chooyu
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From strict professional attitude in workplace to cozy late night, Chief cardiac surgeon, Li Zayne and a med-surg nurse, Zhang Yuting attempt to keep their relation a secret, only for their nosy coworkers to pry it out.
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We Were Almost the Same Prayer by chooyu
Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)
06 Jan 2026
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A prayer is never holy, it is a desperation given form.
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The God’s loyal blade was forced to love the very thing he was meant to erase.
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- English
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"I think, kitten, that you've known boys. I think you've known boys you could wrap around your little finger. Boys who were so dazzled by your pretty face they'd do anything you asked. I think you've never met a man in your life."
She opens her mouth to deny it, to protest, but the words die in her throat. Because he is right. Every boy she has ever been with has been pliant, easily managed, their desires as transparent as glass. None of them were men like him. None of them were Sylus Corvino.
"I'm not one of your boys, Kitty," he continues, walking toward the massive mahogany desk. He sinks into the plush leather chair. "And you'd do well to remember that."
"And I'm not one of those brainless, simpering girls you've got falling all over you downstairs," she shoots back, her chin held high. "Those cheap tramps who would drop their drawers for you if you so much as looked their way. You'd do well to remember that."
OR
Runaway high-society heiress Catherine "Kitty" Vance escapes an arranged marriage only to fall into the lap of debonaire speakeasy owner and all-around gangster, Sylus Corvino.
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Maybe someone else designed this moment. Put the two of you together like this. Like it isn’t the accident upon accident your meetings have always been. Maybe this doesn’t need to be pieced together.
“You heard about what happened in Bloomshore District,” you say.
Rafayel takes a long sip, wearing the mug’s label like some weird badge of pride. “Who hasn’t?”
Your teeth sink hard into your lip, worrying like a pulse every time the blast replays itself, every time you can practically feel the lick of the flames or the grit of the hard pavement or the smoke in your eyes. “That was my grandma’s house.”
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Or, the five stages of grief after you lose Caleb. Or, the five stages of grief as you fall in love with Rafayel.
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In Zayne’s arms, she finds not duty, but belonging—learning that even gods must dream of living, not just existing.
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As princess, you are bound by duty to marry the notorious and elusive Onichynus general, in exchange for his protection of your kingdom from an impending war. On the night of your wedding, tradition demands that you undergo the consummation rites, sealing the fate of your marriage—and your future.
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He’s still in full battle gear, armor slick with mud and blood, his long silver hair matted below his shoulders, his eyes burning like forged steel. His gauntlets drip with someone else’s blood. He looks every bit the legend they say he is—terrible, magnificent, untouchable. A creature carved from vengeance and ash.
For a long, terrible heartbeat, the world stills.
He looks at you. You look at him. The air between you hums with tension so sharp it could slice skin.
He takes one step forward, the sound of his boots echoing across the marble floor. The servants shrink back, heads bowed low. The scent of blood reaches you before he does—sharp, metallic, unmistakable.
You tilt your chin, refusing to flinch. “You reek,” you say, your voice smooth, lethal.
He pauses. The corner of his mouth twists upward, a cruel, tired smirk. “So do corpses, Princess,” he says softly. “But at least they’re quiet.”
And just like that—
You remember why you married him.
And why, despite everything, you still haven’t decided whether you hate him… or envy him.