriving town under mount hua’s protection, he walks past the crowds of villagers and noisy night-market vendors, further and further away until it was just the serene moon of méiyuè accompanying him to where he had promised he would be.

sure enough, right along the dirt path was the familiar shadow of the run down hut, almost shed, that person had taken to calling their home these past few years.

he thought about the day they left the sect. he remembers chasing after them to the gates, hoping he could get them to stay. he didn’t understand why they left back then, even now, he still couldn’t get their reasons.

how could you leave the home you’ve lived in all your life like this? he shouts at them in confusion and anger, maybe with a little sadness laced in it too.

their back looked small. tired. the weight of their debilitating condition heavy on their minds. there is no cure for a broken qi core, after all. it’s like taking the eyes of an artist away or a musician’s hearing. when a murim warrior can no longer use their qi, what were they to do? if their condition hits rock bottom, they might not even have control over their own bodies, or even their consciousness. friends become foes, the living and dead are made equal in their skewed judgement, what if...

a chill ran down their spine at the thought of that scenario. no, they’d make sure such a tragedy can never befall on any innocent being. that’s why they were leaving the sect. for the safety of their sect brothers and sisters, and mostly for their own peace of mind.

why won’t you answer me, damn it!

chung myung’s calls were edging on desperation. he’d never been one to do well in the face of change. he was happy with the way things were, so why weren’t they? what went wrong? why did they want to leave?

so what if you can’t fight anymore? it doesn’t mean you can’t live here, everybody loves you so much and they can all take care of you!

besides, he was here too.

wasn’t he?

there was a long silence. the cool autumn winds danced past the sect gates. surrounding the two were large, towering plum blossom tress now donned in a lovely shade of caramel, with it’s leaves shaking free from the branches it spent a lifetime on — fluttering along with where the breeze led them and falling gracefully at their feet.

ever since their qi core broke, they’ve mostly kept to themselves. not really going anywhere outside their room or talking to other sect members. other then chung myung, of course. he was clingy, nosy and annoying. well, it was hard to shake him off in general.

if they were skipping meals, he’d break in through their window with a table of food. if they weren’t getting out of bed, he’d carry them out to join him in slacking off on daily duties. if they were beginning to spiral into the loop of numbed despair, he would barge in with something for them to do — housekeeping, meeting with merchants, archiving records, anything that kept them on their feet or distracted them enough.

it didn’t really make the feeling go away, but chung myung tries, and that was all that mattered to them.

but they had to go.

because they loved the people who lived here, they have to leave this home behind, so no one will ever suffer the chance of getting hurt by their hands.

because they loved him that they hope he would never have to go through the inevitable task of taking their life, when they are no longer themselves.

i should get going.

they grinned at him, honestly feeling a little silly about getting caught up in their emotions and becoming so sentimental at that moment. they were just moving out to live in the forest around the town outskirts. and it’s not like chung myung couldn’t come down the mountain to see them whenever he wanted either.

chung myung too, grew embarrassed. was he crazy? why did he act like they were going off to some faraway place? there were still within reach, there were still near mount hua. he could see them whenever.

tch. go off already.

he shoos them, flicking his hand at them in annoyance. wanting to hide his heated face from their prying eyes.

he hears them laugh for the first time in a while, he had been missing it lately, how could he have forgotten how sweet it sounded? they turn on their heel, heart lighter from before, it was going to be alright. they would be fine. chung myung will be fine. the sun will still rise on the east, and the seasons will change, the world will move on and so will they.

i’ll be going for real now, bye-bye chung myung. come see me tomorrow, okay?

nah, i don’t feel like it.

please?

he sighs.

i’ll go if i can slip past the sect elders.

you say it like you want them to catch you, i guess you really don’t want to visit me. how upsetting...

ugh. fine, i’ll see you in your stupid new house.

how sweet of you chung myung! look at how grown-up you’ve become!

you little—!

they laughed loudly as they ran down the mountain before chung myung tried to catch them in a chokehold. he doesn’t even bother chasing after them, but he does look on at where the ran off to. their hair had been cut shorter then it usually was, and the tie wasn’t able to hold back the lose few strands that fluttered around their face. they looked younger, lighter, like a kid going on a trip away from home. if they were that happy, he has to be happy for them too, shouldn’t he?

it’s been more then fifty years since then.

he walks into the humble abode, they were sitting against the windows, a book in one hand and the other nursing a cup of tea. they’ve aged, he realised. their once battle-worn face had gone soft, the groves around their eyes had grown deeper over time. skin that was once full and youthful had grown loose around the bones. their hair that had always been so well-taken care of no matter what was now thinner, a little dry and coarse. he picks up the brush lying on the dresser nearby, and walks over to where they were sitting.

with a confidence that seemed to have done this a hundred times, he gathers their long hair and wraps a thin white ribbon around it, looping it over here and there. when he was done, he leans back to look at his work, it wasn’t that good, but it wasn’t the worst either. he wanted to braid the ribbon into their hair but he gave up halfway and settled with a low one instead.

as he sets down the brush, they sweep the half-braided hair over their shoulder to look at his handiwork, fingers playing with the ends of the ribbon.

do you like it?

they look up at him, eyes searching his face, a look of unfamiliarity in their gaze. taking a moment longer before a small smile finally cracks on their face.

chung myung...!

they call out his name, turning to face him fully. they remembered this stranger in their house, and look at how he hadn’t aged a day.

chung myung smiles back sadly. it wasn’t fair how he was the only one whose time had seemed to stop, and theirs had kept moving on, the age taking their memories away at every turn. he just saw them yesterday and they’ve already had trouble remembering him again. they’ve already lost so much, it just wasn’t fair.

i made tea. you should have some, training must have been hard on you.

they smooth out the frown on his brow, tenderly rubbing circles on his cheek with their thumb. humming an unnamed melody as they did so.

he looks over at the said pot of tea. it had already gone cold, probably even bitter from how long the leaves must have sat in the water. he takes a cup anyways, and empties it out, not even leaving a single drop behind.

they giggle in amusement, wondering out loud if he was that thirsty.

hm... the tea you made is really... rich in flavour. thank you for letting me have all of it. i really needed that.

he lies while choosing his words carefully, setting down his cup and pushing the tea set away, he ponders for a moment, and picks them up in his arms, carrying them over to their bed.

what about my book?

you can read that later.

they watch as he sets them down on their bed, kicking off his shoes and climbing in right after. he sighs as his head plops down on their lap, making himself comfortable.

their hands find their way into his thick, dark locks of hair — fingers gingerly undoing the ribbon, watching in quiet fascination as chung myung's abundant tresses came cascading down their legs and flowing over the edge of the bed.

he hums, almost purrs as they thread through the troublesome kinks and knots in his curls, scratching his scalp as they worked through it. his tense body grows softer at their touch, leaning into their hand, wishing that those soft palms would lay on his head forever.

but alas, the night wore off and the distant bustle of the village nightlife had faded into the gentle symphony of the nocturnal critters for quite some time now. he knows he had to get up and return to the mountains, but how could he? the heart wants what it wants, and what it wanted was to stay by their side until the last moment. but he had also promised his sa-hyung he would be back on time.

a long drawn-out sigh was passed in the silence that lay between the two of them. they gaze down at chung myung’s face, again scrunched into a frown.

you frown so much.

the pads of their fingers ghosted over his brows, softly smoothing out the hard creases on his face. he kept his eyes closed. if he opened them, he knew that familiar face would be looking over his, and if he looked at that face, he would look into their eyes, and if he looked at them long enough, he would never want to leave this place. hell, he might not even bother to go with the sect tomorrow.

tomorrow, most of the elders and older disciples will be leaving to subjugate the demonic cult. i’ll be going with them.

he pauses. waiting for them to tell him to stay.

they don’t.

i’ll have to leave soon.

silence.

i’ll come back.

again, he was met with no answer.

you have to take care of yourself.

a beat, and then — a barely audible hum of acknowledgement graces his ears.

chung myung sits up, pulling them into a tight hug, it was really out-of-character of him but something in him was telling him to do it anyways. burying his face deeper into the dip of their neck, he felt his anxiety pour out of his lips.

you better be here when i come back. don’t take this as a chance to go somewhere i can’t find you. i have something i have to tell you so, wait for me here. please?

they rub soothing circles on his back, hugging him back with as much strength their aging body could muster. resting their chin daintily on his shoulder, they revel in the rare burst of affection the man was showing tonight.

hm. you worry too much.

they giggle for a bit.

where else would i be if not here? this is my home, isn’t it?

yeah, but...

if you’re still worried about that... well, i won’t try anything anymore. i promise.

really?

yes. really.

chung myung loosens his grip and finally lets go of his hold on them. coughing awkwardly, he moves them off his lap. slowly, he gets up, puts on his shoes and puts himself together. he turns on his heel, heading for the entryway. they followed after him, their feet shuffling against the floor trying to keep up.

it was drizzling outside.

there was a sudden warmth enveloping him from behind. it took him a moment to register their arms around his waist, face buried against his back. he barely held back his smile as he takes ahold of their hands, once again turning to face them. it seems that saying their goodbyes was a lot harder today, for him and for them too.

goodnight, chung myung.

you should go to bed soon.

he stays at his spot, watching them slide their door shut, listening as the movements in the shed ceased into soft breaths that eventually evened out. he waits a while longer and finally found the strength to return to his own home.

═══════════════

morning rolled around rather quickly. the streets were lined with throngs of civilians on each side of the road making way for the farewell procession of the would-be heroes. vibrant pink petals were cast into the air as the elders of the sect led the disciples onwards.

from the corner of his eye he catches a white ribbon flowing in the wind, but when he swings his head to look, there was no one there. was he just seeing things? his heart drops a little, he was hoping to see them before he —

look up.

his gaze meets theirs, a gleeful glint in their eyes, all perched up in the trees. he wonders what they were clasping in their hands, held up to their mouth in what looked like a kiss. though he didn’t have to for long. as he passed by under them, he felt a flutter of white plum blossoms raining down on him, most of it falling off him except for a lone petal that stuck on his lower lip. he picks up the petal in between his fingers, feeling the corner of his lip crook up in amusement.

he should ask them about that stunt they pulled when he comes back.

and he should probably also tell them how pretty they were with that white ribbon he gave them, all braided into their hair, when he came back from this.

finally, it was over.

cheon-ma has finally been defeated.

all at the cost of so many lives. all taken too soon, too cruelly and all for what? who was going to remember the names of those that died here today? who would mourn for these lives? chung myung couldn’t think of an answer to that.

his body grows limp and he collapses on top of the mountain of corpses. he’s lost too much blood, probably from losing his whole left arm.

to be born alone and to die alone like a common mutt, what a life he had lived as the thirteenth disciple of the great mount hua sect.

all that was left for him to do, as his consciousness walked on the thin line between life and death, was to wallow in his regrets. he could see his memories flicker before his eyes. was this what people talk about seeing when your life is drawing to a close? all that he has done so far, had led to this sorry end?

if only he had been more diligent in training.

if only he had been just a little stronger then he was now.

if only he could have saved a life, any life. a single innocent life spared from the cold clutches of an unjust death.

ah.

and one more thing.

he wanted to apologize to them, for breaking his promise. he hoped they would curse him out a little, because at least that meant they thought of him. he hopes they wouldn’t get too lonely and join them all too soon.

he feels his senses grow numb.

it’s been a few years since chung myung had somehow traversed through time and had woken up a hundred years into the future from when he had died on that mountain of corpses.

he’d kept himself busy with building the now fallen and derelict sect, back into the glory it once had.

this new body of his, it was going to turn twenty-two soon. in his downtime, he’d slipped away from the sect and had gone down the mountain to the town as he usually did.

though it was a little different today. he finds his feet taking him down the almost familiar path out of the town and on an overgrown grass patch where a dirt path once lay. and sure enough, he could see the familiar shadow of a house, almost shed standing in the distance.

time had worked it’s damage on the structure.

he peers in from the broken-in door to see the place left to it’s bare bones. whatever furniture or item had all been looted and taken. in the middle of the room was a mess of broken wood, remnants of when the roof caved in.

chung myung walks into the dilapidated room, looking around for anything that could have survived the past hundred years of wear and tear. anything that could remind him of them.

nothing. there was really nothing left.

a breeze came in from a window, and the corner of his eye catches a fluttering movement. he swings his head and there, on the window sills, was a ribbon, turned light brown from the layers of dust and dirt, it’s once long silky edges now choppy and frayed.

hands shaky, he unties the ribbon from the window, holding it carefully, as though it would fall apart in his grasp. he could feel the barely buried feelings of regret crash upon him all over again. he wonders if they had left this behind with the blind hope that he would come back?

he was back, against all odds. he had managed to come home, but, they weren’t here to see it. nobody he used to ever care for was here to see him anymore.

he should leave. before his feelings get the better of him.

he holds his hands to his face, sighing deeply. steeling himself to move on. but when he drops his hands and opens his eyes, he is once again stunned in his tracks. was it really?

there, past the open window and on the clearing right outside looking at him curiously was a face he would know anywhere. a startled squeak leaves them as they realize that their eyes met, trying their best to block his view with the laundry basket they held in their arms. backing off and beginning to scurry away from the scene.

chung myung knows that it was a long shot, an impossible shot into the dark even, but what if they had been reincarnated like he had? it wasn’t out of the question, right? he thinks as his legs swing over the window, jumping down from it and begins to give chase to the one running away from him.

really, what sane person would ever think that they could outrun a martial artist? chung myung caught up so quickly it was honestly laughable. he catches them by the collar, yanking them back and they let out high-pitched yelp in fright.

he could barely hold back his laugh as he looks down at their face, eyes screwed shut and lips pursed in anxiety.

steadying them on their feet, he turns them to face him. they look different from all those years ago, but his soul knows. it knows better then anyone that this is them, a different face, a different voice and maybe even another name but all of that cannot trick his soul from knowing who they were.

he searches their face, there was no look of recognition. no matter, they could start over, he couldn’t let this chance slip past him like it had back then. he would make things right by them, he wouldn’t keep them waiting in vain like he had back then.

chung myung clears his throat, grinning boyishly at them, hands formed together in greeting, bowing his head before he looks back at them.

ah, really sorry about chasing you down like that. my name is chung myung, and i come from mount hua sect in the mountains back there. it’s nice to meet you.

they look at him, up and down, assessing him for a bit. crazy guy. chasing them down like a predator hunting their prey. crazy. batshit insane. who does that? who even does that? but, they would be lying if their heart was swayed by that grin, he was a little cute, and who in the world wouldn’t be swayed by a face like his? not them, that’s for sure.

besides, when they saw him through the window, something about him...

it felt familiar. it’s almost like, they have known each other from long ago. but wasn’t that weird? how could one know a stranger for a lifetime? unless this was what others call a fated encounter? they bite back a gasp.

hello.

a soft, shy smile graces their lips. quietly telling him their name. chung myung couldn’t help the fondness growing in his gaze. truly, it was a miracle sent from the heavens. maybe this time, the two of them would finally work out what they couldn’t last time. maybe this time, they would find the ending they’ve both always wanted.

#enihkwrites #return of the mount hua sect #return of mount hua #return of the blossoming blade #rotbb #rotmhs #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheong myeong x reader #chung myung x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #return of the blossoming blade x reader #not going to lie babes this one took me two weeks to finish writing #i had a plan and i lost the plan and now look at this ending yall #i lost the plot somewhere in the fic #can you believe im still going through the novel #imagine being a writer that hates reading #absolute insanity

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iicomet · 9 months

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"psst-" "...?" "chung myung-ah! come here." He tilted his head at the voice, seeing the head of his senior peeking out of the window. He would've cursed the person out if it were anyone else, to be honest. But, it was his senior, one of the few people in Mount Hua who tolerated and even loved him like a younger brother despite his attitude. He couldn't even see their face, only staring at their eyes with confusion. It was late at night, and everyone was asleep. Why was his senior, the most well-behaved disciple in the entire sect doing outside his window at such a weird time? Surely they're not drunk, or hoping to attempt something strange. His senior wasn't the type to do something like that. ...Or were they...? Reluctantly, he walked closer towards the window, the only source of light in the dark room. Finally, he sees his senior's face, their bright smile evident on their face. They weren't drunk, he could see now. "...?" They only ushered him over to move closer to the window, passing him a box of items once he was deemed close enough. As he looked down upon the mysterious box, they used this opportunity to pat his hair, chuckling softly at the touch of scarred fingers against fluffy hair. They had always wondered, how did he get his hair to look like that? "i hope this makes you happier, sajae." They said, smiling gently. In the midst of the darkness, he felt as if the sun reflected it's rays on his senior's face instead of the moon, for it brought a sense of warmness into his heart in this cold night. His hands held onto the box tightly, as if scared to drop something so sacred to him. For a moment, he felt as if the room had brightened up lightly, as if a person's presence could bring this much light to a place. Before he could even thank them, they had disappeared, leaving behind the fragrance of plum blossoms in the winter, a scent so strong yet so faint at the same time. His eyes slowly trailed to the box in his hands, opening it slowly to reveal beautifully made mooncakes, packed neatly as if the person took great care in their art. A smile graced upon his lips as he took a bite out of the mooncake, feeling the soft yet slightly tender texture of the delicacy he loved so much fill his mouth with joyful goodness. Immediately his day brightened up, and he had forgotten the reason why he was so frustrated even when it was late at night. The salty and sweet taste plagued his senses, and he wondered how his senior knew. However, even if he spent the night awake thinking about it, he would never get a definite answer. After all, it's his senior. Someone who knew how to cheer someone up even in the darkest times.

#chungmyung #chung myung #cheong myeong #cheongmyeong #chungmyung x reader #cheongmyeong x reader #x reader #rotbb #return of the mount hua sect #return of the blossoming blade #fluff #implied angst but only if you squint really hard #intended to be platonic but you can intepret it as romantic too??#this is pre-reincarnation chungmyung #idk but hes still tiny here but not too tiny #rotbb x reader #rotmhs x reader

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iicomet · 7 months

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(rewrite-ish) part II

(In which he ponders over the final moments of his senior.) (ooc? chungmyung and gn!reader - third to second pov, angst.)

(tw! mention of blood, war.)

In his blurred memories of blood and violence, he wonders where everything went wrong.

He wished it was just a simple, ‘oh, senior accidentally stumbled on their feet and landed on their face right in front of their enemies!’. But honestly, when had the gods ever favored him? If not him, when had the Gods ever favored his senior? He swore that perhaps the ever benevolent senior had wronged a deity in their past life, for their misfortune and their sufferings shouldn’t be given to a saint like them.

Or maybe that stupidly kind senior took the blame of a friend and gained their curses instead. That sounded much more plausible, to be frank. He wished he could grumble about it, but a part of him wonders why his senior became like this.

Even if he wanted to, it’s not like he could ask them now.

Chung Myung was no fool. He knew that in a war, there would be casualties, even if he was the strongest. It’s a dog-eat-dog kind of world out there, especially when the apex predator in this situation is the so-called heavenly demon Cheonma. In that situation, even him, who was renowned as the ‘plum blossom sword saint’, a person who would wreck others’ swords and pride easily with a single blow, felt like a mere rabbit struggling for survival.

It’s so, so tiring. It hurts so, so much.

Chung Myung could feel his blood drip down his skin, mixing with his sweat and producing a disgusting smell he tried to ignore. If Senior was around, maybe they would swat him away with a disgusted expression, telling him to go clean up or something. They would pinch their nose and scrunch up their eyebrows, a deep frown decorating their usual calm and collected face. During those moments, it was times where he would either be a good junior brother and obey his senior’s requests, or he would annoy them and stick closer to them, earning several frustrated shouts and futile attempts to pry him off.

He wonders, how his senior was managing? Someone as strong as them, would surely be able to fend themselves easily, right?

Oh, how he wished he was right.

But then again, perhaps the uneasy expression in his senior’s eyes before they departed for the journey would have warned him about the impending doom and unsettling feeling he had ignored at that moment. He should’ve stayed, tried to ask his senior what’s wrong, and maybe even protected his senior who shielded the entire mount hua with only a foolish smile and a sword in hand.

He really should’ve tried, even if he never managed to understand his senior.

When Chung Myung landed eyes upon his senior, he wished he could run towards them and block that swing. He wished that instead of fearing, he would’ve taken action instead. He wished that instead of shouting his senior’s name, he would’ve run and taken it for them.

Senior, why were you so stupid? Why did you only watch as the sword hits your chest, letting the tears you usually try to hold back flow down your cheeks? Why did the grip on your sword tighten as if you were going to war, yet your free hand tried to hold your opponent’s face, cradling it so softly as if they might break?

Senior, you’re so stupid. He couldn’t see your attacker’s expression, but he knew it held no love, for the desperate and heart-broken eyes you showed clearly reflected their face. The emotions you always tried to reign in, rained down your features so clearly now. The eyes that used to glimmer brightly in the sun, the eyes he used to love staring at, the eyes he could get lost in—It reflected the face of a person who he held so much hatred towards. At that moment, perhaps he was also angry that you held so much love towards that ungrateful bastard who had struck you. But, it’s all useless now, right?

Maybe you still had some sense in you when you raised your sword once more, realizing your duty and blocking off your feelings as if it was second nature. Once more, you showed your swordsmanship to the world, as if it was your final dance, your final performance before you’ve retired from the stage. Swords clashed against each other, the metal resounding across the stadium of your show as you replayed the tragedy of the eon. Light against dark, your determined expression faltering and revealing so much regret and pain. Chung Myung would’ve wondered what you regretted at that moment, for his entire life, you seemed as if you lived with no worries. But, he was no fool. He knew there were nights where you spent it alone, staring at the moon as if a lover had lost everything to the hands of fate.

Senior, why did you smile at him when your heart was so heavy with pain?

Even at that moment, where your life seemed to begin replaying before your eyes, you still smiled when you saw him, that same sheepish expression revealing itself whenever he caught you.

You whispered something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. He was too far, he always had been. And you, you had always walked too quickly for him to catch up. Not only him, you’ve always managed to outrun everyone else in Mount hua, always so far away from everyone else. Nobody could ever catch up to you. Nobody could ever understand you.

Even so, he wanted to be the first. He wanted to be there for you, just like how you were to him. So, why didn’t you give him a chance? Why did you leave so soon? Just when he thought he was able to, it seemed that you were still so, so far away from him. You always managed to catch him, so why couldn’t he do the same for you?

Senior, in your game of tag, can he play again with you soon? He promises he will try to catch you this time, so don’t leave so soon. He’s asking you politely, he swears he is. He wouldn’t be rude, he wouldn’t tease you and he wouldn’t smother you whenever you think he’s dirty. He’ll listen to you this time, so won’t you be a good senior and play again with him?

Chung Myung ignores the rain falling down his skin as he begs for the Gods to give him a chance. He ignores the way his body moves on instinct as he battles across your destroyed theater, hoping for a chance to meet you halfway through. Yet when all he is met with is the aftermath of a war, your body nowhere to be found, he falls to the ground, utterly exhausted.

Right, he had killed Cheonma.

He wanted to celebrate this moment with you. But instead, he lies there lifelessly, his body too tired to do anything. Chung Myung thinks he heard your voice, calling out to him and he is reminded of the time where you would let him rest on your shoulder when he was tired, even if he was dirty. Stupid senior, you never really cared about it, didn’t you? All you wanted was for him to be happy.

But now, you have killed his heart. How could he be happy now?

He wants to rest on your shoulder once more, hear you hum a random tune as you ramble on about whatever that interests you. He wants to hear your voice once more, and this time he promises not to grumble about your nagging. He wants to feel your warmth against his skin once more, not the cold pile of body that lays beneath him.

Senior, he wants you to come back. So please, come home already.

#return of the blossoming blade #return of the mount hua sect #rotbb #x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheongmyeong #chung myung x reader #chungmyung #rotmhs x reader #gn reader #rotbb x reader #why am i always writing during my exams i should be studying #rewrite but it strays so far from the original fic AHAHAHAH #no beta we die like cm/senior #enjoy guys i think i like this one (so far)#i think i might rewrite the second fic before i republish it (watch me take another ten years to post again)#senior of mount hua

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