Chung Myung had wondered where you wandered off to.Â
  Usually around this time of day, you would be chattering the ears off of anyone who comes close enough to you, enjoying a nice cup of tea with someone, or maybe taking a stroll under the cherry blossoms, watching the sect members train diligently. After returning heavily injured from a mission, you were forced to rest until your injuries had healed.Â
  (However, now that he thought about it, your daily life was somewhat like this before you got injured too; so perhaps it wasnât too much of a difference.)
  While he usually wouldn't care about what you do for leisure, your sudden absence left an eerie silence that left a bad feeling in his heart. You wouldnât get caught up in something dangerous or fall from a cliff, right? You knew better than to get into dangerous situations when youâre already so injured.
  âŠUnless said situation seemed fun to you.
  He sighed. Of course he had to have an adrenaline junkie as his senior.
   Quickly checking through your usual spots, Chung Myung had started to wonder if you were already dead in some remote location before he caught sight of a familiar uniform, sitting limply under a tree. Before he could start scolding you for walking out so far while still injured, his blood pressure immediately spiked the moment you suddenly fell to the ground, eyes closed and breathing shallow.
  Did you die? Were you poisoned? Were your injuries too heavy for your body to withstand? Anxious questions rose in his mind as he ran over to you, turning you over to check on your situationâ- Only to find out that you were merely asleep.
  He had to hold in every nerve in his body to stop himself from pummeling you awake. How dare you make him worry? Are you trying to make him have an early death? The insolence of kids these days. (ignoring the fact that youâre his senior.)
  Chung Myung was ready to carry you back before the others noticed your disappearance, but the moment he saw the sword next to you, he realized that you had been secretly training alone here, away from others who would disrupt your determination to improve. After all, despite your victory from the mission, the failure of not being strong enough to protect yourself hurt your pride as a protector, as well as your confidence in your skills. In a way, he could understand your willingness to continue honing your skills, but he knew that over-exerting oneself would spell an even worse disaster in the future.
  The scent of plum blossoms lingers in the wind, the low temperature of the area cooling his heart. You seemed truly peaceful in your sleep, not unlike the way you acted while awake; hiding your feelings from your sect brothers and sisters to avoid worry. Chung Myung shifted his position into a more comfortable one, allowing you to use his lap as a pillow as you continued your slumber, lulling the both of you into a calming daze.Â
  For once, allow him to take care of your burdens. He already took on the entirety of Mount Huaâs, so whatâs one more? You were there for him for a long time, so this time, he wants to be the one giving you strength.
How do you think Cheongmyeong would be when jealous someone has his crush/so's attention?
You're laughing.
You're neglecting your training and laughing with your sect brothers and sisters who are definitely enjoying the rare attention from you. After disappearing for training, missions, and literally every work in this world, you finally have some free time.
So, of course you'd spend it with your fellow disciples, catching up with each other and learning of their daily experiences that never changed since you left. Nevertheless, you drank up everything they said with a smile, enjoying their company that you had sorely missed.
Cheongmyeong understands. You have other people around you too. You've lost so many, so you're cherishing the ones you have left. It's not like you're his possession to be kept in a dark cave somewhere forever with only him as your company; that would be cruel to a free soul like you. Plus, he much rather see you smile with the people you love.
Even so, he's a little impatient. Can you blame him, though? He wants to pretend to drag you to train and spend time with you too. He hasn't seen you for such a long time, so it's obvious he misses you too. (Though he denies it every time -- the divine dragon still has his pride, you know.)
Thus, when he returns from training, hoping to take his mind off of it, he can't help the frown that appears when he sees you talking to someone else again. He almost couldn't help the disbelief on his face when he sees you praise them so nicely for their accomplishments; accomplishments that only happened because he trained them. Plus, he remembered that disciple's arms were one inch too low during sword swinging training, so do they really deserve your praise?
He calls out your name, and as always, you turn around with that bright look in your eye. Sure, you look at everyone the same way, but he swears you look much more nicer when it's directed at him. Seeing Cheongmyeong, the other disciple knew it was time for them to go, excusing themselves from your conversation.
Good. At least they know when to leave.
He walks over to you, and you invite him to take a seat next to you. He's a bit childish at first, criticizing that disciple for his neglectance during training, but soon softens up after basking in your presence long enough.
Of course, you know what to do, too.
Giving him a cup of tea, you give him a pat on his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a clean handkerchief; thanking him for his efforts and praising him. He enjoys the compliments, nodding smugly as he pretends to brush it off, but the cheeky smile on his face betrays his futile attempts of humility.
He stays a little longer next to you, warding off any other disciples who wished to talk to you, listening to you talk about your day and experiences. It's his turn now, the others can wait. After all, he thinks he deserves to spend some time with you too, especially since he has been so patient.
The first time you met him, you remember thinking one thing.
âWhat a small child.â
Cold autumn air pricks at your skin, puffs of condensed air surrounding your lips, your warmth sourced from the bundles of scarves you had wrapped around yourself. Curious eyes watched the wrapped child being held in your elderâs arms; small hands, already so beaten and bruised at a young age, held back the temptation to hold him and fascinate in awe over the smaller being.
Despite being one of the older children, bearing witness to the numerous people who had joined the sect, you were still so fascinated at the younger ones being brought in. Even as you grew up in the walls of the esteemed sect, hearing people come and go through the wide doors, red painted wood opening and closing with a loud creakâ You always seemed to miss the exact moment of their entry and departure, always so caught up in the swings of your wooden sword; each swing harsher than the rest, each stroke softer than before. Gaze boring into the tip of the blunt weapon as if it had wronged your entire bloodline; your mind dazed as you watched your own body be controlled by the memories of a practiced dance, over and over again. It was like you only had eyes for the sword, and nothing else.Â
Yet this time, you caught a sight of something else for the first time.
And that just so happens to be the first time you met that child, on October 10. Blue skies tinted with a yellowish hue, the clouds passing through the gates of the sect, watching the newest addition to the family you had grown to love over the years. Hiding above the tall pink trees that decorated the grounds, you didnât dare to reveal yourself despite the waging curiosity and interest in your heart.
Perhaps you were afraid of dealing with a younger child, afraid of hearing it cry so suddenly in your presence; or perhaps you were afraid of being found by your seniors for slacking off, the height of your rebellious stage beginning to peek through the cracks of your innocent exterior despite being years away from reaching the peak of your adolescent adventures. They had always said that the quieter ones were the most unexpected ones, after all.
So, you continued to watch from afar, the scent of plum blossoms beginning to feel overwhelming as you surrounded yourself in it, drowning your shadows in a pink sea.
â
The second time you had met him, it was when you were assigned to take care of him, when he could barely even walk. You had wondered what kind of person he will grow into, holding chubby little hands in your bigger ones, squishing the flesh with an amused smile. He was so weak, so defenseless. Even though you were the same, merely a few years difference between the both of you, you still felt a sense of protectiveness over the boy, wanting to shield him from the harm the world could ever bring him.
At that moment, you allowed a promise to be made, to swear by a self-inflicted oath to protect the child before you. Why would you do something for someone you had just met? A child, whose only life was behind the guarded walls of the sect and surrounded with the warmth of a family, had no idea how valuable a life was.
Even so, you gave yours to him.Â
You gave yours to them.
A sudden tight pinch alerts you from your thoughts, flinching slightly from the death grip this child has. You tried prying off your fingers, fearing it might break, but his grip was too strong, and you didnât want to hurt the child.
You sighed. You were never expecting a younger child to have such a monstrocious grip strength.Â
Maybe, you didnât need to protect him after all. Maybe, this child was someone who might be the one to protect you in the future, instead.Â
You chuckled.Â
As if.Â
Even if this child grows up to be the savior of the world, you were still his senior. As his older senior, you would do your best to accompany him, so he wouldnât be lonely. As his older senior, you had a duty to guide and protect your younger sect members. Just like how your seniors did to you, and just like how their seniors did to them.
You were his senior. You had a duty to fulfill.
â
The one hundred sixty-eighth time you had met him, he was running from his sect brother. You, who remained diligent in your training, bumped into him after a long time. Or, well, he bumped into you, causing the little findings in his hands to drop and spill onto the ground.
âAhâ There you are.â
You picked him up like a stray cat, his expression morphing from a mischievous glee to a nervous smile. He still greeted you as always, his voice abnormally innocent and kind. Cheeky little one, you bemused. As an expert is able to discern an amateur's lies, you werenât a fool to trust his facade, having experienced the same scene that played before them over and over again while still in their youth.
It was like you could hear the sighs of your fellow sect members, shaking their heads as they hear you speak like an elder despite your young age. They would joke that perhaps an older spirit had possessed your body, causing you to act like a matured grandpa whilst adorning a teenage face. You, in turn would just solemnly nod and bemoan out loud whenever it rains, complaining about your aching knees and tired back to run from training. At first, it would work, but people soon stopped believing your act of compliance towards their jokes and forced you to return to sword swingings. What a pity.
Of course, as the kind and mature senior you were, you were about to give him advice on how to act better and let him off if he were to share with you his findings, but was unfortunately disrupted by the voice of another sect brother who came running towards the both of you, obviously exhausted. You pitied him, for a moment, deciding to continue your mask as the reliable senior instead.
To be honest, you pitied yourself more; for losing the opportunity to share a drink underneath the moonlight with your fellow disciples.Â
You smiled at him as he spoke words that flew from one ear to another, your mind too occupied with the devastating fates that separated you and your beloved wine. Disappointment leaks through your expression, causing your juniors to freeze.
Chung Myung-ah, you shouldâve ran faster.
Placing him down, you acted as nonchalant as possible, seeing another opportunity to grab and pick up the bottles, leaving the both of them behind. You silently applauded yourself for the genius idea that appeared in your mind in the spur of the moment as you walked away, promising yourself to pay your junior back for giving you such a wonderful chance.
â
The five hundred and twelfth time you had met him, he was working hard in the training grounds you once found yourself in nearly every day, taking your place in his diligent training. You were merely passing through, taking a break from your own practices when your eyes caught the familiar tuff of black hair, standing amidst the neatly arranged crowd of disciples. Wooden sword in his hand, it reminds you of the ones you broke countless times during your past, before you were sentenced to cleaning the halls because of one too many losses.
Itâs not your fault the wooden sword couldnât handle your strength, you thought, pouting slightly as you mopped the floors clean. Unfortunately for you, the elders thought otherwise. Maybe thatâs why they had you banned from using the wooden swords for a short period of time, and why they decided to exclude you from the practices right now.
âŠNo, thatâs not it. You were clearly just slacking off by telling your instructor that you had to grab the specialized sword that the sect elders made for you just to stop you from continuing to cause any more losses to their savings. Obviously, you did grab it, but you just went for the longer route to go back to your training. If they asked, you would just blame it on your weak knees.
Your attention returned to the shouts of your junior brothers as they swung their swords, eyes filled with determination to perform the best in their group. You smiled, watching the younger ones repeat the same dance you had forced yourself to do a few years back, the same fire burning their limbs underneath the sun after hours and hours of non-stop swinging.
As you walked away, footsteps softly resounding across the cobblestone pathway, the already quiet paddings underneath your feet deafened by the passionate yells from your juniors, you wondered how long it would take for him to grow stronger and become like you.Â
You silently hoped that it would never come.Â
â
The five hundred twentieth time you had met him, it was night. The moon shone above the both of you, the birds long returned to their homes and quietly entered their slumber, just like everyone else in the sect. So, why were the both of you staring at each other wide-eyed, hands holding something the both of you shouldnât be holding?
A look of recognition was passed between the two, a silent nod and approval of each otherâs action. Who wouldâve thought that the senior that everyone thought was a stickler for rules was such a troublemaker? Who wouldâve thought that the growing prodigy in the sect was such a troublemaker? (The latter was quite a known case, but the former was still quite a surprise to those who were not of the same generation. What a well-kept secret, indeed.)
Before the two could even do anything, a sudden flicker of light appeared from a corner, causing them to bolt into different directions, the shouts of an elder close behind them. The younger one, who was nearly caught, found himself being grabbed by the back of his neck and pulled towards a secluded place, where another senior looked at him in surprise.
Three of them stayed quiet behind the walls, their breathing soft and quiet despite the harsh beatings in their heart, the bottles in their hands nearly breaking from the sheer pressure. The seconds felt like years, the stress from being caught causing them to age several years, but it was by luck that the elder was too tired to look closer. Perhaps if he did, he would catch three delinquents with one too many bottles of wine in their possessions, staring right back at him.
âMaybe this is why senior was always complaining about having grey hair,â Chung Myung thought.
A soft sigh escapes your lips, the feeling of relief flooding your veins as you slowly slide down the walls and sit on the floor. Nervous hearts pounded with blood, before the adrenaline rush dies down and you find yourself chuckling, giggling softly at the excitement this brings.
Itâs true when they said that laughter was contagious, for the small corner was soon filled with childish sniggerings, three unruly disciples enjoying the stolen fruits of their labor in the night together. Underneath the moonlit gleam, you shared a drink with your fellow disciples, raising your glass high in the air, cheeks red from both the alcohol and joy.
Ever thought about pre-reincarnation Cheongmyeong with reader?
Way before the demonic sect even rose and gained strength. Maybe in his 20's or 30's?
Running away from his sahyung after stealing his stash of alcohol, beating up his sajils, skipping training to sleep or hide in that cave of his on the cliff.
He was so much happier and free in his first life, before he had to carry the weight of the entire sect and world on his shoulders.
Before Chung Mun took up the responsibilities of a sect leader;
Before Chung Jin left the sect;
Before Tang Bo died;
And before his beloved Senior! Readeâ
ANON IM SORRY THE REST OF YOUR MESSAGE DISAPPEARED (please if you're seeing this,,, im desperate to know what's the rest.....im so sorry it's gone...)
BUT YES!!! you are so smart anon you just guessed the fic im currently writing ashdfjs
cheongmyeong being happy is something i would like to see too and the interactions between him and senior reader would be absolutely fluffy and adorable :')) (especially pre-reincarnation because those times were much more carefree for the both of them than the current era)
just thinking about reader and pre-reincarnation!cheongmyeong laughing together without a care in the world is making me burry my head into my hands (i want them to be happy so bad)
thank you for the ask!!
Your writes of the beloved senior of mount hua is lovely & amazing.I wish you could continue writing the beloved senior of mount hua and the lore of them. ( âĄïŒŸ)㣠âĄ
Also could we make request if scenarios with the beloved senior of mount hua and chung myung?
aaaa thank you!!!! im so glad you like them and i'll try my best to continue writing for you!!
as for the requests, yes! i do welcome requests, but im not open to nsfw requests.
thank you for the ask!
just in case my posts gets a bit too lore-y, i'll tag it as 'senior of mount hua'!!
think of it as something like a series??? because in my mind i had a whole lore for reader/senior and most of my writings are about them, but it's written in a vague way so it doesnt connect. its not lore as in oc lore, but lore as in xreader story series lore with a lot of chapters yk
i would ramble about the lore but it would spoil some future works AHAHAHA </3
(reupload with a bit additions!! its only at the lower half/near the end of the fic though, just an extra paragraph and some changes!!)
part I
(In which the beloved senior of mount hua ponders over a selfish person's final moments.)
(gn!reader - second pov, angst.)
(tw! mention of blood, war.)
A foolish decision was the consenquences of that moment.
A moment so short, it could hardly be considered a second. You wondered why you thought it felt like eons when it only lasted in a blink of an eye, or ratherâ a look in the eye.
Sometimes you feel like you've already made peace with the past. Your heart no longer aches for the fleeting memories of a childhood innocence, your tongue no longer tastes bitter at the sheer mention of them. You no longer need to spend countless nights weeping over your imaginary scenarios, the what-ifs, the pleases, and the if onlys.
After so, so long, you've grown. Finally, at last, you'll be able to live in the present with no more strings tying you to the past, chaining you down and cutting into your skin with each step, forcing piercing tears to fall down your eyes as you tried to deny it all and smile in front of your juniors who knew nothing. They, who you protected with your life, were oblivious to the shadows that hid behind their beloved senior; They, who only lived under the wings of their seniors and sect leaders, were unaware of the tattered and stained wings their senior owned, as if it was natural, as if it had been there all along. Him, who thought he had seen it all, were still so, so unsuspecting of your obvious liesâ
âOf your past, your pain, your love.
âOf your experiences, your heartbreak, your one and only.
Lovely senior, perhaps if you had heeded their warnings and opened up, allowed those who wished to understand to learn, then perhaps your demise would've been like the you you presented to your people.
Peaceful.
Instead, you've shown the whole world who you truly are, destroying your perfect reputation with your foolishness.
In a frenzied haze of battle-struck wounds, with the blood that your parents had given you flowing out uncontrollably and returning to the earth, with the tears that you used to hide away in your eyes staining your cheeks as you looked so pitifully vulnerable in front of all those who had seen you as a warrior.
You felt shame.
Especially when your attacker, the source of your misery, had looked at you with such a heartbroken expression you almost felt as if your efforts to move on had thoroughly shattered at that moment. Ah, you truly couldn't forget. You couldn't even uphold a final promise. How could you ever move on when the smile that shone the brightest belonged to them, while you were merely the rays of moonlight that reflected off the sun?
Their senior, always so strong, had turned out to be the weakest among them all. Their senior, who had given everything to them, had turned out to be the most selfish person they had known. How could you give up on them and leave them behind like that? How could you throw away everything just for a lost memory? How could you, How could you how could you how could you how could youâ
âHow could they ever respect someone like that from now on?
This shameless, weakling of a senior had turned out to be the biggest liar. Your perfect image broken and revealing pieces of shattered glass that were now turned to dust, being held together by a transparent plate that acted as a shield. Your sword, broken on the ground, the hours you had spent polishing it rendered useless and futile.
You wished you could laugh, but the voice you thought you had had given up on you as well. Maybe, in another life, you could be stronger. Maybe, in another life, you could start again and be better.
Maybe, in another life, you could meet them again.
"I'm sorry, Mount Hua."
Maybe, in another life, your wishes would come true.
(Every year, he receives a box.)
(Happy birthday, Chung Myung.)
 Every single year without fail, Chung Myung receives a small box of mooncakes sitting on his opened windows he swore he had closed. Even as the cold air forced its way in and kissed his skin, causing goosebumps to rise from his neck, Chung Myung felt a sense of warmness at the sight of the familiar box.
Although he isn't sure who gave him the box, he always had an inkling of the gifter's true identity. But if he tried to ask them about it, he would always be met with a confused hum and a swift denial. Perhaps they took him for a fool, because the small glint of happiness shining in their eyes always seemed to betray their nonchalant attitude.
He wasn't going to complain though. A gift is a gift, and who was he to reject such kindness? It's definitely not because it brings a smile to his face or because the gifts always seem to be of his liking, it's just because he is a benevolent person who knows how to be grateful. Yup, that's definitely it.
As one hundred years passed, Chung Myung still finds himself looking at the windowsill that feels oddly empty on his birthday. As he attempts to walk closer towards the closed window, his eyes caught a glimmer at the corner of his sights, distracting him from his reminiscing.
A polished decoration atop a box that stood so out of place as it wasn't there in the morning.
Chung Myung walks towards it, eyebrows raised. His expression morphing into one of surprise and curiosity when he finally examined it closer, a deep sense of nostalgia and hope filling him briefly.
Why? It was just a box underneath a tree he often hid away in in his youth. But, he knew, it wasn't a mere package, for it held the intricate design he was oh so familiar with, and the insides that used to be filled with joy and blessings. It was a box they would always give him on his birthday, with ways even he could never decipher.
 But how could it be here? He was sure he wouldnât be able to receive such favors after a hundred years. After all, the original gifter was long gone. But, he as well, disappeared before, so whoâs to say that the other wouldnât reappear as well? It was a far fetched theory, but he brushed it off as he held the box in his hands, looking at the small card on top of it with his name signed on the top, the senderâs signature missing as always. The handwriting never changed, remaining the same standard elegant mess.
He couldnât help the smile from forming on his face, feeling a wave of nostalgia when the smooth texture of the wrapping grazed his skin and reminded him of the feelings from a century ago. It was a box filled with memories and happiness, a box that brought the guilt and longing of the sender to the hopeful receiver. A gift that wished him a happy birthday, even after a hundred years of death.
(In which he ponders over the final moments of his senior.)
(ooc? chungmyung and gn!reader - third to second pov, angst.)
(tw! mention of blood, war.)
  In his blurred memories of blood and violence, he wonders where everything went wrong.Â
  He wished it was just a simple, âoh, senior accidentally stumbled on their feet and landed on their face right in front of their enemies!â. But honestly, when had the gods ever favored him? If not him, when had the Gods ever favored his senior? He swore that perhaps the ever benevolent senior had wronged a deity in their past life, for their misfortune and their sufferings shouldnât be given to a saint like them.
  Or maybe that stupidly kind senior took the blame of a friend and gained their curses instead. That sounded much more plausible, to be frank. He wished he could grumble about it, but a part of him wonders why his senior became like this.Â
  Even if he wanted to, itâs not like he could ask them now.
  Chung Myung was no fool. He knew that in a war, there would be casualties, even if he was the strongest. Itâs a dog-eat-dog kind of world out there, especially when the apex predator in this situation is the so-called heavenly demon Cheonma. In that situation, even him, who was renowned as the âplum blossom sword saintâ, a person who would wreck othersâ swords and pride easily with a single blow, felt like a mere rabbit struggling for survival.Â
  Itâs so, so tiring. It hurts so, so much.
 Chung Myung could feel his blood drip down his skin, mixing with his sweat and producing a disgusting smell he tried to ignore. If Senior was around, maybe they would swat him away with a disgusted expression, telling him to go clean up or something. They would pinch their nose and scrunch up their eyebrows, a deep frown decorating their usual calm and collected face. During those moments, it was times where he would either be a good junior brother and obey his seniorâs requests, or he would annoy them and stick closer to them, earning several frustrated shouts and futile attempts to pry him off.
  He wonders, how his senior was managing? Someone as strong as them, would surely be able to fend themselves easily, right?
  Oh, how he wished he was right.Â
  But then again, perhaps the uneasy expression in his seniorâs eyes before they departed for the journey would have warned him about the impending doom and unsettling feeling he had ignored at that moment. He shouldâve stayed, tried to ask his senior whatâs wrong, and maybe even protected his senior who shielded the entire mount hua with only a foolish smile and a sword in hand.
  He really shouldâve tried, even if he never managed to understand his senior.Â
  When Chung Myung landed eyes upon his senior, he wished he could run towards them and block that swing. He wished that instead of fearing, he wouldâve taken action instead. He wished that instead of shouting his seniorâs name, he wouldâve run and taken it for them.Â
  Senior, why were you so stupid? Why did you only watch as the sword hits your chest, letting the tears you usually try to hold back flow down your cheeks? Why did the grip on your sword tighten as if you were going to war, yet your free hand tried to hold your opponentâs face, cradling it so softly as if they might break?
  Senior, youâre so stupid. He couldnât see your attackerâs expression, but he knew it held no love, for the desperate and heart-broken eyes you showed clearly reflected their face. The emotions you always tried to reign in, rained down your features so clearly now. The eyes that used to glimmer brightly in the sun, the eyes he used to love staring at, the eyes he could get lost inâIt reflected the face of a person who he held so much hatred towards. At that moment, perhaps he was also angry that you held so much love towards that ungrateful bastard who had struck you. But, itâs all useless now, right?
  Maybe you still had some sense in you when you raised your sword once more, realizing your duty and blocking off your feelings as if it was second nature. Once more, you showed your swordsmanship to the world, as if it was your final dance, your final performance before youâve retired from the stage. Swords clashed against each other, the metal resounding across the stadium of your show as you replayed the tragedy of the eon. Light against dark, your determined expression faltering and revealing so much regret and pain. Chung Myung wouldâve wondered what you regretted at that moment, for his entire life, you seemed as if you lived with no worries. But, he was no fool. He knew there were nights where you spent it alone, staring at the moon as if a lover had lost everything to the hands of fate.
  Senior, why did you smile at him when your heart was so heavy with pain?
  Even at that moment, where your life seemed to begin replaying before your eyes, you still smiled when you saw him, that same sheepish expression revealing itself whenever he caught you.Â
  You whispered something to him, but he couldnât hear it. He was too far, he always had been. And you, you had always walked too quickly for him to catch up. Not only him, youâve always managed to outrun everyone else in Mount hua, always so far away from everyone else. Nobody could ever catch up to you. Nobody could ever understand you.
  Even so, he wanted to be the first. He wanted to be there for you, just like how you were to him. So, why didnât you give him a chance? Why did you leave so soon? Just when he thought he was able to, it seemed that you were still so, so far away from him. You always managed to catch him, so why couldnât he do the same for you?
  Senior, in your game of tag, can he play again with you soon? He promises he will try to catch you this time, so donât leave so soon. Heâs asking you politely, he swears he is. He wouldnât be rude, he wouldnât tease you and he wouldnât smother you whenever you think heâs dirty. Heâll listen to you this time, so wonât you be a good senior and play again with him?
  Chung Myung ignores the rain falling down his skin as he begs for the Gods to give him a chance. He ignores the way his body moves on instinct as he battles across your destroyed theater, hoping for a chance to meet you halfway through. Yet when all he is met with is the aftermath of a war, your body nowhere to be found, he falls to the ground, utterly exhausted.
  Right, he had killed Cheonma.
  He wanted to celebrate this moment with you. But instead, he lies there lifelessly, his body too tired to do anything. Chung Myung thinks he heard your voice, calling out to him and he is reminded of the time where you would let him rest on your shoulder when he was tired, even if he was dirty. Stupid senior, you never really cared about it, didnât you? All you wanted was for him to be happy.Â
  But now, you have killed his heart. How could he be happy now?Â
  He wants to rest on your shoulder once more, hear you hum a random tune as you ramble on about whatever that interests you. He wants to hear your voice once more, and this time he promises not to grumble about your nagging. He wants to feel your warmth against his skin once more, not the cold pile of body that lays beneath him.Â
  Senior, he wants you to come back. So please, come home already.
(In which you share a calming afternoon with her.)
(yoo iseol & reader)
(fluff.)
"Senior, can you teach me that?"
You feel yourself jump at the sudden voice, before looking up to see her standing before you with a monotone expression. That was how you would describe Yoo Iseol, if you couldn't see the slight glimmer in her eyes as she spoke, seemingly hesitant to ask this question but at the same time hopeful for a new learning experience. For some reason, the way she looked at you made your heart clench and you couldn't find a shred of rejection in your heart to deny her of her wants.
"What do you mean, junior sister?"
You smiled, tilting your head to the side. You wondered what she was referring to, since you were sure that you weren't doing anything but meditating underneath a plum blossom tree in the courtyard. Usually, your body would prefer a good training session in this pleasant weather, to train and exhaust yourself until you're completely spent with a satisfied smile; but your heart had longed for a peaceful solace underneath blooming petals, and who were you if not one to follow your heart?
You were broken out of your thoughts when you heard her speak again. It was low, hushed in a way, but at the same time, brought a harmonious comfort to your ears. You couldn't help but sigh in content.
"Your swordsmanship. I want to learn it, please."
As expected from a disciple from Mount Hua. You gestured her over, patting the spot next to you with your hand. She was confused at first, but stood next to you a few moments later.
"Iseol-ah, I meant you could sit here."
"But how would that help me learn?"
You almost let out a laugh if it weren't for the confused expression she had. It was cute, you thought. You could see why the other disciples had thought of her as a vain beauty.
"Come sit with me for a bit, won't you? It would be a waste to not enjoy it."
She thought about it for a while, before nodding and sitting next to you. You smiled at her, deciding to lean onto the tree with a relaxed expression. She continued to stare at you, quietly observing you as you relaxed under the tree. Moments continued to pass, before you remembered something and finally sat up.
"Oh, I have something for you."
You said, taking out a hair brush and a hair piece. You were out on a task when you spotted the hair piece being sold at one of the stores. The color and design of it was simple, but it reminded you of Iseol. While the both of you were warriors at heart, you couldn't help but wonder what your junior sister would look like if she dressed up a little. Even if the item may not be used in the future and will only collect dust somewhere in the dorms, you still bought it anyway for a single moment like this.
She stared at it, tilting her head to the side.
"Will you let me put it on?"
You asked with a smile, beaming with hopeful innocence. Iseol only nodded, turning around to let you. Your smile widened, not expecting this outcome, but quickly got to work. You couldn't let her wait, right? That would be rude.
Softly, you took her hair into your hands, brushing her strands with utmost care. The comb tugged at her hair, but you were careful when undoing any knots and continued your ministrations. When you were finally done, you began sectioning her hair into several parts, before beginning to braid and style them with a technique learned from your travels.
Iseol wasn't used to this. She was more familiar with doing her own hair quickly in the morning before heading out to begin her day. However, it didn't mean that it wasn't unwelcomed. In fact, she enjoyed the calming humming of her senior while they did her hair, the soft breeze and the faint scent of plum blossoms above them. It felt like she was being cared for by a parent, despite only being a little younger than her senior. (Or atleast, that was what she thought.) Her demeanor relaxed slightly as she closed her eyes, pleased with the soft moment being shared between two disciples.
When you were finally done, she had fallen asleep. You held your voice, not wanting to interrupt her slumber. Had she been going up into the mountains to train again? You would've praised her for her diligence if she was awake, but perhaps you would have to wait for now.
Instead, you allowed her to lean against you as the both of you enjoyed this peaceful afternoon, underneath the plum blossoms, underneath the aspiration of a growing future.
(In which he ponders over the final moments of his senior.)
(ooc? chungmyung and gn!reader - second pov, angst.)
    When did everything go so wrong?
  He knew that there would be losses in this fightâ it was against the heavenly demon, after all. He was ready to watch his companions die before him, watch the way they take the last of their breaths and watch them lose their life fighting. He knew that that might be his own fate as well, but he knew he had to keep fighting.
  He just never expected your death to be one of the firsts.
  Your death was so stupid as well, to save someone else instead of your own life? Were you dumb? They could've saved themselves. He knew they were strong enough. You knew they were strong enough. You were strong enough to win.
  So why did you just go ahead and die? What made you give up on your own spirit and hesitate in a moment of war, even when you're the one who took this opponent for yourself? He couldnât understand the train of your thoughts, and even after all those years spent trying, he never seemed to be able to.
  He wished he did, though.
  He watched the way your eyes widened briefly at the strike, your blood rushing out of your body with a splatter and draining your face of its color. The grip on your weapon loosened, but you still held onto it like it was your lifeline. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the way blood dripped down your own skin like it was sweat and rushed forward, swinging your weapon towards everyone but the person who struck you first.Â
  It was a cinematic beauty. The dark skies and heavy atmosphere, your strong and undefeatable spirit, a light against dark situation. The way your eyes shone with so much determination, even if the same light was slowly disappearing with each passing moment. Your sword, once smooth and powerful, struck with force that seemed to be filled with pain and regret.
  He wonders, centuries laterâ was it your wounds that made you this way? Or was it the scars in your heart that had reopened the moment you saw your opponent, causing you to falter?Â
  He sighs. Heâll never know.
  The words you mouthed to him at the last moment as well, the desperation and guilt over taking you as you still tried to reassure him in your final moments from afar. Stupid senior.
Youâre the one hurt, not him.
Youâre the one whoâs surrounded with enemies, your strength depleting quickly, not him.Â
  Youâre the one dying, not him.Â
So, so foolish. So, so reckless. So, so arrogant.
So, so foolish. So, so reckless. So, so arrogant.
 (He ignores the reminder of who he was truly describing at that moment.)
  Chung Myung blinks, his vision blurring despite the tears that welled up in his eyes. No, itâs just the rain. He doesnât cry, heâs not weak enough to cry over matters like this. After all, he had just decapitated the heavenly demon, the one who took away his comrades, his Mount Hua, his senior.
  He huffed, the adrenaline rushing out of his system as the regret began to flood in. Ah, he really shouldâve trained harder. He really shouldâve listened. He wondered, what will become of Mount Hua after this? What will happen to everyone else? He worries, worries so much, but there wasnât enough time to think.
  His eyes began to fail him, his body falling to the ground. It felt soft, despite the hardships the people below him had carried. At that moment, he thought he saw his senior, crawling over to him with tears in their eyes, weakly calling out to him. He thought he could feel their familiar warmth, hugging his slowly freezing body that was sticky with blood.Â
  âChung-myungâŠDonât go, Chung Myung.â
  He hears, desperate and anguished.Â
  He felt like laughing. Did his mind go crazy during the fight? His senses were all wrong now. How could he hear the voice of someone dead? Theyâre gone. Now, even his senior who always caught him in his mischief, couldnât catch him anymore. He laughedâor rather, he triedâ but failed, his voice stopping at his lungs that had begun to disappoint him as well.
  Maybe, just maybeâheâll see his seniors in heaven.
  Even if he wouldnât, he could always just fight gods to make sure he could meet them again.
  Unfortunately, it was just a hopeless wish. How foolish of him, to even think it would come true. Perhaps this is karma for being the way he was when they were all still here.
(In which the beloved senior of mount hua ponders over a selfish person's final moments.)
(gn!reader - second pov, angst.)
(tw! mention of blood, war.)
It all happened at that moment.
A moment so short, it could hardly be considered a second. You wondered why you thought it felt like eons when it only lasted in a blink of an eye, or ratherâ a look in the eye.
Sometimes you feel like you've already made peace with the past. Your heart no longer aches for the fleeting memories of a childhood innocence, your tongue no longer tastes bitter at the sheer mention of them. You no longer need to spend countless nights weeping over your imaginary scenarios, the what-ifs, the pleases, and the if onlys.
After so, so long, you've grown. Finally, at last, you'll be able to live in the present with no more strings tying you to the past, chaining you down and cutting into your skin with each step, forcing piercing tears to fall down your eyes as you tried to deny it all and smile in front of your juniors who knew nothing. They, who you protected with your life, were oblivious to the shadows that hid behind their beloved senior; They, who only lived under the wings of their seniors and sect leaders, were unaware of the tattered and stained wings their senior owned, as if it was natural, as if it had been there all along. Him, who thought he had seen it all, were still so, so unsuspecting of your obvious liesâ
âOf your past, your pain, your love.
âOf your experiences, your heartbreak, your one and only.
Lovely senior, perhaps if you had heeded their warnings and opened up, allowed those who wished to understand to learn, then perhaps your demise would've been like the you you presented to your people.
Peaceful.
Instead, you've shown the whole world who you truly are, destroying your perfect reputation with your foolishness.
In a frenzied haze of battle-struck wounds, with the blood that your parents had given you flowing out uncontrollably and returning to the earth, with the tears that you used to hide away in your eyes staining your cheeks as you looked so pitifully vulnerable in front of all those who had seen you as a warrior.
You felt shame.
That was how the world was going to remember you.
That was how they will remember you.
That was how he will remember you.
Their senior, always so strong, had turned out to be the weakest among them all. Their senior, who had given everything to them, had turned out to be the most selfish person they had known. How could you give up on them and leave them behind like that? How could you throw away everything just for a lost memory? How could you, How could you how could you how could you how could youâ
âHow could they ever respect someone like that from now on?
You wished you could laugh, but the voice you thought you had had given up on you as well.
Maybe, in another life, you could be stronger. Maybe, in another life, you could start again and be better.
Maybe, in another life, you could meet them again.
"I'm sorry, Mount Hua."
Maybe, in another life, your wishes would come true.
(In which he ponders over the final moments of his senior.)
(ooc? chungmyung and gn!reader - second pov, angst.)
    When did everything go so wrong?
  He knew that there would be losses in this fightâ it was against the heavenly demon, after all. He was ready to watch his companions die before him, watch the way they take the last of their breaths and watch them lose their life fighting. He knew that that might be his own fate as well, but he knew he had to keep fighting.
  He just never expected your death to be one of the firsts.
  Your death was so stupid as well, to save someone else instead of your own life? Were you dumb? They could've saved themselves. He knew they were strong enough. You knew they were strong enough. You were strong enough to win.
  So why did you just go ahead and die? What made you give up on your own spirit and hesitate in a moment of war, even when you're the one who took this opponent for yourself? He couldnât understand the train of your thoughts, and even after all those years spent trying, he never seemed to be able to.
  He wished he did, though.
  He watched the way your eyes widened briefly at the strike, your blood rushing out of your body with a splatter and draining your face of its color. The grip on your weapon loosened, but you still held onto it like it was your lifeline. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the way blood dripped down your own skin like it was sweat and rushed forward, swinging your weapon towards everyone but the person who struck you first.Â
  It was a cinematic beauty. The dark skies and heavy atmosphere, your strong and undefeatable spirit, a light against dark situation. The way your eyes shone with so much determination, even if the same light was slowly disappearing with each passing moment. Your sword, once smooth and powerful, struck with force that seemed to be filled with pain and regret.
  He wonders, centuries laterâ was it your wounds that made you this way? Or was it the scars in your heart that had reopened the moment you saw your opponent, causing you to falter?Â
  He sighs. Heâll never know.
  The words you mouthed to him at the last moment as well, the desperation and guilt over taking you as you still tried to reassure him in your final moments from afar. Stupid senior.
Youâre the one hurt, not him.
Youâre the one whoâs surrounded with enemies, your strength depleting quickly, not him.Â
  Youâre the one dying, not him.Â
So, so foolish. So, so reckless. So, so arrogant.
So, so foolish. So, so reckless. So, so arrogant.
 (He ignores the reminder of who he was truly describing at that moment.)
  Chung Myung blinks, his vision blurring despite the tears that welled up in his eyes. No, itâs just the rain. He doesnât cry, heâs not weak enough to cry over matters like this. After all, he had just decapitated the heavenly demon, the one who took away his comrades, his Mount Hua, his senior.
  He huffed, the adrenaline rushing out of his system as the regret began to flood in. Ah, he really shouldâve trained harder. He really shouldâve listened. He wondered, what will become of Mount Hua after this? What will happen to everyone else? He worries, worries so much, but there wasnât enough time to think.
  His eyes began to fail him, his body falling to the ground. It felt soft, despite the hardships the people below him had carried. At that moment, he thought he saw his senior, crawling over to him with tears in their eyes, weakly calling out to him. He thought he could feel their familiar warmth, hugging his slowly freezing body that was sticky with blood.Â
  âChung-myungâŠDonât go, Chung Myung.â
  He hears, desperate and anguished.Â
  He felt like laughing. Did his mind go crazy during the fight? His senses were all wrong now. How could he hear the voice of someone dead? Theyâre gone. Now, even his senior who always caught him in his mischief, couldnât catch him anymore. He laughedâor rather, he triedâ but failed, his voice stopping at his lungs that had begun to disappoint him as well.
  Maybe, just maybeâheâll see his seniors in heaven.
  Even if he wouldnât, he could always just fight gods to make sure he could meet them again.
  Unfortunately, it was just a hopeless wish. How foolish of him, to even think it would come true. Perhaps this is karma for being the way he was when they were all still here.
his crush on you is way too inconvenient (part one)
lyney x gn reader
âthis has been lyney and lynetteâs magic show! thanks for watching!â
in unison with their elegant bow, the curtains begin to drape over the stage, and lyneyâs proud smile is replaced with a disappointed frown.
the scowl quickly contorts into a pout when he feels lynetteâs eyes edging at him. oh, dear sister, why me?
he rises from his stance, securing his hat in its appropriate place. although lyney is a good liar, his lies were still as transparent as water to his sister. he knew there was no getting out of this.
âthem, again? youâre really hopeless.â
he feigns a look of hurtâ a singular fake tear and all thatâ which successfully earns him a killer eye roll from the girl.
âseriously, whatâs wrong with you? just because they havenât been to our shows an entire month means youâll give up on magic? i thought it was your passion.â
he sighs, scratching his neck and resting his other hand on his hip, âhaving them watch me just made it feel a little more magical, but i am trying my best.â
although silent, lynetteâs exasperation was evidently showing on her features. she was happy she had something to blackmail her brother with, but she didnât imagine his crush was this serious.
lyneyâs eyes were always searching for yours in the crowds, and when he succeeded, there was glimmer blinding his vision, lynetteâs sure of that. he yearned for your attention, yet when you smiled at him from your seat, his ears would flame. heâs lucky you couldnât notice (his sister did, though).
lynette remembers when you approached lyney post-show, looking to exchange a few words as an admirer of his talent. how fortunate that lynette has an eye for detail, because she did not miss the way lyneyâs neck burned, how he kept clenching his fists nervously and how his lips pursed at a lack of wordsâ all the effects of a mere compliment you gave him.
and! and what surprised her most, is that he utterly failed to practice his any of infamous flirting tactics on you.
youâd extended a hand, like any courteous person would, and what did lyney do to return your decency? he denied. not even a proper âiâm good actually,â he just turned his head, hands stubbornly stuck to his sides.
was he intending on humiliating you? no, he wasnât in fact. his hands just wouldnât stop their trembling, he was worried what an impression trembling hands would leave on you. he stammered enough whilst talking to you, heâd thought. he didnât need more to add.
âcome to think of it.. lyney, do you think it was because you rejected them that they arenât coming anymore?â
âhuh?â he responds with an emit of confusion, ârejected them?â
âyou know, the handshake.â
oh.
ohhhh.
lyneyâs countenance crumbles in a snapâ heâs panicked. what if you were attempting to make a move? what if you think he dislikes you? what if you never return?
âlynette..â
his voice, stuck in his throat, finds an utterance. however, thereâs no response.
âly.. nette..?â
his eyes fall on his sisterâs exiting figure, pleading her to help him sort this mess as she spares him a final glance. a glance of pity, really.
âsorry brother, youâre in this on your own :/â
âhey, how about we talk about good-looking people we have met as we pass the time?â
the suggestion came from tang soso. her eyes beaming in excitement just like the stars in the night sky above the area the group has decided to stay for the time being. taking a break for continuous five days rushing towards the destination, however, chung myung finally found a conscience to make the group rest, and now that explains the current situation with the men taking a bath in a river nearby.
which leads the ladies and you left in the campfire, trying to warm up from the cold nipping bites of the wind.
hearing tang sosoâs words, yoo iseol tilted her head, her hand holding a stick to push more wood into the fire.
âi will start first.â tang soso coughed. âfor me, itâs iseol-sago!â she proudly exclaimed. that doesnât surprise you anymore. tang soso always expresses her admiration to her senior sister and said senior sister looks unfazed but if one takes a closer look, the corners of her mouth are lifted up to a minuscule smile and her eyes soften a bit.
you chuckled as you glance at yoo iseol whoâas you thoughtâwears the same expression you observed on several occasions.
âgood-looking person? i donât know many people that much.â the amused smile you have turned hesitant but tang soso only nodded with newfound confidence. a new idea popping in that pretty little head of hers. a sense of foreboding swirled in your chest.
âyou say that but you have a lot more experience than us. pray tell, who do you think is good-looking, senior?â
you quickly answered, âchung myung.â
âeh!?!â tang soso gasped. beside her, yoo iseolâs eyes widen. you coughed in embarrassment. whatâs with their reactions? youâre not lying. chung myung is an attractive young man, beautiful pink eyes with long eyelashes that you envy, a well-maintained physique and he also has the smarts yet youâre afraid his charms are ignored once he opens his mouth.
you heard a rustle behind the bushes on your back. then, voices that you are familiar with enter your ears. you listened to their conversation casually, straining your sense of hearing. when did they finish bathing, you wondered. you didn't even feel their presence.
âahem, did you hear that?â
âwipe that proud look on your face!â
âsshh!â
briefly glancing at the two, the only noise was the crackling of the woods burning in the fire and the crickets in the background. you open the wrapped food in your lap as you lift a bun, taking a quick bite, adding, âbaek cheon-sasuk is a good-looking person too. he is the face of our sect, right?â
disgust disappeared on tang sosoâs face as soon as you speak. you stifle a laugh. just how this junior sister of yours hates that idiot so much to the point she winces at the thought of putting the label of attractive on him? you saw tang soso nodded approvingly. âwise words, senior. letâs disregard what you said earlier, okay?â
âthis bratâ!â
âchung myung, be quiet!â
"ughâŠlook at dongryong's faceâŠ"
âwe also have yoon jong that acts like a gentleman. old people and the ladies adored that type.â knowing the junior, you know yoon jong is flustered right now because of your words.
âoh! nice point, senior.â tang soso says.
âwhile jo gul is the type to be loved by mature ladies.â
âreally?! to think senior y/n think so! urpââ
âbut i truly think the most good-looking person i ever met is lee song baek from zhongnaââ
âwhat the fuck!?â three sets of eyes darted in the direction where the loud voice was from. itâs no mistake that it was chung myung. you snickered as tang soso narrowed her eyes at the four men eavesdropping on the conversation since a while ago. guilt was written on their faces except for one. who else would it be? itâs chung myung who looks at you like you are the most ridiculous person he has ever met.
yoo iseol continues to push another wood.
âas i was saying, lee song baek possesses an irresistible charm like a cute bunnyââ
âfinish that sentence and i willââ
you scoffed. âyou have no say in this. itâs extremely rude to listen to other peopleâs conversation, donât you think so sajae?â the last word was said in emphasis which irked the young man. the next few minutes are full of bickering from you and chung myung. exchanging sarcastic remarks, twisting each otherâs words, swearings, back and forth debate.
it will be a long night, the other disciples sighed.
summary: the night before he leaves mount hua to subdue cheon-ma and the demonic cult, chung myung pays a visit to the small run-down shed at the edge of the village.
content warning: reader is implied to have depression stemming from their eventual disability due to internal injuries healing wrongly // reader is implied to have some minor form of age-related memory loss later in life // canon-compliant chung myung death from the opening of the novel
