#agile test case

[dona02221]

Agile Test Case Template: All Benefits You Need to Know

In today’s fast-paced software development environment, Agile methodologies have become the go-to approach for delivering high-quality products quickly and efficiently. One crucial component of Agile testing is the use of an Agile test case template — a structured format designed to keep testing organized, collaborative, and adaptable throughout the development lifecycle.

If you’re looking to streamline your testing process and improve your team's productivity, understanding the benefits of an Agile test case template is essential. In this blog, we’ll explore the key advantages and how tools like Kualitee can help you implement these templates effortlessly.

What is an Agile Test Case Template?

An Agile test case template is a simplified and flexible format used by QA teams to document test cases in an Agile environment. Unlike traditional test cases, which can be lengthy and rigid, Agile test cases focus on clarity, collaboration, and adaptability — ensuring they remain relevant throughout fast-moving sprint cycles.

Benefits of Using an Agile Test Case Template

1. Improved Clarity and Consistency

Agile test case templates provide a standardized way to write test cases. This consistency makes it easier for everyone on the team—developers, testers, and stakeholders—to understand the testing scope and expectations. Clear test cases reduce misunderstandings and ensure the team tests what matters most.

2. Faster Test Case Creation and Execution

Because Agile emphasizes iterative development and frequent releases, the test case template is designed to be concise and focused. This speeds up the process of writing, reviewing, and executing test cases, allowing teams to keep pace with the sprint goals.

3. Enhanced Collaboration

Agile encourages continuous communication between developers, testers, and product owners. A shared test case template supports this collaboration by providing a common language and structure. Everyone can contribute feedback or updates quickly, leading to better test coverage and fewer gaps.

4. Easier Adaptation to Changes

Requirements often evolve during Agile sprints. With an Agile test case template, it's simpler to update test cases to reflect new or modified requirements. The flexible format ensures your testing stays aligned with current sprint goals without causing delays.

5. Better Traceability

Many Agile test case templates include fields to link test cases to user stories or acceptance criteria. This traceability helps teams track test coverage and ensures that all requirements are validated. It also makes reporting and auditing more straightforward.

6. Supports Automation

A well-structured Agile test case template can be easily integrated with test management tools and automation frameworks. This accelerates regression testing and helps maintain quality without manual overhead.

How Kualitee Helps with Agile Test Case Management

If you want to leverage these benefits, using a dedicated test management tool like Kualitee can be a game-changer. Kualitee offers built-in Agile test case templates that are customizable, collaborative, and integrated with Jira and other popular Agile tools.

Kualitee simplifies creating, managing, and executing test cases within Agile sprints, helping your QA team stay aligned with development while ensuring thorough test coverage. Plus, its real-time reporting and analytics provide valuable insights into testing progress and product quality.

Conclusion

Incorporating an Agile test case template into your testing process brings numerous benefits—from improved clarity and speed to better collaboration and adaptability. As Agile continues to dominate software development, having the right test case template and tools like Kualitee will help your team deliver high-quality software faster.

To explore more about Agile test management and templates, visit Kualitee’s website and discover how you can transform your Agile testing process today.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

I was thinking of those prompts where Danny is placed (most of the time by Clockwork) into the Batfam. Danny believes he’s been there the whole time and it’s after Bruce comes back from being trapped in time so they chalk it up to time shenanigans. Also, Danny is now Tim’s twin.

Warnings: some language

Danny skips down the stairs leisurely, headphones in to some rock song Damian would hate.

The Cave is damp and cold, as usual. The music blares out the sound of his sneakers tapping as he walks. He waves to B’s back as he continues on to the work bench. The project he had started the day before was still there.

One of the grapple hooks was lagging so he was fixing it up and added a few more safety measures on the device. His brothers were using this, he wanted it as safe as he can make it.

Behind him he hears a voice over the music, interrupting his work after only about half an hour. He turns and sees Bruce looking at him with a raised brow.

Danny pulls out an earbud.

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going to visit your friends?”

Danny thinks back to the last conversation he had with his dad. It had nothing to do with his friends actually, it was about his stupid English test and how he was going to call Jason if he could help tutor him since he was so hopeless.

“No, I’ll see them on Monday.”

“Monday?”

Danny pauses halfway to putting the earbud back in his ear.

“Yea? At school?”

“School?”

Bruce stands to step closer to him but still at a distance.

Danny rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“Are you just going to keep repeating what I say?”

His dad looks him over critically. Danny pauses his music and takes out the other earbud.

“Did you change your hair?”

Danny reaches up reflexively to pat down his bangs. If anything he probably needed a haircut soon.

“Um, no? Are you okay? When’s the last time you slept?”

He tosses his headphones on the workbench but keeps his phone in his hand in case he needs to call someone.

“I’ve recovered,” Bruce dismisses. Like his year long trip in the time stream could be easily forgotten after a few months.

“Sure,” Danny agrees anyway when they both know he doesn’t agree.

“Tim,” Bruce sighs.

Danny immediately presses the button on his ring three times to alert the others. The computer beeps and the man turns to look at the screen. Danny grabs the closest weapon — a screwdriver — and holds it behind him.

Only Alfred, Damian, and Duke were at the manor. Hopefully backup would arrive soon.

“What were you doing, Dad?”

Not-Bruce freezes and then relaxes. It was only a second but Danny noticed. Any of the Bats would have, they’re trained for it.

“Just going over reports,” Not-Bruce replies with a smile. A smile.

His grip on the tool tightens.

“Which reports?” He tests.

What was he doing? There’s no telling the kind of information this imposter got a hold of.

“The Bennet case.”

Danny moves. Casually, he takes a step to the left, where the more heavy duty weapons were stored. The man matches him threateningly. Danny stills.

“That was solved over a month ago.”

There was no reason to look at a case from a month ago that was solved and closed. Bruce would have no reason to look at something like that, especially since it was Tim who solved it and submitted the report.

“By you,” Not-Bruce says in an odd tone.

He was getting Tim and Danny mixed up. Nobody in the family gets them confused anymore. That only applies to outsiders.

Danny tenses, ready to bolt toward the weapons. Not-Bruce is fast to intercept, but Danny is smaller and more agile.

He dodges and goes to stab the man in the leg when there is a prick to his neck that makes him stumble. Not-Bruce uses that opportunity to disarm him and slam him into the floor. It’s jarring, but the sedative is already working its way through him.

He blinks twice before everything is forced to black.

He knows he’s tied to a chair before he’s even fully awake. There’s been numerous kidnappings and training exercises that had his hands and feet tied down to know exactly in what position he’s in and for how long depending on how numb his limbs are.

He’s still in the Cave because he can feel the damp chill and hear the faint chattering of the bats. There’s a barrier though. Along with how hard the chair was he knew exactly where he was.

The containment cell is tucked away in a separate cavern. It had thick microfiber see through walls and a single chair with restraints.

The imposter put him in their own cell.

Danny is positively livid with the disrespect.

“You’re awake.”

Danny jerks his head up.

Oh thank the Ancients, his twin is here.

“Tim,” he breathes. “Okay, I know this looks bad, but trust me. It’s Bruce. He couldn’t tell us apart. Something’s wrong. He’s not himself.”

Tim is silent for much too long, just staring at him. He’s in his uniform like he just got back from patrol when Danny knew he had been in California with his team.

“Just talk to me,” he demands. “What’s going on? Where’s B?”

Tim’s mask narrows.

“Why should I trust you?”

Danny blinks wide.

“Why should- okay, first of all, screw you. Second, now is so not the time to be petty with me. I already apologized for messing up your photo shoot. I even made up for it, so legally you can’t be mad at me anymore.”

“My photo shoot?”

Danny rolls his eyes. This seat was getting uncomfortable.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Stop being such a jerk. This is serious. I’m telling you something is off with B. Did you guys check him? I hit the emergency button.”

Danny can tell his twin raises a brow at him.

“You hit the emergency button?”

“I literally just said that. Do you listen at all?”

“I was just confirming,” Tim shrugs it off.

“Whatever. Tim, I think there’s someone else here. I got hit with a tranq. Someone is in on this. And can someone please get me out of these? I’m not the problem here.”

Unfortunately, Tim does not get him out of his bonds. He just stands there watching him until he turns on his heel and leaves the cavern where Danny can’t see.

“What the- Tim! What the hell, dude?!”

Danny wiggles in his seat, but the more thrashing the more it hurt. Instead he sits there for a while, just tracing the rock and counting, until someone comes back in.

It’s Dick. The one big brother who he can always count on to at least be there.

“Hey there,” he smiles through the glass.

“Dick, what is happening? Tim isn’t listening. Did you find Bruce? Why am I in here?”

“Yea, Bruce is here. He’s safe. I saw the tapes. It looked like you were going to attack him,” he reasons gently.

“Yea because something is wrong with him. Maybe he’s compromised or mind controlled or something. You need to investigate. He needs to be cleared,” Danny insists.

“Okay,” Dick nods. He squats down to get comfortable outside the barrier instead of going to find Bruce though. “What made you think he’s compromised?”

“He kept confusing me with Tim!” He emphasizes because just the thought is outrageous. “He hasn’t done that in years. Yea maybe a mix up when he’s not paying attention but he was looking right at me and called me Tim. And he kept asking me these weird questions, like he had no idea who I was. Something is wrong.”

Dick puts a hand over his lips in thought, clearly going over something in his head.

“I’ll be right back,” Dick rushes out the door in a flash.

Danny’s jaw drops in protest but no words come out. He yells in frustration instead.

No one was listening to him! They were all freaking him out.

Maybe this was training. Like on their sixteenth birthday. It’s similar to what happened then. So what is his next course of action?

“You make it sound like we should know you.”

Danny finds his little brother in the shadows, lurking by the entrance. He’s also dressed in his vigilante attire, just like Tim and Dick.

“Damian, could you stop being a little gremlin for two seconds?” He glares at the younger boy.

“Answer the question.”

“It wasn’t a question,” he snarks back.

Damian grinds his teeth and Danny smirks nastily. He wasn’t in the mood for sibling rivalry right now.

“Who are you?”

Danny’s expression twists.

“That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

A cold dread settles in his chest. What if it wasn’t a training exercise?

“You know who I am. Stop playing games.”

“You say you’re not Tim. Claim you’ve known Father for years.”

“Damian.”

Bruce steps out followed closely by Dick and Tim.

There is a cold sweat on his brow now. Danny’s heart is beating loudly in his ears. He can feel the panic in his chest.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t go out to fight crime. He just trained with them because they all knew he needed to know those things to live in their life.

He wasn’t prepared for something like this.

“Guys, you’re really freaking me out.”

“Answer the question.”

No one defends him from Damian’s demand. They all look at him with caution, like he was the enemy. A stranger.

“You know me. What are you guys talking about?”

When no one answers he’s close to a damn panic attack.

“It’s me. Danny. You know? Tim’s twin. I’ve lived here since me and Tim moved in when we were twelve. Please tell me this is just training. You guys didn’t- didn’t forget me or something, right?”

Something in Dick’s expression looks unsure, but they all are withdrawn and completely in their roles. They weren’t acting like family.

“Prove it,” Tim commands.

Danny can’t believe his ears.

“AN-4729,” he recites the emergency code to prove authenticity they all know.

He can tell they recognize it, but wait for more.

“The sun shines in the east,” is the next security code to show safety.

Danny can tell it’s still not enough.

“There’s a file of me on the computer. Tim has pictures of us since childhood hidden under the floorboard under his dresser. My room is to the left of Tim’s. Inside the closet, in the ceiling, is a box. Inside the box is a medallion. It holds my entire life. You could also call Mr. Fox. I work with him often. I’m his favorite. I’m even on the payroll. Or you could just Google Daniel Drake-Wayne. I’m sure I’d pop up. Or call Gotham Academy since I’m enrolled there and everyone has seen Alfred pick me up and drop me off. I have a Christmas stocking with my name on it. My picture is literally all over the manor. I know the ins and outs of all your equipment and tech. The password to the Bat computer is 35G4s@2b-“

“Okay,” Dick gently interrupts. “I think that’s enough for now.”

Danny can feel how wet his eyes are. He stiffens his upper lip as Alfred would say so he doesn’t show how much of a disappointment he is to fail this test. Because this has to be a test. It has to be.

“Tim, you and I could always tell when we’re lying. We call ourselves our own personal lie detectors. So… am I lying?”

Tim studies him hard. His twin looks into his eyes for longer than it should take.

“I don’t know.”

And Danny breaks.

[esthelle-wanders]

Enemy vs Environment: Combat Approaches

One of my favorite aspects of Linked Universe is the different ways the boys react to their surroundings.

In this last update, something that really strikes me is the difference between Wars’ and Wild’s combat approaches, which are shaped by their respective game designs.

Lemme try and break it down real quick.

Hyrule Warriors is a hack-and-slash game that’s all about delegation and multitasking. You spend each campaign sprinting full-tilt across the map, evaluating which missions take priority, while dispatching as many opponents as you can. Enemies are more important than the environment 100% of the time.

Breath of the Wild is an open-world adventure game that’s all about adapting to various climates and landscapes, improvising with tools you find, climbing everything in sight, etc. The devs want you to explore and experiment.

In short: Hyrule Warriors rewards you for efficiency and bodycount, BotW rewards you for “fricking around and finding out.”

How does this play out in Linked Universe?

Our guys find themselves in an unfamiliar area, with unknown (to them) monsters. What do they do?

Warriors immediately zones in on the enemies, Wild’s attention goes to his environment.

A moment later, they’ve both advanced a little, but Warriors is still laser-focused on the monsters. Maybe he’s analyzing their patterns, but in any case, he’s observing them closely.

In contrast, Wild still hasn’t paid the Sparks much mind. He’s moving much faster, and appears much more interested in the water.

Notably, it doesn’t seem like he “tests” the water at all. He steps right in with both feet.

In BotW, that’s not a bad strategy. The game itself encourages you to wander anywhere and everywhere, including areas that might look “unavailable” or “off-limits.” Unless you talk to a local who knows something, or Zelda’s disembodied voice chips in, you don’t have a guide or companion— the best way to learn about something is to jump in.

Clearly, like Legend said, that kind of approach is less advisable in a dungeon.

Warriors reacts really fast here— faster than Wild, who actually triggered the trap, and who’s known to be incredibly agile and maneuverable.

A lot of that comes down to experience, a teamwork-vs.-lone-explorer mindset, and Wars’ ungodly speed in-game, but I think there’s also something to be said for combat approach.

Interestingly, Warriors doesn’t warn Wild not to touch the water or the tiles— not that he’d know lol. But since he’s already approaching their situation with more caution, it’s interesting that he doesn’t seem to register what Wild’s doing as “dangerous” until the trap actually triggers.

In other words, he doesn’t clock the environment as hostile— he reacts at the exact moment he notices a new, active threat.

Contrasts like these help to force a duo’s internal differences into action, and it’s one of the many reasons I love this pairing for this particular dungeon. I think their differing approaches could complement one another splendidly, if they learned to use them in tandem!

Source

[thinkingotherwise]

I decided to publish the short stories about Basen that I had on my WIP list, for a long, long time, and I'm not sure I'll finish writing out the whole fic.

Basen x Fem! Seamstress! reader

First meeting HC and short stories

HC of some first interactions between the two as well as some bg info

(Y/n) BG info

(Y/n)'s very pretty and quickly catches the attention of nearby people with her light purple hanfu kimonos and gentle smile.

Because of her working mostly for Verdigris House, she knows a lot of things when it comes to conducting conversations and pleasing other people.

Inside her home, she's very disorganised and usually wears clothes with ink stains, because of her drawing new dresses. She has many pieces of materials and clothing, which are the only things that seem to be organised in her room.

She is often seen to be carrying a tube for her designs and/or a new dress in a pretty package.

She's not super strong that she could fight someone but she is strong enough to carry the materials she needs and she is agile and quick enough to run away if in trouble.

She's easily flustered and her cheeks are warm almost all the time. She doesn't wear makeup. Of course, like in Maomao's case the Madam from Verdigris wants her to be a courtesan but she disagrees, she thinks she's not pretty enough and has almost no tolerance for alcohol.

She prefers creating dresses and hanfu kimonos for other people.

She tries to be nice and kind to everyone she meets but if someone disrespects her she won't hold herself back to tell them off. She spends most of her money on new materials and clothes and with the rest she tries to help some people, that can't afford food or medicine.

Her father works at the police while her mother helps taking care of her siblings's children. Her father is very protective of his only daughter but hesitantly agrees to let her work as a seamstress for Verdigris.

MaoMao and (Y/n)

Maomao and (Y/n) are friends, as both girls while working at Verdigris met up and talked about different things usually about plants that can dye the fabrics or make the texture different.

(Y/n) is slightly older than Maomao, so whenever they meet she worries about the younger girl, especially after knowing how the apothecary tests poison on herself.

(Y/n) is sometimes called (N/n) as a term of endearment by those close to her: Maomao, the Three Princesses, Madam, and her family. She gets flustered when someone else calls her that, she especially flushes when someone she finds attractive calls her that.

First meeting

Basen was waiting for Maomao to be her attendant for another poison-connected task. When the apothecary finally appeared he turned towards the carriage but didn't notice the girl rushing with a tube and package in tow and bumped into her making her fall.

Maomao instantly recognised the girl and helped her get up while collecting the package as the girl grabbed the tube. "(N/n), what are you doing here? Are you rushing to Verdigris?" Maomao asked. The older girl wiped the dirt from her hanfu and turned happily to her friend. "Maomao, I'm happy to see you. No, I've just bought the new materials and can't wait to get to work on this new hanfu that I thought of." She smiled brightly and took a good look at the shorter girl. "You look happy, is it a new poison?" (Y/n) asked and Maomao joyfully nodded and wanted to talk but a cough cut her off. "Apothecary, we need to go. I don't have time for your chit-chats. I'm sorry Lady (N/n) but we must be on our way." Basen said firmly.

The older girl immediately flustered when she heard him call her by the nickname. She stared at him taking in his pretty eyes and good figure. Maomao giggled at the same time knowing well enough why her friend was so flustered. "I- I see. Then Maomao you can come visit me in my workshop after you're finished. I'm sorry for stopping you Sir, have a nice day." (Y/n) said quickly and turned in the direction she was going quickly running to her workshop.

Basen followed the girl with his gaze before turning back to the apothecary who was grinning widely. "Get in." He told her motioning towards the carriage and sat beside her.

Getting to know his name

"Master Jinshi, Sir Gaoshun, this is my friend (Y/n). She's working as a seamstress mostly for Verdigris." "It's a pleasure to meet you Master Jinshi, Sir Gaoshun. I'm thankful you're taking such good care of Maomao." "Wait, I thought her name was (N/n)." Basen asked confused as his gaze moved to (Y/n).

The girl flushed at that and shook her head before turning towards the younger male. "That's a nickname of sorts that my family and friends call me." He blushed after hearing that and bowed down. "I apologize for calling you that, Miss (Y/n)." "It's fine. In return, you can tell me your name." She smiled softly at him pointing the fact that all this time he hadn't introduced himself. "Aah.. my name is Basen, I'm the second son of Gaoshun and attendant of Master Jinshi." "It's nice to officially meet you Basen."

Gaoshun raises his brow at the conversation between the two and Maomao grinned. "So you're a seamstress? Isn't your father a police officer?" A voice called and (Y/n) turned towards the purple-haired male. "Yes, I sew hanfu mostly for the courtesans but I had some made for other officials as well. As for my father, yes he works in the police."

A little private cliche moment

"Miss (Y/n), what are you doing up there?" A voice called behind the girl making her startled. "Whaa-" The seamstress fell down the ladder as the male voice surprised her.

She closed her eyes before meeting the floor but all she heard was a grunt and she felt something holding her tightly. (Y/n) opened her eyes to be met with Basen who flushed under her gaze but his hold on her stayed and she slowly relaxed in his arms leaning against his chest. "Sir Basen, you surprised me. Why are you here?" She questioned and he sighed before responding. "Master Jinshi is asking for your presence" "Oh, did something happen to Maomao? Why would he need me?" (Y/n) asked slightly worried for her friend. "The apothecary is good, don't worry. It's something about a dress for someone in the rear court, that's all I know."

The seamstress's eyes glimmered at the mention of the rear court and she shivered at the possibility of her sewing a dress that would be worn by someone there. Basen felt the girl shiver in excitement and smiled seeing her gleaming eyes. "Well then, let's go." The girl said, smiling brightly, making Basen automatically turn towards the doors of her workshop. She then giggled and made the attendant stop when she patted his shoulder.

"I think you should let me down before we leave." At her words, Basen noticed that he still held her against his chest and quickly put her down stepping away and turning around to hide his red face. "I'm sorry about that." "No need, well I'm thankful you caught me when I was falling." She smiled in his direction noticing the red colouring even the back of his neck and his ears.

When he didn't say anything (Y/n) collected some of her things necessary for her work and stepped towards the doors. "Well then, can we go, or do you need another minute?" She teased him softly and he jumped at her insinuation. Basen coughed loudly and turned to her with a lighter blush then before moving towards the doors. "Let's go."

[ladylaviniya]

Okay, if we confessing things about Apollo (Blood of Zeus), I have to tell someone my fantasy bc it burns my inside. I want him to fu*k me in his original height, when he is so tall and strong and big. When Zeus hugged Heron's mom in the Underworld it was so good to see the height difference or when Apollo was standing beside Heron. It's still a manageable size but to think about the stretch, the pain and pleasure combo and him being super excited that you would do this for him. Like Gods usually downsize themselves when having sex with a mortal but in this case his lover would express this wish to have him in his original size and it would turn out in this way is more comfortable for him. Maybe the lover is his priestess or something and this happens in one of his temples. (sorry for the confession, I have just seen your post about Blood of Zeus Apollo) This is of course not a request but if it interest you I would be curious of your take on this story if you would ever wanna write this or anything else for Apollo.

I love that you dare to write dominant/submissive or master/slave relationship. We need a super dark Apollo fic where his priestess is super submissive and wants to serve him well so this is why she asks him bc she wants him to be comfortable and he just goes with it.

This is so embarrassing please if this is not your taste just ignore it.

Blood Of Zeus: Apollo’s Pythia

Story Synopsis: You serve the god Apollo since he has threatened to bring a plague upon the people of Delphi.

Pairing: Apollo X Priestess!reader

Story Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Vaginal sex, Humiliation, Size kink, size difference. Mentions of Loss of Virginity, Loss of Innocence, Ancient Greek God Mythology, Mentions of Animal Sacrifice, Master/Slave dynamic. Mostly Porn without Plot.

Authors Notes: Inspired by the song Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth. This was requested by @annievvv7 and I am considering writing a prologue and another chapter for when the reader is on Olympus. A Pythia is what they called the priestess at the oracle of Delphi.

The sounds of grunting and sucking of wet flesh echoed the marble walls of his temple.

“You’re thinking too much, my sweet little pythia,” The God of the sun whispered into your neck, his bright glowing hair tickled and blanketed your face and chest. His warm, large palm trailed down your soft belly and dipped between your trembling thighs. His agile fingers discovered your sensitive clit and rubbed gentle circles. His touch was so light and heavenly.

“Relax for me, your god.” he cooed.

He had you nude and spread open for him, your white chiton toga was pooled in a pile at the foot of his altar slab along with his glittering cape.

The stone beneath your back was stained in dark crimson from the countless goats that had been sacrificed in his name. At his command, you were at his mercy, vulnerable and obedient to his will. His presence alone was intimidating and his gaze pierced through your flesh as you were exposed, awaiting his words and commands. You were priestess of the temple of Apollo, you were raised to serve his will...even if it meant forgoing your vows of purity.

Apollo was correct, your mind continued to float away from his attentions. He saw it as strictly a challenge to bring back your focus to him and what he was doing to you. His two fingers, long and thick, carefully pressed inside your body.

It had been a month ago when you made the deal with the divine being. His threat was fearsome and you would not test him. It was a difficult decision, you had decided to save the people of Delphi by becoming his soul bounded slave...because he had promised if you denied him...you and the people of Delphi would face his wrath that would wrought a horrible plague.

You hadn’t known at the time of the deal that he had wanted your body in such a intimate and humiliating way. Upon your first time, Apollo had been domineering in inflicting his power...it could have been worse- you did bleed and you did try to fight him off, but he let you live and he granted you a merciful pleasure you had never known existed when you finally submitted to him. When he had come to you, you were a delicate virgin...now you were his desperate whore.

Your religion was strict with abstinence, you had even taken a sacred oath for Apollo as his representing pythia. Never did you truly believe he would be the one to take your purity. He said it was his rite to fuck you if not any other man. There was no questioning a gods rite.

Apollo’s fingers curled, brushing that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and it tore you from your thoughts as you arched into his palm. You made a pathetic whine and gurgle.

“Oh blessed pythia, you honour me,” he purred mockingly, his golden irises flashing as he looked down at your sweaty body. He drew his fingers out, holding them to the light to see how they gleamed before he licked them clean with his devilish tongue. Your lips parted and chest still heaved catching your breath. He smirked and bent down to steal your mouth in a hungry kiss, the taste of yourself on his lips made your core throb.

You pushed against his shoulders and gasped, “My lord, please lay down upon your temple floor...”

His brows lifted, “Making demands of me? Your god?” he still smirked, “Little pythia, I could punish you for such insolence.”

But he wouldn’t...he liked playing too much with you, especially when you were forced to grant the people their future among the oracle practice. The absolutely naughty things he would say to you, knowing you'd find it hard to answer the poor soul who merely wanted to know their fortune. How he would truly humiliate you and make you feel breathless by the day was done.

Your face was dishevelled in total lust, licking your lips, you pushed his shoulders again and felt his hands lift you by the waist carefully down from the altar until your bare feet touched the cold floor.

He crouched down and sat on the ground. His face was levelled to yours. You were by no means graceful but it did not stop his desire for you. You stood astride his thighs, your palms on his shoulder attempted to push him back. He let you.

Laying nearly flat on the ground, he balanced his upper back on his elbow and forearms. He tilted his head at you. You had to sit on his legs and pelvis to perform, or else the strain of your human legs would hurt more than the pleasure you’d hope to gain and provide.

You mewled desperately, reaching between you both to take purchase of his intimate member. It hung like a fucking horse, harden like a stone pillars rising up. A soft carpet of golden hair covered the base of his masculine appendage. His skin was still as gloriously golden and dark beneath his waist tunic kilt. You wondered if he had bathed himself nude in the pure light of the sizzling sun. His hard cock jumped in your hand, the veins pulsing against your palm. The God was huge, larger than any human man you had ever seen bathing in the springs.

And for some dumb reason you had insisted he be like this, his natural height and size instead of shifting into an average sized man. He was your god and you were his priestess, his pythia. You wanted to keep him pleased.

You reached between your thighs and rub the wetness there to bring it up and wrap around his cock. He gasped, amused and curious. Did you truly intend to take him at this size?

His large hands bent around your waist, digging into the skin of your soft bottom.

“Careful,” he murmured, “You greedy thing.”

You leaned forward, lining his thick bulb with your small opening, admiring the glitter in his golden gaze he held on you. His fingers ran up and down your spine encouragingly. When you rolled your hips forward you scrunched your face up preparing for the almighty stretch.

Your lips parted wide open, a horrible groan bellied from your mouth as you sank yourself down every inch of his unhuman length and thickness. You tried not to think about the possibility of it being the same size as your own forearm.

A low moan rumbled through his entire body that made your insides jump in delight and tingle. Apollo was happy to let you have this control, but he never took his eyes off you, never shut them. He knew the resentment still in your heart, the aching darkness for revenge. Of course if you tried to strangle him, stab him, even slit his throat he would not die, it would just hurt and perhaps piss him off.

You keened and whimpered, your body trembled as your lower lips pressed down to his soft pubic fuzz. For a few moments you were totally still. Tears streamed down your cheeks. He was impressed. His lips parted. You were admirable, trying so hard.

He moved his hands around. One thumb pressed to your sweet nipple and another to your clit, rubbing circles against them both. You gasped and felt your walls clamp down around him. He coaxed you through the pain, blooming inside you a new pleasure.

Apollo’s starved eyes travelled over your entire body, his eyes trailing low to the land where you both connected as he waited for you to move.

Carefully with your hands shaking on his chest, you lifted a little with a hiss, to roll down and sit perfectly again on his cock, letting him slide deep inside. You both groaned. It was exactly what you needed. The pressure of his cock, the feeling of being flooded with his cock so deep and entirely you couldn’t think of anything else but of your god creating this divine match.

You rode him very slowly. He let you lead at first until he grabbed your waist and jerked his hips up.

Submissively, you braced your hands on his strong glowing chest, feeling the smooth and tight muscles beneath your fingers, you rocked your hips back onto him, hunting the ultimate pleasure that was so quickly approaching, giving him everything you had. His eyes roamed from your face and your breasts, watching the way they moved as you practically bounced on his mighty rod. When he could feel your body growing weak and exhausted, he held you tight against him and began to thrust his hips up, slamming into you.

“That’s it, little pythia.”

He bowed his head, taking your tit and nipple into his mouth. He bit down, sending a shockwave through me, bringing your senses back momentarily. You gasped out loudly, your walls clenching. Your nails dug into his biceps. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirled and he hummed with delight at the sound of your noises. His fingers rubbed harder into your clit. Your soft whimpers began begging as he pushed harder up into you. Your lips pressed just above his ear while he sucked.

“You enjoy this my sweet slave?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. Your sweet tears fell onto his shoulder.

“Yes my lord Apollo,” you whimpered, your toes curled and your fingernails dug up into his long blonde mane. You could feel the tsunami beginning to creep up your spine, your body surrendered to him.

“Then show me! Release your praise,” Apollo ordered, his voice a growl in your ear. It was too great. The bold bright light exploded behind your eyes. You screamed into the side of his neck, sobbing as the wave of desire broke the band.

Your muscles strangled his pulsing cock. Limply you sagged against his body while he steadied his thrusts and dragged the last few out, thrusting hard down once as he flooded your womb with his golden cum. His lips brushed softly against your cheek. He was slow and kind as he lifted you up and off of his cock. Your insides felt bruised.

He held you close to his chest, reaching out for his cape. It was like a wave of glittering white and gold. Like shining white sand, warm and comforting on your wet skin.

He covered your body in it, before lowering you to lay on the marble floor.

He eventually pulled out, and you could feel his seed start to leak out down your thighs and drip onto the cold floor. Your lips parted and your legs closed, embarrassed. He chuckled and kissed your salty sweat drenched forehead.

“You look so beautiful with my cum inside you.”

Apollo’s finger gathered the escaping slickness and pushed it back into your spent body, causing another shaky moan to slip from your lips.

“Best not to waste it.”

You trembled and boldly reached out to him. Tendrils of his long mane were combed through your fingers. So soft and smooth. He smelt like the morning, sweet dew and the warm springs. He cradled you in the crook of his arm, his skin was a great warmth along with his cape. His hand petted your body, trailing his finger tips up and down as you combed his hair softly. Come the rising sun, he would be gone again. He would speak to you daily through the oracle bowl, but you would not feel his powerful body until his next visit.

“Will I see you again?” You croaked, “Next month? Will your duties allow it my lord?”

Apollo was calm. Spent. He was pleased and relaxed. His cock had softened. His palm rested on your belly.

“No.”

Your face fell slightly. You couldn’t believe it but you knew you would miss him, his teasing touch.

“You will see me everyday...” he purred and kissed your cheek, “I have decided, you will return with me to Olympus.”

Your mouth fell open, your eyes widened. You didn’t know what to say.

“But my duties? I am to read the oracle and-”

His brows lifted, his hand pressed your hands above your head, his other finger pointed at your chest squarely.

“Your duties are to serve me, or did you forget the oath you made to me so quickly?”

With a fluttering heart and regretful fear you shook your head, “No, no my lord master. It’s just...what will I be if not your pythia?”

“My slave...my bride maybe...”

He bent down and pressed his mouth to yours before you could say anything further. He redressed himself as you sat up, stunned in silence.

“Br-bride?”

He smirked, and held out his hand to you, “Come with me my dear slave.”

You took his hand and he carried you to his summoned chariot. You would reach the city of the gods and we’d the great Apollo. God of the Sun.

[twistedpink]

Looking through your older posts and noticing the jock posts... now, the complete opposite!

Unathletic! Reader with Ruggie and Jamil!

Just trying to get back in the groove chat 🙏 bear w/ me @bju3c0re

Ruggie’s clowning on you to the best of his ability while simultaneously failing the grip strength test (did you guys have to do those? Just me? Cool). He’s totally screwed for anything non agility related, but that’s what the rest of savanaclaw is for- in any case, he’ll totally let you lean on him in your next class. For a price 🙏😈 (Pleaseee help him wash his tail after class.. hes so bad at it it’s embarrassing)

Jamil won’t laugh at your expense. Just a giggle once in a while, he knows how to have fun 🤗 Every mile you run he’s calculated what he should be training you on the next time you visit his home- even then, he’ll always provide drinks and sweaty hand holding as a treat <3

[ikeuverse]

love shot | pjs

pairing: cop!jay x investigator fem!reader  genres: fluff, humor, slight (really light) angst wc: 9.7k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : some cursing, mention of betrayal, a slight brawl near the end. nothing to worry about, but let me know if i've forgotten anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : after being betrayed, jay was never able to fall in love with anyone again, even more so in his work environment. but that thought would not remain the moment he laid eyes on you, entering the meeting room as his new work partner in the investigations.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : i didn't want to focus so much on professions or the work environment itself, but i wanted something out of the ordinary (offices or coffee shops) and i thought of something more humorous, apart from the betrayal part, of course. idk if i'm 100% satisfied with this story, but all feedback is appreciated. i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

Working can be both tiring and rewarding. Tiring because you put in hours – sometimes a few extra – a day throughout the week. Rewarding because you get paid for it and often end up enjoying what it can bring you.

Jay believed that work went much further than that. Being in the police force for eight years had its good and bad sides, and he couldn't romanticize something that, time and again, took his mind off things.

The good side: he applied to join the police at the end of university, as a joke with his best friend – who ended up applying three days after him – and guess what? They both got in. The aptitude test was positive and all they had to do was accept that they now had a job. You wouldn't want to throw away the years you spent studying for something that had nothing to do with the police, but after a few years, the rewards came.

For his excellent performance, still on the good side of his job, being promoted to head of special operations was something Jay never thought he'd do. Perhaps Jake, his best friend, was better suited to it. He was stronger, more agile, and had certainly been on more missions than Jay himself.

Don't belittle your achievements, Jake told him with a huge smile, content with his position as deputy boss. Because the two had always been a duo since they joined, it wouldn't be fair for Jay to move up and leave his friend behind.

But not everything could be described as a good thing, after all, there is a bit of negativity in all of this. Not just because he works to combat bad things. That was the least of the problems at the police station. But because Jay knew that being in that environment would make him experience everything intensely.

Downside: getting involved with a coworker.

Where's the downside, Jongseong? As it was easy to remember the good things, the bad things came just as easily.

Like the greatest romance cliché, Jay liked the girl straight away. Her light hair and easy smile for anyone in the department made him smile too. But it wasn't just the smile that ended up being easy. Jay had to find out the hard way, dating for three months and a week before learning of his long-awaited promotion.

Everyone at the police station knew about Jay and Yuri, the criminal cases clerk. She had joined almost a year ago, attracting the attention of some of the police officers she worked with. It was normal, after all, Yuri was pretty, and practically all the women – and there weren't many of them – who worked at the police station were pretty.

"Maybe that's a requirement for working here," Sunoo joked once in the café when Yuri walked past them.

"Or maybe they put pretty girls to the test," Heeseung, an investigator and friend of the boys, suddenly hummed.

Jay laughed, knowing that his friends were too stupid. Or maybe they were right.

But apart from being pretty, Yuri didn't really like Jay. Or he thought of that possibility as soon as he saw her with her tongue down the throat of a policeman he didn't even know, doing each other in the break room on a shift when he was supposed to be at home.

That's why she was there with another man. Yuri knew Jay's routine, and going to the break room at a time when he wasn't at the police station would be perfect for no one to catch them.

But Jay had forgotten his coat the night before and needed to put his uniform in the wash. He didn't like leaving clothes hanging and dirty.

My coat saved me from the worst, he thought as he took a long stride out of the room, leaving under the shouts of Yuri calling his name.

"Jay, wait!" she gasped, running to him as the boy rushed down the stairs.

He almost jumped down two steps at once but stopped himself because he didn't want to twist his foot or hurt himself. So he tried to go as fast as he could until he felt Yuri's hands on his arm.

"What do you want?" he asked in a string of voices, holding back all his anger so as not to shout at her.

Firstly because they were on the stairs and it would make a huge echo, and secondly because Jay, even if he was nervous, would never shout at a woman. Even if she deserved it.

"It's not… No…"

"Don't tell me it's not what I think, because I saw it" that tone sent a chill down anyone's spine. Both Yuri and the people at the police station had only ever seen Jay talk like that in some negotiation – almost non-negotiable – or with some guy who challenged the battalion they worked in.

"This is all your fault" she said after a while when she saw that Jay wasn't saying anything, now seeing the horrified expression on his face "You're too focused on the job and…"

"Because I'm paid to do that, Yuri" he interrupted her "Not to mention that we work in the same environment, we see each other every day" Jay took a few steps towards her, tilting his face so that it was level with his – now ex – girlfriend "And I've always taken time out, in all my breaks, to see you. So what's my fault that you cheated on me right under my nose?"

Silence. One sigh, two, three.

Jay knew that was the cue to leave, so, disengaging Yuri's hand from his arm, he left as hurriedly as he had before.

And that had been the last conversation he had with his ex before, a week later, he learned of his promotion to boss.

Jay didn't want people to feel sorry for him or treat him differently after what had happened. For a long time, he had to deal with painful looks in his direction, and sometimes his colleagues wanted to drag him to some dance club to try and forget what had happened.

The only one who understood was Jake. Being in the same office as his best friend helped him keep his sanity when someone made some kind of comment, even if it wasn't a mean one, about what had happened.

It lasted a couple of months and he wanted to punch himself for ranting and hinting that something had happened. But as soon as his relationship became known, he knew that the break-up and betrayal would go the same way.

"People are giving her the stink eye right now" Sunoo walked into the special operations unit room, poking Jake in the head and then walking over to Jay, handing him a cup of coffee.

"No coffee for me?" Jake muttered quietly, grimacing and running over to Jay to sip his drink, knowing that his best friend wasn't in the mood for it.

"I didn't want any of this" Jay sighed, wiping his hands across his face in exhaustion.

"Sure, who wants to be betrayed?" Jake dodged another nudge from Sunoo, grabbing his coffee cup and heading over to his table.

"What I mean is…" he sighed, ignoring Jake who continued humming as he sipped the hot liquid, working wonders on his system because he really needed some caffeine "Yuri's reputation was tarnished after that, even Liam's."

"Liam?" Jay frowned.

"The policeman… You know…" Sunoo scratched the back of her head and tried her best to smile. Not that she wanted to smile at the situation, but maybe she wanted to reassure Jay a little.

It was only then that the boy realized. Liam was the one with Yuri, the policeman Jay had seen making out with his ex-girlfriend in the break room.

He didn't even want to know anything about the guy: his name, who he was, what position he was in. He could only tell that he was a policeman by his clothes, but for the rest, Jay tried to push it out of his mind and even walked away when someone brought it up. He only found out because Sunoo had said it out loud.

"Well, may he do well, then" Jay got up from his chair when the alarm went off, indicating that they needed to be in the meeting room to organize strategies for a new case.

Passing Jake's desk, he took the cup from his best friend's hand – halfway, thankfully – and drank the rest of the coffee.

"Hey!" Jake protested.

"It was meant for me, asshole" Jay cursed and laughed when the other tried to say something else, but got up and walked along with Sunoo behind Jay.

The three of them headed towards the huge room and entered. They weren't the first because Heeseung was already there, his typical tired smile indicating that he had just woken up. Maybe he'd been at the police station all night to sort something out.

"I think someone needs coffee too" Jake hummed.

"Go and get it, since you've had all my coffee" Jay said.

"I was doing you a favor" that funny little discussion was typical of almost every day. Because of Jay and Jake's intimacy and because the department was so heavy, funny energy was always a good way to get work done.

Gradually the room filled up, Jay's people came in and greeted the head and deputy head. Waving to Sunoo and Heeseung too.

When everyone was properly positioned, like a regular meeting, the chief of the police station greeted them and began to pass on some instructions and changes in some cases.

It wasn't often that he tinkered much with Jay's department, being one of the few who managed to play the role straight without too many changes. But Park, like a good boss, knew he was having a bit of trouble accessing information for a new case.

So when the station boss called his name, the boy straightened up in his chair and sniffled.

"Yes, boss" Jay greeted the gray-haired man, receiving a smile in response.

"I've been thinking and I want to know if you mind changing a few things in your case" he stood, resting one hand on the table while the other was in the holster at his waist.

"Of course not, boss, whatever you think is best."

The man nodded positively, looking at Heeseung this time.

"I thought I'd put some investigators on your case, you know, gather information" that was brilliant, considering that Jay was on a high-risk case. Where he needed to know more about people until he got to the main suspect – and criminal – in fact.

Heeseung seemed surprised, having never thought of working directly with special ops personnel where he only heard Jay and Jake's crazy stories. It sounded pretty exciting.

"But I think Heeseung alone would be too little for the size of your case, guys" Heeseung just agreed with his boss, knowing that he couldn't do it alone either "So I took the liberty of calling in two other people, if that's okay with you."

"That's fine with me" Jay smiled quickly.

He couldn't count how long he was paralyzed between the police chief calling in the new people to work on his case and the moment his eyes landed on you.

The dark uniform, the shiny badge hanging around your neck, and the most captivating smile Jay had ever seen in his life. Strangely, he felt elated when you looked at him, holding his gaze and waving to greet him.

"This is Y/n, deputy boss of investigations. And Stella, the boss of the department" the gray-haired man introduced, and just hearing Jay's name was worth a lot.

Stella talked all the time about how she and her department would contribute to the operation, Heeseung did a great job of adding some information along with his boss while talking to the special ops men.

But not Jay. He just didn't know what to say. It was as if he felt like a teenager again, unable to utter a single word in front of the most beautiful girl in school.

"Right" Jake noticed his best friend's pause, holding back a smile because it would be used against him a few minutes later "Jay and I are happy about the addition to our team. We're going to work very well together and I think a team of investigators would be perfect. Welcome."

After the thanks, Jake asked some of his boys to go over what progress they had made so far with the new team of investigators. You and Stella followed him, while the people in the room gradually dissipated until Jay, Jake, Sunoo and Heeseung were left.

"We have to go too, don't we?" Jay stood up.

"Oh, now he's learned to talk again" Sunoo joked.

"What?" Jay's eyes widened as he heard the other three burst into laughter.

"Dude, you froze when y/n walked in" Heeseung held in his laughter so he could finish his sentence.

"Me? Of course not."

"I had to introduce you, you couldn't even say your name" Jake pushed Jay's body as he stood up, leaning on the table and grinning mischievously "So that's her?"

"That's her? Her what?" Jay looked at the three of them, one at a time, receiving knowing looks from his friends.

"Who's going to make you dismantle that barrier you've created in your heart."

Jay hated how direct Sunoo was with his words. He didn't hate it completely, because he knew that Jake said things slowly, testing the waters, while Sunoo got straight to the point and didn't beat around the bush. Heeseung was more of a moral supporter, always trying to see the bright side of things and, even if he didn't, the boy made a good point about it.

"She's kind and very beautiful" Heeseung said, wrapping his arm around Jay's shoulders "Not to mention that she loses bets easily and gives a sensational shoulder massage."

"What? You…" Jake walked into his and Jay's living room, awestruck by Heeseung's words.

Jay didn't want to be disappointed at the thought of Heeseung's closeness to you, but he felt like a complete idiot for thinking that way when he had only known you for less than twenty minutes.

"We're very good friends, just like you, Jake and Sunoo" he was the last to enter, disengaging his arm from Jay's shoulder to close the door and sit down on the small dark leather sofa.

"Tell us more about it" Sunoo asked, and Jay was grateful for the directness as he didn't want to seem desperate for information.

He didn't even know why he was so intrigued by you.

Heeseung didn't mince his words when he started telling about the first time he met you and Stella. He had joined the police force in almost the same year as Jay and Jake. Eight years in one environment was a long time, and a year and a half later you were both there, in the same department as him. Completely out of place because you were the only women and investigators.

Of course, there was a bit of prejudice from other people and even a certain masked machismo, but not with Heeseung. He had been the only one to talk to them, to ask them to lunch.

"Oh, that's why you canceled a few lunches with us" Jake recalled.

Continuing the story in which he had been entertained, seeing the attention of the three in front of him, Heeseung sat down a little more comfortably on the sofa to finish speaking.

Those years of being friends with the only women in the department had made Heeseung work hard, include his friends in any case he entered and, without a doubt, ask them for their opinion. To show that they were just as capable as he was.

It was no wonder that, three years later, Stella was being appointed boss of the investigation department. A change here and there removed the former male boss from his post, and the police station apologized for the whole thing because there were too many departments to manage and they were sorry that someone from their building had been through so much bad stuff.

"Did you want to be boss?" Jay asked.

"Not in a million years" Heeseung replied quickly, "I'm not good at it."

"What do you mean?"

Sunoo knew what he meant, but it was funny to remember Heeseung's antics in the police force. Like when he almost broke your arm, when you two went after a case to investigate and he tripped over his own feet running after the suspect. Not realizing that you were so close that he fell on top of you.

Or when he doused the micro camera from another mission, costing thousands just for that investigation, an expensive piece of equipment that the head of the police station shelled out for just so they could have such excellent materials to capture the suspect.

Heeseung was content with his fumbles and also knew that it was a lot of responsibility, he was happy with his position.

"What about the deputy boss?" Jay didn't even bother to ask anymore since all his friends were too curious for that.

"Don't be fooled, she's just as clumsy as I am" Heeseung laughed "But y/n investigated that serial killer last year, it gave her a lot of visibility" he remembered sleepless nights helping his friend with the case. He'd dropped out at first because he'd been recruited for something else, but when he had time off, he ended up helping "She asked me to be the deputy boss, but I got scared of the title and ended up almost fainting at the appointment meeting."

"Heeseung" Jake swallowed back a laugh, closing his eyes as he shrugged.

"Huge positions make me nervous, I'm sorry" he apologized, making himself comfortable on the sofa in Jay and Jake's living room "But it's good that the two people they despised the most just for being women are now heads of the department" he smiled genuinely happy "And I'm one position below y/n, my salary is higher than all those idiots."

At least there was something good that Heeseung hadn't been nervous about, he could handle a good amount – almost triple – his old salary and still be close to the two women from the start.

"Okay, now talk about the massage or Jay will explode" Sunoo ordered after a while, seeing that his friend was restless in his chair. Jay hated being so expressive like that or that his friends knew him so well.

He rolled his eyes, ready to refute what Sunoo had said when Heeseung started talking.

"Me and y/n live off bets. Whether it's our cases or those of other colleagues" he closed his eyes, sighing a little as tiredness began to take over his body. "So if she loses, she's obliged to massage my shoulders for a week. And if I lose, I'll buy her lunch for a week."

"That sounds like…" Sunoo began.

"Cool. Shall we do it?" Jake turned to Jay, seeing him roll his eyes.

"I wouldn't massage your shoulders," he retorted.

"But you'd let y/n do it on you?"

Yes. He bit his tongue to answer, almost letting it slip without thinking.

Heeseung laughed when he opened his eyes and saw Jay's mental dilemma between answering or not.

The boss of the department also started to feel bad, as if he was invading something that Heeseung seemed to have built up with you, after all, the two of you seemed very close.

Jay didn't realize he'd been rambling on for too long, only realizing when Heeseung was standing in front of him, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Jake and Sunoo had already left the room, probably going to get some coffee or pick up something about the case they had to work on.

"Relax, dude" Heeseung commented as soon as Jay stood up, walking out of the room beside him.

"What about?" he asked, not knowing why his tone was hesitant.

"Y/n is my best friend" he said simply, having Jay's eyes fixed on his face the whole time he spoke, "And she's also the one responsible for getting me together with Stella."

"Oh" was all he managed to say. Jay hadn't noticed, no one had.

Either Heeseung and Stella were extremely professional, or Jay was so intrigued to know about you that if his friend had said something about his girlfriend, he didn't pay attention.

"My relationship with y/n could be the same as the one you'll have with Stella if you start a relationship with her best friend" he let slip, laughing at Jay's expression. He hadn't said anything and his friends were already thinking about a relationship? "Don't worry, I approve of you two dating."

Arriving at the coffee shop, Heeseung ran up to his two friends, who were already ordering the coffee they were all drinking together.

With no chance to reply, Jay stood there for long minutes thinking about everything that had happened that day.

He had met one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life, if not the most beautiful. He had learned that Heeseung was dating her and, what's more, his best friend was the one who had been making him think for so long.

A woman, in his workplace, making his heart race. Something he swore would never happen again.

You knowing a little more about Jay – beyond what was circulating around the police station – was a sign that he also knew about you, even more so when Heeseung said some qualities or even the way you two exchanged glances the first time you met in that meeting room, almost a month ago.

You were the cupid for Heeseung and Stella's relationship, and now you were sure that your friend was trying to do the same thing with you and Jay.

"No one told you to say out loud that the head of special operations was hot" Stella whispered, biting into the snack she had brought because today was going to be a busy day, with no chance of lunch in the refectory.

"I thought you and I were the only ones in the room" you tried to defend yourself, remembering the exact moment when you sighed and said how hot Jay was. Heeseung entered a few seconds earlier, without making a fuss, hearing exactly the moment when you almost whimpered.

Of sure he pestered you for weeks before he started talking to you a bit more about Jay.

"All right, all right" Stella finished, "but you know Hee's only trying to help."

"Hee" you rolled your eyes, making your best friend laugh. Your relationship with Heeseung was almost like big brother and little sister. You felt like Stella was your sister-in-law.

"Hey, girls" Heeseung waved from the door of the investigation office.

"Speaking of the devil" you smiled falsely, unwrapping your snack just as your friend walked in, muttering some swear words at you as he made his way over to Stella's desk.

The smack of lips from the two of them kissing made you sigh at how cute they were, but as soon as Heeseung's eyes met yours, you faked a vomiting noise just to pick on him.

"Put down your snacks, we're going to lunch" he said, holding Stella's sandwich halfway and pulling it away from her hands.

"We don't have time, love. Me and y/n have a lot to do before we meet the operations staff…"

"Exactly" Heeseung smiled at his girlfriend "Let's have lunch with them and go straight to the office, we have a lot of work."

After the end of the sentence Heeseung immediately looked in her direction. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he raised his eyebrows at you.

Did he plan that? Lunch with the special ops guys meant lunch with Jay. And you felt embarrassed enough that your friend had caught you confessing that the head of another department was hot. Looking at him and having lunch with him wasn't on your mind, at least not until this case was over.

"I don't think so" you said.

"Come on, y/n, let's go" Heeseung asked, pouting. He knew it wouldn't convince you, especially coming from him, but trying was always an option for the boy "Jay asked you to go."

You knew he hadn't asked you to do anything, Heeseung had just said that to see if you'd cheer up and, in the worst or best case scenario, he and Stella's thoughts about you being into Jay could have been right. He was, but you wouldn't say anything until then.

"Stella" you called out to your friend, who was already packing up to leave the room. In defeat, you got up from your desk and tidied up before joining the couple "Do you mind being widowed early? I think I'm going to kill your boyfriend."

Heeseung's hysterical scream echoed down the corridor, and no one thought it strange since this was the two of you's relationship there. People got so used to laughing with you and him that it was strange the other way around. When you or Heeseung were too serious, not joking or shouting around. The head of the police station even thanked you for bringing a little joy to such a chaotic environment.

As soon as they arrived at the refectory, it was relatively crowded and not very surprising, given that it was the exact time that almost all the departments were there.

Heeseung spotted the table where the other three friends were sitting and waved to get their attention. With his free hand, he intertwined his fingers with Stella's to lead the way and walk with the two of you to the rest of the people.

"You really did it" Sunoo applauded as soon as the three of you reached the table "He said it would be almost impossible to get you two out of that room."

"Considering he almost stole our snack" you commented.

"I'm going to expose you" Heeseung hissed.

"Fuck off" you said in the same tone.

The laughter was contagious as the two of you started talking, while you realized that Heeseung had already reserved a seat for him and Stella next to Jake, leaving only one seat between Jay and Sunoo.

I'll kill you.

You son of a bitch.

I hate you.

There were a few curses that you uttered silently, just moving your lips as you went around the table to sit between the two men.

Heeseung, holding back his laughter, sat down to in front of Sunoo.

"Shall we wait for the line to shorten and get lunch?" Stella asked.

"Or we could go in threes to save our table too" Sunoo said.

"Good idea" Heeseung nodded "Can it be me, Stella, and Jay?"

"Sure, go ahead" Jake replied, waving to the three of them who were getting up.

Jay tried his best not to look tense as you sat down next to him, noticing the look on his face as soon as he stood up. It was infectious, so he smiled as soon as you smiled back as a small greeting before he joined Heeseung and Stella for the lunch line.

"You know" Jake leaned across the table, catching your eye until you finally looked at him and stopped staring at Jay, "I think you two are cute."

"What?" you widened your eyes.

Sunoo laughed, wanting to hit Jake, but he was too far away for that.

"I don't know, I think you and Jay would be cute together" he was playing with the wrapper of something, probably the straw from the empty coffee cup in front of him "and since I'm his best friend, I approve of that."

"Heeseung and you are up to something, right?" your eyes narrowed, making Jake mimic the act and then laugh a little.

"Those two are idiots, y/n. Don't mind them" Sunoo touched your shoulder so gently that you turned to him, smiling in appreciation "But you two are really cute."

"I was starting to like you" your eyes now narrowed at Sunoo, who was laughing just like Jake a few minutes earlier.

The three of you got into a completely different conversation after that, talking about other police departments and what you would do if you had never joined the police.

That made for a good few minutes of conversation until Jay, Heeseung and Stella came back with trays of food. Then it was time for you three to go. Grateful that it hadn't taken too long – and that there was fruit salad – you and Sunoo grabbed two containers each, celebrating that you now had a friend who loved fruit salad too. None of the others would take that salad and you didn't know how, loving that the same indignation was shared by Sunoo.

"Now we can eat just the two of us" he whispered before returning to the table.

In another conversation, now completely different and without provocation, you noticed that Jay's laughter was contagious. His gaze was much more fixed on you than on anyone else at the table, but the atmosphere was so pleasant that you were no longer embarrassed to have to look at him so closely. Or to feel his hand brushing lightly against yours a few times when the two of you went to get something from the tray to eat because you were sitting next to each other.

For Jay, after years, that feeling was rediscovered. He thought he was rusty, worn out from feeling something good romantically or even in the form of interest in someone. But not when you talked so animatedly, or with the swearing at Heeseung while he stole some fries from your tray.

Jay didn't have time to experience this feeling with Yuri because she didn't care much for Jay's friendships, not even Jake whom he had known since high school.

Yuri seemed to want to deprive him of some things even though they had only been together for a short time.

Don't call them haunts, they'll show up, Jay thought to himself as soon as he looked up, two tables away. Yuri was staring at him fervently, looking as if her face was red from something spicy she had eaten. But there was nothing spicy on the menu, so why did she look like she was about to explode?

"Jay" he quickly turned to you, surprised that you were calling him. He stared at you, realizing that you were whispering while his friends were talking loudly and excitedly about another conversation. He leaned in close enough for you to continue saying "Are you okay?"

Don't make it difficult, y/n. I can't feel like kissing you right now, he sighed but nodded in agreement.

"I am, it's just…" he looked again at the table Yuri was at, wanting to curse himself in every possible way when you looked in the same direction and then at him.

Your posture straightened and you had a frightened look on your face.

In your mind, he was still thinking about his ex, so all the joking around that his friends were doing wouldn't lead anywhere.

In his mind, Jay didn't care if Yuri was angry with another woman sitting next to him or not. He only cared about your interpretation and what you thought of it. He didn't want it to be taken the wrong way and end something that had barely begun.

"Am I supposed to feel bad that she's ignoring me?" Jay huffed, untying his holster and throwing it on the table abruptly.

He didn't understand why he was so nervous. Maybe it was because he and the team of investigators had finally started working together, and you were the only one who wasn't looking directly into his eyes anymore.

For the first few days, Jay thought it was the nervousness of the interaction since he also knew how much his friends teased him about the whole situation. But then he started to put the pieces together, exchanging glances with Yuri… until Heeseung went in as a personal investigator and tried to get something out of it.

"His ex looked like she was going to kill him with just that look" you whispered to your friend, telling him what had happened in the refectory. Heeseung even opened his mouth to say something, but Jake had called for them to start organizing the operations.

Jay didn't feel good about it. The relationship had been years ago, people had talked about it for months until it had cooled down and, after all this time, he finally felt ready to rediscover his feelings, or whatever they were, for you. But it seemed that Yuri was suffocating him even though you were no longer with him.

The few things you told Heeseung that weren't secret, he told Jay. And that made him understand why you were ignoring him.

"She just thinks too much" Stella pulled out the swivel chair to sit next to Jay's desk. Only the two bosses were there after Heeseung left with Jake "Y/n doesn't have such a…"

"As bad as mine?" Jay let out a sarcastic whisper, hating the way Yuri could still affect him even though he hadn't done anything.

"I wouldn't put it like that, but since you did" she shrugged, causing Jay to let out a small laugh. Remembering when Heeseung said that she would probably be the friend that Jay could pick on, just like Heeseung and you did.

"I don't know, I really liked her, you know? It was weird, but I liked it" Jay sat down and leaned all his weight on the chair. Stella remained silent, enjoying the free venting session "I never thought I could have this feeling after what Yuri did."

"She was a bitch."

"Yes, she was" Jay let Stella laugh at the situation, ending up laughing too "Now your friend hates me."

"No, she doesn't" the woman pouted, twisting in her chair as she stared at the office ceiling "Maybe she needs to hear from you what happened."

"That my ex is psychotic and even I don't know why she was looking so angry?" he asked.

"Exactly" Stella stopped spinning, raising her head and meeting Jay's gaze "Then you can ask her to dinner."

The naturalness with which Stella had said it made Jay certain why she and Heeseung were a perfect couple.

"Right, I…"

"Rest room" she said as soon as he stood up "Not the one you… Well… It's been forbidden since Jake told us what floor it was. So we don't go there anymore."

He laughed, probably imagining the story his best friend had told to try to convince them. The betrayal in itself was already a story, but Jake had certainly increased it by 300%, even telling them that they would have bad luck in any niche of life if they continued resting in the room he entered and found Yuri and the other policeman.

Jay listened carefully to where the restroom was and quickly climbed the stairs, not wanting to wait for an elevator – and there were only two flights – he arrived so quickly that he had to catch his breath as he walked through the corridors until he arrived in front of the door.

You can do it, Jongseong. He said to himself before turning the handle and entering.

Stella was right, you were in that room sitting on the sofa with your feet propped up on the coffee table. A cup of juice was in front of you and your attention was focused on some papers in your hands. You only looked away when Jay snorted, causing you to startle and quickly get up from the sofa.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you" he said afterward, noticing that you weren't expecting him there. Well, he wasn't even expecting to come after you, if he was honest.

"It's okay, I… I was just leaving" you put the papers in the envelope and tried to look for your coat.

"No, wait," Jay ordered.

Don't keep talking, don't say anything.

"I wanted to talk to you."

Fuck. You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you turned back to pick up the cup of juice on the coffee table, letting all the air out of your lungs in a sigh, hoping that Jay hadn't heard the urgency with which it had happened.

Turning to face him, with the envelope in one hand and the cup of juice in the other, you nodded, indicating that you were listening.

"Something wrong with the case? I was reviewing some—"

"It's nothing to do with the case" Jay interrupted subtly, taking a few more subtle steps towards you. If you noticed the approach, you didn't flinch, only noticing how close he was when, with one more step, Jay would completely glue his body to yours.

"So what's it about?" you didn't even know because your voice dropped an octave, let alone why Jay was whispering when there were only the two of you there.

Carefully and without answering anything, he took the envelope and the cup from your hand, placing them both on the coffee table and finally bringing his body completely close to yours.

You knew Jay's proportions from the way his muscles were well-defined by his dress clothes, his suspenders, and any other possible garment. You also knew how fit he was because you'd seen him once in a while in casual clothes, when he went to the police station to pick up something he'd forgotten or even helping you and Jake, as deputy boss, who stayed late solving the case you were working on together.

You knew that. But seeing it up close seemed to be even bigger than usual.

"About the misunderstanding on refectory day" every word Jay uttered, he made a point of prolonging the ending just so that the air from his mouth hit your skin. Making you close your eyes and concentrate on the minty breath mixed with coffee.

Your mouth opened to protest, but Jay – not knowing where the courage had come from – brought one of his hands to your waist to press your body against his. This kept you quiet for a few seconds, even if he had intended to shut you up in some other way. And he wanted to. He would.

Jay leaned in close enough for you to feel his warm lips brushing against yours. One more little impulse and you'd press your lips to his, feel even more of the minty coffee breath in your mouth. Your hands circle his chest until they meet the collar of his dress shirt.

And with that, Jay knew it was time to move on and finally press his lips to yours.

"Holy fuck, Heeseung!" the bang of the door together with Jake's shout made you and Jay separate quickly.

Not because you were caught almost kissing, but because Jake's scream had startled you both.

"I didn't know it was this break room" he almost cried "Oh my God, forgive me."

"I'm going to kill you" Jake kept shouting "Sorry, guys. You two… Can you…" he looked between you and Jay, his hand still on your waist and you keeping your hand against his chest "Go on…"

"Did you even kiss?" Heeseung asked.

"Both of you, out. Now!" you could see Jay's authoritative tone, but with a hint of playfulness as he tried to hold back his laughter when he saw his two friends, wide-eyed, rush to close the door to the restroom and get out of there as quickly as they had entered.

He looked at you again, smiling broadly as you mirrored his smile.

"How about we go downstairs? They probably haven't even left the hall and I don't want them getting in our way again" you said.

"If you promise me we can pick up where we left off afterwards."

"When?" you turned to Jay as he picked up your things from the table, you walked to the chair on the other side of the room to get your coat.

"I think we're staying late tonight and, well, I can't let you go home alone, can I?"

"Maybe I'll skip Stella's ride" you shrugged.

"I'd love that" he smiled, moving closer and leaving a kiss on the top of your head. Handing you the cup of juice and taking the case envelope, Jay opened the door just as Heeseung and Jake were leaning over it, almost falling into the room and on top of the boss when he took a step forward.

"Jay! Y/n!" Jake greeted the two of you. Jay stared at you for a second, then looked at the two of you right in front of him.

"I'm the one who's going to kill you two" he gritted his teeth and put his hand on his waistband, where his holster would be. Jake and Heeseung didn't even want to check, just running down the corridor and shouting for Jay not to do anything. He also ran after his friends shouting a few curses, while you stayed behind to turn off the lights and close the door.

You always looked forward to leaving work, even when you were working overtime. But today, in particular, was the day you most wanted to leave in company.

You wondered how you could live so long without having Jay's lips on yours. Or how you managed to survive without feeling every touch, or how easily you woke up and went to sleep without having him in your bed?

The answers came little by little over the two months since the first kiss you two shared, in his car, when he drove you home late at night. Maybe not just a kiss and you knew Stella would freak out when you told her you had sex with Jay in the back seat of his car. But if she shared things about Heeseung and herself, it was your turn too.

You feared that things would cool down, or that you and he would feel so overwhelmed with work that you wouldn't want to keep what you were having.

No labels, not a single statement.

The most that came out of each other's mouths was "I like you, you know that?" and then a smile so silly that neither of you wanted to intensify it. For fear that everything was going so well and it could simply be ruined.

Or for you, who had never felt like this and fallen in love with someone.

"So this is what it's like to be in love?" you asked Heeseung dreamily when you were both in the break room. A week before the case you shared with Jay's department closed.

Having in-depth conversations with him was better than with Stella because with her you were a little afraid. She seemed like a protective mother and was sure to tell you all the pros and cons of being in love.

It was also difficult for Jay to know that he was in love, even more so after everything he had experienced so far.

"I don't want to hurt her" he sighed, resting his head in his hands and closing his eyes tightly.

"You won't" Jake assured his best friend "You've finally managed to fall in love again and I'm glad it's someone like you."

"Why?" he asked, looking at his best friend.

"Because she looks after you and cares" he said "And because she treats your friends well, that's enough, don't you think?"

Jay knew it was because Yuri had never been very nice to Jake. So small attitudes counted, there was no comparison between the two of you, he knew there was no reason to be afraid. But he also knew that he needed to find a moment in which he could say what he felt.

He wanted the security of knowing that you were in love too. And you wanted him to feel good and safe being around someone else after the enormous trauma he'd been through.

The two of you – without knowing it – silently shared the same care.

"Y/n, Stella" the head of the police station entered the room, dispelling your thoughts and making you focus on the gray-haired man who had just entered. You and your friend stood up, greeting the middle-aged man and smiling as kindly as he did "Are you busy?"

"Never for you, sir" Stella said with a smile.

"Good, I need you two for a day" he said, slowly shifting his gaze between you and Stella "It's a criminal case and I know Heeseung is with Jake, so you're the only two I can trust."

"Perfect, do you want it now?"

Stella's question made the boss agree, leading the two of you out of the room and towards the criminal cases department. You usually left such matters to Heeseung or even another teammate, but seeing your boss call for you and your best friend was really endearing. It meant that he trusted the two of you, chief and deputy chief, to do the job well.

The department was much bigger than the one you and Stella worked in, after all, criminal cases had a large proportion. And investigators could work in any department as long as they were asked to, as was happening now.

"We have a transcribed case and we need you two to take a look at it and try to spot something that the other investigator didn't find" the chief passed the paper to Stella, letting her read it and then pass it on to you.

As soon as she'd finished, her eyes went carefully over the document, listening attentively to her boss and best friend, punctuating a few things with the older man and hearing him agree and add more things that other policemen had discovered too.

"So we have a starting point, that's good" he said after you'd finished reading, nodding to someone behind you and beckoning you to come closer.

"Girls, this is Yuri, the one who wrote the document that you two have just read" this could only be a joke in very bad taste. But no. From the seriousness your boss presented, you knew it was strictly professional.

Stella looked at you quickly, trying not to look so shocked when she faced Yuri first. Just a nod was enough for the greeting.

You, in turn, turned slowly until you were face to face with the woman. She seemed as surprised as you were. Her mouth opened slightly in shock, but as soon as she saw your serious expression, jaw set and misty eyes, Yuri smiled.

"Hi boss. Girls" she greeted.

"Yuri, this is Stella and Y/n, the boss and deputy boss investigators I asked to read the document you wrote" he explained.

"Oh, yes. Stella is the boss" she pointed at her friend "And y/n is the deputy boss who is taking my leftovers and sleeping with my ex-boyfriend?"

"Excuse me?" you knew it was ridiculous to fight for these reasons, but hearing her swear at you gratuitously wasn't on the list of good manners you swore to uphold at work. So when you pushed her against the table as hard as you could, hearing the thud of Yuri's body in the same tone as her loud scream, you knew you were done for.

"Y/n, what's that?" your boss asked, shocked by the reaction.

Stella really was a great boss, or she tried to approach Yuri for fear that you'd end up actually hitting the woman. So she helped her up, seeing that the blow had been really hard.

"I don't tolerate disrespect, boss."

"But we don't tolerate aggression" he was shocked, but he didn't seem angry. He knew his employees so well, especially you – along with Heeseung – that it was almost impossible to see them with their faces closed.

"She won't be working on my case anymore" Yuri's voice was tearful, her eyes watery and her breathing rapid.

"Your case? I'm the deputy boss here, you self-interested bitch."

It was Yuri's turn to try to do the same to you, but Stella was already holding her back and her boss had put himself between the two of you, afraid that something else might happen.

"Stella" he called out.

"Boss" the two of you exchanged places, she held you down to get you out of there while he pulled Yuri away and tried to talk to her.

"I'll meet you in your office in five minutes" he said before your friend could get you out of that department. You felt your blood boil as you cursed Yuri one last time.

"What?" Jake felt the pillow being pressed against his face by Sunoo, listening intently to everything you had said so far.

"Jake, please" you begged, whimpering.

"She told us because if she told Heeseung, he'd scream and Jay would find out" Sunoo recalled.

That's why the three of you were in the break room on the top floor.

Your boss chose to suspend you and Yuri for two weeks. This consisted of no badges, no guns, no holsters and, above all, no going to the police station. You just had to wait for the day to end and then go home and be grounded for two weeks, as Stella said as soon as she had told the story in a more motherly way to the two boys in front of you before going to meet Heeseung and Jay.

"I just need to know what to do to tell him" you paced back and forth in the living room, on the other side of the coffee table.

"When did this happen?" Jake asked.

"Thirty or forty minutes ago, I'm not sure" you said.

"Okay, then" he straightened his arm, glancing at his wristwatch "In ten minutes or so, Jay will know and he'll be shouting down the corridors looking for you."

"Y/n" was Jay's voice. And he sounded extremely angry.

"Maybe less than ten minutes" he tried to joke about the situation, knowing that even though it wasn't funny, it made you let out a quick laugh "Right, I'm not going to let him talk to you now. That won't be good."

"Let's go outside" Sunoo ordered, getting up from the sofa along with Jake.

"Fucking hell!" Jake shouted in fright as Jay opened the door without warning "You need to tell us when you're coming in, there are people who could die of a heart attack."

Jay looked at his best friend, without really answering him, then looked at Sunoo and finally at you.

"We need to talk."

"Now?" you tried to smile, showing all your teeth as you looked at Jake for help.

"Now" he said seriously.

"You know what?" you stood behind Sunoo at all times "I promised Jake I'd help him with some papers, you know."

"Yeah, deputy boss stuff" Jake shrugged.

Jay sighed, massaging the space between his nose and eyebrow with the slight headache he was feeling.

"There's no way you can help him when you're suspended from work for two weeks" he said coldly.

Shit. It was the only quick swear word you could think of, not knowing what to say as you watched Jay ask – almost order – Jake and Sunoo to leave the room.

You wanted to go with them, almost grabbing Sunoo and running past Jay without him being able to stop you, but your two fearful friends ran out of the room and quickly closed the door.

Silence settled in as Jay continued to stand by the door, a long distance from where you were still standing by the coffee table in the break room. He looked around without looking at you for long minutes, perhaps thinking, cursing. You didn't know.

And that was making you more and more anxious. What was he going to fight you for? The fight or because you stood up to his ex? Or because you stood up to his ex by fighting in a way that resulted in your suspension?

What was Jay thinking, anyway?

As if he could read thoughts, while you were thinking about his name, that gaze finally stopped on you. It was loaded with so many things that you couldn't even decipher which was which first, but one of them was fear. Jay seemed afraid of something as he approached you in hurried, persistent steps.

As soon as he stopped right in front of you, he ran his thumb over your cheek and leaned close enough to brush his lips against your forehead.

"What…" you whispered, confused by the sudden change in his behavior.

"I wanted to scare you a little, just like Stella scared me when I found out" he said in the same tone, lowering his lips to kiss yours quickly.

You slapped his arm, causing Jay to laugh as he wrapped his arms around you and finally kissed you once more.

It was slow but intense. Every movement made you sigh against his mouth while the way Jay deepened the kiss made you even more enamored of him. Even more in love and addicted to his touches. He stopped when he needed to catch his breath, not only because he was kissing you, but also because he had run into the living room to find you.

Staying with his forehead against yours, touching the tip of your nose with his, Jay sighed.

"Suspended? Really, y/n?" the tone was playful, but at the same time scolding.

"What? Could she talk the way she talked to me?" you asked, slightly offended at still remembering what she had said.

Jay shook his head, tightening his arms even more around your waist.

"She couldn't" he replied, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He wanted to say it without having to look you in the eye, so maybe close to your ear would be a good idea, so you could hear him and he wouldn't have to interrupt "I was just afraid."

You knew him well, how strange. He really was afraid.

"Afraid of what?" you tried to get him to look at you, but every time he moved, Jay sank his face further into your neck, sniffing your skin and whimpering that he wanted to stay there.

"Afraid she'd ruin anything I was thinking of having with anyone" he said, his voice muffled because he'd kissed your skin "Afraid she'd interfere with my relationship in some way" Jay whispered, sliding his arms around your waist so that his hands could take that spot. His fingers lightly squeezed the spot as he let all the air out of his lungs, raising his head and finally facing your gaze "I was afraid she'd manage to take you away from me because…"

The intensity in your gaze and your slightly accelerated breathing indicated that you were waiting for the answer. And Jay knew it. He knew you wanted to hear it as much as he wanted to say it.

"Because I'm in love with you, y/n. And I think that finally, after finding something good in my life, I was afraid that it would ruin everything."

"Say it again" you insisted.

"What? That I'm scared?" Jay asked confused.

"That you're in love with me, idiot" you rolled your eyes, laughing along with him.

Jay moved a little closer, distributing slow kisses all over your face until he finally reached your lips.

"Me, Park Jongseong, I'm in love with you, y/n."

Your shrug was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, accompanied by a low chuckle as you slowly kissed his lips.

"Me, y/n, I'm in love with you too, Park Jongseong" you whispered against his lips, laughing even harder when he seemed to relax his whole body and drop the weight from his shoulders.

"That's so nice to hear" he said before kissing you for real.

With intensity, tongues intertwined and hands where they could hold each other. Without too much fuss because they were in the break room at the police station, and because Jay had the impression that the kiss would be interrupted at some point. He just didn't want to be so sure when he heard the door open, forcing him to separate from you quickly.

"Oh, you two are in there… Kissing" Jake shouted the last part as if he needed to say it and it was code for something.

Maybe it was, considering that Heeseung appeared soon after, along with Sunoo and Stella at the door of the room.

"Kissing means you two aren't fighting, right?" Sunoo asked. Jay looked at you and, with a mutual nod, you both agreed.

"So does that mean we can go out and celebrate y/n's suspension?" Jake hummed.

Jay gave you one more quick kiss on the lips before pulling away, putting his hands on your waist, and looking at his friends.

"Stella, are you wearing your holster?" he asked, putting his hands on his waist.

"Yes, I am" she pointed to the accessory, showing the gun stored there too.

"How many bullets do you have?"

"I think I have five left" she replied, unable to contain her laughter when Jay said it.

"Perfect, I only need three!"

"Baby…" Heeseung whined to Stella as he was the first to run, followed by Sunoo who was screaming along with Jake.

Jay passed the girl at the door without even touching the gun, only to scare them off as he ran after his friends.

"Come on, we're having dinner at the Japanese restaurant tonight" she said to you after she waited for you to approach, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you left the restroom.

For so long, neither you nor Jay thought you could find happiness inside that police station. Jay, for obvious reasons. You, for never having experienced it.

But just like work, everyday life wasn't planned at all and sometimes unforeseen events arose. Cases arriving on your desk in the middle of the day, or two or three suspects you hadn't paid attention to. Even someone with a gun in an operation that Jay was taking part in.

Or, on top of that, an unexpected love interest in the department next door.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[under0-0s]

MK 87 : CASE STUDY TYPE-TWO BLUEPRINT GENERATION.

Rough Material Work:

Finalized Version, Improved detail and Printing:

FINAL REPORT ON ANALYSIS OF PROOFED DESIGN

IRON MAN MK 87 SUIT — TECH REPORT

STARK INDUSTRIES INTERNAL REPORT

MODEL: Iron Man Armor MK 87

Filed by: @squiglesquid , R&D Division, Stark Tower.

Authorized by: A. Stark

Date: 18.06.2025

Design Summary:

The MK 87 is a next-gen Iron Man suit optimized for high-risk, high-radiation environments and deep-space or underwater missions. It combines durable defense systems with sleek Stark aesthetics — including a distinctive starburst arc reactor at the center chestplate.

Key Features & Upgrades:

Radiation Shielding:

Reinforced layers designed to withstand gamma bursts and solar radiation.

Respiratory Unit:

Recycled O₂ mask with internal filtration tubes; compact oxygen tank built into the spine plate.

Propulsion System:

Highly boosted thrusters embedded in "big-ass boots” and palms for rapid flight and maneuverability.

Star Pattern Design:

Arc reactor redesigned for stability and symmetry — also acts as a beacon for tracking in low-visibility zones.

Armor Composition:

Titanium-vibranium weave; impact-resistant, heat-dispersive, and light enough for agile combat.

Deployment:

Modular design for rapid assembly and compatibility with satellite upgrades.

Basic Stats:

Power Output: 600% above MK 85

Flight Ceiling: Orbital capable

Weight: 220 lbs

Combat Time: 72 hrs on full charge

Armor Integrity: Class X (military grade)

TAGGING ALL INTERNS AND PEOPLE THAT NEED TO GET WORKING ON THIS RESPECTIVE TO THEIR DIVISION: @sunny-the-intern @squiglesquid @oh-to-be-a-murderer @cursed-with-knowledge @of-spite-and-hatred @woodsparker-family @radioactiveintern @blackandgoldspiderwoman @lillian-the-intern @shortlikerdj @gamma-archivist @serenastark-official @project-traveler @that-fucker-elijah @playgirlgenius

Note: Test pilots report "really tanky but stylish as hell."

[brian-mosers-cumsock]

I'm obsessed with Brian's hands

For one stupid, thoughtless moment, you swear you nearly melt back in his touch. Nearly sink into those hands which barely touch you, and it must be imagined, how restrained they feel from taking more, from pulling you deeper into the dark of himself.

Every inch of you flinches as Brian smoothly steals inside your terrified vision, standing above where you're tied face-up. A halo of light above his darkly-curled head as his dexterous, latex-wreathed hands creak with the motion of his fingers, testing the trigger of some sort of saw, like he wants you to see as its engine burns, just for you.

“You’re shaking…” he observes; large hands a solid anchor around yours, and they clasp just a fraction firmer around your trembling.

Brian’s towering outline is black against the glow; Dexter’s syringe already primed, held loosely at his side, his agile thumb upon its plunger. And where your own hands still hold an overwhelmed tremble, his own a master’s repose.

And you want to push away from him–you do–but you’re reduced to sculptor’s clay in his artist’s hands. An unfired doll for his fingers to form, to play with; to mold into whatever shapes they like.

He leads you toward a row of rubber-ended sledge hammers. Leaving your side to take one off the rack. Testing its massive weight between his surgeon’s hands. Speculative, before breezily tossing it into the cart, which rattles beneath its bulk.

I rest my case. But also you should fully expect me to obsess over his hands some more lol

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Women pulling Lever on a Drilling Machine, 1978 Lee, Howl & Company Ltd., Tipton, Staffordshire, England photograph by Nick Hedges image credit: Nick Hedges Photography

* * * *

Tim Boudreau 

About the whole DOGE-will-rewrite Social Security's COBOL code in some new language thing, since this is a subject I have a whole lot of expertise in, a few anecdotes and thoughts.

Some time in the early 2000s I was doing some work with the real-time Java team at Sun, and there was a huge defense contractor with a peculiar query: Could we document how much memory an instance of every object type in the JDK uses? And could we guarantee that that number would never change, and definitely never grow, in any future Java version?

I remember discussing this with a few colleagues in a pub after work, and talking it through, and we all arrived at the conclusion that the only appropriate answer to this question as "Hell no." and that it was actually kind of idiotic.

Say you've written the code, in Java 5 or whatever, that launches nuclear missiles. You've tested it thoroughly, it's been reviewed six ways to Sunday because you do that with code like this (or you really, really, really should). It launches missiles and it works.

A new version of Java comes out. Do you upgrade? No, of course you don't upgrade. It works. Upgrading buys you nothing but risk. Why on earth would you? Because you could blow up the world 10 milliseconds sooner after someone pushes the button?

It launches fucking missiles. Of COURSE you don't do that.

There is zero reason to ever do that, and to anyone managing such a project who's a grownup, that's obvious. You don't fuck with things that work just to be one of the cool kids. Especially not when the thing that works is life-or-death (well, in this case, just death).

Another case: In the mid 2000s I trained some developers at Boeing. They had all this Fortran materials analysis code from the 70s - really fussy stuff, so you could do calculations like, if you have a sheet of composite material that is 2mm of this grade of aluminum bonded to that variety of fiberglass with this type of resin, and you drill a 1/2" hole in it, what is the effect on the strength of that airplane wing part when this amount of torque is applied at this angle. Really fussy, hard-to-do but when-it's-right-it's-right-forever stuff.

They were taking a very sane, smart approach to it: Leave the Fortran code as-is - it works, don't fuck with it - just build a nice, friendly graphical UI in Java on top of it that *calls* the code as-is.

We are used to broken software. The public has been trained to expect low quality as a fact of life - and the industry is rife with "agile" methodologies *designed* to churn out crappy software, because crappy guarantees a permanent ongoing revenue stream. It's an article of faith that everything is buggy (and if it isn't, we've got a process or two to sell you that will make it that way).

It's ironic. Every other form of engineering involves moving parts and things that wear and decay and break. Software has no moving parts. Done well, it should need *vastly* less maintenance than your car or the bridges it drives on. Software can actually be *finished* - it is heresy to say it, but given a well-defined problem, it is possible to actually *solve* it and move on, and not need to babysit or revisit it. In fact, most of our modern technological world is possible because of such solved problems. But we're trained to ignore that.

Yeah, COBOL is really long-in-the-tooth, and few people on earth want to code in it. But they have a working system with decades invested in addressing bugs and corner-cases.

Rewriting stuff - especially things that are life-and-death - in a fit of pique, or because of an emotional reaction to the technology used, or because you want to use the toys all the cool kids use - is idiotic. It's immaturity on display to the world.

Doing it with AI that's going to read COBOL code and churn something out in another language - so now you have code no human has read, written and understands - is simply insane. And the best software translators plus AI out there, is going to get things wrong - grievously wrong. And the odds of anyone figuring out what or where before it leads to disaster are low, never mind tracing that back to the original code and figuring out what that was supposed to do.

They probably should find their way off COBOL simply because people who know it and want to endure using it are hard to find and expensive. But you do that gradually, walling off parts of the system that work already and calling them from your language-du-jour, not building any new parts of the system in COBOL, and when you do need to make a change in one of those walled off sections, you migrate just that part.

We're basically talking about something like replacing the engine of a plane while it's flying. Now, do you do that a part-at-a-time with the ability to put back any piece where the new version fails? Or does it sound like a fine idea to vaporize the existing engine and beam in an object which a next-word-prediction software *says* is a contraption that does all the things the old engine did, and hope you don't crash?

The people involved in this have ZERO technical judgement.

[24karatcherrygold]

Isolde Astrium III

Born as the daughter of King Mercurus Astrium and Queen Isolde Astrium II, Isolde's existence began with tragedy and transformation. Born as a Mekkan child, Isolde died shortly after birth due to complications. However, her soul found a new vessel in an unexpected way. A robotic servant powered by Traptanium crystals absorbed her essence, and the previously unintelligent machine gained sentience, becoming her new body. Initially distraught, the grieving royals recognized the strange child-like demeanor of the robot and the glowing Traptanium, realizing their daughter's soul now resided within it.

Isolde grew quickly, both mentally and emotionally. Her robotic form never changed physically unless parts were replaced, but her mind retained and processed knowledge with incredible precision. By the time her spirit was ten years old, she had the intellect of an adult while maintaining a childlike curiosity. Despite her parents’ concern, Isolde often explored the intricate mechanical depths of Metaurus, fascinated by the systems that powered the city. Queen Isolde II strictly forbade her from venturing near the island's core, fearing the dangers of the Heart Cog, the city's central power source.

When Isolde was sixteen, her resilience and courage were tested. During a celebration for her younger brother’s birthday, Kaos sent undead marauders to attack Metaurus, intending to kidnap King Mercurus and seize the Heart Cog. While Queen Isolde defended her other children, Princess Isolde led her father into the island's depths to escape the attackers. However, they were cornered near the Heart Cog.

In the ensuing battle, Isolde used her speed and agility to evade the marauders while protecting her father. When a stray blast knocked the Heart Cog out of place, the entire island went silent and began to plummet. Reacting swiftly, Isolde hid her father in a secure area and launched herself at the attackers with mechanical precision. Utilizing her strength, she dispatched the marauders, defeating them with calculated strikes or by hurling them into the island's machinery. With the invaders subdued, she restored the Heart Cog to its socket, stabilizing Metaurus and saving her people.

Isolde continued her role as a protector of Metaurus, never becoming a Skylander but forging connections with them. As a royal, Isolde provides aid to the Skylanders if they visit the island, offering her vast knowledge, mechanical expertise, and the advanced technology of the Mekkans.

-Written by Gold

(In case you’re wondering, this is the redesign of Gearshift)

I had a lot of fun designing Isolde, utilizing a sleek and elegant yet still robotic design. Partially inspired by the creepy robo-angels from Arcane (she probably moves like them too).

I’ll be honest in saying that I created her design before fully reading Gold’s story for her. So she technically never used the Heart Cog as a weapon, and never actually will.

I mean, it’s literally keeping her home from falling into oblivion, so she can’t exactly take it for a spin while running around Skylands willy-nilly.

So I jumped the gun a bit, oh well, she still looks cool.

So here’s our robotic princess, my gift to you. Maybe I’ll do more doodling for her family, I don’t know.

What do you guys think?

Anyways, with the best of wishes, Happy Holidays!

-Cherri

[chaninfused]

Roseborn: Part One | Hwang Hyunjin

◤“The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power.”

A human soldier and a magic-less heir find an unlikely connection in their desperate battle to survive House Amaranthine. 

◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. This is the backstory of Hyunjin’s character in my ‘Gilded Kingdom’ wip. Can be read as a standalone. An enemies to lovers, forbidden love, fantasy debacle. Slow burn. Includes lots of angst but also some good fluff. Abusive mother. Descriptions of heavy violence and fighting, as well as blood and injury. Sparse use of vulgar language. Several made up terms are used in this story but are explained throughout. Have a quick read through the Gilded Kingdom World Guide to avoid confusion. 

◤Word count: 16.5K

◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.

◤Dedicated to the lovely @missinghan​! I’ll spare you the excessive sappiness, but just know that our friendship means the world to me, and you deserve nothing short of the world itself. You’re one of the most talented people I know, and I’m constantly in awe of your wonderful ideas and even more wonderful writing. This took criminally long and it’s not yet done, but I can only hope that you enjoy it nonetheless. Happy reading, and I love you so much! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

She was trying to humiliate him again, and Hyunjin knew it damn well.

He stepped into the flat square of pearly sand, schooling his features into rigid stone as he drew his Kizāri from its sheath on his back. The weapon’s trident-like head trailed in the sand, drawing a perfect half-moon around him until it met the tip of his opponent’s weapon on the ground, wielded in the same fashion.

“Y/n,” his mother had introduced her. “The best human Azārāhi we have.”

It was an insult, glaring and plain. She was mocking his Nilfyn roots by pairing him with a human—mocking the Tilt in him she deemed useless and pitiful.

Hyunjin caught the silver of her hair in his peripheral, piled on her head elegantly like strung starlight. His mother was watching him from where she stood poised as a knife in the shadows. Every blink, every breath of his was under her unrelenting scrutiny. This was a test like many before, and Hyunjin was going to cleave mountains with his bare hands if it warranted his mother’s approval.

He lifted his free hand, curling it into a fist and holding it against his right shoulder in salute. His new training partner mirrored him, her moves practiced to an unnatural degree of precision. Her black Azāri uniform was sharply tailored to her figure, the high collar brushing against her jaw as the ends of her overcoat waved in the slight breeze. Her hair was styled clear of her face, letting her hardened features be illuminated by the morning sun.

Azāri was a delicate fighting art developed by the Nilfyn centuries past, mimicking the fluidity of water in its grace and precision. It required a level of agility unnatural to humans, but stood there, his opponent was every bit the part. Her mortality was only given away by her ears, bare and unadorned. Unlike Hyunjin’s, which were extensively hooped with deep purplish-red Channeling Cores.

Channeling Cores that served little to no purpose.

The air settled around him as though the forbidding pillars surrounding them were holding their breaths, anticipating the lethal whistle of swinging Kizāris. This was a game to his mother, and if Hyunjin wanted to prove himself, then he’d have to kill that human.

As soon as that thought materialized in his mind, her still Kizāri lifted off the ground in a magnificent arc, nearly sweeping him off his feet and spurring him into action. Leaping over the silver head, he swung his own weapon down in a clean diagonal line as his muscles tensed with welcome familiarity.

Kizāris were made to be nearly the height of their users, with long and thin handles, supporting broad, double-edged iron heads that spread like butterfly wings. The weapons moved like pendulums, making dips in the sand that resembled overlapping circles. It was an art, albeit deadly.

Hyunjin fell into the familiar flow of the fight, the faint scream of air as his weapon cut through it was a welcome song to his attentive ears. His blood thrummed, dancing to the steady beat of his heart as his mind whirled with his movements, calculating, strategizing. His eyes followed the blur of her weapon arcing toward him unceasingly, one bold plunge after the other.

She fought impeccably, Hyunjin had to admit. If she were intimidated by him, her stance told nothing of it. His new partner didn’t hesitate to strike first and strike hard, but he was soon able to identify the pattern in her attacks.

Ducking to avoid the silvered weapon swiveling toward his neck, he raised his Kizāri as though to swing it upward. When he saw her eyes follow the movement, her Kizāri turning to clash with his, he reversed his aim and swung it toward her feet, successfully disrupting her balance. In the gasp of her confusion, he lunged, hurling her at the ground with his Kizāri pressed against her chest.

White sand clouded the air after the impact and Hyunjin inhaled. He would drive the weapon into her chest and watch as her mortal blood tainted the sand—show his mother that he refused to accept the insult.

But as he applied more pressure on his Kizāri, he felt the human slacken under him. The prospect of death loomed over him, a destiny and a threat. He expected her to fight back, but she was giving up, her Kizāri a whisper away from her fingertips. Her eyes were fixed on him, stern and unsettling, as if daring him to proceed, glaring at the face of undisputable doom.

It made him pause. But it was too late.

“Pathetic,” she breathed the word as her legs hugged the handle of Hyunjin’s Kizāri and pulled it downward. The weapon flew out of his grasp before he could react, and she was on her feet again, Kizāri in hand. She pushed him to the ground in one swift motion and briefly touched the sharp edge of the iron to his neck.

In one moment’s difference, Hyunjin had proven the weakness he’d been so close to destroying.

The Azārāhi retracted her weapon before turning to where Hyunjin’s mother stood watching. She bowed then stepped out of the square of sand. Its even surface now exhibited the circular indentations of the Kizāris.

Hyunjin couldn’t pull himself up quick enough before his mother’s scathing words lashed at him. There was sand in his hair, dusting his cheeks and muddling the inky black of his attire. His Kizāri was discarded shamefully on the ground. And he was just bested by a human.

The head of House Amaranthine had aimed to humiliate him, and she succeeded.

“How Shameful.”

Those two words landed like a slap to his face.

She was never discrete at expressing her disappointment in him. It was the only emotion she seemed to know how to express. Never pride. Never compassion.

All because he was simply born.

Hyunjin lifted his gaze, willing himself to meet her eyes despite the oppressive urge building up in him to curl into himself and vanish without a trace.

He would allow himself no further humiliation.

“I expect you to train every waking and sleeping hour of the day.” she stepped out into the light, and instantly, the space of the court seemed to shrivel. His mother was carved out of quartz and ivory, her sharp eyes pools of onyx that saw everything. She demanded attention, and a cower from the people who knew her.

Her fairness told nothing of the disdain dripping from her words. “Paint these sands red for all I care.”

Hyunjin was foolish to think he could challenge her gaze with his own. He stared at the disrupted sand beneath him when he forced out an answer.

“Yes, mother.”

•❃•

Life in the Kingdom of Greria was many things, but it wasn’t easy. Not for your kind.

Your villages were small and few, riddled with illness and poverty. Children were forced away from their families for better lives as servants or soldiers, while the elderly were left to rot alone under tattered roofs. Their loneliness was common, expected, even, since most families were prematurely broken by the aristocracy or by death.

The Nilfyn didn’t burn down your homes, but their indifference to your suffering might’ve as well. Their biases killed and tortured and ripped little children from their mothers’ desperate arms. Ruled by an uncaring king and a heartless aristocracy, being born human was condemnation in Greria.

Some might say that you were one of the lucky few. Donated to the Ērmār of House Amaranthine when you were six, you hadn’t set foot in a human village ever since. You were fed and sheltered, and that was a luxury more than most could afford.

The Ērmār was an austere lady. It was rumored amongst the palace servants that her heart was made of an iron so cold it never warmed up.

House Amaranthine operated on that coldness.

The life you led was governed by countless, unchanging rules. You had to watch your every word and action in order to keep your neck intact. And as one of the human Azārāhis, trained to be sacrificed on the first line of defense, you were under the Ērmār’s direct examination. She could deem you unfitting or insolent at any moment, and your life would be tipped over with a wave of her hand.

You were given the merest respect for being an Azārāhi when strolling through town, but you were still a human girl in a warrior’s uniform. A sacrificial lamb. That Azārāhi title was hollow.

And you were reminded of its emptiness when the Ērmār summoned you to train with her son.

Sōrsānt Hyunjin was a presence whispered in the shadows and not uttered aloud in the palace. Very few of you had laid eyes on the House’s only heir, but you all heard about his mother’s contempt for him. The Ērmār was harsh, but she was the harshest on him.

No one understood her reasons, neither did any pity the Sōrsānt. He was a Nilfyn aristocrat after all, with enough privilege to distribute amongst a village and still have an abundance to spare. If anything, you found him pathetic.

And your notion of him was fortified when you first dueled with him. You recognized the insult of your new role as his training partner, and you had expected him to plunge his Kizāri into your chest when he had the chance. You had expected him to show the Ērmār that he wouldn’t let her humiliate him. You had expected him to kill you because that was how things worked in House Amaranthine.

But he hesitated. And he damned the two of you in that fraction of a second.

Weakness was unforgivable. It was a sin. You couldn’t think of a single valid reason for his reluctance, and you didn’t want to know. The Sōrsānt had no business sparing a random human, and if you wanted to keep your place in the palace, then such an incident could not reoccur.

That was what you woke up to ensure.

Just like the previous day, you waited in the Sōrsānt’s training court after finishing your drills. The sun was barely awake, its gradual light painting the slumbering sky in golden hues. It was better that way. If the Ērmār wanted you to train during every waking hour, then you had to be up before the sun itself.

You didn’t wait long before Hyunjin appeared, striding out of the lacquered doors with an ease that could only be found in those carrying aristocratic blood. Something akin to anger twitched in his jaw when his gaze settled on you for the briefest moment. It was as though he were upset by the fact that you arrived before him.

The Sōrsānt was a sight to behold. A presence to be revered. His towering stature was accentuated by attire excellently tailored to his figure, drawing attention to the breadth of his proud shoulders. Half of his long hair was tied up to clear his face, but a few dark strands escaped to frame his countenance regardless. Purplish-red stones encrusted his ears—instruments of summoning magic, marking him as a Nilfyn and specifically symbolizing his relation to House Amaranthine.

In many ways, he was a mirror of the Ērmār. But the ruthlessness that lined her eyes was missing in his, replaced by solemn guardedness. He was a hostile fortress, yet his staggering features demanded lingering gazes.

It was said that their magic made them ethereal like that. Nature’s last favored children. Hyunjin’s eyes seemed to be made of the purest obsidian, wrung from the bleeding heart of the earth itself and shielded by the generous brush of his brows. His full lips were pressed in a line of permanent scorn, as though he couldn’t smile even if he tried to.

Sculpted by iron and starlight, he was beautiful, like all the Nilfyn were. He was also a conceited fool, like they all were.

“Good morning, Sōrsānt.” you kept your tone even, greeting him only for the sake of formalities than actual concern for the quality of his morning.

Haughty as they were, Hyunjin spared your greeting no acknowledgment as he walked past you to the rack of polished Azāri equipment nailed to the wall. You ignored the urge to roll your eyes, fixing them instead on the identical pillars surrounding the court like soldiers on duty. The sand in the center was flattened again, erasing all evidence of the humiliating duel of the previous day.

When the Sōrsānt moved toward the training square, you followed him, situating yourself on one side while he took its opposite. He didn’t bother to lay out the plan for the day’s training. Perhaps he didn’t care, or perhaps he only wanted to spar until one of you fell dead. Whichever it was, you didn’t dwell on it for too long. For all you knew, he expected you to simply know what he wanted and follow along.

You tugged at the leather straps wrapped around your hands, making sure they were secured properly. Reinforced with iron cuffs, the brace was designed to protect an Azārāhi’s wrists from fracturing or dislocating when handling the weight and force of a Kizāri. The weapon was difficult to master and similarly dangerous without the necessary precautions.

Once you were satisfied with the fit of the leather straps, you fixed your footing and inhaled, letting air pass through your lips slowly before letting it out through your nose. Your mind had to be an empty slate before a fight. You couldn’t afford distractions unless you wanted your arm chopped off.

You detached your Kizāri when Hyunjin wordlessly reached for his, letting the head touch the ground and dragging it across the sand in a perfect half-circle. The two blades met halfway, connecting your trails like an incomplete infinity. That was the routine way of drawing the Kizāri during professional duels, one you practiced over and over until it became as natural as breathing.

You raised your free fist to your shoulder, slightly jutting your elbow out in salute. Hyunjin mirrored you, allowing the greeting to settle for a moment before he swung his Kizāri.

Every emotion you painstakingly forced into hiding unfurled at once, fueling your muscles as you countered his attack.

Your Kizāri was an extension of your arm, moving alongside your body as though the two were instinctively aware of one another. You’d long since tamed the weapon, understanding the way it moved not out of necessity, but because you loved the art of Azāri.

You should’ve hated an art developed by the Nilfyn, for the Nilfyn, but you were entranced by its splendor from the moment you first saw the Azārāhis of House Amaranthine thirteen years ago. Their bodies were mere vessels for the fluid movement of the fight, one with the blur of Kizāris. It was enchanting. It was deadly.

An Azārāhi master herself, the Ērmār had been recruiting human students to join her legion of soldiers. So when you showed potential, you were thrust into the tough life of an Azārāhi, never to look back.

You leaped over Hyunjin’s Kizāri when it came arcing toward you, lashing yours in a slanted line he narrowly missed. You had never fought a Nilfyn Azārāhi before the day you were summoned to train with Hyunjin, and you noticed the difference immediately. The Sōrsānt was incredibly lithe, and that agility seemed instinctual, easy. Unlike the overly practiced movements of your fellow human Azārāhis. In another lifetime, you might’ve sat and admired his motion for hours, like a stream of crystal water. A sly breeze. A graceful shadow. A delicate destroyer.

But you weren’t a dreamy girl in that impossible timeline, and you had a warning to deliver to the foolish Hwang Hyunjin.

Anger at him set your blood ablaze, mangled with your silent fear from the previous day. You hadn’t built a life in House Amaranthine for the Sōrsānt to take it away by being cowardly. You refused to let that be the direction of your fate.

Your Kizāris clashed and the curved ends hooked into each other. Seeing the opportunity, you flicked your wrist sideways. Hyunjin’s weapon jerked as a result, distracting him before you swiveled to dislodge your Kizāri and swing it past his neck.

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, deafening.

It all happened in the slight space between a breath and another.

Your Kizāri whooshed behind him before you pulled it back, making its blunt underside catch his neck and drive him toward you until you had your hand fisted in his coat. You were aware of the Kizāri still in his grasp, idle due to the smear of shock that contorted his face, so your words came rushing out. He could snap back into his senses at any moment and cut through you with ease. “I don’t know what made you leave me unscathed yesterday, and I don’t care to know.

“Do not disgrace me before the Ērmār like that again,” you bit out before releasing him and swiftly backing away.

He could kill you for your insolence. He could call for the guards and they wouldn’t question him while dragging you away. But something told you that he wouldn’t. As you trailed a new half-moon in the pearly sand, you knew that his colossal ego wouldn’t allow him to quit the fight so early.

Hyunjin stared at you, his Kizāri limp in his hand, his formidable fortress down. You saw the gall of your actions flit over his features as it sunk into his mind. Your words were clear, the intentions behind them plain, and the set of his eyes darkened with realization soon enough.

You had done it.

He had barely completed his half-circle in the sand before his Kizāri went flying through the air, aimed at you with no space for mistake.

You caught the steel in his eyes, and you wanted to laugh. This was what it felt like to fight a Nilfyn Azārāhi. Brute force and swings aimed to kill. It wasn’t the harmless flow of water, but the slither of a serpent. A dance of venom.

This was Azāri. Relentless and deathly.

Adrenaline surged in your veins as you evaded his blow, swinging your weapon with newfound force. Sand rose in clouds around the two of you. Sunlight pooled into the open court. Your Kizāris never faltered. Your feet never stayed at the same spot for a moment too long. The minutes blurred into each other, and as your muscles screamed against the strain, Hyunjin seemed unaffected. The anger in his focused gaze only seemed to grow, festering into an ugly mess of lethal, unforgiving swings.

The blade of his Kizāri landed on your upper arm in a hazy moment of vulnerability, and before you could register what was happening, it was cutting through the thick sleeve of your overcoat.

He retracted his weapon, and you swallowed a low hiss as the new cut on your arm burned in the dusty air. The only thought that broke through your pained daze was a grim ‘fucking finally’.

This way, they would see that the Sōrsānt injured you during training. They would know that he didn’t value a meager human life and you would be safe from the Ērmār’s retribution. After all, you didn’t want to break the first rule in House Amaranthine.

You were still gripping your Kizāri when you straightened your back, holding Hyunjin’s gaze and ignoring the tingling pain in your arm. He looked at you with his chin in the air as if daring you to wince. Daring you to cry out.

You only dragged your Kizāri through the disrupted sand. A half-moon.

And you drew it again and again until your limbs were no more than floating muscle. Until your mind was no more than a muddle of consciousness. Until you drove your body to the limits of blood loss.

It was better that way.

•❃•

When Hyunjin saw you again, it was as though you hadn’t trailed blood as you left his training court the day before.

You stepped through the door with your head up, shoulders firm, and your Kizāri strapped to your back, only pausing mid-stride for a hesitant moment when you noticed that he had arrived before you.

He watched as confusion, curiosity, and then concern painted themselves on your features respectively. All appropriate reactions, he supposed. It would be deemed highly disrespectful if you kept him waiting, but likewise, he didn’t want you to best him in attendance as well.

It was silly, he was vaguely aware, but this was a competition. Such was life in House Amaranthine. Even the most trivial things mattered.

You cleared your throat shortly after, speaking in the same monotone voice, “Good morning, Sōrsānt.”

Hyunjin didn’t reply, and you both knew that he didn’t have to. Neither of you actually cared about mornings and whether they were pleasant or not.

Taking your positions across the flat square of sand, Hyunjin pretended not to see the way your eyes clenched when you reached for your Kizāri. It was the first sign of pain you showed, and he suspected it would be the last.

He was aware of what you were doing. By making him injure you, you ensured that the palace wouldn’t pay attention to the way he hesitated to kill you first. It was grim, but it helped mask his earlier humiliation.

Though, Hyunjin knew you didn’t do it for him. You did it to protect yourself from him. If his mother grew suspicious, then there was no way to avoid the punishment she would give the both of you. Humans and Nilfyn were not supposed to be friends, and his little slip-up could’ve condemned the two of you.

You drew your half-moons in the sand and began what would become a daily routine—sparring wordlessly until the sun centered the sky.

Hyunjin allowed the faint voice in his head to begrudgingly admire your strength. You were still in pain, he noticed it, but your aim didn’t waver, your swings didn’t weaken. When his mother introduced you as her best human Azārāhi, she had truly meant it. You were an untiring weapon in her mortal arsenal.

Perhaps, in another lifetime, he would’ve been horrified by your endurance. But he wasn’t an innocent boy in that impossible timeline, and those were the cruel instruments to surviving a world that didn’t value you.

The two of you were sparring in rounds each a few minutes long. Hyunjin didn’t miss the looks you were giving him by the end of each one, staring at him like he was a riddle you couldn’t solve while trailing your Kizāri in the sand again. He could guess a hundred reasons behind those looks, and he found that he didn’t care to know which was specifically circling your mind.

But as the day progressed, he began noticing the strange new pattern in your strategy. You were trying to corner him, push him to an edge as though to see how he would react. When he swung his Kizāri at you, you only ducked and arced your weapon to trap his. Then, to his bewilderment, you waited, narrowing your eyes at him as though anticipating his response. When he frowned and twisted his Kizāri free, your unnerving intrigue only increased. It sparkled in your eyes gloriously.

He didn’t like it.

Or more precisely, he didn’t like being the object of your mysterious scrutiny.

Hyunjin stifled a snarl as he swiveled his Kizāri at your feet, raising the pale sand. Goodness, you were really getting on his nerves.

•❃•

It had been a week since you began training with Hyunjin, and although you hated every moment of it, it was a routine you eased into quickly.

Maybe a bit too quickly than you’d like to admit.

The Sōrsānt was an insufferable bastard, but you appreciated the challenge he presented to you. All your previous duels paled when compared to those with him. It was as if you’d finally found a worthy opponent.

That morning started like the rest. You stood in the sand square and dragged your Kizāri through as Hyunjin mimicked you. The soft clink of metal sounded when the two weapons met, and you raised your fist to your shoulder.

Just then, the doors groaned open, and you heard her approach before you turned to see her.

Shrouded in the finest black, the Ērmār’s presence in the training court made the air quiver. You caught the glint of a Kizāri behind the silver glow of her hair and your eyes widened unwisely.

There could only be one reason for that Kizāri.

Immediately, you retracted your weapon and bowed to her, beginning to retrace your steps toward the door at the opposite end of the court when her voice boomed behind you, “Stay.”

You froze at her command, trying to calm the panic rising in your throat as you stood still near the door. Your thoughts pounded against your sanity. She suspects you. This is it. She’s here to end it all.

You were a fool to think your plan would ever work.

Hyunjin glared at his mother as she stepped into the square of sand, undoubtedly displeased by her order for you to stay. She stopped at the spot where you stood moments ago and pulled out her Kizāri, letting it meet his on the ground. Her tone was gravelly demand, unaffected by the irritation in his gaze. “I want to see your progress.”

Hyunjin didn’t answer her, and you could see the clench of his jaw as he bit back any protest he had. A breath too long later, he relented, touching his fist to his shoulder briefly before he swept his Kizāri across the sand in front of him.

You observed them from the side, not bothering to mask your expressions anymore. You didn’t know whether to be afraid, excited, or baffled by the dangerous duel before you.

A visit from the Ērmār never had pleasant results, and your fear was all-encompassing. The last time you’d seen her, she was watching as her son spared your life when he shouldn’t have. She wouldn’t forget, you knew. Eventually, she would decide to finish what Hyunjin couldn’t.

At the same time, you couldn’t drown the thrill pumping in your blood. You’d heard much about the Ērmār’s mastery of Azāri, but you’d never seen her fight. Not until that moment. And you could easily see where Hyunjin earned his fighting style.

The Ērmār was him, except quicker and deadlier. She moved as if she had mapped all his steps beforehand and expected them. He was a puppet in her hands, forced to counter, counter, counter, and never given a second chance to attack.

The Ērmār’s age didn’t seem to give Hyunjin an advantage either. She was a dagger that always landed true, an ancient willow swaying with the wind of the fight.

Then, there was your faint surprise to see the way Hyunjin bent to his mother’s will without so little as an objection. Somehow, you knew what the Ērmār was doing. By letting you watch, she was pushing his humiliation further. It was a twisted play of power that you unfortunately understood. Weakness was a sin, after all.

The duel didn’t last long. Hyunjin held up against the Ērmār’s unfaltering blows impeccably, but one could only defend for so long before an opening showed itself.

And the Ērmār was a keenly perceptive lady.

In a blink, her Kizāri swung skillfully, disarming him successfully and hurtling toward his side. She turned the weapon and its flat side slammed into him, throwing him off balance and sending him to the ground. A puff of dust floated around Hyunjin’s fallen figure, and you grimaced before you could think any better of it.

The Ērmār stood over her son’s body, pristine and undisturbed after their abrupt duel. Her tone was enough to make flowers wilt. “And I didn’t even need my magic to best you.”

Hyunjin was still sprawled on his side, and you found yourself urging him silently. Get up. Get up, you absolute buffoon.

As if he could hear you, he pushed himself to his feet, fighting back a wince as he met his mother’s withering gaze. Sand was powdering the side of his face and chalking his dark hair, but that didn’t seem to bother him. The words left his lips quietly, seething, “You say this, but my father bested you without—”

“Your father was too incompetent to keep himself alive. Do you wish to compare yourself to him?” she snapped, suffocating whatever flame of courage he had kindled for himself at that moment.

He lowered his eyes, squeezing his fists and dropping his shoulders, truly defeated. “No, mother.”

The Ērmār didn’t grace him with a response, simply looking him over with a disappointed click of her tongue before she turned and left. Only when the doors echoed shut behind her did Hyunjin lift his gaze, letting it crash on you instantly. A maelstrom of anger and humiliation.

He picked up his Kizāri and stalked in your direction. You opened your mouth to speak, but he only shoved past you, wordlessly pushing the door open and disappearing into the palace.

You had sworn to never feel sorry for the Sōrsānt. But at that moment, standing alone in his training court, your heart broke the vow of your better judgement.

•❃•

You could tell that Hyunjin’s mind was elsewhere when his Kizāri flew out of his grasp upon clashing with yours.

It was a mistake only a beginner would make.

You heaved an exasperated breath and stabbed the ground with your Kizāri, glaring at a confused Hyunjin while he stared blankly at his disgraced weapon. With a shake of his head, he crouched down and grabbed the handle, dragging the Kizāri with him to his side of the sand square.

He drew a new half-moon then looked up at you, surprised to find you unmoving at the center of the court. He lifted a brow in mute question, and you frowned, unable to keep the frustration to yourself anymore.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

He didn’t owe you conversation. He didn’t need to talk to you unless he had an order to give. The Nilfyn were above engaging with simple humans.

That didn’t stop you from pressing further, hefting your Kizāri with two hands as you stepped toward him. “I didn’t have to see that, and you could’ve objected.”

Silence.

You let out a sizable sigh. Of course your attempts wouldn’t make him budge.

Returning to your spot, you shaped your half-circle and fell back into the rhythm of the fight. But the unanswered questions and his curious behavior seemed to bubble over in your mind. If the Ērmār was using you against him, for whatever reason, then you were in immense danger. You weren’t willing to let Hyunjin go until you had your answers.

Seemingly distracted as he was, Hyunjin let his Kizāri swoop lazily and you took that opportunity to arc your weapon toward the ground, successfully trapping his in the sand. You swiftly set a foot on the blunt underside of his Kizāri, its head now buried in the sand, and threw your best glare at the Sōrsānt. He’d have to counter the full weight of your body and the fix of your Kizāri if he wanted to free his weapon.

“I need answers.”

At your shameless demand, a scowl distorted Hyunjin’s handsome features. He tugged on his Kizāri, and you pressed your foot harder in response. It was his fault for allowing you to trap him so easily anyway.

“Why didn’t you object?”

His grip on the Kizāri’s handle tightened, but he remained silent. Your frustration only multiplied. He was more stubborn than a traitor in interrogation.

“Why did you let the Ērmār humiliate you like that?”

He turned his face away in a show of disinterest, but you saw the tick in his jaw. He was getting irritated.

“You’re the Sōrsānt, for goodness’ sake! Why do you feign weakness?”

That seemed to do it. He snapped his head toward you, eyes thundering with turbulent anger and another emotion you couldn’t quite place. The steely edge of his words could break stone. “You don’t know me.”

“Oh? I think I’ve seen enough to know what I need to know. You’re conceited, callous, and careless, and you’re weak. Why am I training with you?”

Hyunjin kept his lips pressed together, his frown deepening. You were the one being careless with your words, but you couldn’t stop. Once they slipped past your lips, all your thoughts came tumbling out.

“You don’t use your magic.” your statement sounded more like a question. You had been observing him during your training hours, and he never resorted to an Elemental Tilt to turn the tides of your fights. Hyunjin relied on his skills solely, and although it made the match between the two of you a notch fairer, it was suspicious. The Nilfyn prided themselves on their magic.

You leaned closer, lowering your voice skeptically, “Unless…you don’t have magic.”

He flinched at that—flinched—and you didn’t pretend to overlook it, murmuring, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You retracted your Kizāri from the ground and lifted your foot from his weapon, raising your chin in challenge as you stepped away. Almost immediately, Hyunjin’s Kizāri swung at you, frantic yet precise. Metal clashed on metal, and you were pivoting away, fighting the crazed laugh threatening to erupt in your chest.

It was almost too easy to rile Hyunjin up.

If the Sōrsānt had no magic, then that meant that he was an illegitimate child. That would explain his avoidance of using it and might be the reason behind the Ērmār’s harshness with him.

If he had no magic, then that meant that he was a human like you. You only needed to prove it.

You lowered your guard, purposely giving Hyunjin the chance to disarm you. His swings, whereas still strong, were erratic, as though he was desperately fighting for his life. His dark eyes were glazed over with that same desperation.

Reminiscent of your first duel, he pushed you to the ground, pressing his Kizāri against your chest. Your weapon slipped out of your grasp.

You inhaled sand, looking up at him with a satisfied smirk. “See? No magic.”

Before giving him time to react, you raised your legs to hook them around his and toppled him over. In the breath of his surprise, you snatched his Kizāri, rolling and pinning him under you easily. You clutched the weapon like a spear as you aimed it at his neck, barely hearing your voice over the wild beating of your heart. “You’re powerless. You’re a liar.”

His beautiful face was marred with distress and fury, and with a sharp pang of realization, you recognized the emotion that filled his eyes moments earlier. Fear.

Hyunjin’s hand gripped your wrist to divert the Kizāri. A growl rumbled in his throat as he tried to wrestle you off and regain the upper hand. He didn’t acknowledge your accusations while the two of you tumbled across the court.

Your back hit the soft sand again as Hyunjin held you down, his hand slamming into the ground beside your head. His Kizāri was discarded. The strands of hair that framed his face whispered against your skin when he leaned in, seething, yet so incredibly vulnerable. He rasped, the smoothness of his voice hardening into ice despite the warmth of his presence. “You don’t know me, human.”

Then, as if struck by lightning, his eyes enlarged, and he scrambled off you suddenly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his bizarre change of behavior, noticing a moment too late that you had been holding your breath.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself to your feet. Blood was rushing through your system too quickly, but you weren’t going to let Hyunjin flee just yet. You needed answers, and this fight wasn’t going to end until you had them.

You turned to find your Kizāri and paused, eyes landing on a single flower resting on the pearly sand.

Right where Hyunjin’s hand had hit the ground.

A flower, where there was nothing but sand before.

•❃•

Hyunjin wanted the ground to swallow him.

Horror streaked his face as he stared at the flower that sprung amid the bleak sand.

He knew he made it bloom. In a surge of fear, he lost control of his idle magic. He felt it gush through his body, cold yet soothing, felt the lingering tingle on the tips of his fingers—the kiss of the flower’s petals on his palm before he scrambled away, panicked.

You crouched down and pulled the stray bloom out of the sand. The small tangle of roots let up easily. Cupping it gently, you snapped your head up at Hyunjin, meeting his terrified gaze with wonder.

Some part of him faltered.

It screamed and shook with a violence so tremendous it snatched his breath away—a part that longed for acceptance and approval. He hated the way your simple expression seemed to rip him apart, hitting every brick he painstakingly stacked to build the fortress around his heart.

Your awe was sweetly revolting, your whisper too loud for his liking. “This is your magic.”

The flower in your hands had unfurled like a rose, its wide petals curling outward in a shy blush. A single leaf padded the blossom, brilliant in its green sheen. It seemed to smile at the two of you, urging you to caress its soft petals.

It was beautifully horrible, Hyunjin thought. He had to discard it before his mother learned of his slip up.

But before that, there was the problem of you.

Deciding he could no longer look at his mistake lying prettily in your cupped palms, he diverted his gaze elsewhere. Only then did he find his voice. “You were not supposed to see that.”

“Why?”

He’d asked himself the same question every day of his nineteen years. Why did he have to hide his Tilt? Why wasn’t he allowed to practice his magic? His mother’s voice sounded in his head, her words slipping out of his lips unthinkingly, “A Flowering Tilt is of no use to an Azārāhi.”

“You have magic, and you’re deeming it useless?”

Hyunjin fought back a sigh. He had already said too much. He shouldn’t have been entertaining you in the first place, but you seemed to have a knack for making him act against his better judgment.

“It is useless to me.”

Silence stretched between the two of you until you finally said, “You don’t believe that.”

What a feeble, feisty human soul.

He turned to face you again, avoiding looking at the glaring blossom in your hands. “When will you stop thinking that you know me?”

“I can identify a lie when I hear one,” you only shrugged, and he almost admired your boldness. Surely, you understood the danger of speaking to him so freely.

Yet, you demanded answers and it was clear that you weren’t leaving him alone until you acquired them.

Hyunjin huffed, the truth tasting sour on his tongue, “It doesn’t matter what I believe. If the Ērmār thinks that my Tilt is useless, then it is.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he beat you to it, wanting to end this conversation before he did something he regretted. He’d give you the answers you wanted, and nothing more. “This House obeys her word, not mine.

“I couldn’t object yesterday because I don’t have the power to. I don’t use my magic because I don’t need to. And I didn’t choose to be paired with you. I don’t want to do this any more than you do. This was the Ērmār’s decision alone.” he crossed his arms, raising a brow. “There are your answers. Satisfied?”

You clamped your mouth shut then, and Hyunjin knew that that would be the end of it.

His heart was beating with a desire to indulge itself in the now distant memory of your fascination, but he ignored it. Picking up his Kizāri, he strode toward you and extended his hand. “Give me the flower.”

You handed it to him wordlessly, and with an unreasonable pang, he realized it was for the better. Your silence was better for the both of you.

Hyunjin crushed the blossom in his fist, snapping its stem and forcing his emotional ramparts up. He had messed up enough for a thousand lifetimes. This mistake could not happen again.

He made his way to the double doors then halted with his free hand on one of the handles. “Oh, and, Y/n?”

He turned to find you looking at him, waiting with your expressionless mask back on. His warning was whispered, but the faint breeze carried its weight to your ears before buckling under. It settled bitter in the disrupted sand. “If word of my magic spreads around the palace, I’ll finish what we started on our first duel.”

Hyunjin didn’t know if he truly believed those words, but you had claimed to be able to discern a lie upon hearing one. He hoped you would be able to tell him in due time.

•❃•

Silver plates clinked softly as servants set the first course on the table, a mouthwatering display of the House’s best: Pine-Stuffed Eggs arranged like bursting stars. Fresh spinach leaves tossed with vibrant berries in a unique concoction of lemon cider and sesame oil. Roasted Pillow-Top Mushrooms bronzed by cinnamon and freckled with salt flakes. Pale blades of fermented Bone Grass accompanied by a mound of floral Moon Cheese.

It was food fit for the start of a feast, but only four people sat at the long ivory table.

Hyunjin’s gaze traveled politely over his mother’s guests, the Sōrmār and Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine. They sat proud, squaring their shoulders and flaunting their adorned ears. Their grayish-blue Channeling Cores were cut into smooth round shapes, pierced in decreasing size from the earlobe to the helix. The blue of their attire was stark against the grim palette of House Amaranthine.

But that was as far as they stood out. Those Nilfyn were just like Hyunjin and his mother, aristocrats who were always scheming, devising, and calculating. Life was nothing but a mere game of power to them, and tonight’s feast was an opulent performance of such.

The Sōrmār of House Sapphirine was stern-looking, with cheeks that hollowed in despite his wealth and eyes that never exposed his true emotions. His late wife bore him one heir, whom he paraded around like a prize.

Sōrsānt Juyeon was everything Hyunjin’s mother wished her son had been. He was haughty, cruel, and powerful. All the things Hyunjin couldn’t feign strongly enough.

They were both born with Hybrid Tilts, but while Hyunjin’s was useless, Juyeon’s was dangerous.

His Corrosive Tilt allowed him to create chemicals that ate away at human flesh and dissolved stone. He could bring down entire villages if he wanted, torture them until nothing remained but ghastly bones.

He saw it once, and while his mother clapped for the performance, Hyunjin couldn’t silence the echo of those tortured screams as the human’s skin melted off.

It was a wicked kind of pleasure he never understood.

Once the servants stepped away from the table, the dining began. Hyunjin kept one ear on the conversation happening between his mother and the Sōrmār while he scooped some of the salad onto his plate.

“Morileus’ soldiers were spotted near the border earlier this week,” the man had said, and his mother entertained him, “So I hear. They must be scouting for those rebels of theirs. They wouldn’t dare cross over.”

“It’s unbelievable how the Ambellium continues to evade him after all these years.”

“It is incompetency on the King’s behalf, nothing more.”

Hyunjin tuned out the rest of their conversation in disinterest. The bizarre political state of their neighboring Kingdom, Morynna, was a recurring subject in aristocratic dinners. Their seemingly immortal king had been ruling long before Hyunjin was born, and as far as anyone could recall.

Anyone but the citizens of his Kingdom.

To them, King Morileus was the Eternal King, his throne and power unquestioned. They found no fault in his endless rule.

Hyunjin visited Morynna once during a diplomatic trip with his mother. He remembered Moryns greeting them with glazed over eyes and tireless cheer. Unnatural, like sentient puppets. Royal soldiers permanently swarmed their streets, but they didn’t seem to mind. All the people did was sing Morileus’ praises, for he had saved them from the savage Silfyn.

The Nilfyn weren’t always nature’s favored children. Four centuries past, the old Morynna was ruled by humans alongside the powerful Silfyn, enchanting creatures that were said to have raised the Kingdom’s imposing capital from desolate earth.

Their magic knew no bounds, transcending the barriers of one’s soul and reaching for the seams of existence itself. If Hyunjin could make a flower bloom, then they could awaken gardens across deserts. If Hyunjin’s mother could manipulate water, then they could split the mighty sea. If Juyeon could destroy a village, then they could bring entire kingdoms to their knees. It was even said that some could raise the dead from their rest.

Yet, all that power didn’t save them from slaughter. Perhaps that was where the Nilfyn earned their abundant arrogance. Despite being restricted by their magic, they were the only remaining magical race.

“Is Hyunjin still Unclaimed?”

Hyunjin’s fork froze on his plate, and he looked at the Sōrmār with masked nervousness. The memory of the blushing blossom in your hands flickered in his mind, fresh and frightening. Tender.

“Unfortunately. His Tilt is yet to show,” his mother lied, to which the Sōrmār nodded sympathetically. His true condescending intent was obvious in his tone. “His case is a peculiar one, but a Nilfyn is a Nilfyn. His magic will appear eventually.”

Hyunjin felt Juyeon’s smug gaze on him, and he suppressed the urge to glare in response. In this game of power, he must’ve thought himself Hyunjin’s better simply because he had magic.

Their patronizing didn’t go unnoticed by the Ērmār, who responded curtly, “We are anticipating signs of his Tilt, but we are in no rush. Hyunjin’s mastery of Azāri is unmatched and unaffected by his lack of magic.”

Hyunjin wanted to feel the prickle of pride, to sit straighter and match Juyeon’s smugness, but the sweet tanginess of his food turned bitter in his mouth.

Unmatched mastery? He scoffed inwardly. That was not what she had said when she stood over him in the training court.

“Ah, do tell! I’ve been eager to see your famed Azārāhis,” the Sōrmār barked a resonant laugh, to which Hyunjin’s mother smiled. Charming, but anyone who bothered to look would see the icicles behind her expression. “Of course. They are waiting for us.”

•❃•

Hyunjin had only seen his mother’s miniature army twice before, and each time, it grew impossibly.

The court they stood in was ten, or maybe twenty times the size of his personal training court, packed with grim-faced Azārāhis. Their black overcoats were a void night sky, their Kizāris a shimmering sea of silver.

One thousand, four hundred and thirty-seven Nilfyn Azārāhis, Hyunjin had the number memorized, more than double any of the other Houses’. They stood in orderly clusters in accordance with their respective Tilts. Their hair was pulled back or sheared to display their ears, encrusted by a pattern of black and purplish-red rings. Soldiers of House Amaranthine.

Hyunjin stole a glance at Juyeon and his father, drinking in the astonishment they failed to conceal.

His mother’s success with Azārāhis was rightfully enviable. A startling majority of aspiring warriors had pledged allegiance to her House over the other six, aiming to be part of its illustrious history. It made her an ever-growing force to be reckoned with.

“Before you are the best of our Azārāhis, those who have completed extensive levels of training and continue on the path toward mastery,” Hyunjin’s mother declared, her voice filled with self-centered pride. She considered each of the Azārāhis her achievement alone. “Allow them to perform for you.”

On cue, the first group of Azārāhis stepped forward while the rest backtracked. Their leader introduced them as the Hydro Contingent, soldiers with the same Tilt as the Ērmār.

Hyunjin watched as their Kizāris swung in magnificent curves, creating arcs of crystal water as the weapons clashed mercilessly. A spectacle of both magic and skill. Their Kizāris weren’t just blades, but magic wielding instruments.

The Pyro Contingent was next, setting their Kizāris and their bodies ablaze, followed by the Aeros who created mighty whirlwinds with the swoops of their weapons and flew after their opponents. The group of Terrestrial Tilts was the last of the Old Disciplines, raising the pearly sand in forbidding shapes and transforming the terrain as they sparred.

Then, the Hybrid Types began their performances: Mirroring Tilts who split into a hundred duplicates. Fuming Tilts who blanketed the court in dense smoke. Grounding Tilts who sparred upturned in the air. Corrosive Tilts who liquified solid training dummies. Bestial Tilts who commanded vicious wolves. Metallic Tilts who turned their bodies into impenetrable steel. Photo Tilts who manipulated light to appear invisible. Sound-bending Tilts who deafened their opponents. And finally, Metamorphic Tilts who slithered as snakes in the sand.

Every known Hybrid Type had been present except one.

There was no Flowering Contingent.

Your earlier words rang in Hyunjin’s mind, chastising, you have magic, and you’re deeming it useless?

He found himself wondering what Flowering Tilts would do in such a presentation, but the only answer he could think of was utterly frivolous. Turning the square of sand into an exquisite garden would impress no one, and likewise endanger nobody.

The Sōrmār of House Sapphirine’s hollow praises drowned in the background as Hyunjin trailed behind them, leaving the court, mind elsewhere.

No matter how hard he tried to accept the bar on his magic, it never felt right. Regardless of his Tilt’s so-called uselessness, it was still part of his soul.

Watching the Nilfyn Azārāhis made him feel as though he’d been robbed of something he never had in the first place. An emptiness that could never be satiated.

The four of them stepped into a significantly smaller court, where an array of Azārāhis stood rigidly. Their number was many times lesser than the previous soldiers’, but the feat of their achievement was equally impressive.

“Our young troop of Human Azārāhis,” the Ērmār announced with a flourish. “A hundred and eighty-one.”

As if by some mysterious force, Hyunjin’s gaze was drawn to you at the front of the group. You stood alone in the first row, an amaranthine band on your arm differentiating you as their leader. The sand that covered you earlier that day was washed away, your uniform crisp and clean, your Kizāri strapped comfortably to your back.

You kept your gaze forward, impassive, and Hyunjin felt the mystifying weight of your silence again.

Your fist met your shoulder roughly as your voice carried out across the court. “Heed!”

The following sound of fists was like rain on stone. All the Azārāhis bowed in eerie unison, their Kizāris glinting in the bright light of the lanterns surrounding them.

“As you know, teaching Azāri to humans has always been difficult due to their flimsy nature,” Hyunjin’s mother told the Sōrmār, “But I have found an effective training method with this group, and their numbers will only increase from here onwards.”

She gave you a slight nod and you turned on your heel, gesturing toward an Azārāhi on your right while the rest stepped away to clear the square of sand. The two of you moved to opposing sides of the court, pulling out your Kizāris and trailing them across the sand in symmetrical half-moons.

The Azārāhi you chose had a massive build, his bulky shoulders and muscled arms straining against the sleeves of his uniform. Years of training were visible on his physique. A scar ran faint against his olive complexion, cutting across the hard edge of his cheekbones. When you finished your salute, he raised his Kizāri first.

You leaped out of his range with ease, and Hyunjin allowed himself a moment of pride. Your performance didn’t burst with splendor and magic, your Kizāris didn’t catch flame or summon lightning, but it filled Hyunjin with the soothing warmth of familiarity.

This was the Azāri he knew. A waltz of iron and sand. The pure mastery of the Kizāri.

No magic was involved. It was only a battle of skill.

Hyunjin had sparred with you enough to familiarize himself with your fighting style but watching you from the sidelines was a wholly different experience. He could appreciate your evident talent without simultaneously fearing for his life.

Your Kizāris clashed, and it wasn’t long before you skillfully disarmed your opponent and briefly touched the sharp edge of your weapon to his neck.

Your short performance for the Ērmār and her guests was over, and Hyunjin forced his attention back to his companions, reprimanding himself silently. He shouldn’t feel so connected to a group of frail humans.

Oh, but you weren’t frail, and Hyunjin knew it very well.

“Impressive,” the Sōrmār remarked, and his son stepped forward, strangely eager as he addressed you, “What is your name?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Y/n, sir.” You didn’t use his Sōrsānt title since you were pledged to House Amaranthine, and as such, the only Sōrsānt you recognized was Hyunjin.

Juyeon raised his chin in abundant arrogance. “I would like to see her skill personally.”

Hyunjin stiffened, and he caught you doing the same. He was sure his mother did too, but she hid it better than any of you.

Juyeon’s intentions were obvious. It was clear that you were a valuable asset to the Ērmār’s arsenal, and a duel with him would end with your definite death.

Hyunjin’s mother wouldn’t let a member of a rival House kill her soldiers. But if she refused his request, she would be showing concern over a lowly group of humans. The Ērmār couldn’t let that tarnish her reputation either.

After an uncomfortable moment of consideration, she waved her hand dismissively. “Go ahead.”

Juyeon smiled as though humbled by her approval and walked into the square of sand. His bronzed Kizāri winked wickedly from where it was fixed at his back as he situated himself opposite to you. He drew it in a half-circle, and you mimicked him without protest.

Hyunjin didn’t understand the game his mother was playing, but he hoped she knew what she was doing. The uneasy voice in his head depended on it.

If Juyeon ended the fight the way Hyunjin couldn’t, then his weakness would be forever solidified.

You let Juyeon have the first swing, leaping over the head of his weapon as you brought your Kizāri down diagonally in response. Your weapon swiveled expertly in your grip, deadly in its perfect aim. It was the one thing that remained constant in a fight that soon became messy.

Hyunjin was aware of Juyeon’s abilities, and without the threat of his magic, the Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine was average at best. If he kept things fair, you could easily claim a win over him.

But this fight was never fair.

Hyunjin didn’t know why, but it angered him to see you hold back. You were giving Juyeon the illusion of a fight, allowing him to strike at you and parrying endlessly, calculating your attacks such that they narrowly missed him every time. Even though Hyunjin was sure you could’ve disarmed him after a couple of tries.

You were only delaying impending slaughter by a less than competent opponent. Simply because you couldn’t overstep your manners, all while trying to prove your capabilities to the Ērmār.

Juyeon was beginning to tire of your resistance, it was clear in the agitated energy that wobbled his aim. You swiftly adjusted to accommodate his wearing out. It only annoyed him further.

The Ērmār was watching grimly, her lips pressed into a stern line. Hyunjin knew that her mind was whirling with schemes, ploys to set her foot down again and put Sapphirine back in line. Their game of power was constantly shifting, its winds eternally changing.

Hyunjin couldn’t stop to try at guessing his mother’s plans, for he saw Juyeon raise his Kizāri, eyes blazing with maliciousness. He felt you slacken against the press of his blade again, the memory unwelcome. A moment too late, and your tormented screams would fill the court.

Without much thought, Hyunjin found himself blurting, “Juyeon!”

The mentioned Nilfyn paused, turning curiously as Hyunjin made his way to the two of you. He could feel his mother’s blistering gaze on his back, but he disregarded it, steadying his breathing. He would either make his place known in this tug of power or doom himself.

“Enough wasting time with insignificant humans,” Hyunjin said, willing all the authority he could muster into his voice. He grimaced inwardly at his hollow flattering. “You should spar with someone of your caliber.”

That seemed to amuse Juyeon, who settled his Kizāri on the ground with a quirk of his dark brow. He wouldn’t back down from such an invitation. “You are right.”

Hyunjin assumed the spot where you had been standing, barely catching your faint murmur of ‘Sōrsānt’ as you bowed to him and stepped away. The soft padding of your shoes against the sand faded away. His intervention caused no uproar, though he vaguely remembered your angry warning. Do not disgrace me before the Ērmār.

He unsheathed his Kizāri, trailing its familiar weight across the sand to meet his opponent’s. The two weapons clanged, silver against bronze. Hyunjin saluted, and Juyeon followed him, wearing an expression he could only liken to a vulture’s. He thought their duel would be a victory handed to him graciously.

Hyunjin wanted to laugh. Someone had to humble the Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine before his own ego devoured him, and he would gladly take the job. With a swing of his Kizāri, they plunged into the haze of sand.

His opponent would not withhold his magic, Hyunjin knew. But he had spent his years training with Claimed Nilfyn. He knew how to work around their magic when he had none. It was a skill not many cared for, but he was his mother’s son after all. He could fight blind if he had to.

He pivoted away, making Juyeon’s clumsy Kizāri sink into the ground. The sand sizzled, dissolving.

That was all it took. Mere contact.

Hyunjin’s Kiz��ri might’ve been made with enchanted and reinforced iron, but his skin wasn’t immune to magic. He would suffer the same fate as that unfortunate helping of sand.

He swung his weapon low, slamming it into the bronzed Kizāri still planted in the ground and causing it to rip out of Juyeon’s grip. His magic disconnected instantly.

Too bad Hyunjin wasn’t planning to dissolve any time soon.

His Kizāri flew again, rushing towards a disoriented Juyeon. Hyunjin twisted his wrist such that the impact didn’t kill him, and the flat side of the weapon collided with his middle. With a choked noise, Juyeon lost his footing, surrendering to gravity ungracefully.

His ribs would bruise, maybe crack slightly, but that was the message Hyunjin wanted to deliver. The Azārāhis of House Amaranthine were not to be challenged, magicless or not.

He brushed the blade of his weapon against Juyeon’s neck, not drawing blood but making his victory clear. Securing his Kizāri back in its sheathe, Hyunjin turned and held his mother’s cold gaze. He didn’t shy away. He didn’t shrink into himself when she narrowed her eyes at him as though he were a piece of a puzzle she had overlooked.

It would take more than one spar to earn her praise, but this was enough. She didn’t scathe him with her disappointment, and it was more than Hyunjin could’ve ever asked for.

The Sōrmār’s disappointment, on the other hand, was darker than the night sky canopying the court. “You are right. Hyunjin is a remarkable Azārāhi despite being Unclaimed.”

“Of course I am,” the Ērmār huffed, drawing her shoulders back and heading towards the lacquered doors. “We must move along. We’ve spent far too much time idling in this court.”

As Hyunjin followed his mother and her guests out, he tried to convince himself that his intervention was solely for his own reputation.

That it had nothing to do with you—the only person who looked at his magic with something other than horror and mortification.

•❃•

Your Kizāri caught Hyunjin’s in the air, and you pulled the two of them toward the ground. Your muscles sang with the strain as you swiftly dislodged and touched the edge of the Kizāri against the soft skin of his neck.

One round, over.

The steady rhythm of your inhales and exhales filled your ears, sonorous, as you jogged back to your place, readying to start anew. When you looked up again, you found Hyunjin unmoving in his place.

His stare was curious, almost like a child’s. He parted his lips as though to say something, but no sound left him. He pressed them shut again.

Perhaps he thought better of it, you reasoned, watching as he treaded gracefully to the other side of the square.

You decided to shrug off his strange behavior, beginning to draw a new half-moon instead. Hyunjin started to mimic you, his Kizāri cutting through the sand toward yours before it halted suddenly.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Hyunjin’s voice was rich velvet, smooth unlike the confusion that wrangled your mind. You matched his narrowed eyes with a plain frown. What has gotten into him?

He had made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you. Your last interaction in his training court said as much. Yet, there he was, initiating conversation when there was none to be had.

Was this some sort of test? You maintained your silence until you couldn’t bear the heaviness of his gaze anymore, tightening your grip around your waiting Kizāri. “Why would I be?”

He hesitated as if he didn’t know how to phrase it. “I intervened in your duel with Juyeon last night.”

Right. That.

You diverted your eyes, recalling the dread that overcame your mind when the Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine requested to spar with you. You weren’t stupid. His intentions were unmistakable. Your tone was frayed with anger and shameful helplessness. “He was going to kill me.”

“I know.”

You scoffed. “Don’t think that I would believe, even for a moment, that you did it to spare me.”

“Oh?” he tilted his head, raising a brow, to which you reminded him pointedly, “You had threatened to do the same only hours prior.”

“Ah,” he mused drily. “Clever, human.”

You made no effort to hide the roll of your eyes. Exasperated, you tapped the ground with your Kizāri to remind him of the purpose you were there for.

Hyunjin didn’t budge. His Kizāri didn’t move. He was waiting for something, though you couldn’t quite place a finger on it. Standing there and watching you, that child-like curiosity resurfaced again.

You sighed quietly. “Sōrsānt, if you wish to end today’s training session, then I will take my leave.”

“But we’ve only begun,” he glanced at the young azure of the morning sky, and you nodded. “Indeed.”

But that didn’t spur him on. His face remained a blank slate, save for the strange twinkle in his beautiful eyes.

You prayed for patience, placing both hands on the handle of your Kizāri and leaning forward. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Sōrsānt?”

His mouth formed a ‘No’, but he hesitated, and it never sounded.

You muttered a curse under your breath. Fine! the thought rang in your head. Since you had wasted so much time already, you didn’t see why you couldn’t feed your curiosity about the previous night’s events.

You lifted your Kizāri, jutting it at Hyunjin inquiringly. “He called you Unclaimed.”

That snapped him back into his senses, it seemed, for he made a disgruntled noise and began mindlessly twirling his Kizāri in the pale sand. “That is the term they use for Nilfyn whose Tilts haven’t shown yet.”

“But you…” you trailed away as the pieces lined up for you. Hyunjin’s Tilt had shown, but no one knew about it because he hid it. You remembered his bitter words. A Flowering Tilt is of no use to an Azārāhi.

“Does the Ērmār know about this?” you whispered, regretting your reckless curiosity.

“Of course she does,” it was Hyunjin’s turn to scoff. Then, he added in a lower voice, “She’s the one who wants it hidden.”

Your blood ran cold. If the Ērmār knew, and she wanted his Tilt hidden, then why were you in this mess? Why did Hyunjin let you see his magic?

Dragging your Kizāri with you, you marched up to him and demanded in an irate whisper, “If this is such an important secret then why did you show me yesterday?”

“I didn’t want to show you.” Hyunjin’s taut features broke into a scowl, and he pulled his Kizāri closer.

“What, then?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he spoke while avoiding your gaze, “I can’t control it.”

As soon as those words slipped out of his lips, he brandished his Kizāri, locking his mask of indifference back in place as he ordered, “Enough idling. Return to your position, Azārāhi.”

You broke your promise to never feel sorry for the Sōrsānt before, yet there was your unwise heart, foolishly mourning over the meaning behind his words.

•❃•

This is a terrible idea, the small voice inside your head repeated as you strode past humble shops and zealous vendors. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Yet, as terrible as you acknowledged it was, you couldn’t help it. Every morning you spent training with the Sōrsānt swelled your oh-so-human sympathy. You didn’t understand Nilfyn magic, but that didn’t lessen the silent horror of the Ērmār’s cruelty.

Though, you still found Hyunjin to be an impossible oaf.

Pulling your hood lower over your face, you sidestepped a group of Nilfyn kids who played with the color of the dull pavement. Their little ears carried gemstones of a light violet hue—the common folk’s color.

“Come one, come all! Hurry and try the best Jade-Fire Cakes in the Kingdom!” a woman called out from her stall while setting down a fresh batch of the dessert, steaming and glistening with sugar. She grabbed a handful of crushed almonds, sprinkling them atop the golden cakes that earned their name from the Jade-Fire fruit filling in their molten centers.

You soldiered forward, maneuvering around strolling families and curious buyers. Your legs didn’t stop until you reached a crooked alleyway between abandoned fronts.

There was a faint light at the end of the night-cloaked alley, and you made your way toward it while gripping the long blade fixed at your hip. You preferred your Kizāri, but it was too conspicuous to carry around town and impractical in trivial street fights. A knife would do for a quick trip.

You came to stand before a featureless oak door, illuminated by a lone lantern that hung above it. No sign carried a memorable name in winding calligraphy, no windows invited you in with lavish displays. This was a shop only meant for those who sought it.

You pushed the door open. Its resonant creak heightened your guard as you walked in.

Orange light washed over the cramped space. Shelves upon shelves were stacked with all the oddities you could envision, frightening figurines and dainty trinkets, rare herbs and mythical gemstones, bizarre contraptions and cursed jewelry. You even spotted a Kizāri that looked like it was forged from the starry night sky itself. Twisting purple, blue, and black crystals made its body, dotted with swimming pearls that seemed to shift every time you blinked.

A portly man stepped out from behind a moss-green curtain at the back of the shop. He was dressed in a smart orange suit, his grayed hair swept back to expose proudly bare ears. His thin mustache twitched as he spoke. “Good evening. Has the weather been kind to you today?”

“Generous. It didn’t rain boars on our house.”

Your ridiculous response was a whispered code that the humans of the capital used to identify one another in hiding. Each town had a slightly different variation of it. It hailed teeth on the stable. It shone dragon fire on our crops.

In this shop, it was code for something more.

The shopkeeper gave you a slight nod, your message received, before disappearing behind the curtain. When he appeared again, he was carrying a large wooden chest that he then set on the narrow counter with a heavy thud. A key blinked out of his sleeve. The movement was so momentary you could’ve mistaken it for a trick of light, but the sure click of the lock assured you otherwise.

He turned the chest around and lifted its lid open before he stepped away to give you a semblance of privacy. It was an illusion, for you knew that he was watching your every move with the sheer attentiveness of a hawk.

He would be a fool not to. That unremarkable wooden chest was full of stolen Nilfyn artifacts.

Your eyes raked over a kaleidoscope of glowing Channeling Cores. Smooth-cut, mellow turquoise ear cuffs and bulbous studs of a garish orange. Elegant swirls of a bewitching purple and crescent shaped gems mottled with gray. Most of them were soft violet and inky black gems that had once belonged to common Nilfyn or unfortunate soldiers. You spotted a handful of jagged, purplish-red gemstones that eerily reminded you of those that encrusted Hyunjin’s ears. There were some gold-plated pendants and rusted brooches as well—what the Nilfyn used before opting for ear piercings.

But you weren’t looking to buy misplaced Channeling Cores, and your eyes settled on a stash of leather-bound books tied with pale twine. You reached into the heart of the chest and grabbed the knot that secured the books, pulling them out and onto the counter carefully. Another bundle of books lay underneath them, and you decided to keep it inside the chest until you finished checking the first stack.

The Nilfyn took pride in their magic. They boasted by flaunting their gem-covered ears and displaying their powers at any given opportunity. But most importantly, they wrote about their magic, detailing every aspect of it to relay the information to future generations. Those books were distributed amongst aristocratic households to be preserved. Or to be stolen like the ones you had in your hands.

You knew that their covers were modified to appear unimportant and identical, but under the dark leather were pages upon pages of invaluable knowledge pertaining to different disciplines of magic. That was what you sought of this shop.

Tugging the loose ends of the bowknot at the top, you freed the first book and lifted the bottom-right edge of the cover. A hastily drawn sun symbol peeked back at you and you shut the book, picking another one and repeating the process.

A ripple of waves. You reached for the third book and found a snarling wolf.

You drowned out your disappointment. There were still many books left.

In the fourth, you found a whirling wind. An empty flask was in the next book. Dejection was beginning to trickle into your veins as you deftly turned edges.

An unblinking eye.

A lone flame.

You hid your frustration and sudden dread as you reached for the other stack. What if someone had already bought the book?

You flipped the first edge.

A blotched mountain.

The shopkeeper’s sly attention grew heavier on your shoulders. You needed to find the book fast before you raised his suspicions beyond bribery.

The unmarked leather of the covers seemed to mock you as your fingers brushed over the next book. You turned its edge, ready to be let down and move on when you saw it.

A rose in full bloom.

A wave of giddy triumph washed over you, but you made sure to keep your tone steady as you spoke to the shopkeeper. “How much for this one?”

A calloused hand rose to stroke his chin as his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in consideration. A long moment later, he declared gruffly, “Six Greda.”

You grimaced internally. That was three months’ worth of your allowance, but you couldn’t risk rejecting the offer and trying to find the same book somewhere else.

Begrudgingly, you pulled out your pouch, counting six silver coins which the shopkeeper whisked away greedily once you placed them on the table. He stuffed the coins into his copper-colored suit then fixed his lapels with an air of confidence, eyes shining dangerously. “Good making business with you.”

But you weren’t finished yet.

You fished out another six coins, ignoring the immediate stab of regret in your chest. They clinked enticingly as you pressed them on the polished counter. For his silence.

“You never did business with me,” you told him, your underlying warning clear despite your calm tone. His eyes widened before he nodded once, and you watched as half a year’s worth of money vanished into his jacket.

It’s fine, you tried to convince yourself, hiding the leather-bound book under your cloak. You never buy anything anyway.

You left the uncanny shop behind, striding through the ominous alleyway and plunging into the bustling night market quickly.

If you dared to look back, you would find the flickering light of the lone lantern, taunting, leering, reminding you of how terrible of an idea that was.

But you never looked back.

•❃•

You squinted at the blazing orb of fire centering the sky like a throne, crowned by wisps of feathery cloud.

It was noon, signaling that your training time with Hyunjin was over for the day. You hauled your Kizāri up, securing it in its sheath before dusting sand off your sleeves. It was a futile effort, for the chalky grains latched onto the fabric, nevertheless.

From the corner of your vision, you saw the shape of the pouch you brought with you earlier slumped against the wall. Dull, but its contents lit your heart with anxiousness. Your terrible idea was still half-executed.

Hyunjin had drifted toward the rack of Azāri equipment, unfastening the leather braces wrapped around his wrists, and you grasped the opportunity with feigned courage. All you had to do was give him the book and leave his training court.

The rest would be up to fate.

You maintained an easy gait as you walked up to the handspun pouch, containing your growing dread. You crouched to unravel the string that pinched the pouch shut, reaching in and meeting the rough skin of the leather-bound book. It felt pounds heavier than it actually was when you pulled it out.

You drew in a slow breath, closing your eyes to collect your thoughts. Why were you even following along with this silly idea? For all you could predict, the Sōrsānt would report you to the Ērmār and it would be your fault entirely.

Truthfully, you were annoyed. You didn’t want to sympathize with Hyunjin. Someone like him didn’t deserve an ounce of your pity.

But perhaps this was what it meant to be human, weak and turbulent. Ever since you saw the humiliation in his eyes on that unfortunate morning with his mother, you couldn’t discipline your heart back in place. Back to apathy and passiveness.

You thought that maybe this would quell the strange sorrow you felt for him. It was dangerous to delve deeper and let such emotions fester. The sooner you rid of them, the better.

With one last exhale, you gathered your bravado and marched up to where Hyunjin busied himself, clutching the book so tightly as if it were anchoring you to the ground.

His head turned in your direction when he heard you approach, brows twisted in a subtle intrigue that turned into fully-fledged confusion when you shoved the book into his arms. You stumbled over your words, “Take this.”

There. Done.

“What’s this?” Hyunjin arched a brow, regarding you as one would regard a pup behaving oddly. His voice came breathy with the exertion of training.

You only shrugged in response and took your leave before he could press further, nodding lightly. “Good day, Sōrsānt.”

It was fate’s turn to mess with your terrible idea.

•❃•

Hyunjin lay sleepless in his bed.

His limbs were weary from hours of unforgiving Azāri practice, begging him to shut his eyes and rest, but those pleas went unheard by his mind. Void of thought, yet utterly restless.

It was another typical night for the Sōrsānt.

The world slept around him. Not a squawking bird outside interrupted the palace’s numbing quiet. Hyunjin turned to his side with a sigh, tired of hearing his lonely heartbeat in the silence. He blinked in the dark, gaze landing on a book washed over by shy moonlight.

There, on his empty desk, sat the item you hurriedly shoved into his hands once your training finished. He should’ve ignored you and left it at the court. He should’ve thrown the book aside and reported you to the Ērmār.

Instead, he carried it with him and tossed the book onto his desk when he entered his room. Going about the rest of his monotonous day, he forgot about your sudden gift.

Only now did he remember it.

With nothing to do except toss and turn, Hyunjin’s curiosity got the better of him and he found himself slipping out from under the bulky covers toward the desk.

The book was heavier than he recalled, its leather unblemished and in perfect condition. No imprint hinted at its contents, and perhaps it was his exhaustion or boredom, but Hyunjin thought nothing of it when he flipped the thick cover.

A blank page stared back at him.

Curious, he turned the page. The velvety parchment whispered against his fingers. You wouldn’t give him an empty book, would you?

Ink lined the following page, the careful script too small for him to discern from afar, save for the few words brushed with gold at the top.

The Art of Flowering: Cultivating and Practicing Flowering Magic.

Hyunjin dropped the book with a shrill gasp, clamping his burning hands over his mouth a moment too late as his gaze flickered across the room in horror. Was this an ill joke of some sort?

The walls seemed to bristle around him, grey and looming and suddenly too close. His lungs refused to relax, holding in air as though the faintest sound from him would alert the entirety of the palace. Not a sigh of breath. Not a murmur of silk.

The petrifying silence of the palace continued, unperturbed and unaware of the intense clamor that erupted in Hyunjin’s mind. A hundred invisible eyes were set on him, prickling, making him want to crawl out of his skin and hide from no one.

He was sure that if he left the book on his desk a second longer, his mother would barge in and unleash her unfading scorn on him.

With trembling hands, Hyunjin reached for the book again, shutting it and tucking it under his arm with frantic haste. He refused to ponder upon its contents any further. He had to hide it before those simple words festered into a beast in his thoughts, hunting him down, ravaging his sanity until it unraveled.

He stumbled toward his bed, throwing the heavy blanket over and thrusting the book under the dense mattress. He pushed it as far as his arm could go, uncaring for the weight crushing his bones. He needed that book forgotten until he figured out a way to rid of it completely.

His shoulder was close to popping when he pulled his arm out recklessly, but his consciousness was too muddled to notice. He left the book pressed somewhere under the enormous mattress, and only then did he dare to exhale, albeit weakly.

Fatigue wracked his body, fiercer and more intense than it was some minutes ago. He scrambled onto his bed, lying limply as his internal clamor continued.

Was this your way of taunting him? Reminding him of his fatal, irredeemable flaw?

You were mad. You had to be. Or maybe you had a death wish, Hyunjin didn’t want to know which of the two it was. You were treading perilous land, and he wanted nothing to do with your foolish adventures.

Even though the broken desire in him whispered otherwise.

•❃•

It seemed that fate took many twisted liberties with your terrible plan.

“Where did you get that book?” Hyunjin’s voice boomed like thunder in the space of the training court. He had his Kizāri drawn, and he stood in the center of the sand square as though ready to plunge into a fight. A real fight.

The air around him seemed to buzz and fizz, seething with an anger you should’ve expected. He wouldn’t accept a so-called gift from a human, especially not one pertaining to his hidden magic. You had to choose your next words carefully.

Ah, but if he had expected you to give away your secrets, he was dreadfully wrong.

“Does it matter?” you shrugged as you stepped closer, fingers flexing with the crazed urge to grab your Kizāri and cross it with his. A lazy smirk drew itself on your lips. “If you don’t want the book, you can give it back.”

The Sōrsānt glowered. Your answer wasn’t the one he was seeking, but you weren’t trying to please him anyway. Tension twisted around the two of you, deafening in its silence. The yawning moments before the tempest.

You set foot in the square of pale sand, basking in the young morning sun as you dared Hyunjin’s gaze with yours. If he wanted a fight, then you would gladly appease that wish. “It was quite costly, after all.”

Snap! went the thin cord of tension, and Hyunjin’s Kizāri glinted in the light as he raised it in a deadly arc. The air screamed. The first wind in the storm.

Your Kizāri was drawn in a flash, meeting his with a force that rattled your bones. Blood roared in your ears, fueled after days of dull practice.

You leaped away, swiveling alongside your Kizāri as you brought it down. Sand rose upon impact, a benevolent wave of pearly dust.

Hyunjin ran through it, swinging his weapon at you with familiar precision. Your Kizāris waltzed in the air, a blur of silver and black, clashing and separating and spinning to the macabre rhythm of the spar.

Oh, how you craved the thrill of a proper fight.

Hyunjin’s Kizāri hooked around yours, and he pushed it against you, snarling, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

You propelled your weapon forward, freeing it from his trap and swinging it at his legs unsparingly. “Us?”

A laugh threatened to bubble up your chest, roused by the adrenaline pumping in your veins. “Don’t assume that I did this for you, Sōrsānt. I gave you the book for the peace of my own mind.”

Iron screeched against iron. Hyunjin was close enough that you saw shock flicker over his features before it melted into something darker. His Kizāri was in the air again. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, you don’t,” you agreed, breathless as you evaded his blow and redirected your weapon. “What is it that you always say about us humans?”

You weren’t waiting for an answer. “We are weak. Subject to the volatile tides of the heart.”

Your Kizāris interlocked again, and with a pull from Hyunjin and a pivot from you, the spar came to a stop. Your Kizāri clattered against the floor outside the square. Hyunjin’s was impaled in the sand some feet away. The two of you were left standing there, face to face, chests heaving and gazes burning.

Neither of you moved, and it felt as though the world came to a halt alongside that fight.

Hyunjin held your stare, and you held his. In a breath that seemed to encompass the two of you, you were almost equals in an impossible timeline. The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power. The very differences that separated him from you made you alike.

Yet, you refused to acknowledge that harrowing revelation. Hyunjin was nothing like you, and he would never be.

“Do with the book what you will,” you spoke through gritted teeth, breaking the trance you were captured in. “This is not a favor.”

After a moment that felt like an eternity, you turned away, knowing that the both of you reached a wordless, mutual understanding. You picked your Kizāri off the dark marble, tossing it over in your grip once, twice, before assuming your regular place at the square of sand.

You still had a tedious morning of training to go through now that your fit of violence had been quelled.

•❃•

The night was silent again.

Hyunjin stood before the small flames of the stone burner in his room. The leather-bound book was tightly clutched in his hands as he watched the blazes rise, swaying like dancers in a joyous ball. Their flickering light created eerie shadows that cackled against the bleakness of walls, taunting.

You told him to do with the book what he willed, and he was doing the best thing he could think of. Burn it. Lose it. Forget it.

It was the only way to kill the voices that reemerged after years of lurking mutely in his head. Voices which murmured and spoke and screamed at him to indulge in his magic. To disobey his mother. Unknowingly, you had incited them by giving him the book.

He had to destroy it before it destroyed him.

Hyunjin held the book over the fire, readying to drop it in as his hand shook unreasonably. He had burnt many things before, many magical blunders in the form of innocent flowers. This was no different. It shouldn’t have been.

Yet, the voices in his head grew increasingly shrill when a rogue flame licked the edge of the book, darkening the leather slightly. All he had to do was let go, but his fingers were stiff.

Hyunjin wanted to fight them, peel them off one by one until the book dropped, but he couldn’t. The heat on his skin was merciless, unbearable. Soon enough, gruesome blisters would mar the smooth surface.

He pulled his hand away with a hiss.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t burn the book.

Like an ever-resonating bell, the voices in his head rejoiced, pounding against the desolate chamber of his thoughts. This was the closest he had ever been to his magic, and he had overestimated his strength to turn his back on it.

Eying the burnt corner of the book, Hyunjin tried to convince himself, if not tonight, then tomorrow.

Maybe then, the voices would quieten.

•❃•

Hyunjin told himself the same lie every following night after he pulled the book away from the burner in a moment of panic.

For three nights, his grip would turn into rigid wood. For three nights, he would be paralyzed before the eager flames. For three nights, the blistering air of the fire would torture his hand until he gave up.

He couldn’t burn the book, that was what the voices told him, but he refused to succumb to them.

The skin on the back of his hand was reddened and pulsing with a pain so great as though lit by an invisible fire. He knew he couldn’t keep at his lousy attempts without gravely harming himself. If burning the book wasn’t a viable option, then he had to figure out another method of destroying it. Fast. 

His fingers touched his earrings subconsciously before he realized what he was doing and pulled his hand away. It was a bad habit that the Ērmār hated. 

Shredding it? Hyunjin frowned with the thought. It would be pointless. He would still need to burn the remains.

His fingers brushed over the fine leather of the cover, having grown familiar with the rough texture of its minuscule patterns. The top of the book had browned due to being exposed to fire, but it was still in a useable condition.

Would it be so bad?

Yes! he wanted to yell back at the stupid desire, but every time he tried to, he heard his mother’s voice instead of his.

Would it be so bad? the voices repeated, for the question was meant for him, not the Ērmār. Would it?

Hyunjin found himself voiceless.

He knew the answer. Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he think it without imagining his mother?

Frustrated, he flung the book at the wall as a pathetic scream threatened to rip its way out of his mouth. The book thudded against the floor somewhere in his room, and his head fell into his hands heavily. Why was it so difficult?

Hyunjin wanted to rip his hair out. This was your doing. If you hadn’t given him that damned book, then he wouldn’t be entertaining the moon with his ridiculous dilemma. He wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of catastrophe with his wandering thoughts.

Perhaps, he should order you to burn the book instead. Like a sun peeking through stormy clouds, his mental chaos cleared up at the idea. He might’ve been unable to destroy the book, but you would have no reason to hold back.

Dragging his hand down his face, Hyunjin sighed. The solution made perfect sense to him. And you would keep your silence about his order if you wanted to keep your life.

Soon enough, he would forget that such a book ever existed.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Hyunjin stood, and his gaze darted across the expanse of the room to find the book lying facedown beside his desk. He crouched to pick it up, accidentally catching sight of the colorful page it had fallen open to. Quickly looking away, he slammed the book shut before he thought more of it.

Too late.

Would it be so bad? he heard that whisper again, like a devil speaking forbidden desires into his ears. You’re returning the book tomorrow. A quick look would do no harm…

Hyunjin knew better. Just as he knew that he should’ve killed you the moment you stepped into his training court.

He knew better, yet just like your first encounter, he was too weak to act on that knowledge.

He would always be.

The book met the smooth surface of Hyunjin’s desk with a slap. His palm settled atop it. Hesitant. Stubborn.

Just a harmless page…

His hand went to the side of the book, brushing the edge of the leather. Once he returned the book to you, he wouldn’t be able to ask for it again. And all he’d read of it was the mere title, which sent a flurry of mismatched feelings to his heart.

It wasn’t curiosity that clouded his judgement, but a blinding, smoldering want that was as old as he was. Being barred from his magic for so long, being ridiculed and insulted for his magic ever since it emerged, this book was something a younger Hyunjin could only dream about having.

Even though he had spent years silencing those intrusive voices, he recalled his childish jealousy when his friends began showing their various Tilts. The memories he had of his childhood were a dismal canvas of depthless sorrow, helplessness, and fear, but he kept them alive as a reminder of his mother’s wrongs toward him.

If he were to read a page from the book, then it was for the little boy whose spirit was stolen years ago. A frightened Hyunjin with a bleeding shoulder, too young to understand the dark disappointment that filled his mother’s eyes and made her a stranger before him.

He took in a shaky breath and flicked the book open.

The page was just as he remembered, crammed with words and headed by that gold-brushed title.

The Art of Flowering: Cultivating and Practicing Flowering Magic.

The voices spurred him on. Rather than panic, a strange relief paired with excitement washed over him. His dread was still present, and so was the urge to stuff the book back under the mattress, but he dared himself to read a few lines, squinting in the dark.

Foremost, let it be known that the blessing of a Flowering Tilt is a tremendous gift, and an honor to those it is bestowed upon. Flowering is the fourth of the ten Hybrid Types to be discovered, and as the name indicates, wielders of this magic can create and control flowers.

It was easy to read those words on a parchment that was going to be burnt in mere hours. They were empty like a drunkard’s promises. Perhaps that was why Hyunjin let himself be immersed in the book further than he intended.

The Flowering Tilt is a Hybrid Type discovered nearly two hundred years ago. Studies have shown that centuries of marriages between Hydro and Terrestrial Tilts resulted in the formation of this new magic.

He turned the page.

Chapter One: Cultivation. 

Cultivating Flowering Magic is similar to cultivating other magics. Without adequate training, spurts of magic may occur at random or upon emotional uproar. Thus, young Claimed Nilfyn are encouraged to begin training immediately, as these uncontrolled spurts increase with age.

To better understand magic, let us envision a water reserve tank in an odd village. At the beginning of every week, the villagers pour buckets of water into the tank, but none of the villagers use the water throughout the week. Soon, the tank begins to overflow as more water is added but left unconsumed. Such is magic. It is an ever-growing source that overflows when left unused.

To cultivate, the wielder must begin by finding their Heart of Magic. This skill may be learned easier during childhood, as the Heart is bare and unbarred by the tribulations of life, but it is not unfeasible amongst adult Nilfyn.

There are no teachings regarding the intricacies of finding one’s Heart of Magic. It is a slow process that requires patience and strong will. However, aspiring wielders are advised to practice in tranquil spaces that inspire a meditative state.

Once reaching the Heart of Magic, one must set their palm against an empty surface and focus on drawing magic toward the tips of their fingers to manifest an object of their Tilt. This is to familiarize the wielder with the process of directing magic in a useful manner. Flowering Tilts may use the following while training to quicken results: a flower posy, a cut of wood, a handful of soil, or any natural piece of the earth.

Hyunjin tried to imagine that Heart of Magic. He closed his eyes and searched for something magical, something bright, something beautiful. He wanted to remember the way his magic felt when it surged through his body to manifest in a single blossom in the sand.

There was nothing.

He was hollow, his soul long crushed, his heart long dead. The polished surface of his desk felt cold against his fingertips, unkind proof that whatever the Heart of Magic was, it wasn’t something he had. At least, not anymore.

The foolish hope in him withered, and he closed the book with a scowl. Empty words for an empty boy.

But when Hyunjin left his room the following morning, he didn’t take the leather-bound book with him.

•❃•

The prying moon was a witness to the many lies Hyunjin told himself as he flipped through the pages of the book night after night.

Deep in a cranny of his heart, he knew that he couldn’t return it much like how he couldn’t burn it. But he thought that if he said it enough times, he would convince himself otherwise. As he poured stolen sand on his desk and closed his eyes, trying to revive his Heart of Magic, he repeated that crooked lie. Just one more day, one more page…

But a day wasn’t enough to stir his magic, nor were two. The voices—no, he wanted more. For all his heartbreak and misery, he deserved more than a few measly attempts at his magic.

A chilling thought ran through his mind. Why should he be obeying a mother that cared little for him, anyway?

The fifth night was similar to the rest. Hyunjin sat still at his desk, right hand settled on a small bed of sand as the world fell silent around him. He searched the remnants of his soul, scouring for the faintest trace of magic with timid hope. He couldn’t permit himself more than that inkling of confidence, for he had failed countless times before.

Only on this night, he finally found something.

Folded away. Forgotten.

A flicker of light.

A whisper of power.

A pulse of another life.

He clawed at it, overwhelmed by sudden desperation. There it was. There was his Heart of Magic. Bleeding and dim, but there.

He caught a wisp of the fleeting light and pulled. At once, he saw color in otherworldly hues, erupting around him and through him, shaking his core like a tremor from the heavens above. That soothing cold washed over him again, a glorious stampede, and he dared to loosen a trapped breath.

The magic slipped out of his grasp.

No, no, no, no! Hyunjin scrambled back, grabbing at anything he could and dragging it with all the force he was able to muster. His focus had faltered for the barest moment, and that made him lose sight of his Heart of Magic. He couldn’t let that happen again. Not after all the work he had done.

A chill spread to his fingers as he pulled the magic forward and outward. It was taxing, and he felt his heart beat as though it were in the heat of a duel.

Then, a sensation akin to the puncture of a thousand needles swarmed his body. Something in him locked into place with a resonant toll, and he opened his eyes with a gasp.

There, on the chalky mound of sand, was a single smiling blossom. Dull white petals fanned around its yellow center, and it embraced itself with two grey leaves.

Hyunjin’s breath stilled, defying the rampant palpitations in his chest.

He had done it.

Not through an emotional outburst. Not by mistake.

He created a flower in coarse, lifeless sand on his own.

His magic, finally.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Mini Glossary:

Azārāhi: a skilled practitioner of Azāri.

Azāri: a fighting art developed by the magical Nilfyn.

Ērmār: high master (feminine).

Ērmārvi: minor high master (feminine).

Ērsānt: lower master (feminine).

Ērsānvi: minor lower master (feminine).

Kizāri: the long-handled weapon with an trident-like head used in Azāri.

Sōrmār: high master (masculine).

Sōrmārvi: minor high master (masculine).

Sōrsānt: lower master (masculine).

Sōrsānvi: minor lower master (masculine).

Hey there! Thank you for reading this far! This fic is very special to me and it would mean a lot if you could give it a reblog and tell me your thoughts. Part two will be posted in September, so keep an eye out for it! Thank you once more for reading, and I hope you have a lovely day! ♡

[isfjmel-phleg]

The DNA test also proceeded to totally roast me. I am, apparently, likely to get motion sickness, less naturally athletic, unlikely to enjoy dancing, unlikely to be a goal setter, unlikely to be a high jumper, less likely to take the lead, unlikely to be an optimist, unlikely to be persistent, less agile, less flexible, less naturally strong, slower in my reflexes, an avoider of taking risks, less speedy when playing sports, and likely to find it more difficult to develop good technique in sports--among many other things.

Not everything on the list was the case, and of course I'm not bound by whatever it is my genes are doing, thank goodness, but I am very amused that they just...came for my entire existence like that.

[callme-naomi]

Shades of Secrecy

A spy AU Nanami Kento x reader story

Summary: It had been your lifelong dream to become a spy - the secret keeper of the country. When you got the acceptance call, life had never felt more beautiful before. Under many shades, many stories, many aliases, you spent your dream life. Though you may have more secrets than anyone else, life yet had one more beautiful surprise to give you.

Word count: 9.3K words

naomi's notes: not based on canon events, alternate universe, nobody is a sorcerer

It was the moment of your dreams when you stepped off the car that brought you to your reporting headquarters. It was still hard to believe that your childhood dream of being a spy and serving your country has become reality. Saying you had worked hard was a grand understatement, as since your childhood you had studied hard, pressing yourself beyond your limits to get the good, straight-As, to qualify as a spy.

Ever since you had seen a spy movie in your early childhood, and read about them, your obsession had only grown like a fire in the forest, as you began training and exercising, limiting your voice, and joining academies for acrobatics and weapon-wielding, spending your holidays learning survival or foreign languages, going to lengths to steer clear from a problematic medical and criminal record, and even choosing degrees relevant to that. So it was only natural, with all this effort, that you should become a spy.

You had cleared all tests with flying colours, and your name was one of the few qualifying candidates.

The first few weeks went quite peacefully, you and the new recruits having gotten no mission, which was unusual seeing the state of unrest in your country. The world was on the verge of another grand-scale war, your country included, and the governments had mobilized their military, foreign ministry and intelligence agencies. The military was training and cooking up gadgets in case of war erupting, the foreign ministries were searching for allies and the agencies were diligently collecting all the secrets, plans and relevant data they can.

Given your inexperience in battle but aptitude with documentation, you had been assigned to spending your days with paperwork and intelligence assembly. You were beginning to get bored, and it wasn’t until the second month of your recruitment that you finally were summoned alongside a colleague, Ashley Greenwood, to a mission.

Evidently, a spy in the other country was stuck, their cover having gotten blown, and the task was to retrieve the data that the spy was supposed to be bringing, but was now in custody of the jailer. You were to go under cover as an official from the country, and should only show yourselves when need be, since the country’s government has clearly renounced from taking any responsibility of their spies. What’s more, is that if you fail, you are on your own, since there are no more spies to spare.

The mission was expected to be a failure, seeing all higher-ranking spies were previously occupied, and the younger ones were given the task. But with your aptitude, and Ashley’s agility, you managed to surprise the authorities by bringing home the data and the spy.

Finally recognizing your potential, the authorities listed your and Ashley’s name as ‘starred’, evidently meaning you might be chosen later for even more missions.

In the spy agency hierarchy, the highest grade was Grade One, and all the rookies started at Grade Six. You and Ashley were put at Grade Five, with probation. Should you fail the next mission, whenever given, you’ll be sent back to Grade Six. If you make it back alive.

You two were lounging in the intelligence room one day, your days again dull in the absence of a new mission, when a knock on the door announced the arrival of a boy, asking for ‘Miss L/N.’

“The intelligence officer is asking for you.”

It turns out that they finally found a mission for you, and you were to be assisting another spy.

It made you exhilarated and nervous simultaneously to know you’ll be accompanying a Grade One. None other than Kento Nanami.

A few years your senior, Kento Nanami was nothing short of a prodigy around your workplace. The only spy to have made it to Grade One without going through Grades Three and Two – direct jump to One – no mission he took ever failed. His calm and collected demeanor was famous throughout the area, with people afraid to approach him due to his ‘gruff’ nature. Master of disguises and the genius behind several successful operations, it was no wonder he was that popular. What’s more, he has already been classified as the very few “reliable under torture” category of spies.

Amongst the spies you had deeply studied, he was one of them, and his profile had intrigued you the most. So while it was your extreme joy to be paired with your ideal, it terrified you of what would happen should you fail to meet his expectations.

Your handler told you to meet your newest partner at the reception three hours later, where he will fill you in on the mission.

At the time you were instructed, you head towards the reception lounge, your mind a nervous wreck and you wringing your fingers as you think of the best method to introduce yourself.

You push the glass doors, seeing the receptionist sit behind the allotted desk, with her crew. The moment you step in the doors, a deep voice emerged, “You’re on time.”

You whirl around, while every other person saluted, to see a tall, blonde-haired young man, his face already showing the brutalities of life he has had to suffer. A tan-coloured suit on his body, perfection from his shoes’ shine to the angle at which his hair was styled, gave you the impression of a no-nonsense person. Fixing the watch on his wrist, he raised his head to look at you, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of green glasses.

One of his eyes was also hidden behind an eyepatch, while the same half of his face looked like it was burnt brutally. Yet, instead of making you fear him, it only gave you the impression that he was a fighter by nature.

As he walked to meet you, you move forward, and bend down as custom. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He bent down too. “Likewise.”

The moment you two straightened, he extended a formal hand. “Kento Nanami.”

“Y/N L/N, sir. I am assigned to you.”

“That I am aware of. I suppose you have not been yet briefed?”

As you shake your head no, he gestured towards a pair of sofas nearby, and while you two sit, the servants rushing to place a glass of water and newspaper, he explained the mission.

With the chances of war escalating, an agent who was infiltrating the defence ministry of your greatest enemy, had finally found some data regarding their concrete plans to attack. Someone had gotten suspicious about the aforementioned spy, and had reported her to the higher-ups, initiating an investigation and posing a threat for her life. Before it escalated into something critically dangerous, you two were tasked to go undercover as doctors coming to visit a high-level patient, the spy in question, and to collect the data.

The way he spoke showed the authority he wielded and the respect his manner demanded, and he had definitely surprised you.

All the while he talked, explaining things brick by brick, gently answering your questions, and even though his entire conversation was highly formal, punctuated without a single smile, not even a hint of harshness or superiority emanated from his words. While you listened, focused, all you could think about was how wrong people were and how frightened they had you by drilling inside you a fear of Kento Nanami.

“Seeing you have no more questions, I’ll wrap it up. Please be here tomorrow, prepared, by afternoon.” As he stood up to take his leave, you followed suit. “I don’t have any other rules, seeing the guidebook for the agency has you covered, except one. Our mission is one, and I have my priorities sorted out. Are you familiar with rule 31?”

“Yes, sir,” you say, " 'should a spy be in any dire situation jeopardizing the mission’s success, the comrades in question are to leave him behind'".

"Precisely. So you are aware, that while I will be assisting you, should such an unfortunate event happen, I will have no other choice. Clear?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Before he left out the doors, he turned one more time. “Since we’re partners, and I’m not your professor, you need not refer to me as ‘sir’.”

“Noted. But what would you like to be referred to with? Your surname?”

“You are aware of the fake identities assigned to us, so you refer to me with that and I will do the same for you.”

You nod and follow him as he walks speedily ahead.

********

That mission went a success.

Back in three weeks, you and Nanami retrieved the data required.

While the way he moulded into disguises seamlessly, his calm and cool demeanour even when their cover was nearly blown, and the way he always had a plan B up his sleeve impressed you, he never once pointed out the blunders you made harshly. Instead, he explained what could have gone wrong and shown the better way you could have opted for.

All throughout the journey, he didn’t say anything unless required. All that came out of him was medical terms until and unless he was in a place where he was sure nobody would hear him.

You two complemented each other’s skill sets. He excelled in secrecy, strategy and fighting while you made up for it with your fluency in foreign languages and agility when needed to fight.

At the end of your journey, while you two were seated in the car intended to drive you back to headquarters, you tell him, “thank you, sir.”

“For precisely what?”

“For guiding me. I hope we’ll work again in the future.”

“That was my duty. Looking forward to more opportunities with you.”

As you stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the air of the place you called home after three months, his voice halted you again.

“L/N, keep your good work up. We need people like you.”

Those words swelled your chest beyond imagination with joy.

********

Over the next few months, you got more missions, some solo and others paired with other spies. But you never got paired with Nanami again.

The global war had begun a month ago, with the launch of a nuclear weapon on a European nation, and since your country was one of the superpowers and leading nations, it had expectations to fulfil, so all of you were heavily occupied. The higher-ups were on the run for more intelligence while the lower graders were assigned with creating reports and keeping a lookout for anything on the radar.

You had begun to become habitual of nightly routines, reducing your sleep schedule from eight hours a day to three or two hours, spending all day and all night on the computer, giving orders and sending messages to the spies on duty. You didn’t mind, since it gave you a chance to meet Nanami often, him knocking on your office door to give you a list of reports to send him or another pile of data to have classified and saved in the records.

Seeing your efficiency with computers, you were constantly on the run to work for Grade Ones and Twos, therefore giving more chances of working beside Nanami. Often, it would be the two of you in the building, working late at night, one’s computer’s keyboard typing matching the other’s. Though you wished for a chance to get to know the reserved spy even more.

Occasionally, you were given the nightly shift to guard the building as well. It was late one night when you were busy on your computer, the night guard being you, and you were alone since you had persuaded Ashley to go and have some rest. Truth was, you liked the secrecy and personal space the night gave you.

The slight swing of the door, its shrill sound squeaking, made you jump to your feet. Your thundering heartbeat slowed when you see Nanami’s face peeking through the door.

“Pardon my intrusion. I had supposed someone had forgotten to turn the lights off.”

“No, sir, don't apologize. Would you like to come in?”

With a nod, he pushed the door even wider and came inside. His suit coat off, he was wearing a blue dress shirt and tan-coloured slacks, a coffee cup in his hand, hair still as perfect as if he weren’t going to bed anytime soon.

“May I ask what you’re doing? I wasn’t expecting to see anyone at this time of the night.”

“It’s my guard duty. And anyways I was wrapping up the reading of some reports.” Your eyes darted from the screen to his face as you answered.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable? It must be hard sitting on a chair for hours, I imagine.”

“Why, of course, thank you for asking. Though,” you replied, your fingers dancing on the keyboard, “I am fine. May I ask what are you doing at this late hour?”

“I happen to like the library.”

You look up, a smile spreading. “The library?”

He nodded, and seeing he was still standing, you immediately draw a chair facing you. “Excuse my manners. Please be seated.”

“Thank you.”

Still formal as ever.

Now that he was seated, in your lamp’s light, you see the book he’s holding. A history one.

“You’re fond of history too?” You squeal excitedly, only to blush and realize your outspokenness the moment he met your gaze, eyebrow raised.

“Of course. I assume you too, with your answers in the entry tests?”

You halt. “Did you check my tests?”

“Not grade them, rather I reviewed them.” He causally said, eyes not leaving his book. “What languages are you fluent in?”

“Russian, Japanese, English, French, Spanish. Currently learning German.”

His eyebrows were raised, as if highly impressed. “Well done. Je peux aussi parler quatre langues, même si vous m'étonnez.”

(translation: I can also speak four languages, though you surprise me.)

You stare at him. “Pouvez-vous aussi parler français?”

(translation: can you also speak French?)

He nodded, while sipping his coffee, until he looked at his watch. “It’s past midnight, already. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“I…actually come from another city. So I stay either here or at Ashley’s.”

“I see. Might I stay here tonight?”

“Why of course.”

It was you and him, his fingers sliding over the smooth pages of his book while the only noise interrupting the sacred silence was your keyboard. You, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, break it. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, since our mission. What are your comments regarding my skills? Where is ground for improvement?”

“You are competent enough. However, what you can work on is your strategizing. Rushing head-on isn’t always the answer, and your life isn’t that worthless to be thrown away. Moreover, you need to learn completely immersing yourself in the role you’re assigned.”

“Do you think you could teach me?” You blurt out, eagerness in your tone, and he rubbed his chin.

“I may not be the best person for that-”

“If I may, I would like you to teach me. You’re my idol.” Even you were surprised with your boldness.

He looked at you with a hint of surprise. “Very well. Though you flatter me, I’ll teach you, but please forgive me for I cannot manage my time for now. I’ll inform you when I shall be able to do so.”

You excitedly nod.

“We will get replaced someday, and we need to ensure our successors are competent. Keep challenging yourself. Extend your boundaries. There’s no limit to the heights you’ll reach.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Of course. What you’ve chosen is not for the faint of heart. And when you have, fulfil the responsibility handed to you.”

You smile to yourself and bend your head to your work again. “How long have you been working here?”

“First tell me, tea or coffee?”

“Huh?” You ask, bewildered, up at him to see another cup in his hand. “Coffee, I guess.”

He passed the steaming cup to you, while he answered, “I have actually lost count. I believe five or six years.”

“Have you ever grown tired of your job?”

“Not yet. I don’t think I ever will.”

While you hum serenely, you bomb another question, “sorry to keep interrupting you, but how often can you get a promotion?”

“Don’t apologize for asking. And, it depends on your performance.”

“Then you must have been extraordinary.”

“I wouldn’t think of myself like that. It was pure luck.”

“Don’t do this injustice to yourself. And on another note, could you guide me to the library someday?”

“Why of course.”

Though it was your voice that was more dominant, you spent the night talking to him. Though he had been reserved the entire mission, he actually turned out to be fairly sociable, and every word of his was full of wisdom. It was only until your eyes grew tired from staring at a screen that you stood to go to your room, and he stood to go to his.

That night will always be your favourite.

*******

The next afternoon you were immediately called to the headquarters for an urgent mission.

You, and a group of spies were to escort the Premier, the ruler of your country, to a safe house in an underground city, seeing he was the leader of one of the most active countries in the Global War, and he was facing death threats. Moreover, the Premier happened to know exactly where all the country’s newest technology and nuclear weapons were being made, not to forget all battle plans and strategic sites and a list of things you forgot, but to summarize, if he’s captured or killed, it’s game over for all of you.

It was a group of you, Ashley, three boys, and two senior grade one spies. Marlene Attwood, and Kento Nanami.

Upon basic introductions by Marlene, you got to know the names. Stanford was an expert in hacking and overriding computer systems, Williams was a sharpshooter and Kiersten, having served prior in the navy, knew his way around martial arts. Each of you were only told your aliases, so you were introduced by ‘Rose’.

On your way back from securing the premier, Nanami addressed all of you.

“You all have been entrusted with one of the greatest secrets a nation can hold. And while the Premier is facing danger for his life, so do all of us. Keep your head low, your identity covered, and should you be caught, spare no time in revealing your location to us. Got it?”

“Sir, upon capture, our phones are taken. What else should we use to contact?” A boy asked, hand raised.

“Use your watches,” Marlene said, pointing to the watches she gave you at the beginning of the mission. “Until they find out you have one, you can reveal your location through this.”

You all nod, satisfied. Though, this squad was one of the best performers. Who could get caught that easily?

You had no clue it would be you.

That night, Ashley had gone on another mission, so you were alone in the room. You, deep in sleep, opened your eyes to the noise of the window breaking, and before you could retaliate, your nose was wet with the liquid that took away your consciousness.

The next thing you knew, you were sitting on a wooden chair, all alone, in a dingy room, with your hands behind your back and a chain in your feet.

“Where am I?”

Slurred words escaped your mouth, and immediately a bolt of light fell on your face. As you squinted, a filthy hand came up under your chin.

“It’s her. One of those.”

“Where…am…I?” you demanded, more confidently this time, jerking your chin out of reach, your nose picking up the smell of something damp and rotting. You scanned the room, dark, with only a light bulb to actually illuminate the room, and towers of wooden crates lining the walls. No windows or ventilators could be found. Damn it.

“Oh, she’s got guts.” The only man in a suit looks into your eyes, a devilish smile playing on his face while a cigarette danced between his teeth. “I’ll cut straight to the chase. We captured you for information we need.”

You immediately began to try and twist your finger such to access the watch that was hidden beneath your sleeve.

Except it wasn’t there.

“Who are you?”

“Ah, where are my manners? You may call me Boss Royce. And these,” he pointed towards the ten people that flocked him, “are my goons.”

Apparently they couldn’t be spies. Not only do they not look like one, spies generally do not give their name away that easily. And seeing the haphazard room, it was no base.

Two cases. One, they’re highly inexperienced spies. Or two, they’re a gang of criminals who are doing the dirty work for someone else.

“We know you know where he is. Where’s the Premier?”

You stay silent, your eyes scanning across to find your only means of contact, before mumbling, “I don’t know. I’m a teacher.”

“I expected such. Look, we want this war to end, and it can’t happen unless you tell us where he is.”

“I have no idea. I told you.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I hate that it came to this.”

Your attempts to find your tool are halted with a loud slap to your face, and you spit out blood, coughing. He definitely broke your jaw.

“I don’t have time, and neither do you. Answer me!”

“What makes you think I know?” You reply, another slap coming to your face from one of the ten cronies filling the filthy room, all the while your mind focused on where your watch could be.

“Throw her in the cell. A few days of hunger should help. She looks new, so this should be torture enough.”

“Wait.” you say, your voice commandeering. “At least tell me where I am.”

“So you can contact them?” Royce, to your silent horror, brandished your watch. “All you need to know is that you’re not in your country. You gave me a good idea, though.”

You watch as they ring your location. “What are you doing?” his henchman yelled. “They’ll find us!”

“There are two possible outcomes. One, they ignore our reveal and they leave her for dead, as per custom, which gives us plenty of time to drive information. Two, they pick up and they come here. We know this city better than them, and with the government’s backing, we can overtake them. Nobody told us to bring them alive, we’re only asked for the data.”

“Boss, I have another idea. Permission to speak freely?” a young woman spoke, throwing her blonde sheet of hair back.

“Spit it out.”

“They are never going to tell us the Premier’s location. Nor are they going to bargain for her with words only.” She kicks your back. “So what if one of us stays here, waits for them to come, and if they don’t answer, explode this place to blazes? It’s not that we need this place anyways.”

“What are the rest of us going to do?”

“Take her to our capital. In this way, if they give us what we want, we still win. Ad if they resist, well, a few deaths ain’t gonna hurt no one.”

Them being ready to blow up their own base is proof they’re gangsters. No spy would be ready to demolish their base so quickly.

“Maybe if it will be their life on the line, she’ll behave.” A henchman agreed with the blonde-haired woman, all the while you kept your gasp inside and your booming heartbeat not making things easy for you. Not only do you have to protect the secret you’re entrusted with, you also have to make it out before your comrades get in trouble.

“And what if they survive? And she still doesn’t spit it out?” the boss asked interested.

“Then we’ll exchange. A life for a life. Then we’ll know,” she smiled nastily at you, “how valuable you are to them.”

You gritted your teeth while the female came to open your ropes to let you be taken. “You’ll be the one bound to the chair soon.”

“We’ll see about that, darling.” And with that, you were dragged by your arms to a cell.

*****

It had become a routine for you. Wake up in the cramped, desolate cell with no windows to let light in, no clue of day or night, and nobody to talk to, be served a glass of water for breakfast and then the doors open, for men to come in and tie your hands, then beat you as they please while they try to drive out the information you buried in your chest. You, ever the rebel nature, spat your blood onto them, or jeered at their faces when you would spew out anything but what they asked.

With every drop of blood, your hope to be saved begins to fade, since you knew they were very unlikely to come fetch you for the data only.

Should you be in any dire situation jeopardizing the mission’s success, I will have no choice but to leave you. Have I made myself clear?

You can’t blame him. That’s the rule of the workplace.

You try to find anyway to escape, however, with your only method of contact missing in a foreign country, and the place you’re held in being highly supervised from outside, you had no choice but to wait for an opening that would never come.

Day by day, your face swells, your fingers are broken, your skin marred with slashes and crusted with blood, your head bleeding with the blows it suffered, yet you kept up a fight. If you die, you want them to remember you as one of the fighter spirits, and one of the most stubborn spies they’ve ever met. You want them to remember you as someone loyal to your country.

But nothing compared to the torture of the electrocution. The way your body froze in terror when they bound you to the chair was nothing like you ever imagined, and when the current snaked through you, you had no control over your jerking, spasming body, thrashing in the chair’s grip, your involuntary screams echoing through. The agony and the burning sensations exploding throughout your body after the sessions rendered you senseless, but while you fought to maintain your sanity, your entire body begging you to have mercy on yourself, you still kept your mouth shut.

Your suspicions about their inexperience were increased tenfold when you saw them using car batteries and tasers for torture. And it sickened you to the throat when their gleeful laughter mingled with your painful groans, the white-lit room giving you no hope of breakout.

It also did not help that sitting handcuffed against the stony walls and sitting for hours on end, tied, to a wooden, skeletal chair messed up your posture, so that when you stood, cramps would shoot across your body. Occasionally, the boss decided you’ve done a bad job and would subject you to stand on one leg, or sit in squats, a chain limiting your movements, until he wished to relieve you of this.

It was on the twentieth day or so, since you had lost count of the rising sun and the setting stars, only the grey dingy walls and spatters of blood from the other captives being your scenery, when you heard two people outside the cell. You bolt upright, eyes alert, when you see the two men who chained you earlier come with more chains.

“Get up, vermin.”

You, in your mood, land a kick on one, but are too slow to bring your foot down as the other topples your leg on the ground.

“We’re leaving. Don’t make us leave you for dead.”

With bored eyes, one swollen, you ask, “where are we going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” one leered. “We’re goin’ to the capital, darlin’.”

“If you will tell us what you know, your friends won’t die.”

“But if they come for you in the first place.” The one tying your hands shrugged nonchalantly.

“Are your skulls as thick as they look? I don’t know anything. And I have nothing to tell you idiots.” You growl.

“Easy, pretty. Well, not so anymore. Maddie ‘ere will blow up this place, and take them down too. Your choice, them or you.”

While they walked a chained you down the halls, your mind was whizzing.

If you spew it out, they will live. But you might not. However, if you do, you won’t be able to face them anymore, as a traitor.

If you stay shut, they might die. But only if they take the bait.

Both have a fifty percent success chance.

What would Nanami do?

You remembered his record of a successful streak, and his face, and you knew he might have had to make this choice once. Him, or the others.

You made your choice. You decided to rely on your squad’s genius and survival skills, and left it to fate. You will not be a traitor.

And when you felt yourself be pulled on board a plane, taking you at least a continent away from your homeland, you prayed for their safety and for yourself, to be made stronger and more resilient.

Upon reaching the capital, your eyes were blindfolded while you were led to another warehouse. You felt insulted as you heard Boss Royce say, “she’s all yours, Todd,” as if you were something to be sold. “You know what to do.”

“Oh absolutely,” a bearded giant rumbled, a hat on his head and a mask covering his face, as he assessed you like a kid assesses a cousin he meets for the first time.

For starters, they continued the tradition of not letting you fall asleep. While Royce’s cronies let you doze off for a minute or two, your eyes here would be immediately snapped open by metal pots and pans banged near your ears, shaking you awake, or keeping you in a room illuminated with dazzling white light, until it was impossible for you to keep your eyes open with exhaustion.

Even though you had been habitual of staying awake for nights at length, the constant hunger and painful conditions began chipping at your stamina.

The goons here seemed to not have a heart, for with gleeful expressions on their faces like a kid getting a brand new toy, they subjected you to electrocutions, waterboarding, and ruthless beating, them savouring your groans of pain while they hit your body to leave a long lasting impact. However, the worst they had done to you by far was pulling off your nails.

It felt like months had passed since you had left the previous city, and while it made you doubt your rate of survival, it gave you hope that they have not yet been captured.

One day, while Todd’s men peel off your nails, slowly and deliberately, deaf to the sounds of your screams shaking the very room, Todd, sitting amused in his armchair, turns to hear a henchman run to him and whisper something.

He stood up and cracked his knuckles. “Continue interrogation. I’ll be right back.”

As his steps faded, your screams increased, with the drop of nails and blood.

As a spy, you had been trained to enhance your senses, and learn to pick up surrounding’s stimuli, especially hearing. You automatically feel your ears tune to the sound of an explosion occurring outside, and a ruckus exploding with men yelling and bullets raining.

You thought it was only your hallucination, but the men left with you turned around towards the door.

What could have had happened?

The man closest to you, Hill, jerked his head towards the door, and two of them ran to get more information. You were grateful for this distraction in which you could borrow some time to gather your senses.

Your ears continuously picked up gunshots, screams, calls of names, and doors being – blasted? – as crates came raining down with the force by which the building had begun shaking.

Definitely a fight out there. And firearms involved.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart soar with the surge of hope.

Five minutes later, you heard the footsteps come in again, but punctuated with a few yells. With the two boys sent earlier still absent, the remnant four men torturing you stood up as if deciding to investigate for themselves, when the room’s door opened and Todd came in again, his signature hat covering his face. Your heart sank when you saw three men follow him.

You had also been taught to listen and observe people’s footsteps. And it was that skill with which you recognized, that those footsteps weren’t of your captor’s.

Once he paused near you, he spoke, through a cloth, “hand me your gun.”

Within seconds, his wish was fulfilled, and your breath halted, seeing it might be your last. You close your eyes, lips trembling as the cold metal of the gun touched your temple.

“Wait, wait, wait, sir, she’s supposed to stay alive!” Hill yelled, shocked. “What are you doing?”

“Who said so?” Todd’s voice was smug. “If she isn’t talking anymore, it’s better to kill her.”

“It’s from the Army General, remember? He gave us her location. And Royce said she knows everything.”

“Who are we to trust Royce, anyway?” one of the newcomers growled. “How did he know about her?”

“How am I supposed to know that? All we were told is that she’s not to be killed on the General’s orders.”

“Hmm..” Todd let out an amused noise. “Untie her.”

Even you whirled around in surprise, as Hill’s and his comrades’ mouths hung open in surprise.

“What?”

“Untie her, or I’m killing her here.”

“Boss, what’s gotten into you? She hasn’t spilled-”

Your entire body jolted when the gun on your temple jerked and let out a deafening crack. However, the bullet wasn’t inside you.

It was inside Hill, his heart’s place steaming and blood oozing.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m not habitual of repeating my orders.”

Another volley of bullets rained from Todd’s three men, killing all henchmen near you. You slowly turned your head to see what Todd would do with you now, but you could cry with relief when the one whom everyone thought to be Todd tipped his hat off to be a Grade One you knew. As he called the rest of your squad in through the gates, Ashley threw off her mask and came darting towards you, worry and horror etched on her face as she slid next to you.

“What have they done to you?”

Her voice held venom and worry simultaneously as she untied your ropes.

“I didn’t tell them anything, I promise.” You watched as your squad jumped down from the crates.

“I know. I know you’re strong. Just hang in there.” With these words, she turned to Nanami, who had called her name. “Leave, and get the transport ready.”

When the people marched out, Ashley looped your arm around her neck and attempted to make you stand, but you stumbled, nearly taking Ashley down with you, owing to the recent electrocution.

You could hear gunshots coming from outside. Shit. They’ve got reinforcements.

“Everyone, leave no witnesses.” Nanami’s command rang out.

Ashley was about to call someone, when you tapped her knee.

“Go on, I’ll make it outside.”

“I can’t leave you like this,” she argued, but stopped when you stood again, wobbling.

“Ashley, go. Or nobody will make it alive.” You sternly say, and she nodded, running outside with her gun.

You, using a nearby discarded rifle, try to make your way out, and you are almost to the door leading you outside when a bullet grazes your stomach. You turn to fire, but Nanami beats you to it.

You battle your newest wave of dizziness, but fail miserably as, disregarding Nanami’s calls of your name, your knees buckle and you fall. You struggle to get up as he runs to you, but you flail against the darkness surrounding you, the hunger, exhaustion and dizziness of it all finally catching up to you.

You feel your body be picked up, and Nanami’s voice call out, his eyes trained on Attwood, Williams, and Kiersten, "Take your weapons and go out. Clear our path. Blow up this place, if you must.”

“Yes sir!”

You try to comprehend what the hell was going on.

“Don’t die on me now, Y/N,” were the last words you heard before it all went black.

********

When you had first been taken away, the only thing you registered were the dark and hopeless skies, always ready to rain. Once you were in the capital, you could feel the winds going colder, more sinister. But when you opened your eyes, after goodness knows how long, you knew you were back home. The familiar smell of spring blossoms, and birds native to your land screaming their songs, and the beautiful sunlight pooling in.

You tried to sit up when a strong hand came on you.

“I wouldn’t advise you to sit up right now.”

Kento Nanami was sitting beside you on a chair.

“Sir!” You gasp. “Sir, I didn’t tell them a thing, I promise-”

“I know. I chose my squad carefully.” He assures you. “But that’s secondary. Tell me, how are you feeling right now?”

All the horror of the past few days rush up to you, and you can’t help but feel your eyes moisten with tears.

“I…I just…” you shake your head. How can you tell this to someone superior and experienced like him?

“Go on. I won’t mind.”

You mumbled, "never mind, it's okay."

"It's anything but okay. Tell me honestly."

It was the way he said these words, making them sound like a command and a request, that convinced you to reveal it. All your life, when you said, 'never mind', people took it as a signal to shut up, even though you longed for someone to insist to spill it out, to show they don't mind and they want to comfort you. He was the first one who did that.

“How do you have the will?”

“Of what?”

“To live to fight another day, when the scars of the last fight are still there. All that time I was there, I thought of what if I died here. We all are fighting for people who will never know we even existed. If I die, I will be under some other name, not with what my parents and friends called me. I don't want to be forgotten in some lonely city.” You never realised when the tears rolled down. “I do not regret not telling them. If given the chance, I’d do it all over again. It’s just…I don’t want to be forgotten this easily. I want to have someone who’ll wait for me and who’ll remember me for what I have done.”

Nanami watches you silently as you duck your face in your hands and weep.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” You choke out. “It’s my first experience doing this, and I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this. I’ll be fine in a while.”

You stop when his hands come and pull them down to uncover your face. Your red eyes meet his glasses.

“You don’t have to pretend to be strong around me. And…I understand. Sometimes even I doubted the purpose of it all. I read somewhere that ‘A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit’. If we die, we are securing the future of many other people. They may never know our name, but they will know what we have done for them. As long as our mission succeeds, we live on. That’s what makes me fight. That people sleep peacefully because we fight at night.”

You looked up at him, a curtain in your mind parting.

“We all hold secrets. And I would like to ask you to trust us with yours too, should you feel the need. You can come to us for anything, and you can consider any of us your friend.”

You stare at him, his respect increasing hundredfold in your heart. “Thank you, sir. I owe you my life.”

“Don’t mention. It’s my duty.” He waved off.

You smile. “May I ask you something?”

“You don’t need my permission for that.”

“You once said that if a mission is in jeopardy, you’ll leave us behind. Why did you come back for me? Tell me honestly."

His eyebrows slightly raised at you throwing his words back at him.

“Firstly, you were the mission. And also, nothing is more important than a human life.”

“Then why’d you say that earlier?”

He looked at the time on the watch, and stood up. “As much as this conversation has been fruitful, I must take my leave. Get well soon, Miss L/N.” He turned around, and before opening the door, he looked over his shoulder.

“You were strong in those tough times, and that’s why we lived. Thank you.”

**********

Within a few weeks, you were back to work again.

A few days ago, Nanami had come to tell you that he was free at night and you can come round to his room for training.

Of course you took the chance.

Nights became your favourite, as whenever the both of you were free, you’d sneak off to his room to avoid any rumours, and then he’d teach you various things, such as reading maps, or methods of escape, and self-defence.

In those nights, when he would put off his glasses and would read instructions to you or teach you how to read a code or draw maps for you in the dimming lamplight with that voice of his, or would hold you against himself to teach you a particular stance, you found your heart falling harder and harder for him.

It was in the darkness of the nights that you found yourself dissolving into a friendship with him. You felt more of yourself around him, and it seemed as if you two were woven from the same cloth, how the both of you guessed what the other was thinking, and completing each other’s sentences, and something about his caring composure made you want to confide every secret of yours in him, tell every fear of yours to him. And whenever he told you to tell him honestly, that was the one command you always followed.

The way he gave you his time, and listened attentively to you, and dispelled your fears with his comforting words, and gave his all to teach you, the way he showed he cared was all you could ever ask for.

It was one such night, when you had spent far too long looking at yourself in a mirror.

Even after weeks of healing, your face was still marred with slashes and scars, and your body was like a razed battlefield. You felt ashamed of yourself, feeling the before-you glaring at the now-you, the clear, smooth skin replaced with evidence of weakness. For all your life as a spy, you were a human. You were meant to marry someone someday. How can you expect anyone to love you, heck even admire you, when your face is a patchwork of blood and skin?

The fact that you were weak, that you were inexperienced, was evident. Why else would you let them hurt you like this? Why had no other spy gotten their faces ruined with years of service while you got destroyed within a year? You don’t deserve to serve alongside them.

And when you remember your moments of crumbling resolve…your belief about you being undeserving steels.

It hurt you to think you were not as strong as you believed you were. But in a life full of lies, that’s a truth you must embrace.

The shame of those scars occupied your brain, eating away at your soul like a termite at wood, and it was what you blurted out to Nanami, one night during training.

“L/N, have you done something to your face?”

You immediately pause, your face going red under the layers and layers of concealer you applied. Under his scrutinizing gaze, you could feel your scars reveal themselves.

“Nothing.”

“You’re trying to hide something, aren’t you? Tell me honestly.”

You stay silent, staring at your hands, until his hand falls on yours. “I thought I told you that I can be trusted. Tell me.”

“What makes you stronger? I mean, strong enough to brave anything.”

“Everyone has a motive to work for. Do you think you’re weak?”

You nod. “I don’t feel worthy of being here anymore, serving alongside people much experienced and stronger than I am.” You look at your battered hands, and are sure your face tells a worse story. “These marks show that I failed to protect myself. Out of all seven of us, only I emerged like this, a quilt of blood and scars. How can anyone trust me, or believe me when I say, that I protect their country’s secrets? When anyone looks at me, all they will think is that I’m a failure. That my resolve to fight and my will to live was so frail and fragile that I surrendered myself to any way they wish. I’m so weak that I let this happen to me.”

You startle when his thumbs graze your cheek, as if trying to remove the layers.

“The thing that makes me strong, is the fact that if I bleed, someone else gets to live.” He said quietly. “And the hope that someone would be proud of me no matter what. You’re finding the wrong idea of strength. You validate your strength based on what others say. Don’t take their words to heart.”

“How do I know?” you whisper. “If I really am strong?”

“You’re continuing to fight. Even when others would have lost the will to live, you keep risking your life for millions of people. The idea that you might never make a new sunrise, yet you’re still battling on, makes you stronger. And an advice, one spy to another. Never be ashamed of your scars. They show the world what you have braved.”

He hesitated, and then, to your astonishment, he raised his eyepatch slightly, to reveal a blind eye. Even in the dimming light, he looked as beautiful to you as ever.

“If anything, they don’t show your weakness. They display your strength and your loyalty. In my opinion, everyone falls for the one with the beauty on the surface. You deserve someone who can see the beauty carved in you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You genuinely feel a smile bloom. “You really do inspire me.”

“It’s my duty. And I told you not to refer to me as sir.”

“But I don’t know what to call you right now.”

“By my name.”

You halt. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that sir?”

“I am, if you will allow me to call you by yours.”

Of course you will.

And you found it hard to believe as mere coincidence when you began to be paired with him for every mission. But none of you seemed to mind, as it only gave you more chances of getting to know each other deeply.

From being ministers to two lawyers on separate cases to a pair of siblings looking for a lost child, you two did it all. Many covers, many names, many stories, many memories. What never changed was the two of you.

While your covers were to smother your identity, you found it harder and harder to conceal your feelings for him. While you first tried to bury them under a disguise, you utterly failed to stop wanting to be with him forever.

And even though you wanted to spend more time with him, you couldn’t help but begin to get tired of this job three years into service. Finally believing you had done all you believed yourself capable of in service for the country, you decided to drop your once-dream job and leave it all for a newer life.

You would have done it without hesitation, had there not been the thought of leaving one man behind holding you back. You were trying to find the best way to tell him this...

One night during training, Nanami sensed something off in you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You look up from a daze, having zoned out. “Nothing.”

“Well, no going forward if you’re not focused.” He shut the book of codes close. “What’s disturbing you? I can read.”

You twist your fingers together. “I am leaving.”

The silence that followed was too loud. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t want to continue anymore.”

“Wasn’t being a spy your dream job?” He quizzed, setting himself down on a chair.

“Well, it was. But in movies, or documentaries, they only show the good things. They never tell us about the hardships. I don’t want to live a lie.”

“You’re not-”

“Please let me speak first.” You raise a hand. “I’m not afraid of dying anymore, like I was at first. I have no problem giving my best to my country, but I want to be myself. Under all these covers and fake names and fake stories, I feel like I’m losing myself. I’m tired of putting up acts and fooling others. I want to be real, in a real world. I want to write my own story instead of being written by someone else.”

“All of us go through that, Y/N. Give it some time, it will get better, I promise.” He was, maybe, thinking you were going through the same intervals of time where you doubted yourself, and he was trying to alleviate your doubts, but he didn't know you were not coming back from this one.

“Kento, I told you, I don’t want to continue anymore. I feel like I gave it all I can. I know I sound selfish, but sometimes it's okay to be.”

“But, you’ve trained all life for this. What will you do then?” The meaning dawned on his handsome face as worry etched his face.

“I don’t know. Get a job. Get a new degree. Get married. I guess I’ll figure it out. Anything but this.”

“Is there nothing I could do to convince you to stay?”

“No, because I’ve already given my resignation.”

He put his glasses onto his table and leaned forward towards you. “Well, it’s your right to leave, and even though your potential for a bright future is apparent, I respect your wish. Just know, these doors are always open for you.”

You smile. “You’re an amazing friend, Kento. Thank you. Though, I will do one last mission with you before I leave.”

“I look forward to it.”

*******

Finally, after days of wait, the day arrived when you were handed your last assignment. A senator had gone rogue and was rumoured to be making an appearance in London two weeks from now to sell national secrets whose leakage could prove detrimental.

You almost choked on your drink when you found out the role you were assigned to play.

In the party the senator was appearing, Kento was going to be a minister from the UK government while you were to be his charming wife.

For two days you had to prepare, you could not stop blushing every time you thought of that mission.

You wondered what Kento thought of that.

********

Throughout the journey here, Kento did not mention anything about his thoughts on this mission, so you were relaxed too. However, the thought of playing his wife's role sent butterflies in your stomach, and at times you stopped yourself from showing your giddiness.

If only this act could be real...

The fateful night was dazzling in the Christchurch Meadow, Oxford, as the hall was packed with people in suits and ladies in dresses and accents mingling with each other among the waiters gliding over the slippery floor serving drinks, the flowers adding a new fragrance to the castle alight with golden chandeliers.

You were wearing a black evening gown, your hair in a high bun, your feet clad in black heels, while Kento was looking absolutely dashing in a black suit, perfection dripping from his very footsteps, his hair styled in the same manner and his eyepatch the same colour as his suit. Even though the real minister was already hidden, as your handler told you, you were slightly afraid if anybody blew your cover, but nobody suspected him as an impostor, in fact, seeing his posture and poise, everyone seemed eager to include him in their social circle.

While the two of you roamed around, hand in hand, your face fighting the blush creeping up, he finally spotted someone, and led you towards a table. “Wait here.”

“We’re in this together!”

“I am aware, but if we both walk over, it would be suspicious. I’ll handle it, and you can handle the fighting.”

You agree and get seated, watching your partner get lost in the crowd, all the while thinking this might be your last time you ever see him.

You need to tell him-

“Is this seat taken?”

You raise your head to see a man with a black mop of hair, fair skin and brown eyes, a smile plastered on his face while his body stood tall in a white suit.

“No.” you reply, politely.

Dragging the chair forward, he plopped himself down, eerily glad to be with you.

“I am Lord Lyson.” He introduced himself. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“It’s an honour for me.”

“I’ve been wishing to talk to you for a while. If you may-”

On cue, the music began playing.  He immediately darted his gaze in your direction.

“May I have the honour of this dance with you?”

“No, I’m sorry. I am a married person.”

“So I am aware. But nothing stops you from sharing a dance.” His fingers found their way to your wrist.

“And nothing stops you from finding other ladies.”

“How clever. But I wish your company tonight.”

“How charming, but I must ask you to leave me alone.” You jerk your wrist away from his slender-fingered grip.

His eyes sharpen as he lunges forward, his face impossibly close to you. You could gag against the reek of stale ginger from his mouth. “I know you’re no minister’s wife. I know who you are. Don’t try to be respectable around me, or I’ll bring this place on you.”

“Excuse me.” you raise your voice. “You have no business telling me what to do and what not to.” You stand straighter to rival his height, glaring daggers into him.

With a hand, he jerked you forward by the waist. “I could kill you, or kiss you here right now, and nobody could say anything.”

“If you know me so well, you know I’m not alone tonight.” You hiss.

“Well, where is he?” he mocks finding Kento, until a finger tapped his shoulder from behind. His face drained of colour while yours lighted up upon seeing Kento standing behind him, his face a stormy mood.

“There he is.” You smile sweetly at Lord Lyson.

“Pardon me,” your captor’s voice grew oily as with a sly smile, he tries to turn around, but is stopped by Kento’s hand. An uncharacteristically angry expression was on his face, the way his mouth curled with fury and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself with far less than you started with.”

You could melt seeing him take a stand for you. As Lyson’s retreating back went out of focus, Kento looked towards you, his furrowed eyebrows’ crease erasing.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course. Perfect timing, though.”

With a hand outstretched for you, you take it, and he leads you outside.

“Our job is done here. The senator never made it.”

**********

Somewhere in the distance, fireworks exploded as you finally completed your last ever mission. While you and Kento had decided you both deserve a break, you two sat by the River Thames, breathing slowly in the fresh air, letting your silences settle between you and unknowingly placing your hands close to each other.

Your eyes catch the light from the river, shimmering and sparkling, reminding you of your life as a spy. While you had to conceal your soul in these three years, like the dark waters of the Thames, some parts couldn’t help but shine bright, making living a secret worth it.

And tonight, that light might be stolen from your life. You decide to make the first move, because while you might have a lot of regrets, you don’t want the regret of never confessing grow roots in your heart. You want to tell the man beside you that he owns your heart from the beginning.

You turn your head towards him, who was looking at you, a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.” You manage to speak against the ball of tears obstructing your throat. “Thank you for everything, Kento.”

“The pleasure was all mine to have you by my side. And I hope that this is not goodbye, merely parting ways to meet again.”

“I hope so too.” you sigh.

“Y/N? Can I ask you one thing?”

You turn your head towards him in surprise. It’s always you who asked for permission, not him. “Why, of course.”

“A while ago, you said that you are tired of putting up acts for the world to see. I’m tired too, of pretending the two of us are…a pair. I want to make this real.”

You turn yourself towards him, your eyes wide as orbs and having forgotten to breathe. You could practically hear the rush of blood and your thundering heartbeat in your ears.

“It’s your right to leave, but it’s my wish that you stay with me. I know it’s selfish of me to ask you to continue being a spy, but someone once told me it's sometimes okay to be selfish. Can I ask you to continue this act?”

In the moments it took you to calm your crazily beating heart, shaking body, and rapidly streaming breaths, he added, seeing your shocked face, “of course, you are free to say no, and I would not blame you should you not feel the same. I would want you to tell me honestly.”

“You kidding?”

You dare to raise a trembling hand and bring it to his face, brushing a stray strand of his hair backwards, the River Thames’ water being your witness. “I love being with you, Kento. And I love every moment spent with you. You need only say the word, and I’ll stay. Not as a spy, but as yours. Tell me you want me, because I want you. With you, everything feels real. and I will love you with all my heart, for as long as I get to live. Just say it, and I’ll stay to be anything you want me to be – your home, your secret, your love.”

The smile that spread on his face – oh, how you adored that smile. If living with him means getting to see this beautiful side of his every day, then nothing could be worth more than this.

“Y/N,” he muttered, his hand lying on top of yours, “a life with a spy isn’t easy. I might not be able to give you all you deserve, and I can’t guarantee if I’ll make it back to you every night. Would you be willing to be with me, knowing the risks even you might take again?”

“No future is better than the one with you. Nothing is worth more than you in my eyes. And yes, I am willing to even die for you, because you give me a purpose for living. I will become the one waiting for you at home. Kento Nanami, you are the reason I’m living, and I will face every danger with you, for as long as you want me.”

With fluid speed, he stood up, and pulled you with him. While you watched him extract a box with a ring in it, you barely containing your giddy excitement, he extended a gentle hand and you put yours in it.

He could ask for your life and you’d trust him with it.

When the ring glimmered enough for you to see, your eyes widened at recognition of this ring. On a mission prior, you two were passing by a jewelers’, and this pretty ring had caught your attention. While Kento was busy with a correspondent, your gaze had lingered long and hard at it, but you never mentioned it to anyone. He noticed, and he remembered.

While he slipped the ring onto your finger, you smiling into his eyes, with the promise of a life with him, you felt nothing could be more real than this.

You and he would be each other’s secrets. To be kept with your hearts, forever. And if the time called, you will put on a hundred disguises, if it meant you get to make this one act reality.

Hi everyone, Naomi here! This is a my second contribution to @dragonscribble's writing event. I chose this with Nanami Kento for the prompt 'I love being with you'. Thanks for reading this, and do share your opinions! <3

Collage made by me. DO NOT COPY MY WORK!

[deepdreamnights]

Three loud bangs. Then two more.

Then you're here.

"-be the god assigned to your case." The man at the overflowing desk is looking at you. He kind of looks like that one guy, from the movies, with the voice and the face? You know the one.

You ask the obvious question.

"Oh, no, not THE god, that's not a thing. 'God' is a job. A very thankless, bureaucratic job. But how do you not know that?" He furrows his brow, then digs through a pile of papers, scanning the pages with rapidly moving bloodshot eyes. "Oh, oh, I see. A control universe. That explains a lot."

You ask another obvious question.

"A control universe, like in an experiment, entirely mundane, maintained for comparison reasons." He pauses, and sucks air in through his teeth. How is there air here? In whatever this is?

"Well, I'm supposed to ferry you off to the afterlife that best approximates what your culture guessed you'd be dealing with."

You ask.

"Well it's not quite fire in the literal sense." He says. "But nine out of ten souls can't tell the difference."

He leans in and whispers across the desk.

"Look, I don't like sending people to places like that for doing what was, quite frankly, pretty 'based' in context. It's not technically allowed, but I can incarnate you into one of my side projects, call it a beta test, give you a second chance?"

He slides you three spiral notebooks. You thumb through them.

Dinosaur superheroes... No. Man-beast blood sports... also a no. Non-control universes sound dangerous.

"This one." You say, putting your finger on the one with the pentagram-symbol on the cover. "The collectable monster thing, I guess."

You didn't pay too much attention to the details. You've played games like this before. The human characters can't even die.

How bad could it be?

--

You vaguely remember someone asking you about your gender and appearance.

You don't remember at all how you wound up laying on your back on a cool, grassy hillock under a blue, cloud-strewn sky.

The gray button-up work-shirt and khaki pants seem well-worn and comfortable. The suspenders seem like an odd choice.

"I'm Dr. Dublin Entendre." A voice says from behind you. You sit up to see a man in a white lab coat. Beside him is an eight foot tall woman made of metal. Her head is a television set. "I've been expecting you."

--

"-It's a form of symbiosis. One you won't survive long here without." The doctor says, as he introduces you to each of the four creatures in his crowded, ramshackle laboratory. "They grow stronger when coached by a human, and we benefit from their assistance and protection."

You ask an obvious question, suddenly wishing you'd read more of that spiral notebook in that, place you were in before now. A place that's now fading like a dream. You start to grasp for the memory again, but are interrupted-

"From ferals, from crittas, from the mob-" A blue person-sized dinosaur listed off threats on her claws, speaking in a brassy, nasal tone. "Was this egg sheltered or what?"

Your exclamation is answered by the hat on the desk, or, more accurately, the rabbit-creature sticking half out of it. "Yeah, of course there's the mob. You're in the big city."

The rabbit disappears into the hat, which then leaps over you from the desk to the floor, landing at several times its original size. The rabbit reappears, and pinches your cheek. "You're gonna need someone with smarts to show ya the ropes."

"Oh, but if that's true, ears, they'd go with PomBom, right?" The person-shaped column of talking green gelatin replied in a bubbly voice. "Be flexible, go with the flow, you need a classy dæme, a cultured one."

"Clarification: A bacterial culture." The robot cheerleader replies in a cute, synthesized voice. "This unit lacks data sufficient to determine compatibility. But once data is provided, such compatibility will be emulated."

A voice from behind you whispers as nearly-invisible claws clasp your shoulders in a snug embrace. "Can't get much more high maintenance than a dæme that needs replacement parts. Take a leap of faith, embrace the mystery."

And you make your choice-

--

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