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heartsforsserafim · 6 months

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brat wonyoung x g!p yujin plss

Layin' Low

pairing ; jang wonyoung x ahn yujin

genre ; smut

tw ; bratting, dom!yujin, gp!yujin, bratty!wony, crying, slapping, cum on face, blowjob, throatfuck, throatpie, clit play, tit play, face sitting, sub!wony, jealousy, handjob, car sex (lwk), masturbating in front of someone

prologue ; "fuck me already!" wonyoung yelled out at the older girl who was teasing her by slowly licking along her thighs and stomach, "ah ah patience, remember what I told you?" wony didn't stop talking though, "no i don't now just fuck me or i'll have liz do it for me!"

Today was the official drop for their song baddie, the girls loved this era so much since it finally expressed them into a new feel of music. Spending hours, upon hours of practicing the song and their vocals they were so proud to see the results of their song.

Their leader, yujin, had gathered the girls into the dance room for one more run over their choreography to make sure they have it down before the show tomorrow. Once the girls made it in, she started the music and made a few adjustments to the choreo.

Once the dance break began, wonyoung didn't want to get down and do the move which prompted yujin to just call for break. She pulled wonyoung to the side and had a talk with her. "Wony, come on, we all get down"

Wonyoung looked the older girl directly in the eyes and said, "I'm not getting down. You either alter the choreo or I'm not doing it." She said and walked away, Yujin sighed knowing the choreographer is going to be coming back and she promised all the girls would have it down.

A while later, the choreographer did arrive and during the practice, wonyoung actually listened and did everything correctly. Yujin found it odd but didn't think much she knew they'd finally got off earlier than expected though

Once the girls finished their dance, Yujin and Gaeul hugged, grabbing the attention of wonyoung no longer listening to whatever liz was talking about. "Yeah i really love the part where i g-" "Did you just see that? She touched her neck" wonyoung said cutting liz off, "Huh who?" liz was focused on wonyoung she didn't care about anything else honestly

"Gauel just hugged yujin" Liz looked at the taller girl in disappointment, "Over a hug? Seriously??" liz was in disbelief.. "They never hug like that jiwon!" looking at the girl, she just walked towards the pair not giving her a chance to speak.

Pulling yujin away from gaeul she spoke, "She's mine, back off", looking at the younger girl in shock, " Wonyoung calm down it was just a hug" she said, confused. "Yeah babe,just a hug it was nothing more" Yujin jumped in

Wony didn't listen and pulled Yujin away, the older girl mouthed sorry to Gaeul before being forced around the corner with wonyoung.

Once the two were alone, Wonyoung spoke, "What the fuck was that back there?!" she yelled, yujin just looked at her in disbelief, "Wow there's no way you're jealous over a simple hug yet every single day you're flirting with Jiwon. Never missing a beat, every day you're all over her"

Wonyoung quickly hushed, knowing the older girl was correct, "Exactly" Yujin walked out, wonyoung following behind her like a little puppy, or in this instance a huge bunny.

"Okay finally you two are back, Yujin we were thinking", Rei started and began positioning the girls where they thought would work and everyone liked it, they practiced and practiced until the moon was up.

Sweating and tired, the girls took a break for the night. "We did amazing today, one more run in the morning and we'll have this down!" Leeseo cheered them, Yujin jumped off the floor and went to hug leeseo, "thank you, honestly" she said, whispering into the younger girl's ear

"You're welcome yujinie" she said and laughed a bit before they broke the hug, they felt a burning pair of eyes on them turning around seeing Wonyoung's before she softened them and smiled.

What is wrong with her..? Leeseo thought but dropped it once rei said it was time to go home, Yujin and wonyoung got into a separate van since the company liked to split them up.

Wonyoung had her specific seat in the van so yujin didn't understand why she decided to sit in her lap but she didn't mind. Pulling out her phone, and connecting her air pods she began watching some show.

Wonyoung decided to do something that was rather, well, fun in her mind. She whimpered some, and it caught the attention of yujin. Her first instinct was to make sure she was okay and she wasn't hurt.

"Sweetheart are you alright?" Yujin asked, automatically putting her phone down, Wonyoung rolled her eyes and sighed quietly since it wasn't the reaction she was hoping for. Dismissing the entire ordeal, Yujin got back onto her phone.

Wonyoung decided to do more, and she grinded her ass against yujin's crotch. Yujin wasn't paying much attention though, a bumpy road, and was too busy on her phone to care.

Wonyoung groaned and hopped off the older girl, getting on her knees and palming her cock through the sweats she had on. Yujin groaned a bit but continued to look at her phone, wonyoung continued her movements.

Going as far as to remove the older girl's pants and boxers completely, jerking her shaft a bit before taking the tip into her mouth. Tasting her precum, she ran her tongue from the tip to the base. Yujin was moaning, doing her best not to stand wonyoung up and destroy her right there she let her have her fun

"Aren't you going to do something master?" Wonyoung said, tilting her head. Yujin didn't reply, shrugging her shoulders, she took yujin inside of her mouth completely. Swallowing along her length, Yujin was touching the back of wony's throat and god did she love that.

She just wanted Yujin to grab her head and fuck her throat like a toy, moaning around the girls shaft while her silava covered the length. Pulling her cock out, a string of spit followed it.

Wonyoung continued to stroke her, slowly feeling the way her veins pulsed out and the way it twitched in her hands. She ran her fingers along the slit, and gathered more precum before continuing to stroke the girl, occasionally sticking her tongue out and licking her.

Wonyoung took the girl's shaft back down her throat, and took it fully to the base. Closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing, she began to bob her head up and down her length. Loving the way her cock would twitch and react to her movements.

Yujin finally put her phone down since she was close, and began thrusting her hips inside of wonyoung's throat. Throwing her head back, she continued to fuck the younger girl's face, never giving her a chance to breathe.

Tears streamed down wonyoung's face, but she wanted yujin to feel good. Allowing the older girl to use her throat, she moved one of her hands down and began rubbing her clothed clit. She felt the wet spot the pooled inside of her panties, but luckily it wasn't seen through her shorts.

Yujin pulled out for a few seconds before slamming right back into her throat, this time wonyoung's mouth hit her pelvic area faster than before. The younger girl's plump lips looked so beautiful around her shaft, Yujin felt close and she looked out the window seeing they were almost home.

Grabbing the sides of wonyoung's head, and grabbing a fistful of her hair she began thrusting rougher into her throat. Her high finally reaching, and she slowly thrusted, dragging out the feeling.

Wonyoung moaned around her shaft, to send extra vibrations, Yujim finally pulled out..putting her cock back inside of her boxers and sweats. Wonyoung stayed on her knees in front of the older girl, until yujin sat her down next to her. "Swallow." Yujin spoke, wonyoung quickly listening to her commands.

Some spilled off the side of her mouth but she caught it and licked it off her fingers.

(...) Later inside the house

The girl's all met up back at the dorms, and tonight since yujin and wonyoung took longer to get into the house they already made the dorm arrangements.

"Okay, Jiwon will be sharing with Rei" The manager stated, "Yes!" They both said. "Gaeul and Yujin, you both have a room together" They just smiled and nodded, grabbing their bags and walking to their room.

"And that leaves us where?" Leeseo asked, pointing between her and wony, "Oh you two have your own rooms" The joy those two felt was so unreal the manager thought she was watching a cartoon again

The girls grabbed their bags and ran down into their bedrooms, the girls of ive soon all regathered for dinner, none of them knew who was dorming with who so they sat next to their roommate.

"Wonyoung, Leeseo, why aren't you two sitting next to each other?" Rei asked, "We have separate rooms unnie!" Leeseo said, everyone's mouth went wide. Everyone's but wonyoung's, "Yep she's right" She said and looked at leeseo smiling.

Yujin chuckled a bit, but the door rang so she went to get the food they ordered.

After the girls ate, they cleaned up and got ready for bed. All of them wanted to take a shower, and props to the staff for picking them a house that has 3 bathrooms. "I'll go after Jiwon!" Gaeul said, "I'll go after leeseo!", Rei spoke, and that left yujin with wonyoung, " Well we know who i have" she said and laughed.

The girls all took their showers, and all was well. Gaeul and Yujin went into everyone's room wishing them a good night, but for yujin when she got to wonyoung she grabbed her bulge and rubbed it a bit.

Yujin controlled herself since they weren't alone, because Gaeul was there as well. She mouthed saying she'd be back, and wonyoung stayed up with excitement

After a while, Yujin finally went inside of wonyoung's bedroom. Seeing the girl, laying in her bed fingering herself. The cover wasn't pulled up, instead it was on the floor, her legs were spread wide and her fingers buried deep inside her dripping cunt.

Wonyoung let out small moans of Yujin's name, and yujin sat down on the chair that wasn't that far away from Wonyoung's bed. The younger girl's eyes were closed so she didn't see her, nor hear her since yujin was so quiet.

Yujin could tell wonyoung was close, she got louder, her fingers were moving faster, her back was arched..Wonyoung was going to cum soon, and Yujin decided to clear her throat making wonyoung stop moving and instantly pull out.

"O-oh hey" wonyoung said, silently cursing to herself since she didn't get to finish. "No continue" Yujin said, her voice deeper than usual. Wonyoung didn't say another word and just continued and watched her, like a puppy in heat.

Yujin watched as wonyoung's fingers slowly pumped in and out of her heat, her eyebrows furrowed at the feeling. Wonyoung whimpered out, wanting to go harder so bad, she wanted yujin to pound her so bad.

"wanna mmh~" wonyoung said, trying to hold her moans so much, "aw poor baby" yujin cooed to her, wonyoung's head fell back. Her hips bucking forward, trying to gain more friction from her fingers.

"p-pound m-me" wonyoung said, before she moaned. She became impossibly more wet knowing that yujin was watching her, yujin chuckled and stood up. Removing her shirt and pants, "Hm gotta do more than that", she spoke and sat back down.

Wonyoung sighed, "P-please fuck me! Do it or I'll have Jiwon do it!" Wonyoung shouted, yujin looked her in the eye, "Do it then" she didn't move another inch. "W-what" Wonyoung couldn't believe what she heard.

"You want me to-" "Yeah, call her and tell her to come down. I want her to see how pathetic you can become under a few words." "N-no no please" wonyoung begged her, her fingers never stopping, at this point going faster.

"Please no, fuck~ mm~ no please" She moaned, pulling her fingers out and rubbed her clit. Rolling her hips adding more friction, "w-wanna cum" wonyoung panted out. Yujin watched as her body convulsed, "Put your fingers back in and go faster bunny"

Wonyoung doing as she was ordered, her moans became louder by the second. Closing her eyes, thinking its yujin's thick cock fucking her senseless in the moment. She closed her eyes, and pounded faster, feeling the familiar feeling inside of her stomach.

"C-cumming, please" Yujin chuckled deeply, watching the tears that streamed down wony's face, "please i'm so close mm~" wonyoung moaned out, "cum" wonyoung came once yujin spoke.

Her eyes rolled back, letting out the loudest moan she did that night so far.. Yujin stood up and removed her boxers, feeling the erection she gained thanks to watching her. "Legs up" wonyoung listen and did as she said.

Yujin grabbed her cock, rubbing it along wonyoung's hole, gathering her slick. "Fuck~ Put it in,please~" Teasing her tip inside of her cunt, "So tight aren't you baby?" Yujin moaned, and eased her full length inside the girl.

"A-ah~ Fuck" Yujin moaned and thrusted a bit, once she picked up a good rythym she went faster, Wonyoung's moans got louder by the second. Yujin began rubbing the younger girl's clit, wonyoung wrapped her legs around yujin's waist buring her deeper inside her cunt.

Yujin brought her head down, and began kissing her, leaving her lips plump. Yujin picked up the pace of her hips, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the bedrooms walls.

"Oh gosh~ don't stop, please don't stop" wonyoung said, her legs shaking, her eyes rolled back. She clawed at the older girls back, "i'm gonna cum oh please don't stop~" yujin went faster. loving how tight wonyoung felt around her shaft

"Fuck baby, you're so tight" yujin said and sped up impossibly faster. After a while, she pulled out and sat wonyoung on top of her. Guiding her hips, and rubbing along her shaft covering it with more slick. She inserted her cock once more, it slowly disappeared inside wonyoung's cunt

"O-oh god please~" Wonyoung moaned out, it felt so good,, the way yujin's tip caressed her hole made her so much more horny. Yujin felt her own orgasm coming sooner by the second, so she grounded wonyoung's hips, grabbing them before she pistoned into the girl.

Wonyoung screamed out before laying onto yujin still moaning out, "Fuck me~ ahh~ harder~ please please please fuckkk" wonyoung said. Her orgasm reaching her entire body shook, against yujin's.

Never stopping but instead going faster on her thrust, "fuck fuck take it~ ah~" yujin said as her load began dumping inside of the younger girl. Wonyoung came again as she filled her up.

The two were a panting sweaty mess, wonyoung got off of yujin and laid on the side of her, yujin's load dripped out of wonyoung. mmm~" wonyoung moaned slightly, the feeling still being there. Finally after a while, those two fell asleep.

Waking up the next morning was awkward though, wonyoung couldn't walk properly and Gaeul and Rei were scolding yujin about being so careless but hey, they both didn't care it was worth it

#kpop #girl group smut #kpop smut #ive smut #ive #wonyoung #yujin #ahn yujin #jang wonyoung

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cassiefromhell · 3 months

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Clairvoyant: Prologue (pt. 1)

Nanami Kento x International Sorcerer!Clairvoyant!Reader

wc: 1k

warnings: violence, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS you MUST be finished with season 2 please & ty

a/n: this is a fully planned, 5-part fic (with the potential for a bonus part) and it's the extension of this drabble thingy I wrote. (don't read it if you don't want spoilers for how this fic will go) anyways enjoy

You take a sharp swing, then dodge left, hissing through your teeth as the curse nearly catches you with its claws. You’ve always hated the hospital curses. They’re difficult to fight, and they always reek of death.

“Mila! Arthur!” You shout, shoving your weapon into your holster and letting your cursed energy gather in your fists instead, widening your stance. “I could use some help!”

“Sorry!” Mila, your mission partner and one of your best friends since your first year of Sorcerer Schooling calls. “Busy over here! Arthur, can you help?”

You catch a glimpse of Arthur out of the corner of your eye. He’s British, one of the International Sorcerers just like you and Mila are. The three of you were dispatched to Ohio, in the United States, to clear out a never-seen-before level of hospital infestation.

But suddenly, you’re not on the battlefield anymore. No, you’re floating far above, watching a massive cursed sword be stabbed into his chest by whatever the hell he’s fighting.

And then you’re sighing, giving Mila a frown as she wipes away a tear. “Come on. Let’s get him back to HQ. His family will want to see the body.”

A slap strikes your cheek, a sobbing woman all in black raising her hand to hit you once again. Her toddler clings to her calf, not knowing that his father is never coming back.

“You monster!” The woman shrieks as you gently take her wrist, stopping her from hitting you again. “All you sorcerers do is let people die. You should have stopped it! You had one job, you fucking bitch!”

You blink, and the curse swings for you, but you ignore it. You spin around, watching as Arthur’s opponent pulls out a hidden sword, watching as your comrade’s eyes go wide and that metal reaches his chest—

You shove him out of the way, narrowly dodging the blade yourself. Arthur stumbles, panting and staring at the spot he was just standing, the spot he would have surely been impaled on — if it weren’t for you.

“Arthur, you’re out!” You command, pulling out your weapon once more and taking his place in combat.

“But—”

Mila sweeps in, the spider legs protruding from her back carrying her across the space in seconds. She pushes him towards the exit, where he’ll be able to escape the veil. “I’m sorry. If she says you’re out, you’re out.”

It’s standard protocol. When the Reaper Repeller (a stupid nickname Mila gave you years ago that still haunts you today) sees your death or some god-awful fate, you get removed from battle unless you’re absolutely crucial. You learned that strategy the hard way. It seems that if you cheat death once, it just gets all the more eager to want to claim you — you have to leave battle and let its red-hot grip cool down a bit.

Thankfully, he runs.

You and Mila are able to clean up the battle nicely, her white-blonde braid falling against her back as you exorcize the very last curse. She laughs, smacking your shoulder as her eight extra spider limbs sink into her flesh.

“Another one wiped out, easy peasy!” Mila throws her arms up in victory.

You give a wary smile, but your head is pounding. Whether it’s from your previous vision or an incoming one, you’re not sure, but you do know you just want to get out of the veil and go back to your hotel to sleep.

You take one step, and you’re sent keeling over, your head suddenly exploding in pain, your shriek echoing down the hall.

Your vision is too much to take in, so big, so much, so many after effects, so much death—

You’re vaguely aware of how Mila catches you, shouting your name as you go limp. So many faces. Some you’ve seen, some you haven’t. Blood. Burns. Dead bodies and a destroyed city—

Shibuya.

You gasp for hair, gripping Mila as you’re recentered in reality. You sputter and cough, clenching your chest. Each time you get a vision, it takes a split second, and during that time, your mind is in a different place and time and so your body doesn’t function. You don’t breathe and your heart doesn’t beat. But it’s only ever for a moment. For you to feel like this after a vision…

“Holy shit,” Mila whispers, gently helping you straighten up. “You were out. Like, out, out. For at least thirty seconds. I thought you fully, really died. Don’t do that to me.”

You don’t respond, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to process the mess through your imploding headache.

“Shibuya,” you whisper. “It’s… it’s…”

“Who?” Mila whispers, using one hand to pull out her phone. “That’s Japan, right? Let’s call their HQ.”

“Satoru Gojo.”

She freezes, staring at you.

Every sorcerer knows who Satoru Gojo is. He changed the balance of cursed energy. He’s unbeatable. And yet, you see him being sealed into a box, and in the wake of that one event, so many people die.

“And— and more. It’s a chain reaction. A blonde sorcerer, with a blue shirt and wearing goggles. Oh, his fate, it's- A teenager, maybe a first year, with ginger hair. Oh, god, a boy loses an arm— the entire city is cratered, Mila,” tears slip down your cheeks as you imagine that pinkish-haired student sobbing in front of the wreckage, dragging his nails across the concrete.

“You can’t relay this through a call,” Mila whispers, dialing a different number. “You know what you have to do.”

You take one long, deep breath, straightening up and wiping away your tears.

“Alert HQ that I’m going to Japan, and I expect every single sorcerer in the country to meet me there.”

Mila nods, pressing call. The phone rings once before one of the International Headquarters of Cursed Sorcery managers answers.

“Call a code 18J18 for Tokyo.”

want to be tagged for the next four parts? comment and ask!

next part: 2

#jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #clairvoyance #jjk fanfiction #nanami kento fic #nanami kento fanfic

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confusedblakex · 11 months

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Soulmate AU Series: Shoto Todoroki

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki X Reader (GN)

Summary: The day you get your soulmark, except you didn't find your soulmate the way you expected

Wordcount: 933

Warnings: None

Requested by: No one

Inspired by: This post by @dashielldeveron and this post by @haitani-trash

Notes: Just trying to finish off all my fic series before I start anything new

Last edited: 15th May 2023

Prologue

You woke up as usual, with your alarm yelling at you to get up, and dragged yourself out of bed.

You felt odd, a headache on the left side of your head and an ache in your legs. You ignored it for the time being, taking a painkiller and getting dressed for school, opting to overthink it later.

You felt lethargic, and for some reason your brain just didn’t seem to be functioning properly. It was only as you were walking to school that you realised that you had forgotten something. Your phone buzzed with a message from Jiro saying “Happy Birthday!” with a few emoticons, and it hit you. Your birthday - your soulmark.

You immediately stopped and tried to find your reflection in a shop window. You looked over everything you could see, annoyed that you hadn’t looked before you’d gotten dressed for school. There was nothing odd about you, nothing visible had changed. You had a headache, but you had taken painkiller for it, so there was nothing notable.

You continued to school, hoping something would happen today. It was so ridiculously rare to not have a soulmate, but you couldn’t chase the possibility out of your mind. It was probably something simple and stupid, like your soulmate being younger than you.

Yeah, that was it. You decided to leave it be as you walked into your classroom and were greeted by your classmates. They all wished you a happy birthday, some asking to see your soulmark or asking if anything had changed. Explaining you didn’t know was more difficult than you anticipated, but your best friends Jiro and Tokoyami promised to help you figure it out.

“Nothing at all?” Jiro asked for the fifth time that morning.

“Nothing whatsoever. Just a headache specifically on the left side of my head,” You said, which only gained a confused look from Tokoyami.

“Slap yourself,”

“What??” Both you and Jiro questioned loudly.

“It could be that you and your soulmate share pain, hence the headache,” Tokoyami suggested, to which Jiro quickly seemed to understand his suggestion.

“I mean it’s possible, soulmates can have literally anything bonding them,” She said.

“So what’s slapping myself going to achieve?” You asked. If possible, it was in fact something you’d like to avoid.

“Just do it.”

You gave in, huffed, and raised your hand to your cheek. You took a breath in and gave yourself some space between your hand and your face.

And then slapped yourself with far more force than you intended, which gained confused looks from everyone across the classroom.

“So what now?” You asked, wincing. To your horror, Jiro seemed to be hiding a smile and Tokyami was looking away.

“Did your headache get worse?” Tokoyami asked as you nursed your now stinging cheek.

Did it? You couldn’t tell, but… no, the dull ache was still there and hadn’t changed. If it was, then what did that mean? Was the headache your soulmate’s pain?

“No,” You said cautiously, “But this doesn’t prove anything, and it also wouldn’t help me find my soulmate,”

Jiro couldn’t hold her laugh in anymore and sniggered, holding onto Tokoyami as she used her hand to cover her mouth. You deadpanned as you watched the two of them enjoying this just a bit too much.

“You two are terrible,” You grumbled, “I’m never asking you for soulmate advice again…”

---

You slowly wandered the UA halls, not looking where you were going and getting lost in your own thoughts.

It was a nice day, and you were taking your time to get to the cafeteria. Jiro and Tokoyami had apparently got a birthday present that they wanted to give you, but you had got distracted on the way there and then couldn’t get back in focus.

As you rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of another person about to crash into you, and in a split second you used your quirk to push them back. They toppled backwards and fell with a grunt.

Your back suddenly started aching, but you ignored it for now, instead deciding to focus on the boy who was now trying to stand back up.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, I did that totally unconsciously,” you said quickly, trying to help him up off the floor. Oddly enough, it was Todoroki from your class.

“It’s alright,” He replied, “It was my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,”

He then pulled his sleeve down and held his arm, not taking his eyes away from his wrist. You panicked and assumed he was hurt from the fall.

“Did I hurt you?” You asked, worried, but he simply shook his head.

You tilted your head to try and see what he was looking at.

00.00

It was his soulmark, but it just showed zeros. It was a countdown, you assumed. So that meant-

The zeros suddenly faded from his wrist, causing him to wince. As it disappeared, you felt a sudden stinging on your wrist in the same place Shoto’s soulmark was.

“It’s nice to meet you, soulmate.” He said, and gave you a small, gentle smile.

---

Bonus:

“Okay, that was mean earlier,” Jiro said as she sat with Tokoyami in the cafeteria.

“They said they had a headache on their left side,” Tokoyami explained calmly, “I wanted to see how Todoroki reacted,”

“I mean it’s a fair assumption, but you can’t jump to conclusions like that…” Jiro said,

“Hey guys,” You said, running to their table with a smile, “You’ll never guess what just happened,”

“Todoroki is my soulmate-!”

“YES! I called it!”

#x reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #shoto todoroki #shotou todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #soulmate au #soulmates #x gn reader

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adracat · 10 months

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GWitch: A Divine Authority

I was musing on this the other day and after rewatching a few key moments I think this deserves a quick post. Today's topic, the narrative signicance of Cathedra and Dominicus

Cathedra literally means 'seat' but when an authority in the Roman Catholic church is speaking ex cathedra, they are saying their word on faith and morality is infallible. Dominicus punctuates that authority as the 'Lord's Day'. Or as we have come to know, Suletta Sunday.

“Thus the heavens and the earth, and all the host of them, were finished. And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made” (Genesis 2:1–3).

Coincidentally, the roots of the 'lord's day' coincide with why we refer to a witch's communion with the devil as a Black Sabbath. There are various reasons why it changed historically from the Jewish Sabbath (Saturday) to Sunday but for this post only know our weekly ritual isn't an accident.

As for Delling and the show's Cathedra, they are the ones who banned witchcraft using his kingly, and thus god-given, authority. He lampshades this with Prospera and Miorine in episode 2

Delling is, for all intents and purposes, the godly authority who speaks ex cathedra on gundams. His word is law. And those outside the laws of Cathedra and Dominicus are witches, per the witch hunt in the prologue.

It's no coincidence that it's witches who are the very ones who nearly take his life. Sophie and Norea have rebelled against god, becoming apostates. Afterward, we have the greatest victim and threat of god in the form of Prospera. And this is where the Norse Ragnarok, or the twilight of the gods, becomes relevant. Because before the world can become born anew it must be consumed by flame. The gods of the past must die and be reborn in the next cycle.

Delling might not have literally died, but he lost his divine authority in leiu of Miorine. Now thematically you might expect Mio to continue the cycle and restore order to Benerit as its president after SAL is dealt with. But the key difference between her and Delling is that she too is a witch who rebelled, and with that came unjust persecution as the GWitch rosebride.

I have some gripes with how GWitch handles Cathedra and Dominicus, namely with its members not suffering or facing any consequences beyond narrative slaps on the wrist but considering the themes of The Tempest, avoiding the cliche of revenge might be the point

I do have faith that Mio's perspective as both a leader and persecuted witch will mean she has the tools needed to break both the Ragnarok Cycle and GWitch's twist on witch hunts. It is interesting to me that Nika's resolution in episode 21 could very well mirror what Miorine decides. Returning to make amends on Earth and moving forward on her terms, untainted by either Prospera's influence or Delling's ill-gotten wealth

#Anyway heresy is cool show #You can't tell me it's not #it's about the witches and spitting in the face of god #g witch #g witch spoilers #miorine rembran #delling rembran #Cathedra #Dominicus #gundam witch from mercury #analysis and speculation

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lrialthewriter · 9 months

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Prologue: Oversleeping on the Big Day

Word count: 1,029

Links: Part Intro || Chapter 1 (tbc)

Additional links: Protagonist Introductions!

Sun shined through the window as a beeping alarm started to ring throughout the room. A groan can be heard through the thick sheets of blankets messily covering a young man. He slowly reached out for the alarm at his bedside cabinet and slapped its button, almost throwing it and a nearby pair of glasses off its places. His arm still rested on the bedside for a few seconds before he quickly sat up, his messy ginger hair and brown eyes shined as the sunlight hit him in the face.

"Ah my eyes!" He said quickly, stumbling out of his bed and walking up on his windows to cover it. He sighed in relief as he finally stood up properly and took his glasses from the bedside cabinet.

He looked at the clock, '8:00', while normally he would wake up two hours earlier, but he stayed up a bit too late for his liking. The fact that they would finally start attending university excited him. Still, he didn't like the fact that he let himself wake up this late.

"The only redeeming factor is the fact it's just orientation week right now," he sighed as he went to start making his bed, it's a habit he developed during his times at the orphanage.

After finishing up, he finally decided to undo his curtains and look at the view from his room, a sliding door leading to a decently-sized balcony. He is still taking in the fact that at one point he has nowhere to go, but now he's somewhere he might as well call a dream home. He smiled as he went to quickly go to the bathroom and get himself ready, excited for the events that may happen today. After a short while he came out of the bathroom, dressed in a plain yellow collared shirt, his signature brown cargo pants. Contemplating between style and comfort, he had chosen the former and wore a pair of simple brown loafers.

After he tried (and failed) to style his hair, he took his messenger bag on his study table that he had prepared last night. He checked the contents one last time, chucked his phone, charger and earphones in before walking out of his room. As soon as he opened his door a whiff of garlic scent could be smelled as he entered the living room.

"You stayed up too late last night?" Perlad turned to the open kitchen to see a taller male figure facing against him, cooking fried rice. "Got too excited I assume?" He added.

Perlad scratched his head and laughed a bit as he walked towards the kitchen counter to prepare the plates. "Yeah, sorry about that Said. I had told I was gonna have breakfast for today" Perlad answered as he went to start preparing hot water and putting loose tea in a pot. "Do you want lavender or just some green tea?"

"Green tea would do, you probably need the caffeine anyways."

"I'm not that tired, Saimin."

"Well you aren't fully awake either." Saimin shook his head as he finished cooking and plated up the rice as well as finally put the side dishes on the table. Shaking his head did end up loosening the hair tie he's using, this made him sigh as he went to take it out fully revealing his shoulder-length bluish light gray hair and retying his hair.

Perlad just noticed how his roommate had been fully dressed, as he wore his signature dark blue turtleneck with grey pants. He had also found himself staring at his amethyst pendulum dangling on his neck as he finished everything up. He had probably noticed him stare and snapped his fingers in front of his face.

"Per, the tea." Saimin said calmly, gesturing at the teapot that had finished steeping.

"R-right! Sorry!" Perlad immediately stood up and went to get the tea, making sure not to burn himself as he went to pour the tea for both of them.

The two went on to eat in silence, just enjoying the meal they had on-hand. That is until Perlad spoke up, smiling as he finished his tea, "So? Are you excited to actually see R.U.I?"

Saimin shrugged, unlike his friend he didn't give much energy, "Somewhat, we toured it but there's no students during that day, so it would be interesting to see how the school works." He noted as he remembered the tour two weeks ago, it was a vacation time for the students so there weren't any activities during the time.

Perlad gasped as he finished up his meal and picked up his plate as he went to clean himself up. "I still can't believe I ended up being a scholar for that school!" He exclaimed as he also recalled the tour, "It's so huge! It lives up to the stuff we heard about it a year ago!" He continued as he started to clean up the sink.

His friend chuckled a bit as he stood up and had put the remaining plates at the sink. "Well you did end up staying up late because of it, I'll go prepare my remaining stuff. Tell me when you are done" Saimin softly said, it seems like his friend's enthusiasm was somewhat infecting him, which is rare.

Saimin went back to his room as Perlad finished the dishes. They take turns on collective chores, which was something they have done a lot and have gotten a hand of just syncing each other with regards to tasks. After a while Perlad finished and Saimin walked out, now wearing his grey trench coat alongside his casual black backpack.

"Are you ready?" Saimin asked as he looked around as he did some last minute checks.

Perlad nodded, "Yeah! Let's go! We might be late for the orientation ceremony!" He said as he started to walk towards the door and wear his shoes.

Saimin shook his head, slightly amused by his impatient friend, "You are the one who woke up late" he mumbled as he also walked towards the door, by this point Perlad was almost out of the door.

"I heard that!"

"I know."

Links: Part Intro || Chapter 1 (tbc)

Additional links: Protagonist Introductions!

#RoVoices #P1Prlg #slice of life #comedy #they are silly #original story

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lainwrites332 · 20 days

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our love was quiet

damien x reader

all characters in this story besides blaine and any other characters i may add later belong to michaela laws from her game seduce me which i highly suggest playing!!

summary: when her grandfather passes blaine finds out she was left his house in the will, her father decides to move her in as soon as possible to get used to living alone but walks into her new home to find five injured men on the floor.

prologue

today was the first day i was living on my own. the car ride was quiet for the most part my dad apologized to me for hitting me during our argument the other day i had just nodded in reply i didn’t feel like talking to him. my grandfather passed the day before today and i was left his house in the will my parents thought it would be best for me to live here on my own as soon as possible to prepare myself for "life as an adult", the house was also really close to the college my dad wanted me to attend after this year he wanted me to start dual enrollment but i stuck with just finishing my senior year off and starting college early. my face still stung from the slap he didn’t hit any of my major piercings just my dermal which hurt like hell but it was fully healed at least so nothing to bad would happen to it it’ll just be sore for a few weeks. my father hated my piercings so i imaged he enjoyed almost smacking it out of my face he’s already told me when i take over my grandfathers company i have to take them all out but there’s no way im doing that. "here we are. go on in." "alright. tell mom i love her." "alright" silence followed as i got out and grabbed my bags "i love you, dad" "……" i wasn’t expecting and i love you back but maybe a we’ll come visit when we can or miss you lots? i turned away from him and started my walk up the drive way my dad pulled out of the houses large drive way and drove off i turned back to get one last good look at the car. i saw him glance in the rear view mirror a sad look donning his face and he looked at me but quickly fading as his eyes went back to the road. i knew he just wanted what’s best for me but i can’t help but feel he’s happy getting me out of the house i turned and started towards the door to the sound of the wheels from my suitcase dragging ok the gravel being the only sound around. i walk up the the grand doors of my late grandfathers mansion and grab the key out of my pocket and unlocked the front door.

#damien #james #erik #seduce me the demon war #seduce me #matthew #sam #fanfic

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mood2you · 9 months

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Food!

I'm a day late writing this, but that's okay. It was a pretty balanced week. Of course I kept playing Pokemon even when I wasn't listening the the Interview with The Vampire audiobook (it is a good book, GoodReads tells me I've read it 4 times)

I'm stuck at Watson right now, but I'm really only playing to get to that punk that tells you all your stats like St. Peter "you battled 1014 times. you made 0 pokeblock. you used 100 potions" Interesting stats, mouthwatering. Speaking of Pokemon stats, this video has such a good punchline

youtube

It is 24 minutes long. SmithPlaysPokemon makes secrets/obscure things RBYCSG videos which are actually secrets to me, so I'm loving that. https://www.youtube.com/@smithplayspokemon

I got that nice Starbucks drink I mentioned, and today I'm having a smoothie bowl which is very sweet because I subbed half a banana for the almond milk, if it's in a bowl I want it thicker. It has avacado and spinach, but the main ingreditent is peaches. I imagine it's very healthy. It has a little matcha powder. Avacado is not my favorite, but I recognize it as a vegan staple and luxery good. Sometimes half an avacado can cost $3 at a restaurant. Chased it with a 50 cent slice of cake for lunch.

I also made a simple chicken sandwich, just grill the chicken with cinnamon, cumin, cayenne, salt and pepper, and mix 1/2 lemon (juice and zest) with sourcream, then slap it all together with lettuce, tomato and FRESH chibatta bread. My friend said she would buy it in a restuarant! I love cooking because it's so objective--it's either yummy or not, but cinnamon makes it kind of artistic. It feels so good and true and pride when people tell me it's good, you really can't argue.

Using art as an outlet is more subjective

I'm doing yeehawgust! You can search it on tumblr to learn more. I'm also still working on Ozymanzous even though it's very stupid and I keep saying I should "just" finish Julia Play Ball. Very slow with Ozymanzous but I am chipping away at... the cover of the prologue which is, like everyone says of prologues, useless. But it will warm you up to see if you want to read it or NOT.

Weekend was good, hung out with family, gonna do it again. August is the time when everyone is in the same place.

I'm having fun reading nonfiction books, but I'm noticing they will make stupid generalizations about people that could never be true. "High taxes on hogs will make the Chinese peasants unwilling to work." Oh yeah? They'll just stop working? Is that the next chapter of the book or something? Oh, they didn't? Huh. I wonder if it has anything to do with what happens to people with no money?

And yes, a lot of Americans have left medicine in favor of prayer and borax, but what are their actual choices? Medicine or death. (Actually, I'm not finished with this one, and it has a chapter about bringing us back.) That's not a choice. I mean the Chinese peasants did revolt, and that has a cost (lives) which you just have to weigh against the conditions of the group. Can we please get universal healthcare, better conditions for workers, and them to actually fucking listen to their patients? I mean on simple things like not putting them on medicine they're allergic to for several days?

That's all I have time for! Oh wait, I'll put my SleepyReadathon updates in here:

If I don't post another one of these next week... yyyeah, I fell off.

#blog #tumblr #food #logical fallacies #pokemon #Youtube #medical

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kikis-writing-world · 2 years

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Can you give us any more information on your Oberyn/Ellaria wip please?? 😊

Happily! Thanks so much for asking! I'm guessing you mean the reincarnation/soul mate fic, since the A/B/O doesn't for sure have Ellaria in it yet... If I'm wrong, just let me know and I'll talk about that one too lol

More info on some of my WIPs here. Check it out and let me know if there's any that interest you!

In the canon era, Seren (F!OC) works for a cruel man who has underpaid her and mistreated her as a way of keeping her from leaving. He boasts being one of the finest tailors in Dorne, but is really taking credit for her hard work. Oberyn is gifted a sash she embroidered and loves it. He and Ellaria track down where it is from and go to meet the person making them.

Visiting the little shop, they see through the lies. They realize Seren is doing all of the work and offer her a job at the palace instead, where she'll be compensated fairly for her work. Of course she jumps at the chance. Over time, interest between the 3 grows into a full relationship.

I have plans for how it follows canon (loosely anyways, it's still fanfiction lol) up until... well, until the trio becomes a duo... then a single... then a none. Very sad, very angsty, and Doran is a bit of a prick after his brother dies.

BUT THE STORY ISN'T OVER, BECAUSE REINCARNATION AND I DO WHAT I WANT

Modern day, Seren is a student at a fashion institute. She is struggling to pull together a collection as a final project, which includes a runway fashion show. Enter Ellaria, a newer fashion model who is starting to get noticed. She is going to work the fashion show and works with Seren closely to make sure the garments are perfectly tailored to her body. Ellaria is charming, charismatic and openly affectionate to those in her circle (we know this) so it isn't a surprise that Seren starts to fall for her...

That crumbles when Ellaria's fiancé appears... doesn't it? The universe gives our trio a second chance at a happy ending, because they deserve it.

Below the cut is an early version of the prologue, when it was "Reader" and not an OC. I still love the way it's written and how it begins weaving their stories together.

WARNINGS: Unedited/Unbetaed. Mentions of mistreatment (Seren is more or less forced into a sweat-shop kind of situation,) mention of a parent's passing,

The room was hot and stuffy, sweat threatening to drip into your eyes as you worked. You spared a moment to wipe your brow with the back of your hand, making sure to keep your palms and fingers as dry as possible. Sewing with sweaty hands wasn’t easy, and you needed to finish this scarf quickly. You’d already been berated for it taking so long in the first place and, if Damek was to be believed, the customer was coming to pick it up today. It wouldn’t be the first time he had lied to get you to work harder, work faster, to push your limits. Still, you didn’t dare slow down on the chance that he was telling the truth.

The scarf was so ornate, he never should have promised the turnaround he did. The stitching so small it appeared as fine lines across the silken fabric, the pattern so detailed. You had been working on it for so many hours you were seeing it in your dreams - the short time you were allowed to sleep for, anyway. The cream fabric, the golden thread, it all swirled together as you slept, like a magical potion.

You didn’t know what time it was, unable to see how high the blazing Dornish sun sat in the sky. There were no windows in the back room, lest someone find you working. No one was to know that Damek wasn’t the tradesman behind the delicate stitching. The bold, stylized “D” of a logo that was supposed to brand each piece as his was a slap in the face every time you stitched it. It was your blood, sweat and tears that went into every garment, not his.

You’d thought about leaving, but it was a fleeting fantasy. A fairy tale you whispered to herself as you fell asleep, trying to invoke happy dreams. Your own colourful shop in the market. Happy townsfolk breezing in and out to browse. Taking orders for bespoke pieces such as the one in your hands now. A bright smile on your face as you reaped the benefits of your hard work. A smile so wide, you weren’t even sure you knew how to anymore.

The last stitch was finally done. You thanked the gods you had completed it before Damek had a chance to charge into the room, demanding the finished piece. Your fingers were numb from working hours without stopping. Even the calluses you had spent years growing as you mastered sewing were no match for the amount of work the scarf had needed.

You laid it out on the table, carefully examining for any errors or loose threads. Damek had told you it was for an important customer. You thought all of your customers were important, but you knew what he was implying. The scarf was for a rich customer. Someone was going to pay handsomely for all the hours of work. Too bad you would see next to none of that coin.

The wages had diminished slowly over time. At first Damek paid you for your time, supplying all the threads and fabrics you needed to create the pieces. Soon he would take more money away if you requested premium fabrics, promising to share the profits when the more expensive item sold. He never did. After that, he decided to charge you for room and board. It was a small price at first, but it grew steadily. You had been making enough to buy most things you fancied and keep a small stash of savings. Now he fed you scraps for the withheld money and you received a copper or two a month - unless he forgot, of course.

Nowhere to go, not enough coin to survive elsewhere, so you stayed. You sewed. You daydreamed of a better future, or your happy childhood before your mother’s passing, but reality always crashed down.

“Is it done yet, girl?” Damek huffed as he opened the door to your room. It brought in a breeze, still warm from the hot climate but cooling enough in the cramped space. “The customer is makin’ their way through town. Be here any minute.”

You smoothed the fabric out with your hands, pressing out any wrinkles as you finished her once-over. “Yes. I just finished it.”

“Good, giv’it here.” He ordered, holding out his beefy hand. You folded the scarf carefully, not wanting anything to happen to it before it got to the customer. Hours and hours went into making it the treasure it was now; something you were proud of despite the conditions you had created it in.

“Yes, this’ll do.” He nodded, looking over the embroidery. He haphazardly unfolded it, making you flinch. He examined the corner, making sure that the logo - his logo - was properly stitched into the piece. He ran a large finger over it, smiling widely. If this scarf was going to a rich customer, he wanted to make sure anyone who asked where it came from would be directed right back to him. He didn’t even look back at you as he left the room, eyes locked on the shimmering fabric woven into the cream coloured silk.

He’d left you with no orders. No bespoke pieces to be made or colourful garments to entice passersby to stop in. You felt your body sag in relief and exhaustion. Leaning against the wall, you let yourself close your eyes. He might wake you in 10 minutes or he might wake you in an hour, but until then you would rest.

Oberyn smiled down at little Loreza, sitting in his lap and reaching for the shiny gold chain he’d just unwrapped. Her eyes were wide as she reached her chubby little palms out for it as it glittered in the sun streaming through the pillars of the courtyard.

“I think Loreza may like it even more than I do.” He joked, winking at Elia who had chosen the gift for him. He let the girl grasp at the metal, feeling it in her hands as she cooed at the jewellery.

“She likes pretty things, just like her mother.” Ellaria added with a smile.

“She likes expensive things, just like her mother.” Oberyn countered, making the older sand snakes laugh. The younger ones joined in even if they didn’t understand the joke. They wanted to be part of the festivities and cheer.

Ellaria scoffed, feigning annoyance despite the smile on her face.

“My turn, Papa!” Obella begged, holding something behind her back. “Dorea and I picked it out together.”

“Alright, alright, little love.” Oberyn chuckled, calming his daughter as he set aside the golden chain. Loreza watched it go, reaching for it as it fell farther from her grasp.

Obella skipped up to her father before revealing the hidden present. In her hands she held a scarf, cream coloured with golden accents. Her face was full of excitement as she eagerly awaited her father’s reaction.

“Oh darling, it’s beautiful.” He gushed, taking it gently out of her hands. He unfolded the fabric, examining the shiny golden thread that was so finely woven into the silk. Loreza babbled in agreement as she clutched a corner in her tiny fist. “You two picked this out all on your own?”

“Mama he’ped.” Dorea chimed in, making Obella nod in agreement.

Oberyn ran a finger over the delicate stitching, making the shape of a sun. He followed the pattern, watching as it pieced together elements of a story. The legend of the forming of Sunspear told through golden swirls. Down in the corner, a flourished “D” stood as the mark of the artist.

“I love it.” He told them honestly. “I can’t wait to wear it.”

“I he’p!” Dorea popped up as fast as her little legs would let her. She took the silken cloth out of her father’s hands, having to tug a little to get it away from her youngest sister.

Oberyn laughed as the child draped his shoulders in the cloth. When she finished, he pulled her tightly to his side, kissing the crown of her head as he thanked her.

He felt the scarf-turned-shawl adjust over his shoulders. He didn’t need to look to recognize the gentle touch of his paramour. He leaned into it, relishing the attention.

“Good Name Day, my love?” Ellaria purred into his ear as she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders.

“Perfect.” He sighed, bouncing little Loreza in his lap as he squeezed Dorea once more.

#WIP talks #wookie tales #anonymous

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

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ah yes my favorite Twisted Wonderland character

~✨ Boy with Glasses ✨~

#hush n shush wifi #not brainrot #wifi plays TWST #not genshin #GREAT TO KNOW THAT GLASSES ARE THE DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC OF AZUL #i finished the prologue today and it slapped #where the fuck are Sam's bones tho #also 'headmage'??? 'principal Crowley' was just fine ;-;;#what the hell is a 'housewarden'#JUST CALL THEM DORM LEADERS #or prefects because that's what MC is right??#when my boy Jamil makes an appearance my life will be complete #by the way i have a TWST oc. feel free to ask about her :))#anyways hello i am home #:D

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theangstyboiblog · 2 years

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Is This Betrayal? Chapter One | Silco x Fem!Reader

Description: It’s been over a decade since you stood on the rooftop between Piltover and Zaun. Now the wife of an elite scion, your life is, on the exterior, shining gold and bright white. But within the walls of your home, your marriage festers. Then your husband invites a newly acquainted, mysterious business associate to dinner. And your own personal little hell turns so much worse.

Warnings: abuse. angst. Uh oh guess who's coming to dinner...

Fic Masterlist: Prologue

Note* this takes place two years after episode 1 of Arcane.

12 Years Later

Dull, grey eyes watch you through the mirror as you pin the last of your hair back. “You’re staring,” you grumble. The gaze doesn’t leave you, only glowers more. It makes your stomach turn. Not out of fear, though those eyes have been known to terrify you more than once. No, right now, all you feel is disgust and disdain and a pinch of boredom.

“You went out into the city today,” a man’s voice says, low and threatening says from the edge of the bed.

“I did.”

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I needed to see the apothecary for more liniment oil. And I wanted to feel the sun on my skin, not simply see it through a window.”

“You should have sent Miri. Who else did you see?” he asks and you take a breath. There it is. The real question.

You let out a sigh as you dab your cheeks with a little rouge. “The flower girl on Bodsman row, a squad of enforcers, two of the councilmen’s wives, a garbage man, a street cleaner, three dogs sniffing each other’s assholes—need I go on?”

Those grey eyes narrow. He’s silent for a moment, then another. “For an undercity girl, one would think you’d be more grateful,” he says.

“To who?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Who do you think?” His question sits in the air like a heavy gas, choking you to death.

You look down and grab a tin of eyeshadow, your other hand taking a light brush, gold shimmering on the strands of horse hair as you dip it in the tin. You look back into the mirror, turning your head as you paint along the rim of your eyelid.

“What more do I have to be grateful for today, Daiden? You can only pull me out of poverty so many times before the story begins to get old.” The bed creaks and you watch as he stands, hands closed into fists at his sides. You twist around and peer up at him, one hand on the back of your chair, the other holding your eye brush over the counter. “I saw no one today because I know no one.” He steps towards you. “That’s what happens when your husband keeps you sequestered from anything that walks about on two legs and has a fucking mind of its own.”

Smack.

The sound of his palm striking your cheek fills the room before it all falls to silence. Your head turns with the sudden force, the flesh and skin stinging. But your eyes do not water. You don’t even let out a gasp. You’re silent. The wall, embroidered with roses and vine fills your vision before you slowly turn your head and look up at Daiden, gaze burning.

“Do you feel better now?” you ask him, fully prepared for another slap. But it doesn’t come.

Somehow, he gets ahold of himself. Maybe it’s because a tiny part of him knows how monstrous he is. Maybe it’s because you’re not begging him to spare you another strike. Maybe it’s the way the clock behind you shows there’s only fifteen minutes until dinner.

Daiden’s golden hair lays stringy over his brow and his face, a near snarl, slowly morphs back to calm. The fire in his eyes abates and he reaches down, fixing the vest of his suit. “Finish getting yourself ready,” he orders, before he turns to the door. He smooths his hair back as he reaches the door, pulls it open, then twists around to look at you one last time. “And try not to humiliate me again tonight,” he seethes.

The floor shakes beneath your bare feet as the door slams shut behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s an incessant humming that fills your home at all hours of the day. Electric lamps, their bright yellow bulbs send long shadows along the walls into the far corners where the light is blocked or isn’t reflected off mirrors and a gaudy golden banister. The skin of your palm slides across the freezing metal as you make your way down the stairs. The hem of your blue satin dress trails behind you, the cloth cut at the hollow of your throat before it falls back over your shoulders in a deep plunge down your back, skin exposed. Golden chains keep the fabric in place. You hate them.

So of course, it’s Daiden’s favorite dress. He might not be able to shackle you to the wall but he always finds ways to remind you that you are bound, even if no one else can truly see the bindings.

“There you are,” a woman’s voice carries from the bottom of the stairs. A woman dressed in black with silvering curls steps out from the doorway hands clasped in front of her.

“Miri,” you greet quietly as her gaze flits to the sitting room.

“Master Daiden, seems jovial tonight.”

“He’s always jovial where an influx money is concerned,” you reply dully.

The pair of you share a look. She glances at your left cheek. A heat lies there that isn’t from a blush. You know there’s nothing there for her to see. You fixed it in the mirror before you came down. But you know that she knows. And that’s what’s so upsetting. Humiliating.

“I’ll bring you some tea?” she asks.

You nod. “And keep the wine back for as long as you can?” you whisper as she starts to turn. She glances at you, lips parting before they close tightly. Then she nods. Miri leaves you, disappearing down the hall towards the kitchen.

You take a slow, deep breath, eyes falling to the bangles round your wrists. You finger them quickly counting all seven before pushing your shoulders back and walking towards the sitting room. The hum of the lamps is drowned out by music coming from the record player in the corner. Your husband stands big, tall and hulking in front of the fireplace. His back is turned as he stares into the flames. You step forward, leaving the hardwood floor behind and allowing the rug to dampen your footsteps. Your eyes are drawn to the glass of bourbon in his hand and you close your eyes.

Great. Looks like he’s already starting.

Two years and you’d learned every habit of your husband’s and how his personality seemed to shift as he indulged in them. The first few drinks in him were fine. Good even. Like magic he’d turn… not kind but bearable. He’d mostly ignore you. Sometimes not. Usually, he’d boast to anyone who’d listen how grand a prize he’d won to have you as his beautifulwife. The undercity maid he’d rescued from destitution and raised up to be a fine lady in fine clothes, with fine perfume. He’d keep it up for the first hour. Then the alcohol would bring out something dark inside him.

All you could do was stave off that darkness: distract him or hide the liquor.

“So, this business venture of yours…” you start, watching carefully as Daiden twists around to look at you, cheek flushed and you can’t help but wonder how many drinks he’s already downed. Better stop him from taking another. “It’s viable?” you finish.

A sour look flashes over Daiden’s face. “Of course, it’s viable. Do you think me that much a fool?”

Yes.

“Of course not,” you simper as you sit down on the arm of the lounge, smoothing your skirts. “I’m only curious as to who it is we’re entertaining this evening. I assume you want me to charm them.”

“I want you to smile and do what you do best,” Daiden says, raising his glass and taking a sip, “stay silent.”

I can do that, you think bitterly as Miri walks in carrying a tray of tea. You turn away from Daiden flashing her a smile as she walks to the table on the far side of the room.

Knock-knock.

A sudden rap come from the front door followed by the ringing of the doorbell. Miri looks over her shoulder, startled, and hurries to set down the tray. You stand as Daiden watches with hooded eyes and a suspicious look on his face.

“I’ll get the door,” you announce. As you turn, Daiden’s voice follows you.

“Let Miri do it– hurry up, woman,” his voice grows smaller as you leave the room.

Taking a deep breath, you push yourself forward quickly as another ring of the bell sounds. You breathe out, fixing your hair as you come to the front door, hand reaching out to grasp the handle. A grand and elegant grin grows on your lips as you pull the door open. The scent and sound of summer rain hits you.

“Welcome, Mr.—"

All the air in the world disappears. Your lungs stop working. Your knees feel weak. Your heart refuses to follow any known rhythm. From beneath a wide brim hat, a red-eye glowers as the man at the threshold peers down at you. He reaches up, pulling the hat off and the lamplight above the door glances over his skin. He’s split, down the middle between someone you used to know so well, and someone you’ve never met before. Your eyes can’t help but stare at the scars that mar his left cheek, the shadows that have claimed his skin.

“Sil?”

Ducking his head to the side, his lips pull up into a sharp smirk. “Madam Kaya, I presume?” he asks.

You’re speechless. He’s dead – not dead but gone. It’s been ten years, no, more than that – what happened to him? His face. No, focus, he can’t be here. Why is he here?!

“Y-yes,” you falter, voice breaking. Footstep’s echo across the hardwood behind you. A big hand pulls the handle out of your grasp, wrenching the door open wide.

“Silco, sir,” Daiden greets, shooting you a look. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m afraid I may have startled your wife,” Silco says, his voice sending a chill down your spine. Reaching up he drags two long fingers down his scarred cheek. “My appearance tends to have that effect on people.”

Daiden smiles thinly and turns to you, setting a hand on your shoulder. “My apologies,” his fingers dig into your flesh, “she should know it’s rude to stare.” You try not to wince as pain erupts over your collarbone. Turning back to the doorway, Daiden pulls you aside and waves. “Please, come in.”

A chill settles deep in your bones as you move with Daiden allowing Silco to step over the threshold and into your home. Water droplets cover his shoulders, rivulets running down to the hem before dripping over the floor. He pulls off his outer coat as Miri moves behind him, taking it quickly. He stands proud and tall in fine clothes, finer than you ever saw him wear when you were younger. Black and red. They’re good colors on him, but they make him seem hard and unyielding.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home,” Silco says, shaking hands with Daiden before clasping his hands behind his back. He glances over your husband’s shoulder and you want to look away, but you can’t. You don’t want to.

“Can I get you a drink?” Daiden asks, clapping a hand on Silco’s shoulder, and leading him into the sitting room. You follow behind them quickly, as though a rope is tied round your middle pulling you after them against your will. With their backs turned you take a moment to let your fear and sorrow show on your face. It cascades from your eyes to your mouth, bottom lip trembling as you fight back the tears that are beginning to sting, insistent that they deserve to fall. But you force yourself to take a breath, and as Daiden turns and waves you over brusquely, you force a small smile back on your lips.

You want to run. You want to stay. You want to grab Sil by that glossy silk shirt of his and shake him this way and that until he’s forced to tell you what the fuck is going on, where the hell he’s been and why he’s here now. You want to dash forward and throw yourself at him and sob into his chest. So many wants. You know you’re not likely to fulfill any of them.

And as you join them in the center of the parlor, and the dinner gong rings, as Silco’s marred eye glances towards you, looking you up and down, you can’t help but wonder how the hell you’re going to make it through the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s unbearable. It’s torture. If Daiden ever wanted to truly hurt you, if he knew what sitting across from the one person you’ve ever loved more than anything else did to you, he would never have to hit you again to cause you pain.

But instead, he seems to remain oblivious to the glances you pay his guest, to the way you hold your breath everytime the man looks at you. Instead, he tells his version of your life story. And that in itself if torture enough.

“Y/N was born in the undercity,” he tells Silco as you shift uncomfortably, chasing chopped carrots around the curve of your plate with your fork. “Crossed over after the revolts and was lucky to be hired on as a maid here,” Daiden says looking at you with something in his eye that an outsider might mistake as fondness. “I don’t think anyone can blame me for being beguiled,” he finishes with a lewd grin, taking a drink from his wine glass. Mid-sip he stops and shakes his head as a thought occurs to him. “Except for my mother. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for my choice of wife.” You hold back a sigh, glancing across the table. Silco laughs along with Daiden, but he doesn’t once smile. Instead that gaze, so unbalanced and strange stares straight through you.

“What brings you to the upper city, Sil – ahem, Silco?” you ask suddenly, the most words you’ve said since you sat down. You heart is thundering in your chest as both he and Daiden turn to look at you.

“I’m looking to expand processing and shipping for my wares,” he tells you quickly. Setting down his fork, Silco shrugs his shoulders and shifts in his chair. “And Piltover is a bright spotlight full of wonder and opportunity. I often find myself wondering what alluring secrets it has that would lure our people out of the fissures.”

You can’t help but feel like those last few words are markedly meant for you. You clench your teeth and narrow your eyes. “Topside has clean air, good food – and we don’t often watch our loved ones disappear, never to be heard from again.”

A hand slides over your thigh, before closing up, fingers digging into your flesh. You look to the side to find Daiden staring at you. He shakes his head. You push his hand away and turn back to Silco, fury burning in your eyes.

Silco’s not watching you, and he smiles softly, his gaze growing distant as he looks out the window, rain pattering against the panes. “They don’t always disappear forever. People have a habit of popping up when you least expect it.” He turns back to you.

Your hands, fists now, grip the silk of your skirts beneath the table, quakes running through your bones. You stand up. The feet of the chairs squeak against the floor as both men stand with you, Silco faster than the inebriated Daiden.

Your husband sets down his drink. “Y/N—"

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I’m not feeling well,” you say smoothly, stepping out from the table. “I’ll leave you two to ruminate over your new partnership in my absence.”

Picking up your skirts you turn on your heel and all but run for the door leading to the hallway. It wasn’t a lie you told them. You feel as though any second you might hurl whatever meager amount of dinner you were able to stomach. Speaking of stomachs, yours is turning, twisting in knots as you climb up the stairs.

You make it to your rooms, throwing open the doors before dashing to the bathroom as tears begin to fall down your face. Everything feels so hot, so close. You can’t breathe. You can’t stop the nausea attacking you. You fall to your knees in front of the toilet, hands gripping the porcelain rim as you retch and cough and gag. Footsteps, the sound of heeled shoes, echoes behind you. A cool, slender hand brushes over your brow as you vomit.

You cry, let out a whine as your legs draw up beneath you try to stave off another bout of sickness as fingers card through your ruined hair. Another palm settles on you back patting to a soft rhythm as your stomach seizes again.

“Shhh, let it out, Miss,” Miri’s voice murmurs as you cough. Panting, you turn your head and look up at her, tears in your eyes as your body feels limp. Her gaze falls. “You were doing so well with the apothecary’s tonic. Is it—”

You swallow, throat burning, and shake your head. “No, it has nothing to do with that,” you tell her, tone biting.

She watches you, face morose and stagnant before reaching down to pat your knee. She stands. “I’ll get you that tea, dear,” she says softly, before leaving you alone, curled up next to the toilet, its cold porcelain a frigid comfort as you cry silently on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been sitting at the top of the steps for an hour, muffled voices carrying up to you. You can’t understand what they’re saying, only discern who is speaking. Daiden dominates the conversation, his boisterous voice growing louder by the minute. Then Silco’s voice answers, soft, low. They carried on like this as you stared at the door, waiting to catch another glimpse, waiting to watch him walk out your front door, to leave again.

It’s been a few minutes since any noise made its way to you. Silence. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your dress. What are they doing?

The door to the drawing room slides open and hold in a gasp as Silco steps out into the hall. He looks this way and that before pulling the door closed behind him and stepping towards the coat rack by the door. You stand, bare feet padding down the stars silently as his back turns to you, black rain coat thrown over his shoulders. He reaches for his hat as you reach the final step. His hand freezes mid reach. His head tilts. He turns.

“Feeling better, Y/N?” he asks, marred eye glinting in the lamplight.

You stare at him, hands hanging loosely at your sides. “Where have you been?” you ask weakly, voice a mere whisper.

Silco’s shoulders shrug as he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Our home. In Zaun,” he answers and you shake your head.

“Don't lie to me. I searched for you. You were gone. I thought you were dead.” You step down leaving the carpeted stairwell, the soles of your feet clashing with the cold wooden floor. As you move closer to him, he stays in place, eyes watching you like a hawk. You stare up at him. Your hands rise up, fingers outstretched to take his face between them. He grabs you by the wrists before you can get within an inch of his skin.

“Such familiarity,” he says, glancing at the drawing room door. “What would your husband think?”

Pushing your hands away he turns and takes hold of his hat. He puts it on as you stand frozen, hand still outstretched in mid-air. Pulling up his collar, Silco goes to the door and pulls it open. You expect him to stalk out over the threshold immediately, to disappear into the night, never to be seen or heard again. Then he twists round to look at you.

He looks you up and down. “Gold isn’t your color,” he informs you.

Your eyebrows rise up in surprise. But before you can say anything, he’s gone. The door is closed and all you can hear is the blasted hum of the house lights flickering high above on the crystal chandelier.

~~~~~~~~

READ CHAPTER TWO HERE

A/N: So, thoughts on Daiden? Silco? Are ya entertained? <3

Comment and tell me if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic!

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#silco x reader #Silco #Arcane #silco x oc #arcane league of legends #silco league of legends #silco arcane #silco angst #arcane silco

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alatusxiaoo · 3 years

Text

SEASONS. (a youthful otome game with the genshin boys)

love blossoms in all seasons.

“an…otome game?”

a snort escapes your lips in disbelief, as you send a perplexed glare over to your chagrined friend. “oh, what are you looking at me for…you wanted a recommendation!”

“yeah. not this cheesy shit.” you cringed at the mere thought of it, begrudgingly inserting the video game’s dvd in the television’s slot. “i was expecting…i don’t know, something more interesting?”

the humdrum remark earns a playful slap on your shoulder from her, as you wince at the impact of her offended smack. “gods, just trust me already! it’s going to be life-changing.” she dreamily muses with a fanciful smile, however you’re not even the least bit convinced by her starry-eyed demeanor.

your eyes carefully scrutinize the displayed monitor, watching the game agonizingly load inside the box. dread crept up and sent chills down your spine as the screen slowly lit up, and your wandering eyes catch the sight of messily stuffed packages poorly concealed behind ajar closet doors. “actually you know what, i do have some unfinished monster hunter quests in the — ow! excuse me? what the hell was that for?!”

“come on y/n! you promised you’d play this time.” she childishly huffs in dismay, crossing her arms as she leans back on the edge of the bed in evident betrayal. “it won’t be that bad, i swear. let’s just finish one chapter today, and then i’ll let you decide after if we play a bit more…or you burn the damn game into smithereens.”

the latter option made quite the tempting offer, though you personally would have favored a third alternative where you could just burn the dvd now. “whatever.” you quietly grumble while snatching the plugged controller from the space on the wooden boards beside you. “fine, lets do it. but i’ll hold you to your word of that second choice.”

START.

SEASONS is a youthful otome game, where love blossoms in all seasons. Depending on the choices you make, you may encounter different characters, and unlock various special (and even secret) routes within certain chapters. There are a total of four major episodes — each contain storylines that require your decision on the choices you wish to make in pursuit of your love interest.

chapter one, spring. (when the flowers bloom.)

STATUS: prologue. chapter one. CHAPTER 2 IS NOT YET UNLOCKED.

route/s: xiao + thoma

chapter two, summer. (the warmer half of the year.)

STATUS: prologue. CHAPTER 1 IS NOT YET UNLOCKED.

route/s: ??

chapter three, autumn. (when the leaves fall from trees.)

STATUS: NOT YET UNLOCKED.

route/s: ??

chapter four, winter. (the colder half of the year.)

STATUS: NOT YET UNLOCKED.

route/s: ??

note: for the upcoming 600 milestone <3 this short series’ lovely concept is heavily inspired by seasons of blossom. if you haven’t read the webtoon, please do because i legitimately swear ;-; genuinely the most beautiful story i’ve read,, not to mention the build-up — the fucking build up!! literally the top-tier kind of writing and talent i aspire to achieve in this lifetime >;(( i laughed, shed tears and blushed a whole lot from the plot :””> so im sincerely hoping my own rendition will do greatly deserved justice to it ٩(˘◡˘)۶

warning: will contain webtoon spoilers, so i’d suggest you avoid reading if you’re interested in seeing the original first!

status: masterlist’s style is a work in progress, and speculated characters may be subject to change. THIS SERIES IS CURRENTLY ON HIATUS.

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zzztobi · 2 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 - 𝐣𝐣𝐤 ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ — chapter one.

prologue | chapter two

TODAY WAS LIKE ANY OTHER DAY;

you woke up, went to your morning classes and came back to your dorm, waiting until your friends: megumi fushiguro and yuuji itadori, knocked on your door to go and grab lunch at the cafateria.

and there is where all three of you are now, eating lunch at the very end of the dining area, looking around for the green haired girl, maki, that accompanies you most of the time.

"she's late again," itadori fumbled with his mouth full of food, "close your fucking mouth when you're eating pig" megumi said while glancing at his friend, "but yeah, she's late again"

then, out of nowhere, maki sits down next to you with her now cold lunch. "fucking first years, they've collapsed the line to get food and now my hamburger is cold" you just laughed at her, making the frown on her face dissolve a little.

"we all been first years maki, you specifically know how hard it is" you defended. of course all first years looked like lost puppies, but sometimes a little bit of help is much appreciated. just like she did with you. even though her intentions were of getting your number and ask you out, she ended up helping you through your first year and becoming your first friend at college.

"anyway, are you coming to my first rehearsal today? " megumi looked at the rest of the group, changing the subject and waiting for a response to tell the leader of the band about the little audience. you and itadori nodded, mouth full of food, making megumi look at both of you in disgust.

"i can't, got a class on the afternoons. i'm sorry megumi" megumi just nodded in knowledge to the green haired girl. "it's okay maki, i'll deal with these two dumbasses myself" he said motioning to both itadori and you, earning a slap on his head by the last male.

after finishing your lunch, maki bid goodbye to you and the boys heading to her class, while the three of you headed to the rehearsals room.

megumi opened the door coming inside first, then itadori and lastly you. you could see the room was soundproof with the walls covered in acoustic panels made exactly for that. a little stage was placed in the right corner of the room; just a little bit elevated from the floor, with a drum set, a bass guitar and a electric guitar, both well supported. and lastly, a microphone in the middle of the stage.

there were also two red couches placed in front of the stage, as well as the amplifiers. at the back of the room, there was another door next to an enormous window, leading to the recording area. the view didn't surprise you one bit, since you've been coming to megumi's rehearsals since you got to know him last year.

but what surprised you was the audience that was sat down on one of the couches. looking at them you could recognize three of your teachers: toji fushiguro, your genetics teacher AND megumi's dad; gojo satoru, your biophysics teacher, and geto suguru, your zoology teacher. none of them seemed to have seen you, but your eyes were now focused on the men left in the room: one being megumi's uncle and leader of the band, naoya zen'in; the other two being your best friend's brothers: sukuna and choso.

"megumi you're late" naoya's voice made you come back to reality, noticing how the males where looking at you with raised eyebrows. "i know, i know, but yuuta isn't even here yet" megumi sat down on the other couch, you and itadori following after. he then realized the people in the room. "what are you doing here dad?"

toji then looked at his son, smiling to the three of you, his gaze lingering a little more on your form and the outfit you decided to wear today. "what? can't i see my son do the only thing that shares with me?" megumi just huffed at his response. toji's always been hard on megumi for choosing a linguistics degree instead of an science one, like him. so imagine his surprise when he found out that one of his son's best friend was indeed in a science degree, most specific that she was his student in the biology degree.

not saying a word back to his dad, megumi just started talking to you about his classes and how hard this semester was going to be. itadori was just on his phone scrolling through his social media, since he knew everything that megumi was rumbling about, being classmates.

unexpectedly the door to the room opened, a furious long haired girl coming in, followed by a non worried yuuta. the girl looked as if she was going to explode at any moment; face red and ears almost fuming. yuuta on the other hand, walked into the room as if he wasn't 15 minutes late, hands intertwined behind his head and walking as if he was in a slow motion film.

the girl, whose name you didn't remember, was the lead singer of the group, chosen after countless auditions. she was pacing around the room yelling some non-sense to the bassist and then heading to naoya, who was sitting on the drum set, getting ready to start the rehearsal. "i'm leaving the band" the girl spatted looking at naoya. catching everyone out of guard, the room went silent.

"what?" naoya stood up as well as megumi, who was now walking to where the rest of the group was. everyone looked at each other, looking for some kind of explanation. "i said i'm leaving the band. you better thank yuuta for this. " and with that the girl left the room as soon as she came in.

an angry naoya was now looking at the calm yuta, waiting for the younger male to say something. he then just dropped his arms from behind his head and started explaining. "i think she just got jealous because i was flirting with some random girl. she thought we were something when i told her we wasn't. she started yelling at me so i yelled at her too, telling her that her voice wasn't even that good, that she only made it to the band because she knew how to suck dick," a snicker could be heard from the couch next to you, the white haired man being the source of it.

"and well, she got mad and told me how she was going to leave the group and blah blah. i never thought she would do it, honestly" and with that yuta finished his explanation, making the drummer even angrier than before. "well, now thanks to your horny ass dick, we got no lead singer and let me tell you, we're not doing any more auditions because that shit drained me physically and mentally. so this is the end of this fucking band, hope you're proud of it!"

by now everyone was perplexed, looking at how naoya yelled at yuta, pointing him with his finger that almost went trough the younger's chest. taking some steps back, yuta looked at megumi and then at naoya again. "w-we could look for another lead singer, right megumi?" megumi looked at his friend with a shocked expression, "me? this is your problem bro. you should've thought with your brain instead of with your dick. not my problem"

yuta looked as if he was about to commit suicide, he got yelled at by his leader and his best hook up until now. he was left without a band and good pussy, could anything more go wrong for him today?

"i know someone who can sing!" surprised, everyone looked at the pink haired boy that was sat down next to you. he looked at you with a smile and realized what he was going to say. "y/n sings pretty good to me. i've heard her in her room." everyone then looked at you, hope plastered on their faces when pure horror was plastered on yours.

"fuck,it's true! y/n's got a beautiful voice, she just didn't attend the auditions last year because she was shy!" megumi supported yuuji's statement. "oh hell nah, don't believe a word they say," you said looking at all the people in the room, "i sound like a fucking dying dolphin!" your mouth left an awkward laugh.

naoya stepped down the stage, now walking to you. he looked at you in the eyes, some sort of hope running through his.

"please y/n if what they say it's true, join our band. you're our only hope"

you're definitely going to kill yuuji and megumi for putting you in this mess.

TAGS: @cyberdeanpiegiant @sleepyymc @blueheartofrainbow @urfavidiot

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starlightkun · 2 years

Text

snowflake ; ayakashi ❧ doyoung [seven/fin.]

❧ word count: 7.4k

❧ warnings: now that’s what i call angst! but also a happy ending i swear

❧ extra info: heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories ;

there are occasional moments where the reader’s lips change colors due to being too cold and i try to avoid mentioning the specific color when i can, but when i can’t, the phrase ‘(blue/pale)’ will pop up. depending on skintone, your lips will turn different colors in the cold, so you can fill in whichever is more accurate for you at those parts!

❧ DISCLAIMER: some aspects of plot and character traits are directly lifted from the otome game ayakashi: romance reborn and utilized in the character equivalents in this story; the base lore, plot, and characters were heavily inspired by the game, but it has all been transformed into my own story. there are no spoilers for the game by reading this series

⤷ prologue* ⤷ prev.

*you need to read the prologue before reading any of the individual routes

Today was the day. Your finals had just finished, and you were about to kick off your summer break in the worst fucking way possible: with the love of your life dying.

Yours and Doyoung’s last day together. When you asked him how he wanted to spend it, he simply said with you. So you took him back to the city one more time, to have breakfast with Kun, to walk around the park you had your first kiss in, to get lunch with your parents, to see the new installation at the museum, to get drinks with his colleagues, and to finally sit down and have dinner with your friends.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them it was Doyoung’s last meal, that would make it feel too real. All day had been a surreal mixture of distraction and acceptance. Of making this day a beautiful send-off while also doing your best to forget that’s what it was.

Taeyong had just said something unintentionally hilarious, and the entire table burst into laughter. Yuta’s barking laugh accompanied a squeeze of the Nekomata’s knee, Johnny slapped the table with his large hand, the sound echoing through the room, Renjun’s face turned red as he was breathless, Jeno’s eyes were squeezed shut as he giggled, Jaehyun’s chest shook with laughter, Jaemin’s head was thrown back as he cackled, Sicheng had a wide grin on his face as he tried to reassure Taeyong that they weren’t laughing at him but with him, and Doyoung even chuckled from beside you. You were also howling, tears of laughter springing to your eyes. But as you looked around at all your smiling friends, gaze finally settling on Doyoung, the tears multiplied and were soon pouring down your face, your mood catapulting off the ledge from happiness into sadness.

Your friends all sobered up as they noticed this change.

“Y/N?” Jaemin’s brow was furrowed with concern. “Are you crying?”

“Woah, little lady, are you okay?” Johnny asked, reached a hand across the table to rest on your forearm.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Taeyong’s nose twitched with his question, as if he was trying to sniff out the exact reason why you were crying.

“Sorry, sorry,” you sniffled, grabbing a napkin to wipe at your eyes. “I just love you guys so much. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, of course we do,” Yuta reassured you, eyebrow quirked up questioningly.

“Any particular reason why you’re acting like it’s your last day on Earth or something?” Renjun snorted nonchalantly, but he couldn’t fully keep the concern from his voice.

“No,” your voice was hard, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to lighten your tone. “I think I drank a bit too much earlier, with Doyoung’s friends.”

“Oh, an emotional drunk,” Jeno snorted.

Sicheng pushed his glass of water to you, “Here, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you murmured before raising the glass to your lips. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Doyoung, who simply had a melancholy look on his face as he rubbed your back.

“That was really nice,” Doyoung admitted as you left Lenticular Café that night, hand in hand.

“Yeah, the guys are great,” you agreed, taking up a meandering pace.

“It really eases my mind… knowing that I’m leaving you with so many people who love you so much.”

You sharply exhaled, struggling against the tears welling up in your eyes, “What the hell am I supposed to say to that, Doyoung?”

“I’m sorry.” Your boyfriend was quiet for a beat before he spoke once more, “There’s actually one more person I’d like to see before we go back, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you squeezed his hand, thankful for the change of topic. “It’s your day.”

He navigated the two of you through the streets quietly. You were glad for the changing of seasons, the summer nights were warmer than before, which made it possible to hold Doyoung’s hand without gloves. You were nearing the other side of town, opposite from the mountains, where a river gently flowed out to the sea. Eventually, you came upon a property with a large fence and a guardhouse by the gate. Doyoung skirted the building, however, and went directly up to the gate where there was a small keypad. After punching in a few numbers, it beeped and the gate smoothly swung open.

“Can I ask who we're seeing?” You raised an eyebrow as you walked along a path with well-maintained landscaping, a large mansion of sorts looming in the distance.

“One of my biggest regrets,” he sighed, “is not visiting her more.”

While that didn’t really answer your question, you could tell that he was lost in his own thoughts.

Doyoung knocked on the front door of the elegant mansion. It was opened only a moment later by an older man in very formal dress, who couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Oh, Mr. Kim. Please, come in,” the man stepped back to hold the door open for the both of you.

Doyoung stepped in, you following, “Thank you, Heejun. Where is she?”

“The living room. You’ve come on one of her good days, Mr. Kim.”

Your boyfriend nodded, leading the way through the foyer, then through the formal dining room and kitchen until you finally ended up in a place you suppose could count as a living room. Everything was so ornate you couldn’t tell if anyone really lived in any of these rooms.

There was a woman sitting on an armchair, dutifully knitting, the mustard yellow yarn precisely slipping between needles as she worked.

“Mrs. Qian,” Doyoung announced his presence to her. Your eyebrows shot up at this. Kun's mother?

The woman whipped around, her wrinkled face immediately breaking into a smile, “Oh, Doie!”

He let go of your hand to walk over and squat down in front of her chair. She hurriedly dropped her needles to reach two hands out for his face.

“Mrs. Qi—”

“Hush, I want to hold my baby's face, frostbite be damned.”

He stopped his protests, cheeks and ears turning blue.

“Kun told me you went back to Erethulia.”

“Yes.”

“Without saying goodbye to me?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Qian,” Doyoung sounded truly remorseful. “But I’m back now. I want to introduce someone to you.”

Taking this as your cue to officially join them, you walked further into the room, kneeling down beside Doyoung in front of Mrs. Qian. You didn’t think she could’ve lit up any more than before, but she did somehow.

“This is Y/N,” he introduced you simply.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Qian,” you took the hand that she had reached out towards you.

“Oh Doie, she’s beautiful,” she gushed approvingly. “He’s being good to you, right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Qian, he's wonderful,” you assured her, squeezing her hand gently. “You did good with him. And Kun, too.”

Her eyes were watering at this point, and you felt a lump growing in your throat, your own heady storm of emotions flowing through you. You looked at what she had been knitting to distract yourself. But it was a mess. Some rows were perfectly consistent and straight, while others had holes, and some rows were longer than others.

When you looked back up at Mrs. Qian's face, you found that her gaze was focused on something behind you, far in the distance. Her grip on your hand went slack, so you gently set her hand down on her lap.

“Mrs. Qian?” Doyoung gently rested a hand on her forearm.

Her eyes locked back onto him, her face breaking into a wide grin, “Oh, Doie! My baby is back in my home.”

“Yes, yes, I am,” he nodded, taking one of her hands. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Y/N.”

She then looked at you, no recognition in her dark brown eyes when they met yours. The woman once again beamed at you, this time taking your face in her hands, “She’s absolutely gorgeous, Doie. Is my baby treating you good, Y/N?”

“Yes, ma’am, he is,” you nodded, clasping your hands over hers on your cheeks. “He’s the best thing that’s happened to me. You were such a wonderful mother to your boys.”

Now the tears fell from her eyes, settling in the wrinkles along her face, “Thank you. I’m so proud of them. Even… even if I’m not Doyoung’s real mother, he’s still one of my greatest accomplishments.”

Doyoung pushed back against her words, “Of course you’re my real mother, both of you are. And I’m proud to have been raised by you.”

Mrs. Qian was still crying when there was a throat cleared in the room. Heejun was standing in the doorway, and grabbed a tissue box from a nearby table to hand them to her.

“She should rest, Mr. Kim,” he informed your boyfriend gently.

“Of course.”

You stood up along with Doyoung.

“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Qian,” you told her sincerely.

“You too, sweetheart,” she dabbed at her eyes. Then, her tone turned pointed as she spoke to Doyoung, “Make sure you bring her back again soon, Doie. No more of this disappearing from my life for six months, you understand?”

“Of course, Mrs. Qian,” he nodded. “I’ll come see you again soon.”

“Next week.”

“Yes. Next week.”

Seeming satisfied with the promise she had wrenched from him, she let Heejun usher her up out of the chair and out of the room.

“I visited her right before I went back to Erethulia,” Doyoung sighed. “Just a couple months ago.”

You wrapped your arms around Doyoung, squeezing him tight to you, “I’m sorry, Doyoung. You did a good thing, making her happy in the moment.”

He hugged you back without hesitation, “Yeah. I feel bad for Kun, who’s going to have to keep telling her I’ll be by soon, after I…”

You knew what he meant when he drifted off. After he dies. Doyoung was going to die. Tomorrow.

Tears came one after another until you were fully sobbing, the realization hitting you like a bus and knocking the wind out of you. Your shoulders shook and chest heaved as you tried to pull air into your lungs again. Doyoung hugged you even tighter, as if that were possible, having no words to comfort you. There were none.

Sleep didn’t come easy to you that night. You laid awake in your blanket cocoon in Erethulia, staring at Doyoung’s back. You weren’t sure if he was awake or not, all you could see was his steady breathing as he was still otherwise. Meanwhile you kept tossing and turning. Every so often you’d be on the verge of falling asleep, but a sudden terror of wasting your last few hours with Doyoung would seize you, and you’d be wide awake again.

“You should get some rest, love,” his voice broke the silence, confirming that he wasn’t actually asleep. Your boyfriend turned over onto his other side to look at you.

“I can sleep after.” Your words trembled as you spoke. “I’ll never be able to see you again, though.”

Doyoung didn’t have much to say in response, delicately caressing your cheek for a moment, goosebumps being left on your skin in his wake.

“Do Erethulians get an afterlife? I don’t mean, do you believe in one, I mean, do you all have different cosmic rules about life and death than humans do?”

“Sort of,” he answered quietly. “My consciousness won’t remain. My memories, my thoughts, my feelings, will cease to exist. But my energy, my life force, will become part of each and every Erethulian. Every Erethulian will have a piece of me in them. Minhee, Jaewoon, all of them.”

You couldn’t bite back your whine, “That’s not good enough.”

“I know. I’m sorry, love.”

“So how—how is it going to happen?”

“Y/N…”

“I have to know, before it happens.”

He sighed. “I’ll enter the water in the Lady’s Spring, and you won’t see me again.”

“That—that’s it?” You were absolutely flabbergasted, having expected some big ritual. You didn’t know which would’ve been worse: dragging it out in a lengthy process, or the short and sweet version you were going to have to experience come sunrise.

“There will be more for me to do, once I’m underwater, but that’s all you’ll have to see.”

“What the hell do you have to do underwater?”

Doyoung once again reached his hand out towards you, and you pulled an arm out to link your fingers with his.

“According to Chaewon, I’ll be faced with the spirit of Erethulia herself. After that, nobody knows what’s going to happen. Everyone has their own theories, but no proof one way or another.”

“What do you think’s going to happen?”

“I hope it doesn’t feel anything like how I imagine drowning feels. I think Erethulia might want me to let go of my tethers to mortality. And I know I’ll hold onto you as long as I can.”

Tears spilled over, falling down your cheeks in raging rivers at his sweet words. They were red hot tears that singed your eyes as they fell, and you had to ball up your fist that was still in your blanket cocoon in order to not just start hitting things out of anger. Your fingernails were definitely breaking skin, and you gritted your teeth so hard that they might shatter. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Doyoung sighed, features clearly pained, “I wish there were words I could say to make this better, love, I really do.”

“There are, but you won’t say them,” you croaked out, meaning for it to be venomous, but instead your voice sounded defeated. Your fist relaxed back into an open hand, and even your tears stopped as your entire body and soul felt absolutely wiped.

He was silent, pressing a kiss to your hand in place of speech. Because he couldn’t bring himself to say those words, he couldn’t tell his people no, tell them that he wasn’t going to do everything he could to save them.

The Lady’s Spring was entirely haunting at dawn. The iridia crystals were nearly out of their phosphorescence from the previous day’s sunlight, the hazy, unsure light drenching the entire room in mystery. Doyoung was back in his white Erethulian robes, the few rays of light refracting off the material and giving him an ethereal glow. The only other people in there besides Doyoung and yourself were Chanshik and Chaewon, both of them rather solemn as the three Erethulians held a quiet and succinct conversation.

You were a few feet from the edge of the pool, hands stuffed in the pockets of the singular hoodie you were wearing, and bottom lip already quivering. Doyoung then approached you, face practically unreadable.

“I know I don’t have a right to, but can I ask you to promise me something, Y/N?” His voice was quiet, hesitant.

“Sure,” you croaked out, taking your hand out of your pockets to reach for his. He immediately took your hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I know this will be difficult at first, but can you promise to try to be happy when you think of me? I don’t want your memories of me to bring you sorrow.”

You bit back your immediate flash of righteous anger. This wasn’t fucking fair. Swallowing down your harsh words, you forced out a jerky nod, “I’ll try.”

Doyoung leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You pulled back to instead connect your lips, knowing that this would be the last time you could ever share this kind of intimacy with him. Something you had fought so hard to even experience in the first place, was going to be unattainable once more. The kiss turned salty, and you couldn’t tell whose tears they were. When Doyoung drew back, his cheeks were glistening. He pecked each of your cheeks in turn, then brought your hands up to his lips, a gut-wrenching finality to the action.

“Thank you, Y/N Y/L/N, for giving me the love of a lifetime,” his voice cracked, but he didn’t break eye contact with you. “I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of, and you’ve given me a love greater than I ever thought I would get.”

Ever since you’d found out about the sacrifice, you’d thought over what you wanted the last thing you said to Doyoung to be. But now, none of that felt right.

“I love you, Doyoung. And I always will.”

You surged forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, wanting to feel what it was like in his arms one last time. He immediately hugged you back, squeezing you so tightly you felt like you might burst. Or maybe that was the sobs you were desperately keeping at bay. Memories of your first date swirled in your mind, how difficult it was to even get to the point where he’d hug you. And now it was all going to be over.

“Doyoung…” Chaewon’s voice was gentle for once. “It’s time.”

You let out a shuddering breath, wanting to hold onto him for just one more moment. He curled his fingers in the material of your shirt, and you breathed in his wintery scent one last time.

“Doyoung, before dawn has passed,” Chanshik sounded like he was right next you. As Doyoung pulled away from you, you saw that Chanshik had a hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, physically separating the two of you.

Doyoung let Chanshik lead him towards the pool, but his eyes stayed on you. You stared right back, engraving his features into your memory. Sure, you had pictures, but you’d never have him again.

He looked away from you for just a moment to give Chaewon and Chanshik final nods goodbye. Then his gaze was once more on you. Slowly, he walked to the edge of the pool, where the grass ended and sloped gently into the cool water. And finally, his eyes left you for the last time.

Just like he’d described to you that morning, he walked further into the pool, the water rising higher and higher on his legs until it was past his thighs, creeping up his stomach, his chest, then he was completely submerged. Gone. The surface was eerily still, not even bubbles signifying he had breathed out.

You held your breath, waiting for him to come back up. But when your lungs were screaming for air and your head was spinning, you knew he wasn’t going to.

“Y/N…” Chanshik said your name but trailed off. Both his and Chaewon’s eyes were misty.

You spun on your heel so quick you tore up grass as you broke into a sprint. You were running out of the caves, the air getting colder and colder until you were out of the castle. You’d never been outside of the Lady’s Spring with so few layers on. You rushed down the stairs, entirely uncaring if you happened to slip and fall without Doyoung there to roughen the icy surface for you. Erethulians maneuvered out of your way, and those who didn’t see you in time were shoved out of the way. Your lungs burned, the cold air feeling like knives in your lungs as you sucked as much as you could in.

“Onmyoji!” Someone you had bumped into cried out in surprise, their hand going to grab your wrist.

You yanked your hand from Jaewoon’s grasp so hard you might have dislocated it. But that pain was nothing compared to the utter agony consuming your entire agony. As you dashed over the threshold of the gate, a flutter of wings flew up in your face, breaking your pace for just a moment. It was a bird, seemingly made of glass. Ice dove. You kept running.

Snow turned to rock and light turned to dark as you vaulted through the tunnel. Dark once more turned to blinding light as you emerged back on your side of the mountains.

Your legs were aching, threatening to give out on you as your feet pounded against the pavement of the sidewalks. While your hoodie had been too cold for the climate of Erethulia, it was too warm for the city summer. Sweat dripped down your back.

Finally, you were the only place you could stand to be then: a familiar peach door. Throwing open your parents’ front door, you burst into the house.

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice wavered with caution from further in the house.

You surged into the living room where she was sat on the couch, halting at the doorway.

“Oh, it is you,” she breathed out in relief before spotting your clear distress. “Come here, honey.”

You practically launched yourself onto the furniture with her and burying your face in her lap. Tears streamed down your face, and you couldn’t make any sound except pathetic wails and whines.

“Oh, Y/N, sweetheart,” she cooed, stroking your hair away from your face. “Honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You shook your head, unable to even form the words for the horrible thing you’d just witnessed.

“Alright, okay,” she shushed you. “Let it out, sweetheart, go on. I’m right here, Y/N, right here.”

You sobbed with your entire body, the most guttural, animalistic sounds being wrenched from your throat. And your mom held you through all of it, keeping your hair from your face and rubbing your back even as you thoroughly soaked her pants with tears, snot, and spit.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but your throat was raw, and you were absolutely exhausted. Now that you were quieting down, your mom spoke up again.

“Hon, could you get her a glass of water, please?”

She wasn’t speaking to you. You looked up, squinting your eyes as the figure of your father retreating into the kitchen. You didn’t know how long he’d been there, or that he was even there at all. He came back with a cup that would have made you smile on any other day, characters from your favorite childhood cartoon all around it. But today you merely pushed yourself into a half-sitting position, upright enough to take the cup from your dad and sip some of the water. God damn your throat hurt.

“What happened, Y/N?” Your father sat on the other side of the couch, resting a hand on your calf.

When you went to speak, nothing came out. You tried again, this time barely managing a croak. Drinking some more of the water in an attempt to soothe the abused tissue, you couldn’t think of how to even explain this to your parents. It would take so much backstory, so much explaining, of who you are, who Doyoung is—or was. Too much for you to bear tonight. So you slowly shook your head.

“That’s okay, sweetheart, you don’t have to tell us,” your mom reassured you, handing you a tissue from the coffee table. “Here.”

“Stay the night,” your dad stated. “I’ll make you some mac and cheese, and we can watch whatever you want on the TV. Or you can hole up in your room and we’ll leave you alone. I just don’t want you all by yourself in your apartment tonight.”

While you knew you wouldn’t be alone in your apartment, you lamely nodded anyway. If you went back to your apartment you’d have to tell Taeyong what happened, and you didn’t want to relive it tonight.

A soft smile came to his face as he patted your leg one more time before standing up, “Mac and cheese?”

“Please,” you whispered hoarsely.

You did sleep that night, your body’s exhaustion from all the crying you’d done overtaking the mental anguish your brain was preoccupied with. You’d at least had the wherewithal to text Taeyong and let him know you weren’t going to be at the apartment that night and to stay with Yuta for one more night.

Waking up in your childhood bedroom for the first time in almost a year, for just a moment you were in a world where yesterday didn’t happen. Then it all came crashing back into you. You rolled over to bury your face into your pillow, not expecting to hear the sound of crinkling paper. With a quiet ‘what the fuck’ you propped yourself up onto your elbow. In front of you was a delicate origami bird, and for half a second you thought it was from Doyoung. But this one had a point coming out of the back of its head, a crest that wasn’t on a dove. A jay or something. Flying note, not from Jungwoo, and definitely not from Doyoung. Some Erethulian giving you their condolences. You grabbed it and shoved it into your trashcan.

Despite sleeping hard last night, you felt just as wiped physically and emotionally as the day before, barely managing to pull yourself out of bed and into the shower. And even then, you sat on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water beat down on your back as your salty tears mixed with the spray of the shower.

The one memory you replayed that morning was the first time you’d ever hugged Doyoung. You pulled your knees to chest, squeezing your arms around them tight. When you pulled the shower curtain open after thoroughly scalding your skin for over half an hour, you almost jumped out of said skin as you were greeted by yet another origami jay hovering eye-level with you. With a bitter taste coating your tongue, you snatched it out of the air and threw it in the garbage.

Breakfast was pancakes, but you had no appetite. Still, you lifted a bite to your mouth and chewed it slowly, to appease your mom’s concern. You’d just swallowed it when nausea came rushing up your throat and you barely made it to the kitchen sink before you hurled, the acid burning your already pained throat tenfold more. Your mom held your hair away from your face as you continued heaving long after your stomach had been emptied.

Thankfully, you hadn’t gotten any on your hoodie. The same hoodie you’d worn the day before.

After the non-existent and dismal breakfast, you shoved your feet in your shoes.

“Where are you going?” Your dad asked gently.

“On a walk,” you mumbled. “Be back later.”

“Okay, sweetheart, be safe.”

Out on the sidewalks, you were pleasantly surprised by the gloomy sky that greeted you. You’d have been beside yourself if the sun had been shining. You checked your phone for the first time that morning, flinching as if you’d been slapped when you saw your screensaver. A picture you’d taken of Doyoung on a date you’d gone to at a gallery, of him intently studying the painting in front of him.

Pulling down your notifications bar, you were greeted by a text from Taeyong asking when you’d be back today, another from Jaemin asking if you and Doyoung would be up for a double date with him and some mystery classmate of his, Johnny gently reminding you that you still had some of his tupperware in your possession, Renjun not-so-gently reminding you of the same thing. All perfectly… normal things. It was sickening.

You wanted to kill something.

Your first inclination was to go pick a fight with some Wraiths. Maybe if you were lucky you’d find some in human forms and be able to use your own bare hands instead of just your Onmyoji powers.

Right, you were an Onmyoji, you could do magic.

You were extremely doubtful, but you knew you wouldn’t stop thinking about it unless you asked.

Your phone rang through your speakers, and you took a sharp turn down some random street as you waited for the recipient to pick up.

“Hello?” Mark Lee picked up after four rings.

“Hey, Mark. Are you busy?”

“Hey, Y/N. Uh no, not right now. What’s up?”

“Where are you? I want to talk to you about Onmyoji stuff.”

“Oh sure! I’m at my apartment. I’ll send you the address.”

“Thanks.”

“See you soon.”

“Bye.”

Mark’s apartment was a fifteen minute walk from where you had been when you called him. That was a whole fifteen minutes for you to think over the morality of what you were going to ask him. And you decided you didn’t care.

You knocked a couple times on the eggplant purple door before shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. It was too hot outside for it, but you couldn’t make yourself take it off. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking came before the door was swung open, a bed-headed Mark Lee behind it.

“Hey, come on in,” he opened it wide for you, and you entered silently.

Your classmate locked it behind you before leading further into the apartment. You’d never been to his place before. It was small like yours, two-bedroom/two bathroom guessing by the number of doors, and a living room and kitchenette. The couch had a white lab coat on one arm, the rest of it being taken up by the owner of said lab coat. Ten was reclined on the tiny black couch, looking up from his phone at you.

“Oh right, you said the baby Onmyoji was coming over,” Ten stated. His eyes scrutinized your appearance as he directed his next comment at you, “You look like shit.”

“Ten!” Mark exclaimed in a chastising tone.

“Feel like it too,” you spit back.

Ten’s eyebrows shot up before his face was once more neutral, “Fair.”

He returned to whatever he had been doing on his phone, and Mark motioned for you to follow him. The two of you went into another room, his bedroom.

“Sorry about him,” he apologized as he flicked the light on. “If he’s not bewitching you he’s got no manners.”

“I heard that, Markie!” The Ayakashi’s voice carried into the room.

“Fuck off, Ten!” Mark yelled back before closing his door. He moved to sit at the head of bed and gestured to the foot of it for you to sit on as there was no other seating in the small room.

You toed your shoes off before doing so, the mattress dipping underneath you. Mark shoved up his round glasses that had slipped down his nose. The two of you were silent.

“So…” he finally broke the quiet. “What did you want to ask me about?”

“Doyoung is dead,” you finally said aloud what had happened. It wasn’t a weight that was lifted off your chest, it felt like the one that was already there got a thousand times heavier.

Mark’s jaw actually dropped. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say that.

“Oh—oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. How—how did it happen?”

“Magical ritual to save his kingdom.”

“Magic what? To save his huh? I thought he was a businessman?”

“Oh, shit,” you deadpanned, voice monotonous in an attempt to keep all your emotions at bay. “Yeah, he’s an Erethulian. Snow spirit Ayakashi. Erethulian Prince actually. It’s a long story, do you need to know all of it?”

“No, no, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he reassured you. “So, you want to know if you can bring him back to life?”

“Yes. And don’t try any preachy bullshit on me about the natural balance and how I shouldn’t resurrect the dead or whatever. I don’t care. I want to know if I can, and how I can.”

“Good thing I wasn’t going to do that,” your friend offered you a half-smile. “There’s one thing that might work. But you’ll need at least one of your True Ayakashi to do it.”

“No, absolutely not, Y/N,” Johnny shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So you won’t help me?” Hot tears pricked at your eyes out of frustration. Why didn’t any of them understand? Johnny was the fourth ‘no’ you’d gotten today. First Renjun over the phone, Sicheng at the bookstore before you came Lenticular, Jungwoo via flying note, now the Domeki.

“Y/N, I’d do almost anything to help you, you know that,” he said with a gentle tone. “But not this.”

“I’ll do it.” Jeno spoke up from the booth that you thought he had been napping in.

“Jeno!” Johnny snapped at him.

“She’s clearly made up her mind and is going to try it without us anyway. At least with one of her True Ayakashi she stands a better chance of not dying,” the Tengu scoffed, standing up from the booth and walking over to you. “I know what it’s like, Y/N. And if I could undo it, I would. So I might as well help you.”

You gave him a tired but appreciative smile, the best one you could muster, “Thank you, Jeno.”

“Y/N, please don’t do this,” the taller man tried to plead with you. “This isn’t what Doyoung would want you to do.”

“How do you know?” You spat at him. “You didn’t know him, none of you really did.”

“You’re right, I didn’t know him that well. But he clearly loved you, and I don’t think someone who loved you that much would want you to unleash a great evil in some crackpot attempt to bring him back from the dead in a ritual that could very easily get you killed!” Johnny’s voice got louder and louder and his face reddened as he practically exploded on you. After taking a few deep breaths, he spoke again, quieter, but still with a stern tone, “Y/N, you are one of my favorite people on Earth, but I can’t have any part in this. I hope you’ll realize this is a mistake before it’s too late.”

And with that, he left the dining room of Lenticular Café, retreating past the purple curtain and out of your sight. You were left with Jeno, who was looking at you expectantly.

“Now what, boss lady?”

The next day you, Mark, and Jeno were trudging up the mountain towards the shrine. Mark had his ritual book, a thick black tome he said he’d gotten from his dad, who got it from his mom, and so on. A long line of Onmyoji. And on your other side, Jeno wasn’t quite trudging so much as hovering a few inches off the ground and gliding smoothly beside you. You checked the time on your phone, not because you actually needed the time but to look at the picture of Doyoung there. This morning you’d woken up crying, having dreamt that you’d gotten to hug him again. And you were suddenly stricken with panic, trying to dig into your memory and remember what his voice sounded like.

You quickly opened your phone, desperately scrolling through your camera roll. Finally, you found a video you’d taken of him. It had been a random breakfast at his apartment, he was still in his pajamas, and had a plate of toast in front of him when you’d had the sudden urge to record him. Turning the volume up a little, you held your phone speakers up to your ear to listen.

‘What are you doing, Y/N?’

‘Mm, nothing.’

‘I doubt that.’

‘Smart man.’

Then it was quiet again. You sniffled, bringing your device down from your ear to replay the video.

‘What are you doing, Y/N?’

Rewind.

‘What are you doing, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’

Mark and Jeno exchanged uneasy glances.

Finally at the shrine, you were surprised when you saw neither Jungwoo and Sungchan. Surely, they could sense you, and from the note you’d sent Jungwoo yesterday, knew what you were going to be doing.

“Do you think Jungwoo and Sungchan will try to stop us?” You asked Mark quietly, an uneasy feeling settling in over you.

“What, like physically? No, Master Jungwoo’s a pacifist, really. Don’t let the death flute fool you.”

“And Sungchan?” Jeno snorted.

“Master Jungwoo leads, Sungchan follows.”

When you got around to the back of the shrine where the small courtyard was, you shouldn’t have been surprised by who you found. Jungwoo and Sungchan were there, standing in front of the one thing you needed: the altar in the middle of the courtyard. Jungwoo was the nearest to you, smiling warmly, while his brother was directly in front of the altar, the hilts of two swords on his back notably visible over his shoulders.

“Y/N,” Jungwoo began. “I imagine you know what I am going to say.”

“‘Don’t summon a great evil in an attempt to bring your boyfriend back to life, Y/N, that’s really fucking stupid of you and you’re probably going to die you hopeless idiot.’ Already got that from Renjun, Sicheng, and Johnny, thanks.”

“Not with such language, and I do not believe you are any sort of fool,” the Tsukumo-gami said gently, approaching you and offering his hands out to you. “I simply believe that you are in love and are hurting badly from suffering such a great loss.”

You looked down at his hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you kept your own hands stuffed in your hoodie pocket.

“You’re right, Jungwoo. But I’m still going to do this.”

He retracted his hands, folding them into the sleeves of his pale green yukata, “Why?”

“You’re not going to talk me out of this, sorry,” you walked around him, Mark and Jeno trailing behind you.

As you approached the altar, Sungchan raised a brow inquisitively at you, moving his hands to hover over the hilts of his weapons.

You snorted at the action, “What, are you gonna kill me?”

“No, Y/N,” Jungwoo interjected, causing his brother to drop his hands and step aside. “But as your friend, it hurts me to see you in such great pain that’d you be willing to do this.”

“Then leave, so you don’t have to see it.” You held your hand out towards Mark, who handed you the ritual book. Setting it on the stone altar, you began flipping through the pages to get to the right one. Unfortunately Mark wouldn’t let you dog-ear his several hundred year old sacred Onmyoji text.

Jungwoo was still going on, “Y/N, I am begging you to please just wait and think this through.”

“I already have.”

Then Mark spoke, uneasiness in his voice, “Uh, Y/N, I really think you should wait like thirty more seconds.”

“What? No,” you scoffed, eyes skimming the headings of pages as you turned them.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jeno came over to the altar, attempting to close the book.

You held it open, glowering at him, “Why the hell are you two suddenly pulling back?”

“Lady Onmyoji, your grief is clouding your ability to see the situation properly.”

Suddenly a wet patch appeared on your hoodie sleeve, and you looked down with surprise at the single drop of water there. You didn’t realize you had been crying. As you went to wipe at your eyes, they were dry. Then more small, wet drops fell on you, some on your exposed hands and face, and you shuddered when you realized they were cold.

“Whoever’s doing that, it’s not fucking funny,” you mumbled, eyes watering up again.

“Holy shit,” the Tengu beside you breathed out.

The snow was still drifting over you, you couldn’t even bother with thinking about what Jeno was reacting to. You furiously tried to wipe at the flecks, upset that anybody would play such a cruel joke on you.

“Y/N.” Now Mark was at the altar with you. He deftly snatched the ritual book from the surface as your hands were occupied with the water on you, “I’m taking this back.”

As he stepped back behind you, you whipped around, indignant outburst stopping when you saw that it wasn’t just Jungwoo and Sungchan there. There were two more figures across the courtyard, their clothes sparkling in the sunlight like millions of tiny diamonds. Your heart leapt to your throat then dropped to your stomach. It couldn’t be.

Doyoung was standing there, in his royal white Erethulian robes, looking like an actual angel. You were silent, staring in disbelief.

“Y/N.” It was the same voice you’d been listening to on your trek up.

“Doyoung…” you whispered, as if he’d disappear if you spoke too loud, as if the universe would hear and realize this wasn’t right and take him from you again.

Then he was walking towards you, slowly, and your legs suddenly remembered they existed, and you rushed over to him. You barreled into him, knocking him back a few steps and causing to let out a punched ‘oof!’

“Doyoung,” you breathed out, unable to even process the fact that you were holding him again, and that he was holding you.

One of his hands cradled the back of your head, the other curling into the material of your hoodie. His hand that was on your head was cold, his fresh wintery smell engulfed you, and you could feel his chest rising and falling against yours as he breathed. He was alive.

“Y/N,” he said your name again, turning his head to peck your cheek. “Oh, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay?” You retorted half-heartedly, too overwhelmed to even be facetiously upset. “I watched you die, snowflake. And you were worried about me?”

Doyoung loosened his grip on you just enough to be able to cradle your cheek with one hand and look into your eyes, “Chanshik said you weren’t replying to any of the flying notes he was sending, I got so worried about you. Minhee has been wandering around town looking for you for the past two days. She went to your apartment, but you weren’t there, Lenticular and the bookstore, but the guys didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know if you were… if you’d done something.”

The mention of your friend’s name finally made the other Erethulian present register in your brain. It had been Minhee that he’d come in with. When your eyes went to find her, you realized that the courtyard was empty, aside from you and Doyoung.

Your boyfriend suddenly wincing and dropping his hand from your cheek brought your entire focus back to him, concern washing over you.

“Doyoung, what’s wrong?”

“Can we sit, please?” He asked, voice wavering for a moment.

“Of course, of course,” you guided him over to the steps up to the shrine’s tea patio, sitting on the stone with him.

Doyoung laced his fingers with yours as the two of you sat shoulder-to-shoulder. You still couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“So what… how are you… what happened, Doyoung? Are you okay?”

“I’m alright, love, for the most part,” he sighed, rubbing his thumb over yours.

“For the most part?”

“I’m still weak for now, as you can tell, and the ritual has definitely cut my lifespan short.”

“How short?” You asked, fearing that you’d have to go through losing him all over again so soon. You didn’t know if you’d survive all this again.

“Erethulians usually live for… hundreds of years. I’ll be lucky if I hit even a hundred.”

You immediately breathed out a sigh of relief, “So, a human lifespan?”

“Yes, just about,” he confirmed, then raised your linked hands so he could kiss the back of your palm. “And I want to spend the measly seventy or so years I have left with you.”

“Doyoung…”

“I’m not asking you to leave school or anything, we can just continue how we were before, weekends and breaks together, and reassess when you graduate. How does that sound?” He suggested, dark eyes catching yours inquisitively.

God, you missed your analytical, practical, reasoning, smart, and sweet boyfriend.

“Doyoung…” you repeated his name, looking at him with utter awe. “Did you just propose?”

His eyebrows shot up as he seemed to be replaying what he’d just said in his head, “Did I?”

“You said something akin to ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you,’ which people usually say when proposing.”

“Hm, let’s call it tentatively? I’m tentatively proposing? Asking if I could propose someday down the line?”

You chuckled fondly at how very Doyoung this was, all too relieved to have him back, “And I’m tentatively accepting. I’d love to spend the foreseeable future with you, snowflake.”

A tender, relieved smile finally crossed his features, “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Doyoung,” you leaned forward until you could press your lips to his again.

route fin.

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kisskissbanggang · 3 years

Text

No Gods Nor Kings - Prologue

[10Min. Read/2.9K Words - Modern Royal!au - King!Chan x Female Reader - SFW/Suggestive - Radical Monarchs, Dead/Dying Relationships, Weird Work Dynamics]

Chan didn’t believe in crowns, and on the day of his coronation, Changbin had quietly joked to you in private that it only made cosmic sense that he should become King this early in his life. This was how Changbin coped, making little jokes in private with someone he trusted, which meant this privilege usually fell to you – and this meant he was clearly concerned about Chan becoming King. And, sure enough, Chan only wore the crown to his coronation, and Changbin’s first headache under the new monarch came when Chan’s official photos came out.

The new, painfully young King sat, not on the throne, but casually set upon the arm, with the crown occupying his destined seat instead. Half of the population were scandalized. The other half were radicalized. And things only got worse when Chan addressed his people as their King for the first time. In a move that should have surprised no one, Chan assured his people that they would strive to become equals together as a sovereign nation, and that this would be a difficult road to go down, but would also be a journey that was a long time coming. Changbin had texted you that night: It’s worse than I thought. This guy is a nutcase. Saying this so early will only paint a giant target on his back. We’re going to keep our distance and try to keep everything under control.

And it stayed that way. As Chancellor Seo’s lead assistant, you would arrive at the office each day ready to help schedule and organize engagements, as well as review and prepare anything from proposals to speeches. You would share a cup of coffee each morning and go over the day ahead, as well as any developments that had occurred since the day before when the Chancellor went home for the day. If he needed anything reviewed by or passed along to His Highness, you sent another assistant to take care of it. You were keeping your distance.

Everything was fine for about three months.

And then the strikes began.

You arrived at the office 30 minutes before Changbin as usual, which was normally enough time to casually check your emails and agendas before getting his coffee ready. Today was noticeably calmer, much quieter than usual as you worked. However, Changbin all but flew into the office early, halfway through your ritual and startling you at your desk.

“I need you,” he huffed.

“Excuse me?” You balked, nervously fiddling with your necklace pendant. It was a small sunflower, a little gift from your boyfriend when things were admittedly easier.

“I need you,” Changbin repeated, his security bustling outside now that they caught up with him. He slapped two sizable folios on your desk before he pulled out his phone and set it on top for you to see. On it, news coverage showcased a sizable mob assembled outside the central stock exchange just across the city. You thought you recalled your boyfriend engrossed in something on his computer as he quietly ate breakfast that morning, and now you knew what it must have been.

“The traders have been evacuated out of a service entrance now that a window on the ground floor has been broken into,” Changbin frantically continued. “The other Senate staff have been asked to work from home today, but I had a feeling you were already here. I’ve had this ordinance on my desk for weeks and I finally finished reviewing it last night. It’s emergency jurisdictions and permissions in the event of civil unrest, and there’s multiple redefinitions of civil unrest that could help us calm down the madness outside. His Highness needs to sign these now. I need you to go do this for me.”

“But, Chancellor–” you uselessly babbled.

“Changbin,” he stubbornly corrected.

You had pulled at your necklace so much you’d practically rubbed a sore into your throat. “But, Changbin,” you tried again, “why did you come out here to tell me? I would've come to the estate and retrieved the ordinances myself if–”

“I wanted to make sure you were safely out of here, and I wanted to see to it myself,” Changbin smiled sweetly before he gently took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet. “Now, come on. I have a driver ready for you. Once you’re done, you can go work from home or take the rest of the day off for all I care, it’s a goddamn mess out in the city and it’s only going to get crazier.”

You were already incredibly humbled by your position, something your boyfriend loved to tease you about, but this was a wholly different level you were feeling as Changbin squeezed your hand.

The car ride was intense, truth be told, as you watched throngs of people out your window rushing towards or away from the commotion that you were currently navigating past, and you only felt a little more at ease to see that the crowds dissipated once you passed the stock exchange. It’d been a while since you’d been to the royal estate, but the twists and turns you took through the city streets until the tall trees on the property created the skyline was weirdly comforting, almost beckoning you away from the madness outside. The noise from the city within the gates dropped out almost completely

Whereas the rule of monarchs in other countries could be seen as more ceremonial, Chan was expected to be an active member of the government. When you and your boyfriend first met and he only had his student visa, he was almost tickled at the idea that the King was actually part of the legislation process. You’d personally never thought of it much yourself even at that point, still fairly new to the world of politics, but you convinced him that at least the King was a pretty fair and decent man, at least since his son had been born.

But that changed when Chan had grown up and become more outspoken.

And now Chan was King.

Someone came out to meet your car as soon as it pulled up to the service entrance and, for just a naive moment, you hoped it was the King. Instead, you were surprised to see Minho, your counterpart as the King’s personal assistant. He was one of the few remaining staff members left over from serving Chan’s father, most of the rest having staunchly turned in their resignation when things began to change… and some having been encouraged to leave. You always admired Minho from afar, or at least respected his position. It was tough work serving the previous King -- and far tougher work to manage this one. He was dressed almost casually today, skipping a suit jacket or even a blazer and settling for a cardigan over his button-up. However, his expression was far from casual.

“Miss?” Minho inquired when he grabbed the door handle and peered inside, almost just as surprised to see you as well.

“I need to see his Highness,” you hurriedly explained, thrusting the folios Changbin trusted you with into Minho’s hands. He quickly flipped through them before looking back at you, eyes wide.

“So do I,” he gravely admitted, “because I have no idea where he is.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, causing your driver to jump before Minho reached forward and pressed a hand to your mouth.

“I don’t know where he is yet,” he frantically clarified. “He was with his security detail just a few hours ago, they checked out with me. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since, though.”

“Then I’ll wait for him with you,” you insisted as you tried to grab the folios back. Minho stepped back, folios in one hand, and attempted to push you back into your seat with the other.

“You should really get out of here, miss,” Minho fretted. “I’m about to walk the grounds and see if he hasn’t run off somewhere nearby.”

“Then I’ll wait for him by myself,” you rebuked, lunging forward and using your grip on the folios along with Minho’s recoil to pull yourself out of the car. “Wait for me or don’t--” you impatiently barked at the driver before Minho tried to worriedly grab your elbow. You wrenched away from him one more time, shoving the damned folios into your work bag as you blustered past him and into the service entrance of the palace.

Admittedly, this would’ve been easier if you’d had his cooperation. With most of the staff seemingly evacuated, the palace was infinitely more empty than you’d ever seen. The mass absence made the hallways seem gargantuan, every room you passed becoming an empty cavern to get lost in. You had an idea of where you were heading, somewhere closer to Chan’s main office, but then you realized he may not even think to go there. However, it never hurt to try this first, especially considering you’d never seen the King’s chambers or been anywhere near them.

However, that meant you needed to find the main office to begin with. You wound through corridors and down hallways, cut through gigantic great rooms and ducked down service ways. This was becoming a bit of a mess, and now you were just poking your head into every room you passed. You pressed on, determined to find your way -- until you smacked right into someone around a corner on the ground floor where you began.

“I’m so sorry--” you gasped, the tail end of that breath even sharper as you found yourself face to face with the young King himself. He was a sight indeed, dressed in grubby activewear, a bottle of water in one hand and a bike helmet in the other.

“Oh--!” the young King lightly chuckled, “I'm sorry as well.”

“Your Highness,” you quickly greeted, nearly grumbling into your small curtsy, “I'm--”

“Changbin’s girl!” his Majesty interrupted excitedly.

“Excuse me?!” you sputtered.

“I mean, er,” the King fumbled, “I mean I recognize you. You're Changbin’s assistant, right?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” you nodded impatiently with another small curtsy, but were stopped with a wave of the King’s hands.

“You don't need to do that,” he corrected, “and please, call me Chan. Now, you're really Changbin’s full time assistant? Do you enjoy it? How come I've never seen you--”

“Your Highness--!” you harshly cut him off before you could restrain yourself. Only now that you got his attention did you take a deep breath and steady your nerves. “I'm sorry. Chan, where have you been?”

“Me? Out riding the trail through the back of the property.”

“Alone?”

“No? I had my guys with me.”

“And how long have you been out?”

“I don't know. A few hours? I checked with Minho on my way out and he reminded me I have a meeting at 10. How come this is my first time meeting you?”

“Show me to your office and I’ll explain.” you tried to prod him along, even looping your arm into his once he took a firm step in any direction. He lit up at the interaction and looked at you expectantly as he led you down the hall. You sheepishly made pointed eye contact back at him. Up this close, he was woefully charming, his grin making one dimple stand out at you.

“Well,” you coughed up a nerve, “the Assembly has been awfully busy, as I’m sure you know.”

“Sure, but there’s been maybe five dinners and events here since coronation day, and you and Changbin have regularly been the only two to always be busy.”

“The Chancellor certainly keeps a busy schedule,” you placated, “but then I could ask you why we never saw you since Changbin took office.”

“I’ve been travelling.” Chan shrugged coolly before he pointed at the folios sticking out of your work bag. “Are those for me?”

“Yes sir.” you automatically answered before Chan playfully elbowed you in the ribs. “Er, Chan. Yes, these are for you. The Chancellor needs you to review and sign these for an emergency Assembly.”

“Sure thing.” Chan pleasantly nodded again before he showed you into a large office. You set your bag down on a chair, admiring how Chan at least kept the office looking dignified while maintaining some personality. A framed photo of the late King faced you, away from Chan’s seat. Chan took a sip of water as you laid the folios out on his desk and instinctively set out a pen between them, just as you did for Changbin. Out of the corner of your eye, you went rigid for a moment as Chan casually lifted the hem of his t-shirt to pat the sweat still lingering on his brow. “Alright,” he grinned brightly, “let’s get down to business.”

You were surprised, shamefully, to see Chan peer at the folios, make sure they were duplicates, and then begin carefully paging through the one to his right. It wasn’t fair of you to assume he would be more cavalier when it came to the bureaucratic work, and sure enough Chan made quick work of his review, even pulling over a legal pad sitting on his blotter to jot down some notes.

“Everything satisfactory?” you asked as he set everything down, still standing beside you at his desk.

“Of course,” Chan nodded, “I’m glad Changbin was able to put this so well. This should hopefully get a handle on things out there.”

“So you do know about the stock exchange?”

“Sure I do,” Chan stoically replied. “It’s not like I could say what I have and not follow along when the obvious trajectory starts to play out.”

“You expected this?”

“I did,” he firmly bowed his head down to look at the folios again. “What I’ve said isn’t just for the working class or any specific group. We’re all disenfranchised, we’re all struggling. It only stands to reason then that it’s going to be a struggle for us to cut down these class disparities.”

“Surely not all of us are struggling,” you quickly retorted.

“You’re not?” Chan asked half-curiously. “All the more reason I’m intrigued by you. You know you’re the youngest woman that’s stepped foot in this office in maybe 20 years? And you work for Changbin to such a degree you can’t even engage in some mandatory fun like a dinner party. Yet you’re not struggling?”

“Excuse me, Chan,” you tersely replied, “but I hardly believe that’s anyone’s business, even the King’s.”

“You’re right,” Chan sighed, “I apologize. But I am deeply interested to hear more about what Changbin’s keeping you so busy with. Are you sure you can’t join me for dinner?”

“I--”

No! you immediately answered in your mind.

I have a boyfriend! you immediately clarified.

Still, Jisung’s vast indifference to your work even more immediately plagued you. Just like every argument about every late night you stayed at the office or every cold shoulder whenever you disagreed about the world outside. You loved Jisung, but he didn’t feel like much of a reason by himself at this moment. His pendant around your neck felt like it was made of hot coals, but maybe that was actually from how close you and Chan had gotten while he reviewed the ordinances and pestered you.

“I’m sorry,” Chan repeated. “That’s really forward of me. It’s not like anyone actually wants to go out with a Royal, it’s just a silly thing they write in books and on tv. I understand I pretty much come with baggage, like it or not.”

“No! It’s not that,” you babbled, “I’m deeply flattered and I would in a heartbeat but--”

“You would?” Chan perked up. You quickly turned so you were facing away from his desk now, except Chan only took a step back to now be eagerly crowding you against the hardwood. “What is it, then? Is it your husband?”

“Husband?!” you flustered. “No, I don’t have a husband, it’s just that -- I mean, Changbin and I--”

“Your boss should hardly be the reason you and I shouldn’t see each other,” Chan laughed. This close, Chan was all there was. He was all you could see, he was all you could smell, and as he brazenly got more and more playfully teasing with you, he was all you could feel. Chan was impulsive but methodical, moving incredibly fast but apparently calculating every move and placing bets as he saw fit. By now, you were almost sitting back on his desk as Chan tempted closer and closer between your knees until you were almost straining your skirt. And you could almost feel it, his breath falling on your lips as this stupidly charming Royal became so instantly infatuated with the idea of you--

“Your Highness!”

You gasped away from Chan, and he did the same, coughing back to reality as Minho stood at the door.

“Your Highness,” he repeated with a cursory bow, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Why were you looking, you knew where I was.” Chan laughed. You rapidly smoothed your skirt and plucked your pen off the desk to thrust into Chan’s hand, and he swiftly signed both copies of Changbin’s ordinance. Minho eyed you suspiciously as you snatched both folios off the desk and stuffed them in your bag, curtsying to both men and rushing out the door, wishing like mad that your face would cool back down. And, as if he knew, a text buzzed through your phone.

>>How did it go with Chan? Any problems?

Your face heated right back up at Changbin’s message. As far as he was concerned, there were no problems whatsoever, none that he needed to worry about.

[To be continued.]

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