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themissinghand · 5 months

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Genshin Impact: The Overworked God [2]

Part 1

Summary: In which one of the lore writers who help write the world of Genshin Impact was suddenly thrusted in the very world they created.

Well, testing characters is one thing, but playing God, and raising 7 children at a time?

Oh boy. He just wants to go home and sleep.

Note: Finally back from break!

Part 2 of the Overworked God! Creator! Male OC!

What if we had a smarter Creator that never forgot his initial wish of going home?

Warning: Genshin and SAGAU themes, some OOC and angst.

★・・・・・・★

Tempus, or Kai has been in the world of Genshin Impact for a very long time, since its creation where it was just him and Celestia.

He struck a deal with Celestia, promising to be the Creator and consequently the God of Time to help create Teyvat, but on his own terms. Doing what he can to save his creations from unnecessary pain and suffering.

So, he’s still overworked, stressed and sleepy all the time, especially now that he has to take care of 7 children too.

But finally…today is the day he could finally go home.

Home sounds foreign to him, after all, he spent more years in Teyvat than on Earth, but he has never given up on returning after fulfilling his duty as the Creator.

It’s going to be a difficult announcement to make, considering how attached his children could be, but perhaps, he could twist the narrative just a bit to appease them.

“Tempus!” Speaking of, two bundles of mass hopped towards him as usual, and he caught them with both arms as if it was a routine. He stumbles a bit, sighs, but pats them on the head.

“It’s been so long since you visited Monstadt! I missed you~” Venti hugged his waist as he peaked up with puppy eyes. Before Kai could respond, Furina beat him to it.

“It’s because he likes Fontaine better! He’s been in my country the longest!” Furina quipped back with a proud expression on her face.

“That’s because you suck at ruling your country!”

“Says you, Mr. Drunkard Bard!”

At least they both have trustworthy people like Neuvillette and Jean to take care of their country…

“That’s enough, you two.” A spark of lightning scared the two to cling onto Tempus even more, but Ei easily picked the two off.

Ah, one of the more responsible leaders…

“Please ignore these two, Tempus.” Ei says stoically, as she sends a deadly glare that shuts the two up.

“It’s fine.” Tempus greets every single Archon with a nod, before taking a seat at the head of the table, his expression showing his tiredness despite the light-hearted banter that usually happens during these meetings.

“Have a seat everyone.” All the Archons did a curt bow before taking their respective seats.

Materializing snacks resembling that of an English afternoon teatime, he smiled when even the stoic Tsaritsa seemed to enjoy his food.

It’s a shame though, this will be his last time.

“Tempus.” He turned to the Tsaritsa, who seemed to notice his distress.

“I’m fine.” He brushed it away, before he felt a cold hand on his.

“Let us know if anything is bothering you.” Zhongli added on, and Tempus shook his head.

His children could handle Teyvat without him, what else would he be worried about?

“Tempus, are your worries the reason why did you call us all today?” Sharp as always, Nahida asks, gaining everyone’s attention all at once.

In the end…Rukkhadevata chose her fate. There are things that could not be changed…

“Yes.” Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he felt even more estranged.

"As you know, I've overseen Teyvat, guided you all, and tried to make amends for the mistakes of the past," Tempus continued.

“After much thought, I believe it’s time for me to rest.”

Multiple teacups fell onto the table with a loud thud. With a wave of his hand, the spilled tea disappeared.

“T-Tempus! What, what do you mean?” Murata stood up abruptly, knocking over a flower vase, which Tempus easily dissolved to nothing.

“Tempus, how could you abandon us!”

“Calm down.” But it seems to have no effect, instead, he felt the cold hand squeeze his own, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Tempus, you belong to us.”

“As I’ve said, I will be going into deep slumber-” Suddenly, many eyes shot towards the Bard who looked very pale.

“-to take a break.” A teacup shattered, but Tempus paid no mind to it.

“My decision is final, and I hope you can take care of Teyvat while I rest.” For eternity.

“Tempus.” Scoring golden eyes burned into Kai’s soul, and he forced himself to remain neutral as he stared at Zhongli-Morax.

“Please stay. I’m begging you, please, Your Eminence. Please don’t leave us.”

"But what of Teyvat? You've become integral to the stability and well-being of this world, and us." There were many nods that followed.

“We need you.”

There was desperation in his voice, and while it did hurt Tempus to leave them, he doubted he could stay any longer knowing that he could finally leave.

“All of you are strong and are capable enough to rule your countries, which I am very proud of. Teyvat will be in good hands." Some Archons smiled briefly, but it was short lived.

"Which is why it's time for me to step aside and take a break."

They had grown accustomed to Tempus's guidance, his wisdom, and his tireless efforts to steer them towards a better path, so for them to lose his support is like fighting without a weapon.

“W-Where, will you be resting? In Temporium?” Furina’s shaky voice filled the silent room.

“Stay here, the Fortress of Meropide will keep you safe. Fontaine and I will keep you safe.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?” Venti asked, anxiety in his voice.

“I’ll find you, I’ll find you no matter where you run.”

“I do not know, for as long as my body needs.” Their faces became pale at thinking of the possibility of not seeing Tempus again.

With a sigh, he stood up, making others rush to stand too.

“Come here, each one of you.” In an instant, they rushed over and Tempus pulled them one by one into a hug. While he made himself tall and muscular, he felt small in the group hug that lasted an incredibly long time.

He felt arms around his waist, chest, arms and back, being hugged by 7 people at once was somewhat suffocating.

“You all will do great. I will miss you all.” This was not a lie.

“Time flows like water, and perhaps I will wake sooner than you all expect.” This was a lie.

Tempus heard sniffles, and felt hands grabbing his robes and weaving through his long hair.

“Tempus…do you have to leave us?” Nahida asked, tugging his heart strings as he saw such a wise person tear up.

Did she read my thoughts?

Tempus got rid of that idea as he forbade her from doing so, and with his current power alongside Celestia’s authority, she should be blocked from doing such a thing.

“I am not leaving, Nahida. I am merely resting.”

Finally, with some coaxing, he managed to peel them off one by one.

“I leave Teyvat in your hands.”

With that, Tempus bid farewell to the Archons and quickly prepared to depart from Celestia. The longer he stayed, the more unbearable this would become.

However, once he left, the atmosphere shifted once more. The Archons, loyal to their Creator beyond measure, exchanged anxious glances, and a heavy silence settled over the chamber.

“Tempus lied.” Nahida said, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Nahida?” All of the Archons felt their heart drop at her words.

“He may be resting in Temporium, but there’s more to it. I can’t read his mind completely, but…he’s going to leave us if we let him go.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Suddenly, the atmosphere turned cold. The Tsaritsa stepped forward with her Ice scepter, Permafrost. Like many other Archon’s weapons, they were gifted to them by the Creator himself.

“If Buer’s words are true, then while his body remains in Temporium, his soul is elsewhere.”

The Archons soon came to a consensus.

“We cannot let him go into slumber.”

Or they will lose him completely.

[Are you ready, dear Creator?]

Tempus laid in his resting chamber on the edges of Temporium, in a makeshift mountain. He created this place in secret, so no one else by him knows.

He felt bad for his kingdom, as he told the royal family that he will be gone doing his Godly duties for a long time, but never informed how long.

Regardless, they should be able to live without a god, considering the technology and time Tempus gave them.

[Yes]

As he lay in his comfortable bed with minimal decorations or other items, he shut his eyes and reminisced about the past.

Although it was a very long time, he was never really alone.

But he has seen much more than a normal human on Earth, from war to life and death, to the repetitions of stories by going back in time many times to fix his mistakes.

“Stop him! He’s going back in time!”

Truly, it takes a mental toll on his mind. He can’t let his emotions take over, otherwise, he would have to redo everything again.

[Thank you for your work, dear Creator]

[Just make sure you fulfill your side of the deal]

[Of course]

When he shut his eyes, he felt safe, comfortable and oddly relieved, relieved of his duties at last.

“Tempus!”

His eyes snapped open and saw his chamber shake with vigor. All of his protective mechanisms activate, indeed, he prepared for this.

“Tempus!”

Voices slowly became louder and the earth seemed to roar.

How did they find him? Was it Buer? It must've been.

“Tempus!”

There was desperation in their voices, and Kai assumed that they seemed to have figured something out.

Perhaps honesty was better, but in the end, this was always the outcome.

Yes, Tempus already knew that no matter what he did, the Archons would rebel, would seek him out.

Even if the walls seem to crumble, it did not affect Kai’s chamber, after all, it was sealed and protected with his powers.

But perhaps with a bit more persistence, they would soon destroy the mountain all together, leaving him and his chamber exposed. But, Tempus was not worried, after all, he had prepared for this moment too long ago.

[Farewell, dear Creator]

Suddenly, he felt a bright light engulf him as he felt incredibly sleepy.

Through his blurred vision, he could see the stormy skies, and all seven Archons rushing towards him.

“Tempus!”

“You can’t leave us, Tempus!”

Seeing them in their prime, in their Archon outfits was a little nostalgic.

Hearing a crack in his chamber’s shield was somewhat surprising, but also, incredible. His children have grown up well.

[Farewell]

With a fleeting smile, Tempus bids farewell to his second home.

“Tempus!”

His eyes close, just as the light takes him whole.

“Tempus!”

Morax and Murata pierced through the tough protective layers desperately, and Ei and Venti whiz past them to reach their Creator.

But, they were too late.

“No, Tempus is…he’s-” Barbados was crying as he held Tempus’s hand.

“Kai! Kai!” Furina bawled her eyes out, calling his real name repeatedly as if it would bring him back.

But he won’t come back.

Bal held his body as she froze in shock (in regret), as if she was reminded of her past.

“Tempus, you’re cruel.” Buer, the one who got them so far and so close but not enough. She knelt down beside him and cried while pressing his hand into her face.

“You’ve left us with death, not slumber. You lied, you lied!”

It was like they lost a part of themselves.

After all, Tempus was there whenever they needed guidance, he sacrificed his own personal time to make sure they were alright.

“K-Kai…” Morax stumbled towards the still body that used to be his friend, mentor, benefactor, love, and everything.

Even in death, he was still so beautiful, kind and holy.

Tempus was their everything.

The Tsaritsa dragged herself towards Tempus with her scepter. She was known to not show her emotions, even when Tempus encouraged her to do so to stay emotionally healthy. He was the only one that saw her vulnerable side, and knew who she really was, and never judged her for it.

“Tempus. How dare you…abandon us like this?” She stood by Tempus’s feet and her eyes did not leave his body at all.

While others wept, her tears were turned into weapons.

Murata stood by her with the same dark, solemn expression.

It’s not fair.

How could he treat them like his everything, and then leave them so abruptly?

If only he could open his eyes again and say it was nothing but a terrible joke.

But Tempus is gone, leaving his lifeless body as his final memory and gift.

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 8 months

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bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

tuesday, zhang hao— string ensemble

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here. ⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ tuesday summary: happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl. can you manage to get out unscathed?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. dub-con. bullying. stuck up, tattletale hao. this is a doozy. you'll be glad we took it easy monday. smut in gn and fem versions are substantially different due to logistics/circumstance. also i clearly know nothing about playing the violin so just 🤓☝️ pipe down over there, k? ily. actually would love to hear real violinists thoughts on this so hmu. ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3.5)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: foreign object and finger insertion (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dub-con: hao doesn't have consent before sexually touching reader but reader is turned on by it, cum play, bullying.

DO NOT PUT ROSIN UP YOUR HOO HA YA DINGUS!! purely for entertainment purposes, this fic exists in a world where there aren't consequences for that okay? DON'T. I REPEAT DON'T. DO THIS IRL. okay thank you, love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black music chair, smoothing your skirt so that it doesn’t ride up while you play. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides her lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happened during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon.

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... i think you could use some rosin.”

“what do you—” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and a sudden draft hits your heat as your panties are shoved to the side beneath your skirt. the air leaves your lungs as long, thin fingers dip through your folds and squeeze something cold and smooth inside of you.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “i think that might help your tone.”

“y-you... did you...” you stammer as you gawk at the boy in front of you. your cheeks are beet red at the violation of your sex. you’re in such shock that all you can whisper is, “you can’t put that in... there.”

“an instrument should be well cared for,” he challenges, sinking to his knees and running his hands up and down your bare thighs. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved a foreign object up you without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he backs you against the wall of storage units exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. you step out of them without a word. he lifts your right leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt closer to his face as he holds your hips steady.

he licks a stripe starting just above your opening to your clit as if he wants to taste every inch of you. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his fingers grip into your hips. “definitely needs more rosin.”

he dives back in, lapping at your cunt— tongue flicking your bundle of nerves as your arousal builds. you must’ve fallen into an alternate dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips but all of your worries aren’t eased just yet.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, starting to feel a bit dizzy. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects in between sloppy traces of his tongue. “the average internal temperature of a vagina is 37.5 degrees.”

“but—”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao ridicules, biting gently at your clit. you throw your head back at the sensation as he increases the pressure of his tongue against you. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

“hao,” you beg, his slander just adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. he parts your entrance with his fingers, the cake of rosin slipping out into his palm with a crude, wet smack. you both stare at the golden brown block, still perfectly intact but now dripping in your arousal. he drags it down the inside of your thighs, mesmerized by the trail of glistening honey it leaves on your skin. “mm, coated perfectly now.”

he drops the rosin on the floor next to you, replacing the empty space in your pussy with his ring and middle fingers. you gasp at the stretch, clenching involuntarily around him.

“i think you’re ready to play,” hao decides, curling his fingers up inside of you against your front wall and pressing on your clit with his thumb. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

you do as he says, moaning as the pads of his fingers press into your sweet spot again. with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of his finger-fucking. it’s all too much for you to handle, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

you can barely hold yourself up, clinging to the shelves on either side of you as hao works you through your high. your breathing returning to normal, he looks up at you as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy— lips pink and glistening with your juices.

he removes your right leg from around his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: hand/oral (reader receiving), throat fucking with fingers (reader receiving), dubcon: hao does not have consent before inserting fingers into reader's mouth, reader is turned on by this, cum play, bullying.

IF YOU WANT TO COVER YOUR ROSIN IN CUM, YOU CAN I'M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU but from everything i've read in research for this fic, it will ruin it so maybe don't. up to you tho, babe. love you.

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on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black chair, propping your sheet music booklet up onto your music stand. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides your lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

and why did it still feel so good?

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happens during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

it must be some weird, new power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“sure,” you agree with a sigh, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... maybe your bow needs some rosin.”

“you already know it does! what are you even talking—,” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and two long, thin fingers are pushed inside of your mouth.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “a thorough coat to get that perfect sound.”

he cups your jaw with his free hand as he shoves his fingers further into your mouth. you gag slightly as he approaches the back of your throat, your cheeks turning beet red at the violation of your body.

“an instrument should be well cared for,” hao says as he removes his fingers from your lips, unbuttoning your jeans as he guides you to sit down in a black music chair. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved his fingers down your throat without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he sinks down between your legs exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, tugging at them until you finally lift your hips up wordlessly. he discards your underwear next, chuckling sardonically at your continued state of silence.

his lubricated fingers ghost over you, leaving a trail of your own saliva up and down your sex. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his free hand grips your thigh— fingers digging into the soft flesh. “definitely needs more rosin.”

hao pulls your hips closer to him, taking you into his mouth— swirling and sucking at your heat with his tongue. you must’ve fallen into another dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips.

“hao,” you beg, pleasure building as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. “maybe you can even learn something from how i’m playing you. everyone would appreciate that, huh?”

the patronizing insult makes you throb, another whimper falling out of you. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to you, sucking at your most sensitive part with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of hand. it’s all too much for you to handle, your core beginning to spasm.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

hao pulls out the cake of rosin from his back pocket as he works you through your high, bringing it between your legs and covering it in your release. your breathing slowly returning to normal,he runs the sticky rosin down each of your inner thighs.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, both hypnotized and concerned. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects as he coats the rosin in more of your fluids. “your body temperature is 37 degrees.”

“but—.”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao baits, licking up the last remnants of your orgasm for himself. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

his eyes lock with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare up at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

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imfoive · 1 month

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The Youngest Son - Chapter 5

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: tw-descriptions of overdose, mentions of drugs, cursing, death, physical assault, somewhat proofread WC: 4.6k A/N: A longer part! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ────────────────────

Lee Jihoon, the fourth son of the Lee family, had always done his best to dodge his responsibilities. But as time went on, the weight of those responsibilities caught up with him, leaving him cornered and unable to live as he pleased.

At thirty years old, he found himself bowing to his younger brother, Minho.

Jihoon had once been a bully, taunting Minho, pushing him around, and following the example set by his older siblings. Yet, despite the years that had passed, he still struggled to understand why they had treated Minho so poorly. Minho might have been a consequence of their father’s mistakes, but Jihoon wondered why he, along with his older siblings, had been so unkind. But having spent years away from his family, Jihoon’s perspectives had diverged. He’d avoided their narrow-minded views and had come to see Minho in a different light. Now, he genuinely believed that Minho deserved the respect he had earned.

But despite it all, even though Jihoon had been working under Minho for a year, they weren’t particularly close. The constant comparisons between them only served to emphasize Jihoon’s shortcomings in the eyes of others. Whispers about the brothers echoed through the office.

“He’s older, but his younger brother is an executive?”

“V.P. Lee is always cleaning up after his brothers.”

Despite the gossip, Jihoon had grown accustomed to it. The scrutiny was nothing new. But, there was one thing the two brothers had in common.

Lee Jihoon hated L Corp.

Then there was the eldest of the three brothers, Joohyeon.

Once favored by their father, Joohyeon had fallen from grace after a series of failures. His latest misstep was so severe that it prompted a swift and harsh decision, his position as Vice President was bestowed to Lee Minho and he was suddenly sent off to Japan.

Joohyeon had always been the pride of his parents, overshadowed only by his older cousin Jungshin, who had shown exceptional promise from a young age. Being the second child in the Lee household meant Joohyeon was constantly compared to his cousin. But Jihoon’s carefree nature and disinterest in academics inadvertently made Joohyeon stand out in a positive light. He was always thankful for the kid’s naivety. Jihoon would cause trouble, and Joohyeon would try to diminish the anger in his parents. Like a good son.

And he was a good son for a while.

When Lee Minho was brought into the household, Joohyeon was old enough to understand the implications of being illegitimate. He absorbed his mother’s prejudices and mirrored her behavior, smiling at Minho in public while harboring resentment behind closed doors.

Lee Joohyeon had long prided himself on being the dutiful son, always striving to please his parents even though he consistently came second to Lee Jungshin.

However, Joohyeon failed to recognize Minho and his capabilities.

Over time, Minho’s ascent was swift but discreet, the older brother failed to notice that the youngest of the brothers came for his place. And quickly took over.

When Chairman Lee first compared Minho to Joohyeon, he was bewildered but brushed it off. Then came a second time, and a third and then persisted.

Lee Minho was smarter than him, Lee Minho was better than him.

Lee Minho was a scapegoat for his dimwit older brother.

He was the dimwit older brother.

Then came the incident last year that made him fall. Fall hard.

Those damn messages.

Initially, they were merely taunting and annoying, which Joohyeon brushed off without much concern. However, the messages soon escalated in intensity and became very specific. They began to delve into Joohyeon’s past misdeeds, his personal failures, his inadequacies. Whoever was sending these messages seemed to have intimate knowledge of his life, causing Joohyeon to become increasingly cautious and jittery.

The thirty-two year old found himself under constant stress, plagued by nightmares and a sense of unease. He was always on edge, as the messages continued to haunt him, revealing secrets he had hoped to keep buried.

Joohyeon’s cousins would mock him, joking that he couldn’t handle the workload and accusing him of trying too hard. Their taunts cut deep, echoing the criticisms he received from the mysterious sender of the threatening texts. He would scrutinize their smug expressions, wondering if one of them could be the messenger behind the unsettling messages. And when Joohyeon attempted to trace the origins of the threatening messages, he encountered a frustrating pattern. The messages always originated from different locations, as if the sender anticipated his every move.

So he turned to his youngest brother.

Lee Minho was the one who always managed to get these kinds of tasks done. They only thought about the youngest son when they needed something.

Of course, Minho happily obliged.

When the youngest began his investigation, the frequency of the threatening messages noticeably dwindled over the course of a few weeks. It seemed as though the sender had grown cautious. Of course, since Minho was on his hunt. Joohyeon let his guard down.

A dimwit indeed.

During one of Grandfather Lee’s elaborate family dinners, which he insisted on hosting every time he returned from a trip, Minho seized an opportunity to pull Joohyeon aside.

“The messages are coming from L Corp. Headquarters.” Minho disclosed quietly.

Joohyeon blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the revelation. Before he could inquire further, dinner resumed, drawing their attention back to the bustling dining room.

Everyone seemed to be there, everyone except Jungshin.

But only a few minutes later, the eldest grandson walked through the dining room entrance, smiling.

“Apologies Grandfather, I had to send an important message.”

“At least you’re here.” The old man nodded approvingly, his gaze shifting to Jihoon, who was reluctantly present with his eyes fixed on his cellphone.

Jihoon’s mother nudges her younger son, who rolls his eyes and sets his phone down.

Everyone engages in their own little conversation.

Joohyeon’s phone dinged.

As his eyes scanned the bright screen, his world seemed to freeze. A chill ran down his spine as he read the message

Why did you do it?

And this time, the sender wasn’t anonymous. It wasn’t an unknown number that went dead when he tried to call back. No, this time there was a name attached to the sender. Joohyeon’s stomach churned, a feeling of nausea rising within him.

The boisterous laughter from Jungshin snapped him back to reality. Joohyeon blinked, feeling dazed as he glanced around at each family member seated in the room before his gaze froze back onto his screen.

“Have you heard about Y/N Park and rumors of her American boyfriend?” Jungshin stated loudly, his gaze was fixed pointedly on Minho, clearly aiming to elicit a reaction.

Minho remained composed, recognizing Jungshin’s attempt to provoke him. With a calm demeanor, he shifted the conversation away easily, like he had always done.

“I see my brother is more interested in gossip than business. Have you begun preparing for the conference this weekend?” Minho replied evenly, a polite smile spreading across his face as he lifted his gaze from his food.

The smirk on Jungshin’s face quickly vanished, replaced by a hint of anger as he leaned forward, ready to retort. However, his mother intervened, gripping his hand firmly to silence him.

“There’s no reason for us to talk about the Parks or Y/N, is there? She’s no longer engaged into this family, nor is she on good terms with Minho. Isn’t that right, Minho?” Jungshin’s mom interjected firmly.

Grandfather Lee cleared his throat, prompting his older daughter-in-law to sit back and compose herself.

“The business deal we had with the Parks was only hindered briefly. Any sane businessman won’t just shelve a forty billion dollar project.” Mooyoung stated matter-of-factly, continuing to eat his food.

Jungshin laughs, leaning in “Since the contents of the project are all out in the open now. My fam—Our family, should find another way to make personal ties with the Parks again.”

He quickly corrects his sentence for insinuating that there were two families within the Lee family. Although it was a true statement. There were two families. The older son and the younger sons of Chairman Lee. It was supposed to be kept unsaid.

Grandfather Lee continued eating, showing disinterest in the business discussions his grandsons were initiating.

“And what exactly are you thinking?” Minho’s mother asked, one brow raising curiously.

“Like it was planned from the beginning. But this time, we’ll choose someone who can correctly do his part.”

Jookshin finally perks into their conversation.

“Who here is a good option? Jihoon who would rather jump off a cliff, Minho who ruined his relations with Y/N, or Joohyeon, who looks like he’s not even in this world?” She directed her glance towards Joohyeon, seated at the end of the table, still engrossed in his phone.

“Me.” Jungshin’s laughter filled the room.

For the first time that night, Minho’s usually composed demeanor darkened with a hint of displeasure.

“Brother, don’t you think you’re a little too old?” Jihoon finally chimed in, showing interest in their ongoing conversation.

“Why? I’m not divorced, I’m the eldest son, and I actually have a good reputation.” Jungshin retorted confidently

“Does Y/N mind an eleven year age difference?” Someone asks, and all eyes are on Minho.

The youngest in the room glances at every single face, then looks at Joohyeon, who had long disassociated, and his grandfather who continued eating as if he was all by himself.

Minho clears his throat, placing his fork and knife down.

“Miss Park doesn’t have a preference when it comes to age. As long as you give her the attention she craves. But…she particularly fancies handsome men.” He glances.

There is silence in the room after Minho stops speaking. Jihoon snorts, stifling back a laugh.

“I guess even our eldest brother doesn’t make the cut then huh?” He cackles, his father glares at him and he quickly covers his mouth, chuckling silently.

It was true, Jungshin had lots of attributes, but when it came to looks, he fell behind all his brothers.

“Plastic surgery can’t be passed through genetics son.” Jihoon’s mother comments, an indirect jab at her sister-in-law, a former beauty pageant contestant.

“Father, what do you think?” Mooyoung asks his father.

Chairman Lee gets the final attention from his family.

“Mooyoung, Doyoung. I think I called you all here for family dinner. Not the discussion of business marriage.” He simply states, not looking up from his almost complete dinner.

Both his sons straighten in their seats, sharing uneasy glances.

“I’m going to go rest.” He states, placing down his utensils.

The sound of the chair being pushed against the floor, brings Joohyeon back to a dinner he completely zoned out of. Seeing his grandfather exit, he quickly stands as well.

“Sorry, I have something important to tend to.” He glances at Minho, signaling him to follow.

And like that three people are gone from the dinner table.

“Why does he look so spooked?” Jookshin comments, getting back to her food.

Jungshin’s phone buzzes and he excuses himself as well.

Entering the living room, Minho found his brother staring wide-eyed at his phone, on the brink of a panic attack. The older brother’s shock was evident, his hands trembling as he finally handed over the device to Minho. The screen was filled with threatening texts and screenshots.

“Brother, just exactly what—”

Before Minho could finish, the sound of Jungshin’s snickers echoed from the hallway. The eldest brother, stepped into the room, his eyes still fixed on his phone. Seeing Jungshin’s amused expression, laughing with his phone in his hand, Joohyeon makes his own connections and completely loses it.

“It’s you isn’t it?” Joohyeon growled, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. Without waiting for a response, he lunged at his older cousin, tackling him to the ground.

The loud bangs from the living room echoed into the dining hall, drawing everyone’s attention. For a moment, they exchanged puzzled looks before rushing to the scene. In the living room, Minho and the servants struggled to keep the older Lee brothers from attacking each other.

“What the hell is going on?!” Lee Mooyoung shouted, his voice filled with frustration.

The fighting brothers froze, their eyes shifting to Jungshin’s father and the rest of the family gathered at the entrance.

“Father, this idiot has gone crazy. He attacked me like a rabid dog.” Joohyeon spat, bloodied and enraged, glared back at Joohyeon as he struggled to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose.

The rabid dog in question fell silent, staring at the dark carpet he was on, slowly he sat up and pushed back his hair. His face was decorated nicely with signs of his fight.

Minho also stood back, hands behind him as well.

Their father studied them both, his anger palpable.

“You two, follow me to my study. Now!” He commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Jungshin, still fuming, interjected. “What about what he did to me, Uncle?”

“I’ll deal with it.” Doyoung muttered, cutting off any further protest from the eldest.

Before Jungshin could push the matter, his own father silenced him with a stern look.

Upon entering their father’s study, the sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room, striking the already frantic and wounded Joohyeon. Minho froze by the closed study door, standing rigidly as he had been back in the living room.

“Have you gone mad?!” Their father bellowed, his voice filled with fury.

He glared at Joohyeon, who was holding his cheek with both hands, his face a mask of pain and humiliation. Doyoung’s anger shifted as he approached Minho, grabbing his jaw to inspect a red gash on his face, evidence of his involvement in the altercation.

“And you’ve managed to get your younger brother involved in it as well.” Doyoung continued, his eyes scrutinizing Minho’s injury.

Joohyeon’s face hardened with resentment. Despite his own injuries being more severe, their father’s concern was clearly focused on Minho’s minor scratch. No matter how much Joohyeon needed Minho’s assistance, he could never bring himself to like him.

“Why did he do that? Is he drunk?” Their father demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory.

The question wasn’t directed at the hysterical Joohyeon, but rather at Minho. The youngest son glanced between the men, hesitant to speak, waiting for his brother to give him a sign.

“Don’t look at him!” Doyoung snapped.

Minho looks down, nodding.

“Brother has been receiving some malicious messages lately.” Minho began. “He wanted me to find out who was behind them.”

He glanced at Joohyeon, who was still looking at the floor, his hand pressed to his cheek.

“I haven’t identified the culprit yet, but the messages seem to originate from our company. Joohyeon might have suspected Brother Jungshin was behind it, which is why—”

“You fool!” Their father cut him off, his voice dripping with frustration, head snapped to glare at Joohyeon.

“How can you just point out a culprit without concrete evidence? Don’t you have even that much common sense?” The father’s anger was undiminished.

“You could have waited for Minho to find the evidence before taking such reckless action, especially in front of the family. You’re lucky your grandfather wasn’t here.”

Lee Doyoung pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think through how to address his children’s missteps. But still, his gaze softened as he considered Joohyeon’s distressed state.

“What were the contents of the messages?” He asked, directing his question at Joohyeon, who remained silent. Seeing which, only fueled Doyoung’s anger further.

“You, tell me what those damn messages were about!” He demanded, turning to Minho, whose confused expression indicated he had little information.

“I… don’t know the exact contents but they are threatening and taunting. As if they knew a dark secret.” Minho glanced at Joohyeon, who was now clenching his fists tightly, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and fear.

Doyoung’s gaze softened with concern as he looked at his guilty son. Sensing something was amiss.

“Minho, you can go now. Take care of your face. You need to be presentable for the conference this weekend.” He instructed, his eyes never leaving Joohyeon, who looked on the verge of breaking down.

As Minho exited, the study door clicked shut behind him. Silence lingered for a brief moment before Doyoung’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Show me the messages.”

Joohyeon’s hands shook as he retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Doyoung took it, his eyes widening in shock as he scrolled through the threatening messages and screenshots. His expression shifted to one of profound concern and worry.

“J-Joohyeon, just what have you done?”

Joohyeon’s face contorted as he cried, suddenly grasping his father’s wrists. He broke down, his composure shattering as his face scrunched up in a mix of desperation and fear. The phone slipped from Doyoung’s hand and fell to the floor with a loud thud, its screen darkening as it lay there, forgotten.

“Father. I…I killed Jae.” He cried.

Minho walked out of the Main Residence, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he glanced at his watch, noting the time as he descended the stairs toward his car, parked nearby. A faint smirk played on his lips, a sense of satisfaction evident in his demeanor.

“The next message should’ve been sent by now.” He muttered to himself, his smirk widening.

Just then, Joohyeon’s phone, forgotten on the ground of his father’s study, dinged with the arrival of a new message.

It was from “Jae”.

Brother, why did you kill me?

“You bastard, just what did you do!?” Doyoung was upset, the backhanded slap had Joohyeon tumbling backwards onto his father’s desk, his already beat-up face bruising even more.

“I didn’t mean to father!” He gets on his knees, grabbing his father’s legs.

“Please father save me. I made a mistake. I just wanted to find out about the secret deal like you wanted. I was doing as you tasked me to. I didn’t mean to kill him.” He cries hysterically.

His father grabs him by the collar, pulling his back up.

“Minho was able to find out about that damn deal. And he didn’t have to kill anyone.” He mutters, pushing his son back.

The old man runs his hand through his hair, trying to figure out what could be done. He was pissed and extremely upset but he didn’t want his son to be punished.

“I’ll have Minho deal with the messenger. You have to lie low for a while, go abroad. I’ll give the V.P. position to Minho.” His father states, mind still wracking.

Hearing about his position being taken away from him, the older son’s head shoots up.

“No father, you can’t. Not to Minho.”

His father glares at him, pushing him back onto the desk.

“You have no say anymore. Keep quiet and listen to me if you don’t want to end up paying for your crimes.

Minho replayed the video again. And again it showed Joohyeon and Jae, the night the younger man died. It took him a year, but the youngest Lee was able to retrieve the footage from the compromised Yacht CCTV.

It’s the same video evidence of an already high Jae lounging over his lines of cocaine. Joohyeon shoots him up with more drugs, once. Twice. Three times.

The footage clearly shows the shock that Jae’s body goes through, figure spazzing, Joohyeon freaking out.

Foaming at the mouth, Jae falls still.

And the older cousin is frozen. He gets close, nudging him, shaking him. The older man checks for a pulse, immediately falling back in shock after realizing that his younger cousin was dead. He moves his body back and glances around, then looks up, spotting the CCTV in the corner. He approaches it. And the screen goes jittery.

Minho rewinds. Screenshotting again.

The incident had stripped the older brother of his title.

Joohyeon was sent abroad. And coincidentally Minho had “dealt” with the messenger, getting rid of the evidence. The youngest son was promoted, and Lee Jihoon has suddenly become a member of his team.

What a combination those two made.

The stoic younger brother who smiled politely when appropriate and the messy older brother who goofed around whenever he could.

Although, everyone still wondered exactly what made Jihoon come back to assist in L Corp. when he hated it so much.

Summers faded into winters, and time marched on relentlessly for Lee Minho. Despite the passage of seasons, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of success.

Promotions came, and he took on ambitious projects, solidifying his reputation as the “youngest prodigy” at the company. His cousins were jealous, uncle and aunt hating him a little more every passing day. His mother still despised him, his brothers barely spoke to him. His grandfather continued to dote on him. But Minho always returned to an empty and dark apartment.

He lacked friends and acquaintances, choosing instead to immerse himself fully in his work.

If Lee Minho claimed he didn’t miss Y/N’s presence by his side, he would be lying. Sometimes, as he entered the familiar apartment complex, he harbored a fleeting hope that around the next corner, he would find her leaning against his door, just as she always used to, patiently waiting for him.

But she wasn’t.

She was in New York. And had been for the past two years.

And despite Lee Minho’s desire to stay under the radar and avoid unnecessary attention, his continuous excellence in his career made it impossible to escape the spotlight. As he climbed higher in his professional life, the inevitable admiration and attention from others became overwhelming. And suddenly he found himself at an age where the topic of marriage seemed to buzz around him in whispers.

Young ladies sought his attention eagerly, drawn by his success and status. They would throw themselves at him, hoping to capture his interest and secure a future with a man of his caliber. However, Minho’s lack of reciprocation and genuine disinterest proved to be a significant barrier. It was a repeating cycle, women intrigued by his achievements would initially pursue him ardently, only to grow tired of his reserved demeanor and lack of enthusiasm.

That’s how that morning ended.

The granddaughter of one of Chairman Lee’s fishing buddies had left their breakfast abruptly, clearly disheartened. She hadn’t even waited for their drinks to cool. Lee Minho stared down at his steaming coffee, thoughts swirling in his mind.

In moments like these, he couldn’t help but reflect on his younger self from Australia.

That Minho possessed a drive for revenge and destruction. A boldness and sincerity that seemed to have faded over the years.

That Minho would’ve listened to his grandfather’s guidance. He would have pursued this girl earnestly, made her fall for him and perhaps even propose marriage. He would’ve gotten a closer step to his goals.

But the Minho of today was different.

He was accustomed to wearing masks, and likely would have kept that mask on even if he married this girl, and suddenly the thought of it made him frown.

The one person Lee Minho didn’t need to put on a facade for was across the world.

He laughed at himself, reaching for his drink.

The next time Minho heard about Y/N was when he had gone to New York for an overseas meeting, a year and some months after his promotion. Jihoon was with him and they were staying at one of The Rose Hotels, at the lobby Jihoon had looked around and asked Minho.

“Did you know Y/N is staying in the penthouse of this location?”

Minho signs at the reception for check-in, looking at Jihoon at the mention of her name.

“She’s always promoting this location through her socials.” He leans back onto the top of the reception desk, waiting for his room key.

“Do you want to grab dinner with her? I can call her.” The older brother brings out his phone, and Minho thanks the receptionist behind the counter, taking their key-cards.

“I don’t want to. Have fun.” He responded blankly, sticking Jihoon’s room card into the chest pocket of his jacket, before walking away.

Jihoon sighed, shaking his head at his boring brother.

“The rumors were true then. They definitely aren’t friends anymore huh?” The older brother speaks to himself.

And Minho doesn’t hear about her from others again.

Six more months, and Y/N was officially gone for two and a half years. Though news of her return in a week was going around. It doesn’t take long for the whispers to reach the workaholic executive’s ears. Though he doesn’t show any reaction to the news, any signs of interest in her or her return, his heart beating rapidly says otherwise.

Minho couldn’t wait to see her.

Two days before Y/N Park’s return was Minho’s birthday. Despite the obligatory wishes from his team and messages flooding in, the day felt mundane and unremarkable to him. Birthdays had lost their sparkle long ago, becoming instead a reminder of his father's infidelity and the ensuing family discord.

Around his birthday, his mother’s disapproving remarks seemed sharper, his aunt and cousins’ disdain more palpable. It was a time when Minho felt the weight of his family’s judgment more acutely.

It was around his birthday that he wanted to ruin even more than he did the day before.

But Minho had not always spent his birthdays alone. From the age of sixteen to twenty-five, Y/N had been a constant presence by his side. Whether she was dragging him reluctantly to events or surprising him with unexpected visits, she had always managed to bring a touch of brightness to his otherwise somber birthday celebrations. Her absence now only amplified the emptiness he felt on this day.

Ha.

He chuckled wryly to himself as he parked his car in the apartment complex lot.

Minho walked into his apartment, exchanging his shoes for house slippers. His eyes froze on the pair of black heels neatly placed next to his own shoes on the shelf. The distant strains of The Birthday Song played on a piano instrumental, drifted to him from the living room.

Cautiously, he took a few steps down the corridor, his mind racing.

He froze at the entrance, jacket in hand, his eyes locking onto the figure twirling gracefully in his living room.

There she was, Y/N.

She wore nothing but a men’s dress shirt, an image both familiar and unexpected.

“~Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday my Minho. Happy Birthday to you!~” Y/N sang, her voice filling the room with a mix of familiarity and surprise.

She paused her twirling and approached Minho, her arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer, a wide smile on her lips as she enjoyed his surprise.

“What-when did you arrive?” Minho managed to ask, his voice a mix of surprise and delight, his lips curling into a surprised smile as he processed her sudden presence in his living room.

He glanced around the room, taking in the loosely decorated birthday decor. The balloons by the window, fairy lights twinkling, and a birthday cake with a candle waiting to be lit and blown out.

Clearly taken aback, Minho’s surprise prompted Y/N to giggle, eyes sparkling with amusement. A finger rested on his chin before she playfully flicked, eliciting a low chuckle from him. A genuine, cheesy grin that he couldn’t control taking over his stunned expression.

“Did you miss me, Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23

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withered-blossoms · 10 months

Text

(Withered-Blossoms) SAGAU Scheming Creator! Reader Imposter AU Part 5

A/N: First and foremost, this AU is by @sena-shi

I do not own this series, nor the idea.

Secondly, I absolutely love this series, it is amazingly written and I would highly recommend checking it out to those who haven't. Third, after reading part 4, I suddenly had a tiny bit of inspiration and I wanted to try writing my version of part 5 of it (this will not affect the original author in writing part 5 of the series, worry not).

Edit: The original author has given me her consent to write my version of this series, admittedly I should have dm'ed her beforehand, and I will never make this mistake again.

Also this is not proofread, so apologies for some typos/spelling mistakes. The word count is 3878 words or so Google Docs says.

Anyways, enjoy :DDDD

꧁༺Main Page | Angst Masterlist | Fluff Masterlist༻꧂

If every year of not being graced with your divine presence acts as a tiny blade that cuts a fibre of the impossibly thin thread known as Zhongli's sanity, then seeing you allowing these.....unworthy, mortal commoners to bask in the holy light you radiate would be the pair of scissors that snips the thread in half.

How dare they, when those foolish mortals are unable and consequently have not worshipped you for thousands of years, flit around you like the pesky flies they were? How dare they, not having devoted their entire being, their entire life, their existence's purpose to you, drink up your attention so hungrily? How dare they take the place that belonged, rightfully so, to him and only him when what they have done for you are nothing but specks of dust compared to the glorious acts he carried out in your name?

So why were you choosing to stay with them? When they have done nothing worthy of your grace? Why were you looking at him with a gaze that carried the heavy disappointment and disapproval that you never voiced? Zhongli does not understand, and neither do the adepti now standing beside him in a neat, uniform line, waiting for their archon's commands.

You find it amusing though. One would think that for someone who has lived for so long like Zhongli, he would be an expert at hiding his emotions and maintaining that mask of cool, indifferent politeness that he took pride in. And yet look at him now, losing that ability and reverting back to a child who knows not about keeping emotions from twisting their features into an ugly snarl.

Ganyu, on the other hand, looked pale and regretful. Under normal circumstances, should such a look appear on a face as pretty as Ganyu's, anyone else would have gone soft and thrown in the towel. But yet that sight filled your heart with this twisted sort of satisfaction. The desire for them to beg and grovel at your feet for forgiveness was thinly veiled behind a mask of betrayal and shock, and you were starting to find it hard not to let your eyes crinkle from the smirk threatening to curve your lips.

Not now, you reminded yourself, it's not the time for your facade to shatter.

And Xiao, your sweet, sweet child, who also happens to be the one responsible for the wound scabbed over on your leg. He, who was so persistent on making sure you were unable to escape, could not even look at your eyes now, amber orbs choosing to lock onto their targets instead. He couldn't bring himself to check your form, not when the chance of your bloody bandages catching his attention was so great.

After all, Rex Lapis needs his finely-honed weapon to carry out his commands now, and he couldn't break down in front of his divine creator. He's already shown such a horrifying part of him to you, one that slaughtered and knew nothing else, he would really go insane if you started fearing his more unsightly sides.

You would have applauded Morax and his little clique for the entertaining display of emotions had the boat not started to rock even more. It truly was a shame that they did not take up Sichuan Opera face-changing; they would have done so well even without the masks.

Meanwhile, Beidou was busy commanding the crew and making preparations for a possible tsunami, and Kazuha was ready to scoop you into his arms and bring you under deck. You, however, were not willing to miss this act, and thus stopped him by placing a hand over his. Temporarily ignoring how he froze up and blushed, you turned to the defenders of Liyue.

You could tell that the only reason why Zhongli kept up the intensity of the earthquake was because Xiao or the Cloud Retainer would immediately pluck you out of the ship before it was swallowed by the massive waves, but would you really just let yourself be taken to Liyue like this? Before even seeing the famed Inazuma? Of course not, after all you still had to see how Raiden Shogun, the one you personally raised alongside Zhongli, would react after seeing your face.

Choosing to let the winds carry your seemingly heartbroken words to their ears, you muttered, "Are you.....here to capture me? Is Liyue really unable to tolerate my existence?" And oh how much delight their flinches brought, especially the one coming from the ever-composed Geo Archon. Upon hearing your words, the group dropped to their knees, the seabed stilling as apologies and pleads spilled from their lips.

Beidou and her crew on the other hand though, you really got to give it to them. As if sensing your intentions to leave quickly, they took the chance to sail away as quickly as possible, with the winds guiding the ship. And of course, you were not going to let their efforts go to waste, choosing to keep the crazed adepti at bay with your sorrowful words.

"I've already given you my word to stay out of your sight, Morax. I apologise for breaking my promise to you, and if Liyue wishes so, I will disappear here and now. However, if you are still willing to listen to me, then I wish not for any harm to befall on these kind souls." You sighed, motioning to the Alcor's crew.

You weren't dumb; you could practically see the sparks forming from their clashing gazes. Beidou and Kazuha's were filled with hatred— disdain, even— and the adepti's a beautiful mix of hesitation and jealousy. What a wonderful sight it was, seeing the high and mighty adepti almost grovelling at your feet, and watching them struggle internally between their twisted desires and your commands.

The quirk of your lips was getting harder and harder to hide even behind your veil, and you had to turn your head before you burst out laughing at their foolish attempt at redemption.

But even the turn of your head was planned, not that they needed to know anyways. You know their rotten brains will just automatically decipher this action as a small try to hide your disappointment. Adding the facts that Zhongli had made you cry and Xiao had wounded you personally into the equation, the tides would no doubt turn to your favour.

Seeing how Zhongli's grip on his weapon tightened then loosened, you knew you had won the bet. He could only keep his head down low and motion for the adepti to retreat while stilling the earth, though his burning gaze stayed on your form until The Alcor all but disappeared into the horizon. He simply couldn't risk you leaving Teyvat for good, not when he finally had you in his grasp, and so he will wait patiently for the right time, just as he had for the past thousands of years.

"It is time for our divine grace to take back their throne." He muttered, the adepti bowing when they realised what his words entailed. He knew they would not run their mouth in front of the others; this was a matter only for the adepti to know. Not long after, Zhongli was left alone, the others returning to their posts and duties. He watched as the Alcor gradually disappeared from his sights, vowing that he would bring you back no matter what.

And with that grand finale, you finally left Liyue.

The journey to Inazuma was relatively pleasant, save for the terrifying thunderstorms at the lower-half of the trip. But eventually the ship docked, and you saw that familiar teleport waypoint where you once met the capable and friendly housekeeper named Thoma, except that he was nowhere to be seen this time. Oh well, it does not matter, he is probably at the Kamisato estate, waiting for his Lord's commands as usual. What was more important was playing your part as the kind and benevolent creator, and so you turned to the crew and smiled sweetly, thanking them for getting you to Inazuma safely with as much sincerity as you could muster to make it more convincing.

Travelling along the streets, without a friendly local guide this time, you could not help but subtly glance around. From the game, you always knew how the locals here treated foreigners, but experiencing it yourself turned that knowledge into the understatement of the year. It wasn't just overcharging you to a ridiculous degree; there were also the stares that never seemed to leave your figure and the whispers that revolved around you as if you were the eye of a tornado.

But it matters not. As long as they don't stop you from "vacationing" in this gorgeous nation, then you won't pay any mind to their actions.

However, this time the plot happened faster. You had no idea just how The Shogun managed to grasp the news of a fake creator being present when she was so....closed-off from the world, but clearly she had some amazing news sources. The streets were filled with even more patrolling officers than you recalled, and even the people on the streets had taken to scattering when the Doushin came around.

Well, this was clearly not a good time to be a foreigner huh? Because a Doushin was already heading your way, and in a condescending tone had asked for your identity, or any documents related to it. You did not have any, though this time even Kazuha could not save you with his smooth-talking, which in fact seemed to annoy the officer more.

Instead, the officer reached out to remove your veil, but Kazuha wasn't going to let him. Half because he knew you were going to get taken away, and the other half was due to the slight possessivenes swirling in his chest. Why should he have to let other people be graced by your beauty and light?

Although shielding you from the guard did seem to wear his patience thinner than the thread that made up Zhongli's sanity.

Sensing Kazuha's worry when the officer roughly grabbed your arm to take you away, you slyly patted the back of his hand and shook your head, putting on a comforting smile and whispering for him to go back to the Crux.

Despite his initial hesitation, you knew he'd listen to you anyways. After all, he couldn't fight the Doushin here and risk getting his kind, caring and benevolent creator injured or even exposed here could he?

Hence he retreated, hungrily drinking up your sweet smile as you were dragged away. He feared that this might be the last time he'll ever see of you and so he did his best to engrave the soft and beautiful curve of your lips into his memory as he went back to find Beidou.

You, on the other hand, weren't too worried. After making sure you had fooled Kazuha with a convincing smile, you opted to follow the guard instead. He was essentially your one-way ticket to the Raiden, so why not? Even though you would have to be thrown into a prison cell, you supposed that it wouldn't be the worst thing on Earth.

In the end, you will be the one seeing their arrogance and triumph morph into an amusing combination of regret and desperation anyways, and you certainly weren't in a rush to speed up the process.

".....Is this the order of The Shogun?" You asked, knowing that he most likely weren't going to give you an answer, but you still have to keep up the role, which was as fake as they had deemed your identity to be. So, you let out a seemingly self-mocking chuckle.

"First Mondstadt, then Liyue, and now Inazuma. It would seem that I am truly not wanted by my children. But at least they look happy and content. After all, even baby birds leave their nests one day...."

Muttering to yourself, you didn't miss the slight flinch from the officer, though it only earned you his panic, hidden behind a harsh shove into your cell once he's done reporting to his higher-ups.

"Do not act like you're the real creator, Their Grace may be forgiving and benevolent, but we certainly will not be merciful."

He snorted and walked off. Good lord, you have never seen anyone as arrogant as that. And of course you weren't complaining, it just makes their begging afterwards more.....satisfying, wouldn't you agree?

That doesn't make your time in the cell any more pleasant though, seeing how they saved the worst one for you.

You didn't have to wait long though, since it only took an hour or two before Kujou Sara was standing before you, peering down at your curled up form as if you were the most repulsive being she's ever laid her eyes on.

Instead, she settled for ordering the guards to free you from confinement and had them escort you while she lead the way to the Shogun's residence. Sara spoke not a word to you as usual, and you busied yourself with looking around subtly while keeping your head low to mask your lack of fear. The scenery was more beautiful than what you had seen in game; the colours were more vivid, and even the lavender melon that hadn't looked appetising were practically tempting you to take a bite out of their orchid bodies. Unfortunately, you didn't get to take in the beautiful view a little longer, for they had already brought you into the Tenshukaku.

It would seem that Raiden is eager to meet you, seeing how swiftly her subordinates dragged you to the Tenshukaku. Upon entering the room, your eyes landed on the puppet sitting serenly on her throne, eyes closed and meditating. Hah, what a nice facade to disguise the anger practically radiating off of her.

You weren't scared though. After all, even dogs don't bite the hand that feeds them, and you could easily take back everything you've ever graced them with.

Thus, 'long time no see, my strongest battery.' was your first thought, though you could not let that spill past your lips. Hence, you let out a small but sweet smile and mumbled in the sweetest voice you could let flow from your vocal chords.

"How have you been, Ei?"

The archon in question slowly opened her eyes, elegant and refined as always. Although, from the fury burning in her purple irises alone, you could already tell that she wanted your existence to cease, and that if it weren't for the fact that the creator had asked to bring you back alive, you feared she may have slashed you with her elemental burst right here and now.

You could sense how the Doushin and Sara froze upon hearing you address their archon by her real name. However, before Sara could reprimand you, a look from Raiden sent them bowing and leaving the room. And now, it was just you and her.

You were just wondering why she demanded to meet you alone when a thought popped up in your brain — could it be that because she couldn't execute you personally without the other archons present, she wishes to hurt you in a non-lethal way instead? Seeing the confirmation in the lilac eyes you once found beautiful, you almost let out a snort. My my, who knew that the almighty Raiden Ei was actually such a sadist?

You refused to let her hurt you though. How dare they hurt the actual divine being who had given them life and created this beautiful world for them to live in for a mere phony? How dare they give you scars just because they were too ignorant to see who's the real deal?

With that in mind, you raised your eyes to meet hers, yours ever so subtly showing the galaxies they hold, and hers slowly filling with slight confusion when she noticed the depth of your orbs. It did not hinder her from holding her precious sword to your neck though, so you cut her off before she could speak.

"You mentioned that when we meet, you wished for us to enjoy some tricolour dango together along with the finest tea you have. It is such a shame that we had to meet like this." You smiled, keeping your gaze and voice level as you took in every change in her expression from suspect, to shock, to disbelief and finally distrust.

"....I do not know how you dug up that information. It matters not, for that only applies to their Grace. You are but an imposter who is undeserving and yet seeks to take over the throne, and I shall not be deceived so easily. Since their Grace is too kind to the likes of you, I will take it upon myself as their loyal devotee to punish you for your atrocious attempt."

Before she could lift her blade, you grabbed it with a hand. You thanked the high heavens that it was as sharp as you hoped it to be, since you did not have to dig the blade too deeply into your skin for your blood to show. You weren't willing to leave scars because of their foolishness after all, and God knows that those maniacs would be more delighted knowing that they had marked you in some way, albeit under less ideal circumstances.

The two of you watched as the ichor slid down your arm before one, two, three drops of it splattered onto the pristine white clothing you had. It shimmered an ethereal gold before being absorbed, and Raiden had finally gone still for once. You could almost hear the non-existent gears turning in the puppet's head, where a brain was supposed to be, and before you could react, she had gently removed your injured hand from her blade and tossed the sword aside.

Kneeling before you, she fretted over your injury while keeping her head low as Zhongli and the adepti had, desperately trying to heal you. Frantic apologies flowed from her lips like a river, and she panicked slightly more when she noticed that you were still bleeding. She was selfish, not wanting others to know about your existence, but your well-being and health eventually won the mental debate taking place in the puppet's head.

"Your grace, I did not realise it was you. My sincerest apologies for being ignorant, and I am aware of how unworthy I am to touch you but I beg of you, do let me heal your injuries before you decide to take your anger out on me." Having said that, she called for Sara to bring a medical kit, and the lady swiftly came in worth one in her hand. She showed neither shock nor regret as she helped the Shogun patch up your hand, though you supposed that it was only normal considering the number of years she's had in learning how to keep her emotions from showing on her face.

Huh, even a short-lived mortal is more capable than long-lived archons in this aspect.

You were tempted to stay and see how Ei and Inazuma would react and repent for their sins, yet the beginnings of an earthquake warned you to leave quickly. Your time in the Tenshukaku was almost up, so you quickly grabbed a brush and paper and left a note for a certain angy dragon. Or maybe it was an angy Teyvat, you didn't know. Just in case it was the former though, you could only hope that a note would prevent the people of this gorgeous nation from being decimated.

'Morax, I wish not for the citizens of Inazuma to face your wrath. With that, I hope you spare them from death and suffering alike.'

The note was short and sweet, as you had liked. There was nothing else to say to him anyways, so you rolled up the paper and turned to Ei, placing it into her hands.

"If you wish for your people and nation to live on, pass this to Morax if he arrives. Do not fight, your people should take priority. I'm terribly sorry for ruining your eternity, but it seems that you are favoured by luck itself, for my time is up." You lifted the corners of your lips into a gentle curve as you patted her hand.

You really were too kind, so benevolent and so bright that Ei could not believe her eyes nor ears. Her people watched and talked about you behind your back, dragged and tossed you into the filthiest cell they had, and she herself had injured you personally. She wanted to make it up to you, to proceed and lavish you in the best luxuries Inazuma, no, Teyvat could provide. She did not want you to be absent from her side, so why was it that even though you were in her hold now, it seemed like you would disappear any second?

What did she have to do to make you stay? Did you want her heart? Her head? Or should she injure her hand the way she had injured you? Tell her, what did you want from the Raiden Shogun? She would give you everything and anything, from her eternity to the stars in the sky. So why? Why did you still want to leave? Why not stay with her for eternity?

Seeing the crazed looks in those purple orbs, you removed yourself from her tightening grasp and avoided her attempts to hold onto you to ensure your stay. You still had to visit either Sumeru or Watatsumi Island anyways, and being held in captivity was not a price you were willing to pay. You knew that she could and would easily pull you into her consciousness, and you sincerely did not want to live your life there.

Reminding yourself that, your eyelids fluttered shut and you let the wisps of power engulfing you take you away, finding yourself in front of the Alcor again. Technically speaking, you also did owe the crew an explanation for your sudden disappearance and some reassurance, the sudden hug from Kazuha only proving you right. Even though you weren't close to him or Beidou, you still felt a little guilty when you realised that he was shaking.

To make it up to him, you patted his back and offered Beidou to join in on the hug, which she appeared to accept begrudgingly but you knew better, especially from the way her shoulders sagged in relief. Once they had both calmed their nerves, you ushered them back to work. Despite them questioning your next destination, you knew it would be impractical for them to sail to the other nations with you, and teleport waypoints were a godsend. You told the two that, and as disappointed as they were to not be able to accompany you, they still respected your wishes unlike a certain duo, possibly trio, which you greatly appreciated.

Hence,for the first time since arriving in Teyvat, you gave your first genuine smile, making Kazuha swoon internally and Beidou turn away in order to hide her burning cheeks. You were very well aware that the archons could possibly see this, though you weren't worried. In spite of the lightning flashing in the background and the rumble of the earth, you knew that they wish not to end up in your bad books just for a few mortals. Having confirmed the safety of the people who had helped you, you could finally retreat to your room on the ship and decide your next destination.

Now, where should you grace with your presence next?

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hellsbellschime · 3 months

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i think his 'it was a mistake' was also about him realizing that his machinations helped the green's PR team. he is trying to gain support for rhaenyra and now he's made it that much harder when they see her as a kinslayer and baby killer. i will say i truly don't understand why rhaenyra is so shocked by this. not only does she know the type of man daemon is, but what was she expecting to do once she took the crown? if aegon's children still lived they would always be a threat to her and her children. there's no way she thought exiling them or holding them under house arrest or making them bend the knee would have worked in the long run. even if she presented them/heleana with the same deal she did laenor there is always a risk someone would find out or they would grow up to amass an army to take back what they viewed was their's. there's always going to be people scheming to take her off the throne simply for being a woman. leaving an alternative male heir alive makes zero sense in the long run. not me condoning daemon's actions, but i'm just baffled how she seemed so upset by an innocent child dying when the fact that jaehaerys being alive at all would have spelled disaster for her reign and the future of her line.

idk i kind of hate how the writing is making her more passive and stupid when it comes to political intrigue. it's taking away her agency by making daemon the mastermind behind all the evils the blacks were responsible for. i would have much preferred to see her not only be the grief stricken mother looking to go scorched earth, but also the one thinking 10 steps ahead by eliminating any future threat to her crown. i get they don't want to make her monstrous and have her more sympathetic, but i just feel like making daemon the responsible party and her left dealing with the consequences just weakens her character. i know the story basically is making all the terrible deeds in this war the men's fault and the women are left burdened with consequence, but it steals away from their agency imo. i think it made sense in s1 where the men are portrayed as the reason this war started, but this season should have given the women more autonomy over their choices in how the war progresses.

LOL well that would certainly make more sense than him calling it a mistake because he didn't want Jaehaerys to die. And I agree, obviously it's horrific, but this was always the endgame if Rhaenyra wanted to keep the throne and pass it on to her illegitimate children, the entire Green line would have to be extinguished so Jaehaerys was always a goner and it's bizarre to pretend otherwise. I don't like the passivity either, I mean I get why Rhaenyra wouldn't immediately go scorched earth but it was hilariously hard to believe that it didn't even occur to her that Daemon would do something like this until she saw his face, like friend please you just sent Daemon to commit murder and Aegon's heir is suddenly beheaded in the Red Keep, we don't exactly need to put Sherlock Holmes on the case.

#hotd for ts

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machinespirited · 2 months

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From the log of Dominus Caprella of Mars:

Caprella stopped, suddenly aware of an absence in his noospheric net. It was as if-- no, it was exactly that. Othala had abruptly terminated her connection to him. The Magos turned to ask the Skitarii Marshall why she had done so only to find her standing stock-still with a blank expression.

"Marshall Othala?" Caprella asked, and he felt a charge run through the air as the Skitarii's porcelain-like face twitched into a small smile.

"Not quite."

It was her voice, certainly. The vox code hadn't changed at all, but Caprella was suddenly aware of an overwhelming presence in the room. One he had felt many times before in the forges on the moon below.

The fact she could reach all the way into orbit...

"What do you want, Verthandi." Caprella asked, his voice completely flat. He sent a silent ping to one of his servo-skulls to start recording. Any time Verthandi spoke, Caprella felt the need to keep track of what she said and did... and another angle was always helpful. "Need I remind you that you assigned Othala to me. She is my responsibility, and I do not appreciate this intrusion."

"Noted." Verthandi said, still using Othala as a speaker. "You turned off her pain receptors last combat. Why?"

"She was about to be impaled. I wanted to give her the same thing I give all of my Skitarii when I am able to." Caprella gestured as he spoke, tapping his staff against the ground. "One last kindness: a painless death."

"She has enough necrodermis for the reanimation protocol. She lived regardless."

"Well, I didn't know that, did I?" It was rare for Caprella to let his anger show like this, but Verthandi was being... dismissive. "I acted in the way I felt was best regarding the information I had. I do not need to explain myself to you further."

"If she does not experience the consequences of her actions, she will never learn."

"Respectfully, Forgemaster.' Caprella glared at Verthandi, making it as clear as he could that this was as respectful as he could get at the moment. "The mistake was mine. Othala was impaled in service of watching my back. She used her body to protect me. I am the one who needs to learn from this. Not her."

"Hm." Was all Verthandi said in reply before Othala's face twitched, and the Forgemaster's presence was gone.

"Marshall?" Caprella asked, feeling Othala re-establish their connection as she looked around. "... How much do you remember?"

"Almost nothing. Forgemaster Verthandi... tends to take the memories with her."

So he had been right to record.

#wh40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #adeptus mechanicus #admech #sanctum novis #writing #verthandi #caprella #othala

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mayisgoingnuts · 2 months

Text

Pretty boy — A post with Denny's story (PT 2)

TW: Sexual abuse/Rape, pedophilia, victim in denial, mom and dad issues, drawing with implied self-harm.

Taglist: @merwynsartblog @clownazon @dismissivedestroyer @jonesy-squish

Long post!

[PART 1]

As much as Denny no longer stole from people who were clearly struggling, it didn't mean he no longer stole in general. People in decent conditions (or the ones who looked like it) were still his victims no matter what. And just like mentioned before: his aunt is one of his main ones. The boy fully believed it wasn't a big deal, after all, she was in GREAT conditions, wealthy even, and Denny believed that she would understand if he was caught.

As much as he always got expensive things from her house, such as jewels and other belongings, Mrs. Harper was always nice to him and always comforted him, they'd find a way to fix if anything. However, one day, Denny arrived in a day where his aunt was not doing well. She tried to keep an act to not let him worry, but it failed miserably as he's extremely stubborn.

Even though Denny was still a young boy, Violet couldn't help herself, telling him her worries that she kept to herself. She confessed how relieving it was to have him, a boy, being so sweet to her. On that same day, Denny discovered that his own aunt was invalidated by his father (consequently involving Denny's mother), sexually harassed, and then finally physically abused by her husband — which explained the ring, despite living alone. He felt awful, extremely awful, as he knew that he wasn't so far on being one more 'betraying' her.

Full of guilt, Denny decided to once again be less extreme with her, avoiding to take objects that costed her lots of money. Despite everything, he still wanted to help his parents, they always told him how proud they were when he gets good stuff for the house. He promised to himself that, one last jewelry, and no more. Unluckily, it was that one last time where Mrs. Harper finally caught him in the act.

She had already noticed how some of her stuff were suddenly disappearing, but never suspected that her nephew would be the one responsible. The woman immediately confronted him, giving him chances to say that he was just pranking her or it was a mistake, but Denny didn't wanted to lie to her. He wanted to apologize, but somewhere in his ego did not allowed him to, only trying to explain himself.

Violet did not liked it. At all. She suddenly snapped on him, completely frustrated and feeling betrayed, but mostly of all disappointed, comparing Denny to his parents and how both of them were just the same. Not just his parents, but men in general, calling them pigs who are unable to live without acting like animals for their own satisfaction.

Denny asked her to not give him or his parents to the authority, mostly for THEIR sake, but Mrs. Harper barely paid attention to it. She was furious, and once and for all wanted to take matter with her own bare hands, choosing what, for her, was the worst type of punishment that a living being could have.

Mrs. Harper sexually abused Denny in her own house. She kept forcing him to apologize for her to be less cruel, scolded and punished him for whenever he tried to fight, and kept telling him how disgusting he was for being a man, mockingly calling him "Pretty boy". Once it all was over, she forced him to not tell anyone by threatening to snitch on his family's crimes to the police, which worked perfectly.

Mrs. Harper dropped Denny at his house to make sure to scold his parents aswell, making it look like she only hit their son for what he has done. They argued for a while before she finally went home, being that day the last one they've ever talked. Verena and Glynn scolded Denny for being caught and almost dooming them, also causing them to slowly be harsher to the boy. With time, Denny refused to steal from anyone no matter who they were, what only increased his parents' frustration.

Denny never had the courage to tell anyone, and pretends to keep it like this. With time, when his memory was already not so fresh with the sensations, he began to "realize" that perhaps it was needed for him to grow, or that he doesn't even count as a victim. He no longer stole anyone, he was kinder, sweeter, and didn't made fun of anyone, what ended up getting compliments from other people. Denny also feels like it wasn't anything but fair, considering the ammount of money she lost on his robbery and how she lost her mind all thanks to himself.

In the end, the boy is now with a new vision regards women and girls. He always remembers how his aunt treated themselves as superior, and how they only needed the right motivation to stand up for themselves, and immediately connects "stand up" as that one thing. As much as he does can talk with girls his age, he doesn't feel fully safe, and with older women he's basically terrified of. His mother's low temper tends to not help either.

His own family is always disappointed on him for no longer help in the house, saying that they didn't had to eat a single bread every morning when he used to "work", so he's always planning on giving his parents a good life one day. Denny is always trying to help like he can, avoiding conflicts and being the nicest person he could ever be, to compensate how much of an awful child he was when younger and to compensate the harm he has caused to both that one homeless man and his aunt.

As for the nickname "Pretty boy", he has developed a huge trigger towards it, associating it to an offense or even a threat.

#spooky month #sm oc #sm denny #sm the gang #sm mrs harper #sm verena #sm glynn #lore #writing

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fleuntet · 1 year

Text

once more to see you

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

summary: you’re an anomaly, and despite comments from others miguel decided to have you stay. but eventually the two of you had to face reality of your situation.

warnings: not a sexual relationship between him and the reader, more of a father-daughter relationship!

the last thing you considered he would be doing was this — sending you home. a known anomaly roaming around a dimension that wasn’t there’s was enough to consider you as a threat but there was something about you that miguel couldn’t have you go through that machine.

maybe it’s because you reminded him of her, his daughter. maybe it’s because for the first time in a long time you made him smile, you made him…feel whole again.

miguel should’ve let you go home from the start. it was a selfish act, trying to keep you here for his own personal interest. but he couldn’t help himself. he longed for his daughter for so long that you were what he needed at his times for desperation.

you were soft, gentle, everything that made you you made him think of her.

he should let you go home from the start. but because of his stupid mistake, you were now left to face the consequence — a heartbreaking betrayal.

“miguel?” you shouted out as the machine clawed you, gripping into your skin as you attempted to fight back. “miguel, you can’t do this. miguel, por favor. por favor!”

your voice, the sound of it, was so loud and clear, it made his heart hurt with every second that you cried out to him. he knew you felt it too — the bond between the two of you, one that could’ve been so easily breakable if he did the right thing.

but now he had to listen to your painful cries. he couldn’t bear them if he was honest.

and no matter how much he wanted to console you as he departed you away, his face remained heartless and cold. “i have to.” he muttered.

you shook your head frantically, tears welding up in your eyes. how could he do this? how could he suddenly make you go back home after all the time you have spent with one another? as hurtful as it was, you were oblivious to the reality that surrounded you.

death was waiting for you back home, something that was inevitable, that should’ve been inevitable seen so clear to be inevitable to miguel from the first day he had you here. you were an anomaly. nothing more, nothing less.

pushed into the center of the machine, it started to confine you, and still like a small child, you cried out to him, begging for him to take you back. “you don’t!” you shouted through the deafening wiring of the machine. “listen to me, you don’t have to do this.”

and it almost felt like you gave up with the small whisper you let out in the end. “do you even realize what happens when i go back?”

he did. he was the who showed you before shoving you into his machine. reality had hit the both of you.

gritting his teeth, miguel stared into your eyes as you stared into his. although his words were cold, his eyes began to reveal a different emotion. “and it has to happen.” he said, reminding himself.

you frowned at his response.

“you don’t belong here.”

looking away from you, it cracked your heart into pieces as he could make this decision and not even look at you in the final moments you had together. you couldn’t imagine, ever, that this would be how it ended. when you first arrived here you were scared of the unknown, but with your time with miguel, everything changed.

you saw him as something you didn’t have. and for that same reason he had to let you go. he couldn’t let himself make the same mistake twice.

“lo siento,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

you shook your head, refusing to let him think that this was a good thing. “si realmente lo lamentaras, no harías esto.” (if you were really sorry, you wouldn’t be doing this) before you he could look back at you, shocked at your words, the machine had built its cage around you. engulfing you, you could feel yourself floating for a brief minute before everything brightened against your vision.

(x)

fluttering your eyes open, your body ached against the cold concrete floor. wincing, you pushed your upper body up, closing your eyes in pain for a minute. through the silence that surrounded you, you could only hear your loud heaving pants that you let out. “fuck…” you breathed out.

that’s when panic began to strike you as you realized you were not immediately dead. that could only mean one thing — you didn’t have much time left.

looking up, the only thing that you managed to make out that was surrounding you was tall buildings in which the edges slipped out water. that’s when you felt rain caress your body, a smooth and relaxing feeling compared to the your aching body.

your breathing began to come quicker, hitching every now and then. “no,” you whispered. “no, no, no!” you looked down at your hand. no watch.

if you had the strength, you’d cry out. but with all the crying and fighting back a few minutes ago, there was barely any strength in you left.

godammit, i lost the watch, you cursed at yourself.

regret filled your conscious. you should’ve never thought so highly of him, a man you knew deep inside was just another selfish and cruel man. as your mind collapsed all the memories that you two had of each other, nothing could prepare you for the sudden appearance of what would cause your death — goblin.

“i was starting to think you ran away from me.” his mocking tone of words sent a chill going through your spine. knowing your situation, you knew there was no escaping this. if this is what he thought was important, what else could you do? he left you here. abandoned you.

(x)

returning to his office, miguel couldn’t seem to shake off the guilt that filled with every bone. to his daughter, he only wanted what was best for her, he wanted to give her the world, and he hopes she knew that, although that he was the reason that she died.

hope came back when he first saw you. with you he felt like he could see his little daughter again. he felt happy. something he so desperately wanted. and he wished he could keep that.

“lyla?” he called out. in a matter of seconds, she appeared along his shoulder.

“yeah?”, her tone was soft compared to the other times she would be called for. despite her comments as to how you shouldn’t have ever stayed, she knew miguel inside and out, and so she knew that this decision was a hard one for him to make.

staring at his screen, the one image he would always go back to stared at him back. taunting him almost. he couldn’t help but his feelings absorb him as tears were threatening to be released. sighing, he asked, “is it always gonna be the same outcome?”

“there’s a slight possibility. a fifty six percent, more or less.”

clenching his teeth, he pulled himself together. you were hope to him. to him, you gave him hope. he wasn’t stuck in a dream anymore, you were his reality. and if there was a chance, a small chance that he could fix his wrongs, for the two of you he would.

“give me her coordinates. now.”

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’ hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’ hara angst #spideraman 2099 angst

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sapphic-woes · 2 years

Text

When You Met Her pt. 5

A/N: Five chapters? Inconsistency who? Anyways, thank you all for the wonderful comments! Plz remember that encouragement, rather than demanding for more is much better though! MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1k AO3 Link

___________

You think it’s an odd question, considering it has nothing to do with you.

Bonds. You know it’s a fantasy. Didn't stop many omegas from whispering about it when your owners aren't around though. But you know better than to allow yourself that luxury. In the brothel the walls had ears, and you rarely saw the same omega dream about getting out of that hellhole twice. Yourself included.

“...Yes.” You stiffly mumble the response, “I know.” Viktor studies you, letting your lack of elaboration fill the room with silence. Sevika doesn’t speak either, and the heavy quiet eats away at what little calm you have. Fidgety, you protectively rub the back of your neck. Viktor’s gaze follows the movement, bright amber eyes sharply widening.

“Your neck.” You wince, shrinking into yourself as the doctor takes a step forward, “those scars…y/n did they…did they try to–”

Like a useless, rusty gate, your words slip past your lips before you can rein them in.

“I was wrong.” You grind the words out like bitter sulfur on your tongue. The room is becoming thick with emotions. It's stifling. It makes you want to run, yet you stay in place instead. Nothing good ever comes from running.

Viktor’s scent is sour, so potent you nearly gag, but that's not what scares you.

Sevika burns.

Her anger flows in disrupted waves. It’s an unpredictable tide threatening to pull you under. Instinct tells you to hide your nape. To curl up and protect it at all costs. Experience tells you such actions are useless. You’re going to be told each and every last bit of your mistakes, whether you liked it or not.

“I know. It won’t–it w-won’t happen. I know now. I know that n-now.” Your words are feverish, and shamelessly desperate. Your nails dig into your knees hard, and you nearly draw blood. You wish you did.

At the very least, it would pull you out of these memories. It wasn’t as if you’d never imagined being one of those rare omegas that had an equally rare, bonded alpha. However, you were quickly shown the consequence of it.

Now, they were a useless endeavor.

“It can’t happen to pr-property. I was wrong. I k-know that now so please…” There was a time you’d whispered those hopes aloud, but there were no secrets in the brothel. No way to know who wasn’t listening in on your foolish words…and no hesitation to crush them either.

“Bonds…" Your mind feels like a blank slate. The air is polluted. A single breath is a sea of emotions, yet you don't even flinch. Numbness creeps into your head, and all you can focus on is making them understand.

"Bonds aren’t for…omegas like me. A-an item for public use can't suddenly become exclusive. I know I am not v-valuable enough for that. I promise.” The words are branded on your lips. They pass listlessly under your breath as though rehearsed. You aren't greedy. You know your place.

You know the kind of omega you are.

“No one…is going to do that here. To think that happened to you for so long…” Viktor’s voice is tight. It’s strained as though it's a dam holding back a flood. It confuses you enough to look up, yet you’re still nervous, unable to meet Viktor’s solemn gaze. Instead you focus on his throat, watch it bob up and down in a painful swallow. A frail looking thing just like yours.

Only then did you notice the edges of his own scars at the curves of his neck. Too familiar to be a coincidence. Too many to have just been an accident. You know it's not a simple punishment. You know it's something particularly cruel owners do. Yet this doctor that seems completely separate from your world has them. Abruptly, you look up.

Viktor is faraway. You can tell those amber irises are distant. Seeing a memory, or perhaps a fragmented scene. The lingering ghost of his scars.

Somehow the gaze is familiar. It’s empty and vast, much too deep to understand. You’ve seen faces in the brothel like that. Or at least, similar ones. A bit of it you recognize. It's hollow, it's barren. But it blooms with a delicate, ebbing light. An emotion that vanished from omegas towards one another the longer they stayed in the brothel. One you forgot could ever be directed at you.

The omega's sad. Sad for what you lost.

“It doesn’t even…” Viktor takes a sharp, wavering breath. You’re so focused on Viktor, you don’t realize Sevika's walking out of the room until the door shuts.

Oh no. Though she’s gone, her anger lingers. It’s strong enough it’s like she's still here. She must care about the value of an omega’s nape, and obviously, you disappoint her. Will she throw me away?

Sevika is nicer than most alphas, and kindness, it seems, serves better to make you obedient than fear. You want to please her. She doesn't hit you, at least not yet she has, and you hope to keep it that way. You like this whole not hitting thing. She smells nice too. She smells like goodness.

Sevika is an alpha. But sometimes she makes you feel safe. Like there's nothing about her to actually fear.

You wonder what to make of that.

However, now she knows that the back of your neck is dirty. Gross with jagged marks. What will happen to you? You wonder if Viktor reassures you simply because there's no point in decreasing your worth even further.

“Sorry. Other than that I’m not spoiled, I swear. M-my holes are fine, and I’ve got no diseases, a-and I can take shimmer, no bad trips. I um, I-I’ve been told I’m good at it. I don’t need a lotta rest and don’t need much food. W-water too–”

“Y/N. You haven’t been brought here for that. You won’t be doing that again. Ever.” Viktor interrupts you. His voice hurts. At least, it sounds like it's hurting him. As if to ease the pain, he slowly speaks.

“Them abusing your nape doesn’t make you “spoiled.” Neither does it mean you can’t have a bond. There’s no way to make an omega unable to have a claim or a bond. Trust me…” Viktor turns around, tugging down the collar of his shirt. Surely enough, it's covered in scars similar to your own, but what surprises you more is what mark on top covers it all.

A clear bite mark, smelling precisely of an alpha.

“Or else I wouldn't have been able to have this either, would I?”

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane sevika #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #jayvik #arcane viktor

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xatsperesso · 1 year

Note

Fake dating iruma and Asmodeus and clara

What if we just fake it?

What a lot of young demons don't realise, is that there is a consequence to every action.

For example, when Iruma won the harvest festival alongside Lied, he was not aware that this would make demons give special attention, nor was he aware that he would be asked out left and right by all types of demons. Lied-kun may bask in such attention, but Iruma is simply Not Ready to deal with these things. As such, he spends most of his time at school hiding from everyone.

And Azz, when he won in the heartbreaker event, along with his noble vibes and his good looks, has captured the hearts of many demons, and without meaning to he became a regular heartbreaker in the school.

Clara, when she entered the betting pool disguised with a mustache and a pair of glasses, she did not realise that in order to not lose her allowance she needs to win her bet.

And so, the three demons were hiding in the garden under a tree, hoping that no one would find them there.

Iruma and Azz would occasionally share confused glances as Clara sat between, looking like she’s trying to find the solution to the world's biggest mysteries.

Soon, she tore her eyes from her lap, and with a determined look she nodded to herself.

"Azz-Azz!" "Hmm?"

"Iruma-chi!" "Ah! y-yes?"

She stood up infront of them, capturing their attention. Both her friends straightened up as they felt the gravity of what she was about to tell them.

She pointed at them, and loudly declared to them her wish

"Let's date!"

And that was the moment Iruma’s soul left his body.

"Stupi-! no," Azz stopped himself from his usual response because, no, this is a sensitive topic, and he doesn't want to hurt Clara like that.

"Clara, I must apologise to you, but I don't, I don't think I can reciprocate your feelings" Azz looked at his lap, trying to avoid his friend's gaze. Would she feel mad? Disappointed? Did he accidentally make her think he likes her? Did he lead her on without knowing, and now she-

"Reci-pro-cate? Wait, DOES THAT MEAN WE'RE NOT FRIENDS?!" Clara shrieked and ran to Azz's face. Is this it?! Is she losing her friends?

"Wha-No! We are friends! I just don't share any romantic feelings with you!" Azz could feel his face heat up. What is this idiot doing?! Suddenly saying she wants to go on a date and then mistaking his rejection with him abandoning their friendship!

"What romantic feelings?" Clara tilted her head, a look of pure confusion painted on her face.

That's when Azz felt his vein pop.

"C-clara," Iruma started, as his ever-growing confusion overcame the shock of Clara's sudden confession

"What did you mean when you said you wanted us t-to date?"

"Oh!" Clara exclaimed, and then her face turned serious once again

"I need to win the bet"

"?? What bet?"

"People keep betting who's gonna end up with Azz-azz! And no one bet for me! And Lied said if I gave them money and win I'll get more money so I can buy more stuff for us to play with! And I need the paint slime launcher 666 special blood edition"

"But what does that have to do with me?

"Well, Azz-Azz didn't like people confessing to him all the time, and Iruma-chi doesn't like all the attention on him, and I dont wanna be left out, so I decided!" She took a deep breathe, and with a very big smile on her face, Clara confidently announced

"As the love trio, we should date each other!" And with the way she looked at them, really how can they say no?

"I see, so you want us to pretend to date each other so you won't lose your money?"

"Exactly! Azz-Azz gets it"

"Ok, so it's only pretend. I can do that. What about you, Azz-kun?"

"You know I'll follow Iruma-sama wherever he goes"

"Alright, Clara. We're in!" And with that, Clara was overjoyed. She dragged her soulmates to play with her for the rest of the day. They had fun, as they always do, but they forgot one small thing they had to do.

They forgot to prepare for the next day.

The next day came, and the newly dating love trio stood in front of the school nervously.

How will they tell them that they're dating?

They didn't prepare for this, they didn't prepare at all. Is holding hands too much? Is it too obvious?? Should they even announce it or should they let the classmates figure it out???

These were all questions that were plaguing poor Azz-kun, but before he could voice any of his questions Clara opened the door and dragged Iruma excitedly, who in return dragged Azz albeit nervously.

Everyone looked at the entering trio, especially the over-excited ball of smiles that looked like she's about to burst.

"You look extra happy today, Clara" Ix commented

"Yes!" Clara proudly raised the hand that was holding Iruma’s and loudly annouced in the loudest voice

"We started dating!" Iruma, feeling absolutely flustered yet infected by Clara's excitement raised his other hand that was holding Azz's for all the class to see.

"Oh really? Congrats!" Lied beamed at them, before zooming behind Iruma and nudging him lightly,

"You gotta tell me how you got yourself two mates. And here I thought I'd find someone before you"

"Congratulations, guys. But I actually thought you were already dating"

"Same. Clara referred to the three of you as the love trio on girls night a couple weeks ago. I thought it was official"

And this was the class's general reaction. Congratulating them, teasing them about how they already acted like a couple before, asking the girls whether the boys can hang out with them sometimes (the answer is no. The girls need some safe space to openly complain about the boys without embarrassing them)

The whole situation confused Iruma and Azz. The wasn't a single face that screamed 'I lost a bet' but didn't Clara said this was for a bet?

"Hey, Clara," Iruma whispered "Didn’t you said there were demons betting?"

"Yup! The teachers are betting on who will end up with who!"

The whole classroom grew quiet at that. The teachers were betting on them?!

"Woah woah woah, since when do teachers bet on their student?! And our dating life?"

"Well, if I was a teacher, I'd bet with my colleagues over these things"

"But betting-"

"Is not allowed in school" Lied almost fell on Jazz from how quickly he tried to sit down. He was not ready for Kalego-sensei to just appear out of thin air like that!

"If I catch any of you engaging in such activities on school property, all your homework will be tripled for a week" Kalego said as he pointedly looked into Lied's eyes which was unfair. Jazz and Allocer always help him, and it's not like they're scamming people! (They are)

"Everyone, sit down so we can start" he ordered the rest of his students, but his eyes lingered on three certain demons who were giddily holding hands as they were moving to a table.

Hmm

"Clara-senpai!"

"Strow-chan!"

"Raim-sensei is asking to see you" Iruma and Azz flinched at this. A teacher wants to see Clara at lunch time, right after they've announced that they're going out.

This can't be good.

"Raim-sensei?! Let's go!" Before Azz even had a chance to warn her, Clara took Strow and hopped their way to Raim-sensei's office, asking her Kouhai a thousand questions on the way.

"I-it's ok," Iruma tried to console an anxiety riddled Azz "this was all her idea, I'm sure she'll do fine-"

"Iruma-kun? May you come to my office? There's something I'd like to talk to you about" a wild Balam-sensei appeared, requesting an attendance with Iruma.

And Iruma was sure that it's not about his dating life, or at least not about the bet. Balam-sensei is not the type of demon who would do something like that!

And so Iruma follow Balam-sensei to his office.

"Go ahead, Azz-kun! We'll meet you at our usual spot"

And Azz sighed in the empty corridor that he now stood in. He trusts his friends, he truly does, but he also acknowledges that they lack in certain skills. Skills that are usually used to deceive demons.

But he turned around, nonetheless, intent on going to their usual spot to wait for his friends there. Helping them will only make the teachers more suspicious, so the safest thing to do is to trust them.

Azz looked down the hall, and his eyes met Kalego-sensei's suspicious gaze.

"Baby-chan~ I heard you finally got the man you want, and an additional eye-candy~"

"Yes!"

"That's great, baby-chan! You've grown so much, but I have to be blunt here~"

"Does this sudden turn of events have anything to do with last week's bet?" Raim gave Clara a very pointed look, one that Clara averted her eyes from

"N-no?" Raim kept staring at Clara, her eyes never leaving her pupil

"Mhmm? Alright, I won't say anything. You can go back to playing with your boyfriends"

Raim giggled as Clara ran out of her office, looking equal parts nervous and excited

"*sigh* her eros just seem to keep going up everytime I see her. If this keep going on she may even surpass me!"

"Iruma-kun,"

Balam sat in front of Iruma, tea cooling on the table between them. He hates that he has to do this, but he feels foul play going on here.

He bet a lot of money on who Iruma will end up with. Shameful act, he knows, but he can’t lose like this.

"I heard you started dating? How are you adapting to demon courtship?"

"Ah, yes! Recently I started going out with Clara a-and Azz-kun. Clara has asked us yesterday, so we didn't really get any chance t-to do anything.

To be honest, I was very nervous when Clara asked, but I'm glad it's with them. I like hanging out with them, a-and to me, it doesn't matter whether we're dating or not. They're my soulmates, and I'll always be by their sides no matter what" Iruma beamed at Balam-sensei. He’s always happy whenever he gets a chance to talk with him. Whenever they talk, everything becomes so clear.

Balam looked at Iruma happily fiddling with his tea, still to hot for him to drink, and he felt something in himself melt. What's he doing? This silly bet isn’t what's important here.

What matters is Iruma, his student, and he's glad his kid found demons he could truly trust like this.

He wonders when he'd tell them about his nature.

"I'm glad to hear that, but!" Balam jumped out of his seat, scrambling to find the right books in his office before returning back to Iruma

"You need to learn about basic demon courtship! If you want to keep your secret, and also to prevent a lot of miscommunication that may lead to heartbreak, it's better to read these books on common courtship, and what’s normally expected of you as a partner!"

"Oh? Is demon dating different from human dating?" Iruma isn't sure. He knows Kerori and Gyari, but he isn't too sure whether they're dating or not.

"Of course! Different environments, Different cultures, so normally dating life would also be different!"

And that's how Iruma heard a thirty minute lecture on what the love life for demons is like. He truly admired how thoughtful and considerate Balam-sensei is to him, and as such took every word he said to heart

But only Balam knows the reason he's giving Iruma this lecture. It's because Balam wished someone taught him all of this when he was young and first entering the dating world.

Azz and Kalego were staring each other down, Both waiting to see who will crack first. They could've stood there for hours, but Kalego knew he was on a time crunch. Soon one of the other two troublemakers will come, and he wont be able to ask asmodeus his question.

So Kalego, regretfully, broke the silence

"Asmodeus,"

"Kalego-sensei."

"I thought you were asexual"

"And I thought you weren't the type to meddle in a student's dating life"

Kalego’s eyes narrowed, and he knew he lost here. So he continued walking past Asmodeus, and Azz did the same.

"..your homework is doubled"

"All the essays will include Iruma in small details as an example"

It's been so long since Kalego felt like he truly lost against someone. That is, until he met a certain insolent brat from the asmodeus family

"That's unfair!"

"Alright listen, I was half right, so naturally-"

"It's obviously rigged!"

"Alright, everyone!" Dali clapped his hands to get everyone's attention

"I understand that you're all upset, but someone has to lose. That's how betting works. Now, vlara Calac, correct?"

"Yes" replied a very obviously Clara with a very fake mustache

"Congratulations on winning the bet, mr. Calac"

"Thank you" Everyone watched in silence as "mr. Calac" took the envelope that held all their money and walked out of the teacher's office

"Dali, just why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why in Delkira's name would you do that?"

"Come on, guys. Just because you lost to mr. Calac, our new security guy, doesn't mean that you have to be such sore losers"

"Exactly!" Raim suddenly chimed in "we need to be a good example, especially to our newest staff member. We can't let him think that acting like that is an acceptable behaviour"

Sighs and whines engulfed the room, but everyone has pretty much accepted that there's no changing the results now.

"Dantalion, you're no longer in charge of the betting pool"

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #m!ik fanfic #iruma kun #naberius kalego #kalego sensei #azz asmodeus #alice asmodeus #clara valac #balam shichirou #raim sensei #xat being an idiot #and forgetting to tag

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