#just knowing there is someone you can dedicate so many of your talents to

[yellowheartz]

The weirdest quirk I could ever have is apparently wanting to love rather than to be loved. I just got called weird for not being the same as those angsty sayings that people obsess over so much. 🙂

Like.. what did I do to you, man? I'm sorry for not being the "loving someone you can't have" or the "always loving not the loved" like wtf. People have their own shit going on, just because the trend is to be an angsty little bitch, trying to copy other people's angst, doesn't mean everyone you know has to.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

★Pick a Picture: ✨️👑What makes you Charming?👑✨️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

💘 If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!💘

👑Masterlist👑

👑Pile 1: The Sun, 3 of Cups and 9 of Cups.

Hi pile 1! You are a person who radiates independence and confidence, which makes you someone very confident in the eyes of others. They likely see you as a born leader.

I also see that you are perceived to have a great sense of humor, which makes you cool, pile 1. "The cool girl/boy", its what i heard. Honestly, I love your energy pile 1! your friends are lucky to have you!

I just feel like you are truly fun and amazing, the type of friend you want to hang out and party with.

Your loyalty and honesty also stand out. There is a duality in your person in which you continue to show empathy and be very open with those you love despite your honest approach to life; this makes others simply love having you around. Your type of energy is really special, sun energy for sure.

★Song:

👑Pile 2: 10 of Cups, Queen of Wands and The Fool.

Hi pile 2! You are truly unique pile 2. You have an air of selectivity that makes you stand out as someone really "foward" or "ahead of your time". You probably take great care of your energy and others find it charming how you prioritize yourself and how dedicated you are in everything you do.

Also, I perceive that others see you as someone extremely talented, with a bright future ahead of you. Whatever you dedicate yourself to, others appreciate this a lot; I feel that you put a unique vision into your career/hobby/study, which makes you stand out and that others admire a lot. This pile is definitely the "artistic" one, I feel that they can express a lot and reach many people through their art; "change the world" is what I heard, so if you were thinking of exhibiting your art somewhere, do it!

★Song:

👑Pile 3: Queen of Swords, The High Priestess and 4 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! Your energy is really captivating, I feel that there is something in you that is extremely charming, you may have prominent positions or aspects of Taurus, Scorpio, Libra or Venus.

You are someone really imposing, many may be your admirers, with an energy similar to that of Megan Fox in Jennifers Body.

I also perceive that you are someone who knows what you want, very determined; this is something that others find very charming about you, the way you hold yourself.

Your presence is really magnetic, and it is clear that you have a personality that attracts others. You are someone with a very special energy, which does not go unnoticed by anyone; there is a certain air of elegance too. It may be your personal style or the way you dress, but others are fascinated by it, pile 3.

★Song:

✨️Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated ✨️

[scarletcomalies]

soul bounds disentwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part II, Part III

Word count: 5,546

Warnings: A little angsty, I guess? And ofc Reader having a crush on Billy's mom not knowing if it's reciprocated.

A/N: This is inspired in Halsey's music video "Colors", if you have watched it, you can see where this is gonna go...

A/N: For plot purposes, let’s suppose Infinity War and subsequent events never happened, and instead, after the Civil War, Wanda decided to quit her life as a superhero.

Wanda Maximoff hired you -a photographer who urgently needed a fresh start- to capture the dishes that would be featured in her second cookbook. Her son, Billy Maximoff, interfered with what you two could have developed. He had feelings for you, and well, you had feelings for his mother.

According to Forbes (2023), Wanda Maximoff secured the third position among the wealthiest chefs worldwide. She is a living proof that we are all capable of rewriting our own story, even after a lifetime shaped by external influences.

Simone Carlisle (Culinary Arts Teacher): Ah, Wanda Maximoff… (pauses) let me tell you, no one prepares you for that feeling, where you find out that you contributed your seed to the plants of successes that one of your students planted in the garden of her life.

Wanda Maximoff (Chef, restaurant chain owner, and television presenter): For as long as I can remember, my decisions were a cycle of revenge and redemption... don't get me wrong, I don't regret beating the shit out of some idiots (laughs), but, with the busy life I led, the only moment I could pause my life was while I was hiding in Scotland with my ex-boyfriend Vision. I had no one expecting anything from me, no one telling me what to do, where to go, it was like a puppy without an owner.

Vision (Avenger, Wanda Maximoff’s ex-partner): Dear, was it a journey. First, I remember that she watched YouTube videos to learn guitar. As soon as she woke up, she grabbed the instrument, and she wasn't satisfied until her fingers got numb. In a very short time, she caught the hang of it, and played for the first time in a small bar. No one knew who she was, and if they did, they probably didn't care. She was just a talented player keeping them entertained. Afterwards, band members fought over who would give her their contact first to join them. I thought that would be the beginning of a very successful music career, because from what I've read, international artists started that way.

Wanda Maximoff: I said, “Vision, I’m never doing this again”.

Vision: She kept practicing, playing in the solitude of her room, of course. It was a hobby-kind-of-passion, not the type of passion she would like to dedicate most of her life to. She went through many of those to realize that her main passion was under her nose all along.

Wanda Maximoff: The courage to join in culinary classes arose from desperation (chuckles), I used to prepare recipes at home, and I needed someone else's approval… it couldn't come from someone who didn't even eat in the first place! And so the beginning of my trayectory was paved by this amazing teacher, Simone Carlisle.

Simone Carlisle: The shy girl who during the intensive course kept her head down, sitting on the back corner, nervously playing with her rings while ignoring whispers and glances from other students, is now in a big framed picture, placed in the most visible spot so that everyone who enters my academy knows that I taught this legend. She made my small business a huge deal now (laughs).

Wanda Maximoff: I never imagined that I would have my own cookbook, television program, or chain of restaurants, let alone all three at the same time! At first, I was content with cooking in a restaurant and earning a decent living, but later, I thought about the possibility of creating a YouTube channel, which subsequently permitted me to finance the publication of my book. Building on the success of my book, the opportunity of my show emerged, which in turn allowed me to open my first restaurant, and ultimately expand it into a chain of restaurants. What I want to convey is that you must trust that the love for what you do is a powerful tool. Success is subjective, so pursue your own concept of it.

Amy Lee (Evanescence’s lead singer and songwriter): It was a hard day of work. I didn’t feel like cooking but I was looking for the homiest, most comforting food possible, and Wanda Maximoff made it a reality with her restaurant located just a few blocks near me. I told my bandmate, Emma, about this amazing food restaurant, she replied, "Oh, the owner has a YouTube channel and a show, you should watch it so that you don't overcook the spaghetti" (laughs). It has been a great help to me ever since, for those are creative but accessible recipes. Plus, it’s a nice touch that she uses her magic to manipulate ingredients and utensils, while making you laugh with her witty jokes. The best way to put it is; she makes you feel like it's a close and sweet friend who is teaching you. Her human and warm approach felt and still feels like a pat on the back.

Wanda Maximoff: My favorite singer since adolescence, Amy Lee, has said something about me that fills me with happiness every time I remember it. She helped me cope, I helped her cook. We're even now.

Vision: You see, Wanda's powers went from being a source of fear in the world to being the main reason why said fear stopped as well. An impressive understanding in her abilities, still doesn't make her an expert, as she can't prevent unexpected situations.

Wanda Maximoff: I was six months pregnant. In the blink of an eye… literally.

The latest legacy of the Maximoff family, twins Billy and Tommy, were effortlessly admitted to the New York University. The dean was left speechless, for their admission exam grades exceeded expectations.

Tony Stark (Avenger, Stark Industries): With Wanda, our initial connection was through business, the Avengers, you know? It wasn't until she asked me if I could offer her kids an internship at Stark Industries that we developed a closer bond, and man, were those kids geniuses!

Wanda Maximoff: Those kids... one day, they'll outgrow me (laughs). They were so eager to rush through life stages, and I thought, "You don't realize I would give everything to relive those joyful years," but I know better than to project my own frustrations on my sons.

Virginia "Pepper" Potts (Stark Industries): One day, I said goodbye to two fourteen-year-old boys. The next day, Happy informed me that some tall adults with raspy voices, claiming to be Billy and Tommy, wanted to come in. I immediately phoned Wanda, and she casually responded, "Oh, yeah, they can do that," as if maturing into college students overnight was a typical Tuesday occurrence for any teenager.

Thomas Maximoff, (Student at New York University, son of Wanda Maximoff): What can I say? (chuckles) school didn't present any intellectual challenges for us, and, yes, they do admit child prodigies for... PhDs even! But, we wanted to blend in, to share the same age as our classmates.

Wanda Maximoff: I always considered it a priority to spend time with my boys, so I put a lot of my work on hold, including my second cookbook project. Now that they're focusing on college and their internship, I've had too much time, and by that I mean too much time to finish that unfinished work.

Wanda Maximoff had completed her second cookbook, in response to numerous requests from her loyal fans. Another book that promised to aid all those who seeked a different, quick, and above all, delicious meal at any time of the day. There was no doubt that it would become a global bestseller, just like her previous one.

All that was left were the illustrative photographs for the book, and the studio where you worked at was in charge of this task.

You meticulously made the first dish she cooked appear as exquisite as in real life. You employed several tools like lighting, background elements, and cutlery placement, but you never altered the food in any way, it didn't even cross your mind to do so. This didn't sit well with your boss, but it certainly pleased the redhead.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) (Photographer): I remember my boss suggested that I add components to the food to make it look more appealing. I responded that that was the equivalent of encouraging unattainable stereotypes of beauty... in food (chuckles).

Wanda Maximoff: By offering unrealistic references, people would be discouraged to notice that their result was not the same as mine, not knowing that those references have hours of strategy to make it look 'aesthetic'. I prefer to show it as it is (pauses) I think that's why I liked this girl, I didn't have to say a word and she understood everything.

Your boss was the typical man who didn't let newcomers like you progress. Although you had been working in the studio for about six months, he never allowed you to touch a camera, which was contradictory because that was the job you applied for.

You did the work he didn't want to do, like transporting, positioning and removing the equipment, and setting up the scenery. That idiot just did the angles and clicked the top right button, and then took all the credit and praise. It annoyed you, yes, but unlike him, you didn't need praise from anyone to fill your ego, you just wanted to be acknowledged for your own efforts and not to be another person’s side kick.

In the meantime, it was enough satisfaction to know that none of the praise he gets would be possible without you, and he knew it…

… and Wanda knew it.

"What do you think, Miss Maximoff?" Your boss showed Wanda the array of photographs he took of the latest dish. He proudly displayed them, awaiting for a compliment from the redhead.

"Wow, (Y/N), placing the sautéed potatoes in a separate bowl instead of alongside the food within the same dish... you were right, it gives them their own protagonism and importance as a side dish," was the first thing she said, eliciting a small blush from you. "Great work!"

"Thank you, Miss Maximoff," after hearing her words, you experimented a feeling that was somewhat unfamiliar to you. It made you feel visible, truly seen and acknowledged in a workplace that often overlooked such things. And the fact that it came from her, made it all even more so profound.

"It's just Wanda," she corrected you, as if her previous actions weren't enough, she gave you the green light to address her in a more intimate manner. Along with that, your boss was already frustrated enough at not being the center of attention for two and a half hours. It was all a dream!

"(Y/N), we're done here, remove the equipment and take it to my car. I'll be waiting for you for just five minutes," your boss ordered you. Not even a ‘please’, nothing. In his gaze was evident that desperate attempt to look intimidating, which only made him look like a tantruming child. However, when his gaze turned to the older woman, he held an incredible admiration and appreciation, almost as if they were two different people in the same body. "Miss Maximoff, it was a pleasure working with you, truly an honor. We could continue next week...”

"Do you have equipment of your own, (Y/N)?" She interrupted him in mid-sentence, and you hesitated briefly.

"Uh... yes, of course, Miss... I mean, Wanda," you replied.

You worked as a freelance photographer in your spare time, capturing people or events here and there. It was something relatively stable, but it could not be your main income, so you felt the need to work on a studio.

"Perfect... I'll be contacting only you so we can work on the rest of the illustrations for the book," she stated.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I couldn't believe what I heard! The first thing I did was begging to whatever force there is that this wasn't a dream. It was overwhelming, the feeling of fear and ecstasy… Wanda wanted ME to work with her.

She recognized something in you within three and a half hours that others failed to see in six months. This was it. This was the big break you had been waiting for, the opportunity to show your skills and make your mark.

That being said, you never saw your boss, or stepped foot in that studio after that.

In the days that followed, you poured your heart and soul into preparing for the upcoming shoots.

You studied Wanda's previous cookbooks, familiarizing yourself with her style, her preferences. You even watched her program and her interviews, initially with the excuse of seeing those mesmerizing eyes and delighting yourself with her beauty, but you actually learned a lot of cooking techniques that you were excited to cook when it was such an annoying task for you to do.

When the day of the shoot finally arrived, you were ready. You set up your equipment with a confidence you had never felt before. You positioned the reflectors so that the natural light would bounce where you needed it, and set the scene to make the food appealing and motivating. Wanda watched you work, her eyes filled with admiration and respect.

You smiled at her as you turned on your camera, “So, what do you do with all this food after I photograph it?” You questioned curiously.

"I pack it, multiply it with my powers, and give it to the homeless," she explained. "It's something I often do, in fact, but I prefer to keep good deeds a secret, and not brag about it," she added. “I would appreciate it if you don’t say anything.”

"I figured that about you," you smiled sympathetically.

"You figured?"

“You have always used your skills to help," you elaborated, and noticed she slightly scrunched her nose, as a way of disagreeing. "Yes, even when you were working for Hydra, Tony Stark was destroying territories left and right, and you were seeking justice, doing what you felt was right," you added, noticing how her face showed an expression of realization. "And now, you focus on helping people who struggle with thinking of a simple but good meal in the midst of a hectic routine, and not so much on showing off how good you are at cooking exotic dishes. So yes, I assumed you would also help those who can't even afford a meal, too.”

Wanda's gaze was lost in the white marble of her kitchen floor, and you knew you gave her a new perspective on the wrongs she had done in her past. She meant well all along, and ultimately, that's what mattered. She was a great person in the present, and that's what mattered.

"So, you're the photographer in question," a tall, curly-haired guy stepped into the kitchen doorway, interrupting the train of thought of the woman in front of you.

You laughed at the expression on her face as reality hit her again.

"Oh, yes. Sweetheart, this is (Y/N)," she introduced you to who you already knew was her son. "And (Y/N), this is my son Billy."

"Nice to meet you, Billy," you replied, approaching him to offer your hand to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine," he emphasized the last words, as he accepted your hand. "My mom didn't mention that you were so beautiful."

Wanda cleared her throat, and proceeded to look at him with surprise in her eyes. In a I-can’t-believe-you-said-that way.

You couldn't help but laugh again at how expressive she was without noticing it.

But in their perspective, from how you looked the other direction and chuckled softly, you seemed to snicker at Billy's flattery, which couldn't be further from the truth. He was corny and predictable, but most importantly, he was not Wanda Maximoff.

"Oh, forgive him, he still doesn't know how to control those sky-high hormones," Wanda said, grabbing Billy's shoulders from behind to guide him out of the kitchen.

You noticed that she was already shorter than her son by a few centimetres. This was nostalgic for any mother, but how must Wanda have felt watching it happen overnight? You were curious.

"No problem," you replied, and headed for the counter to begin photographing.

Billy entered the kitchen again, standing next to you, but not close enough to invade your space, which you thanked internally.

"Do you mind if I watch you work, (Y/N)?" Billy requested, and you smiled politely.

"Billy! Don't you have an internship to go to?" Wanda interfered before you could answer.

"Pepper and Tony organized a party at the tower," he replied victoriously.

"College homework?"

"Piece of cake. I finished it an hour ago."

“How about you enjoy your free time and go bowling with your brother?”

“He’s busy playing Fortnite online,” he shrugged.

Wanda rolled her eyes, "Behave yourself. That's the only condition."

"It's okay, Wanda," you reassured her. Each stage in a child's life is gradual, and parents usually have many years to learn about what each stage entails. It was understandable that Wanda didn't know what to do now that her children were suddenly old enough to drink and get into adult trouble.

"So, (Y/N), how long ago did you start this whole photography gig?" The taller guy spoke up, once you took your first picture.

"I've been doing it since I was thirteen," you replied, still capturing the image in before you at different angles. "Dedicating myself to this? As soon as I turned eighteen. I had a decent portfolio."

"I don't doubt it," he agreed.

You gave him a slight thankful smile, and walked over to Wanda, who was setting up the second dish to be photographed.

"What do you think?"You asked her, and it wasn't until she turned to look at the camera that you noticed that this is the closest you've ever been to her. You could smell her fragrance and hear her breathing. Your mind was screaming at you to move away, for you had no right to display such trust yet, on the contrary, your body needed to be as close as possible... to feel her.

You had never touched her, not even when she greeted you this afternoon. She simply opened her door and let you enter.

"Excellent. The blueberries next to the gluten-free blueberry pancakes are wet,” she commented. “Did you do it to provide a sense of freshness?" She inquired, looking into your eyes this time, and... the charm of her green eyes was incomparable.

Throughout life, you've seen different shades of green, but hers were unique. They seemed to have a whole story to tell, as if she gave them that power. Her eyes glowed with an emerald hue that mesmerized anyone who met her gaze, and you were no exception.

“Exactly, that’s what I did,” you confirmed, and you felt your cheeks burning, which you immediately hid by looking down and walking back to the counter.

The only interactions you had with Wanda were to get her to approve your photographs, since her son didn’t allow you both a second to talk. He didn’t cease to ask you all sorts of questions, and to keep the conversation going, you responded with brief 'and you?'s so that he still felt heard and had the space to reveal details about himself.

It was all natural for you. Your work was also based on creating a liveliness in the environment where you performed, plus you got more genuine reactions from people if you made them laugh and feel comfortable. However, you always ended up talking with whoever was willing to, even if you were not there to capture them.

In fact, you were enjoying the conversation with such a charismatic guy. At first, it felt overwhelming, but just by letting the topics flow, you ended up laughing and feeling more at ease with him. In any case, you would be meeting him more than once in the eight weeks that remained before the project was completed.

Once you had finished photographing the ten dishes for the week, you turned off your camera and put it back in its case.

You were too happy with the results. This was all done by you alone, and you would be recognized for it. Never again would your boss's name appear under the pictures that were all your doing. The moment Wanda sends your photographs to the publisher, your name would appear in the book credits, and so a new story would begin.

And Wanda... oh, Wanda made it so clear that she loved your work, and paid so much attention to detail. Not only did she praise you, but she made it a point to let you know that she had indeed noticed the details that to the average eye would go unnoticed. You didn't know if you were really developing a crush, or if it was just the fact that she was an older woman that satisfied that need for attention that you rarely got... or it could be both.

When you were working on your own, you didn't feel exhausted and drained despite the long working hours, unlike when you were in the studio. You were very grateful that Wanda had given you another opportunity like that, and you were confident that it could become a regular thing.

"Wow, seeing all these dishes without having eaten lunch has really made me hungry," you laughed, proceeding to remove the reflectors from the kitchen’s window. The sky was still clear. You started at a perfect timing to take advantage of natural light.

"You haven't eaten? Look at the time! I thought you had eaten before you came!" She exclaimed. The redhead actually looked concerned. "Do you have any idea of the damage you're doing to your body? You need energy for this kind of work."

"Hey, I wanted to make a joke and you ruined it with your lecture," you protested.

Wanda sighed, and shook her head disapprovingly, which made your heart crumble a little.

“I… I’ll get some food on the way home,” you corrected yourself.

"How about you stay for dinner? I was going to make it, Tommy won't be long before he comes back to the real world and notices he's hungry," she offered kindly.

"Oh! Or I can take you out for dinner somewhere nice!" Billy proposed, smiling at you with anticipation.

To be brutally honest, you wanted to throw yourself at him and choke him so no other words would come out of his mouth. You knew Billy was just a guy with a silly crush, excited to show you how interested he was in you. He wasn't trying to do any harm. But, hell, wasn't it enough for him to be the center of your attention all afternoon?

"I'm really looking forward to trying something made by your mom," you declined in the politest way possible. "Many people would kill for that honor!"

Wanda let out a laugh, and her expression also seemed to change as she heard your decision to stay.

But, oh, Billy, Billy, Billy... as persevering as his mother.

"Awww! Next week she'll cook you something, right mom?" he insisted, and even though the redhead tried hard to keep her smile, her eyes changed.

"Sure, I'll cook whatever you want," Wanda sighed. "Go with Billy, and continue your conversation... alone," the way she said that last word was as if she had felt like the third wheel all afternoon, as if she was a hindrance to whatever was starting between you and Billy.

"You owe me," you said to Wanda, letting her know implicitly that you were looking forward to your meeting next week, not this dinner with Billy.

Billy led you to the garage of his house, and opened the passenger door of a black car. You thanked him politely and got in, allowing him to close the door for you. The car was completely spotless, and had a new car smell, but not because it was new, maybe because that was the fragrance he asked for at the car wash. For yours, you always opted for lavender… which made you wonder, what fragance did Wanda like for her car?

"Any preferences?" Billy asked once he hoped in the driver’s seat, pointing towards the car radio. It was noticeable he was doing his best to make this comfortable for you.

"A little bit of everything, how about rock like... Evanescence?" you proposed.

"Ah, my mom loves them," he commented, and your eyes lit up at that statement.

"You're kidding..."

"Yeah, since her teenage years," he confirmed. "Evanescence, In This Moment, Epica, Lacuna Coil..." he listed, trying to remember them all.

You made a mental note to put on that music on your next meeting with Wanda. It wouldn't be hard, as you loved all the bands he mentioned, which was wonderful.

You couldn't wait to show her the latest bands, ask her her favorite songs, and have a topic of conversation that would allow you to bound...

"So, ready?" he spoke, noticing that you were lost in thought.

"Yeah, sure," you nodded, putting on your seatbelt.

The dinner was... better than you expected. In fact, it was amazing.

You didn't really have anything in common with Billy, but the way you both listened to each other, and always found a middle ground despite going your separate ways, made the experience with him extremely pleasant.

The only difference was that, as you each went home, he thought about seeing you again, and you thought about seeing his mother again.

And so, after a week, you found yourself in front of the door of Wanda's house, with your camera hanging from your neck, your equipment already waiting on the pavement next to your parked car, and as a bonus, a speaker you brought along to play music while you worked.

Alone, at last...

When the door opened, you found the redhead wearing a casual outfit consisting of dark blue jeans and a black half-tucked in blouse. Oh, and her face, how you missed that face.

"Hey..." You greeted her, with palpable enthusiasm.

"Hi," she replied, and noticed the speaker in your hand, arching her eyebrow. "I found out last week that you and I have a lot of bands in common."

Wanda let out a gasp of surprise, "Oh, please do come in!"

You laughed briefly, and as you were about to enter your equipment to take it towards the kitchen, Wanda snapped her fingers, and it disappeared.

"Wanda, what the hell?" You exclaimed, looking at her with your widened eyes, had she just disappeared all your belongings?

"Relax, they're in the kitchen."

"That skill of yours would’ve come in handy last week too," you commented, walking into her house.

"It was fun watching you run in and out," she shrugged. "But today you earned it, because of the music."

"I see, I have to earn it?!" You exclaimed, feigning indignation. Really, she could have pulverized your expensive equipment in front of you, and you'd still thank her.

Once both of you entered the kitchen, your reflectors were already in the same position as always. And on the other side, the ten dishes were already hot and ready to be photographed.

"And what would I possibly have to do next week to earn that help from you?" you asked, resuming the topic you had discussed earlier.

"Mmmm..." she muttered, in a way that almost made you weak in the knees. She watched you from head to toe making you feel exposed to her as if she had ripped your clothes to shreds and left you standing there, naked and at her mercy. But you were still completely covered. "... I think you've earned it,” your reaction alone was enough reward to her.

“Thanks, I guess,” you cleared your throat.

You picked up the speaker, and turned it on, placing it in a place in the kitchen where it would not interfere. Your hands were shaking, and you could have sworn that Wanda was watching you with amusement, while you avoided her gaze at all costs.

You grabbed your phone, and played the playlist you had prepared for this moment. "A Star-Crossed Wasteland" by In This Moment was the first to come on.

"Oh, I love that song like you have no idea," Wanda exclaimed, closing her eyes and frowning as she passionately listened to that intro. "That album, in general..."

"It's in my top three," you commented.

"Hell yeah! Now we're talking!" She exclaimed, raising her hand offering you a high-five.

"I'm not that old school," you shook your head, chuckling.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and took your wrist, giving herself a high five with your hand.

"Good girl," she praised you, and you swallowed dryly. At the words, and at the fact that this was the first time you'd ever touched her. "What's your top three?" she asked, acting so nonchalantly after flustering the hell out of you.

“Tell me yours first,” you proposed. You couldn’t even think of your favorite three albums of one of your favorite bands.

"Black Widow, GODMODE, and A Star-Crossed Wasteland, she answered, almost without thinking. It amused you to imagine she'd spent her whole life for someone to ask her that question. "And yours?"

"Black Widow is my favorite, too," you agreed. "Blood, and A Star-Crossed Wasteland."

"Oh, two in common and in the same position," she pointed out, smiling. "If the new album hadn't been so good, it would agree with Blood, too…”

For the rest of the evening, the focus was on your favorite bands, as they played in the background.

You finished faster than last week, as Wanda was willing to use her powers for you to just arrange the background and take the pictures, instead of searching in every corner of the kitchen - you only had to ask, and it appeared.

“Alright, we're done...” she concluded, excited. “Now, let me pack this food and put it in the fridge,” and with a snap of her fingers, it was already packed and subsequently perfectly placed inside the fridge.

“Impressive,” you exclaimed, not ceasing to show your admiration, just like every time she used her powers. If you didn't look so cute, Wanda would have grown irritated at you a long time ago.

“Now, I owe you a dinner,” she said. She never told you, but she was so eager to finish quickly because that way, when her sons returned from the internship, you and her would have spent a significant time together.

The food Wanda made for you was... you didn’t even believe that the accurate word to describe it even existed.

The sensations you experimented had you mindlessly closing your eyes, trying to memorize this magnificent meal, absorbing it all in. You had tried a lot of different restaurants and foods, but none like this, oh they wished they were even close to what you tasted.

This was more than just eating. It was a demonstration of peak exquisite cuisine. This was about more than just sating hunger. It was about the delight of tasting food prepared with passion.

And... just as Wanda was leading you out of the door, you noticed that it opened, and you met who you knew was Tommy.

"Oh, finally I have the pleasure to meet the famous (Y/N)," was the first thing he said. So Wanda... "Billy hasn't shut up about you."

You forced a smile, "That's... nice," you hesitated. "I have a feeling he's going to be a great friend, and I hope you are too."

Tommy noted the intent of your response but decided to reply, "Of course," with a small chuckle. "In fact, you should come play tennis with us next Saturday."

"Oh, I don't know how to..."

"I'll teach you," Wanda quickly interjected, and that hope in her eyes made your decision easier in an instant.

"Well... will you send me the address?" I asked.

"Rest assured."

When you said goodbye to Wanda and Tommy, Billy was climbing the steps to the doorway, and he smiled broadly at you.

"Hi, (Y/N)!" He exclaimed happily. "Have you eaten yet? If not, we can go eat something and catch up."

Oh, how kind he was...

"Thank you, your mom and I already had dinner."

It was Saturday, and you were walking around the room in your apartment. Your best friend, Kate, was already starting to get dizzy.

"Kate! It's a country club!" You exclaimed, for probably the twentieth time. "People there probably eat pizza with silverware, and know the use of all ten thousand kinds of forks. I won't fit in..."

"It's just a tennis game! I'd understand if it was golf, but tennis?! You'll be fine!" She groaned.

"I look ridiculous..." you shook your head, looking at yourself in the mirror. "I mean, what is this cap? And why all white? Am I getting baptized or something?"

"Hey! Do you want to fit in? This is the outfit," she countered. "You look hot, surely Wanda will drool over you when she sees those legs," she cheered you up

"Surely it will be Billy," you sighed, disappointed.

"Wanda too, from what you've told me..."

"No, this is one of the situations where I'm misinterpreting a hint of validation from an older, beautiful woman," you quickly denied. "And as always, my best friend is encouraging my delusions."

"Really? Name one situation."

"That Italian woman who I photographed with her family for several Christmas sessions?"

"Ha! She looked at you funny."

"Yeah, that's why she turned down my invitation to dinner when I finally found the courage, saying I knew she had a husband and kids."

"Uhm... she refused just because she had a husband and kids, not because she didn't like you!" She quickly justified, and you couldn't help but laugh, forgetting for a moment the nerves that were eating at you.

[maruflix]

  — ★ FIVE STAGES OF LOVE

☆ — “IT SEEMS THE HOSHINA CLAN WILL WELCOME THEIR NEW MADAM VERY SOON.”

featuring: Yandere!Hoshina Soshiro x f!reader

synopsis: You weren’t supposed to find out... but you did, and Hoshina Soshiro had no choice. Surely you’ll understand, right?

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the third division, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, suggestive at the end, hoshina soshiro is a scary yandere, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like kaiju number twelve

word count: 1,8k

“Vice Captain, can you stop being so kind to me?”

Stunned, Soshiro looks up to find you standing nervously. He eyes the training field— everyone is either chatting amongst themselves or walking back to get dinner. His gaze shifts back to your trembling figure.

You probably said those words as a joke. But what if you really took notice of his affection towards you? Soshiro tries to keep his expression calm although his stomach is slowly starting to turn, He tried so hard not to let them show.

“I mean no disrespect, it’s just that... I fear I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

Your shy expression makes his head spin. “Yer’ not wrong,” Soshiro probes your reaction, standing up to gently scoop your hands when you blush. “I like ya’ a lot.”

He’s unsure how you will react. For a split second, the only thing he can hear is the own thundering of his heart. Then, you gasp and look up at him with eyes wide open, also catching him off guard.

“R-really?! Me too! I like you... too...” After bursting out those words, your cheeks turn red and your head drops to the ground.

No longer trusting his mouth to say the right words, Soshiro lets his body to do the talking, moving forward to pull you into an embrace. You giggle, and at that moment he knows—

There’s no way in hell he’s ever letting you go, so help him God.

STAGE I: INFATUATION

Soshiro is a hardworking man.

Born into a distinguished clan that left him with a legacy many claim as outdated and archaic, Soshiro has never stopped running. Everyone thought he couldn’t do it, so he proved them wrong. He surpassed Japan’s so-called ‘strongest anti-kaiju combatant’ and everyone has no choice but to acknowledge his abilities, granting him honor, wealth, and the position of Vice Captain of the Third Division.

In his division alone, Soshiro has seen many talented officers, but not many people can rival him in endurance. So when you enter his line of vision, he grows curious. You’ve always been working harder than the others, training for a bit longer, so eager to do your job well.

Soshiro admires your dedication, drunk on the way you hang on his every command while you study his movements with those beautiful eyes. Soon, he can’t help but to search for your face in every crowd, half hoping you’d notice him staring.

He knows he’s falling. It’s not a bad thing, he thinks, to fall for someone who shines as bright as the sun.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one struck by your charm. He’s aware of the stares you get from male officers, their pathetic excuses to start conversation with you, how your name always pops up in their gossip. He took care of the impudent ones.

Slowly, carefully, he handpicks the people in your platoon, making sure to surround you with polite, respectful officers, mostly other ladies— because why would you ever need other men when you have him?

STAGE II: INTENSIFICATION

Soshiro is a wonderful boyfriend. It’s no secret that he’s a reliable vice captain, beloved by his division, but somehow he’s even more attentive with you.

When Kafka accidentally injured you during training, Soshiro immediately drops everything to rush towards you, making sure you’re okay—and you are, just a few bruises and a gash—before lifting you up and carrying you to the infirmary, dressing your wound himself.

Kafka returns late that night, telling you that he received punishment for the small incident with you earlier. You’re a bit worried for him but he waves it off, laughing as he limps to his quarters.

You sigh, Soshiro can be such a worrywart.

Then a new recruit enters. Quickly, he’s enamored by you. Pretty senior, he’d always call you. Everyone mocks him and tells him there’s no way he can compete with your lover who just so happens to be their division’s vice captain, but he just laughs and tells them it’s a platonic kind of love.

He’s a good friend; it’s flattering to have a younger brother who always sticks so close to you, showering you with praises. Of course, you kept your distance. You don’t want to give the sweet man false hopes and you’re too in love with Soshiro to ever look at someone else.

You never noticed the weight of Soshiro’s gaze as it falls on the two of you.

STAGE III: OBSESSION

Your world crashed down when Reno breaks the news to you— a death in the third division. You knew what you were signing up for when you entered the force, but nothing could prepare you for the loss of a good friend.

Your platoon surrounds you, patting you on the back as you mutely stare at him on the hospital bed— the pale lips that would call you pretty senior no more.

After you return to the base, Soshiro quickly finds you. He takes you into his arms as you cry in his embrace.

“How did this happen?” You gasp in between sobs, “How..?”

The new recruits weren’t supposed to be in the area he was found in. It was supposed to be closed off, only for the more-skilled officers to enter because it was swarming with kaiju. Not a single person in the platoon knows how the heck he got himself there, with no one to accompany him.

Soshiro rubs your back comfortingly, humming. “’s an unfortunate accident. A miscommunication, perhaps? He heard the area code wrong and-”

“But that’s impossible!” You sob harder, resting your head against Soshiro’s chest in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Someone suspects he got a private comm from someone to go to that area, it’s just so weird...”

“Well,” Soshiro sighs, “it is a battlefield after all. Accidents are bound to happen. You hafta’ know that as unfortunate as it is, things can quickly get out of control.”

Your blood runs cold at his distant tone. Hiccups paused, you slowly look up at him.

Soshiro tilts his head, then he smiles. Dazzlingly.

You pretend your knees do not tremble— because no matter how hard Soshiro tries to act dumb, you know he’s always the one in control.

STAGE IV: DESTRUCTION

Soshiro knows he doesn’t love in halves— it isn’t in his nature.

He does things earnestly, polishing all of his talents until they gleam and sparkle. He knows what he likes and what he dislikes— there’s no grey area when it comes to his feelings.

Soshiro loves you in extremes, but there’s a catch to that. His love is great, but his jealousy is even greater— it writhes like a great serpent, eager to be lashed out. He tries to hide his ugly sides from you, but everything always spirals out of control and he ends up with more blood on his hands.

It’s your fault— why did you have to be so perfect?

Soshiro wants to hide you away from the rest of the world, but he has his darned duties and responsibilities. Only in the darkness of your room can he fully show you how much he loves you, ravishing you until his name is the only thing that comes out of your mouth. It becomes a routine. But it’s not nearly enough.

Even now, as you caress his hair, sweat still glistening on your forehead, Soshiro still misses you. He wishes he can press himself closer to you, to feel you more, to become one with you.

“Soshiro, can I ask you something?”

You retract your hands from his hair and Soshiro fights the urge to sigh in disappointment. He gazes at you but you don’t meet his eyes, so he settles on kissing your forehead.

“Anythin.”

“Did you have something to do with Izumo’s recent transfer?”

His eyes narrowed. Well, duh. Of course he did.

The transfer was him being kind. If he had it his way, he would raze the Izumo Family to the ground along with their darned greenhead scion who dares to look at his girlfriend with lovesick eyes.

“I approved the request, yes.”

He dances along the edges of the truth, but you are having none of it.

“No, Soshiro. Tell me the truth.”

The defiance in your eyes awoke a fire in him.

“What do you want me to say, darlin’?” Soshiro challenges you, his voice soft but spiked with venom.

You shiver at the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair. “I want the truth, Soshiro.”

Your lover merely smiles at you. Innocent, taunting, daring you to find fault within him. Soshiro knows he’s a very careful man, he hides his true nature well— but you were no fool.

“Forget it. Let’s take a break.” You give in, rolling on your back to distance yourself from the violet-haired man. It breaks your heart to say it, but you were starting to feel suffocated with all his secrets.

There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Soshiro—your gentle, loving Soshiro—grips your arm hard and gazes at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

STAGE V: R̵̪̾Ȅ̷̥̟̠͚̀͑͊̋͛̈́̓S̸͎̺̺̍̃̌̇̌̈́͘O̴̧̮͍͉̻͛͌̔ͅL̵̪̖̬̖̘̬͇̄̾́́̄Ù̶̻͙̏͆̋̉̉͝T̴̹̹̤̣͇̙̬͕̉̀͑̿͛̇͘I̵̻̥̫̜͖̲̓̍̐̑͗͊O̷̢̩̮͍͉̍͒͛̇̑̓̾̚Ṅ̸̡̢̻͉͂̋͑̔̓

“A break?” Soshiro’s voice trembles with anger. In one swift motion, he’s on top of you, pinning your hands above your head. “Yer kiddin’, right? And if I say I had somethin’ to do with it? What then?”

You look in horror as Soshiro’s expression changes several times in the span of a few minutes. He’s losing it, you can tell, and it’s all because you pushed him.

“I just hate it when a buncha’ nobodies stare at what’s mine. I tried to be patient, I really did,” he shakes his head mournfully, “but they never learn.”

“And what? You transferred them? Fired them? K-” the word kill lodges itself on your throat as your eyes burn with tears.

Soshiro stares at you blankly. “’m just lookin’ after what’s mine. Yer’ gonna leave me for that? Hardly seems fair.” his one-hand grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen even after a few tears escape your eyes.

Suddenly he pauses, like he’s recalling an important information. There’s something in his gaze when he looks down at you— something feral.

“Y’know,” Soshiro muses, “the seat of the next clan head is promised to whoever gets married first between my brother and I.” He runs his free hand down your body, stopping to gently rub circles on your lower stomach.

“I never really cared much about that crap, but I can’t have ya’ running away from me,” the hand that is previously rubbing your stomach now moves down to spread your thighs apart. “if I get you pregnant with my child, there’s no way yer’ gonna leave me, right?”

He words it like a threat, yet it makes you shiver in anticipation. You want to push him away, but every fibre of your body is screaming for him to continue— perhaps you’ve also fallen into the depravity of his love.

He slips a hand inside your underwear and you relinquish control, letting the pleasure cloud your brain. Your mewls only fuels Soshiro’s fire, his own breaths getting heavy as he trails soft kisses down your neck.

“No objections? Good,” Soshiro leans back and chuckles at the sight of you, so pliant under his touch, “then it seems the Hoshina clan will welcome their new madam very soon.”

art by suou2280 on twitter

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu

end notes: if narumi is a lovesick fool who embodies the original meaning of ‘yandere’ to the tee, then hoshina is the stereotypical, scary, controlling yandere that makes you shat your pants. hoshina girlies i hope i did him justice!! i’m gonna go to sleep now goodbye snork mimimimimiimimi

[its-avalon-08]

Can I request a Lando one where reader is a famous skateboarder and she becomes insecure because she is outside the "standard" of girls who he dates and he's comforts her after all the online hate she suffers because of that and says that she's way cooler than him

skatergirl and racerboy (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fluff, hate

Lando watched Y/N from a distance, sitting on the edge of the skatepark with his elbows resting on his knees. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. He loved these moments, watching her in her element, completely absorbed in her passion.

Y/N was practicing a new trick, her face set in determined concentration. She launched herself off a ramp, twisting her body mid-air, and landed smoothly, her skateboard gliding effortlessly beneath her. Lando couldn’t help but smile, a sense of pride welling up inside him.

“Wow,” he muttered to himself, his admiration evident. “She makes it look so easy.”

As she skated back towards the start, she noticed Lando and waved, her face lighting up with a smile. Lando's heart skipped a beat at the sight. He waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement just from seeing her so happy.

She skated over to him, her helmet slightly askew and a sheen of sweat on her brow. “Hey there, Formula 1 star. How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough to be amazed, as always,” Lando replied, grinning. “You’re incredible out there, you know that?”

Y/N blushed slightly, sitting next to him and pulling off her helmet. “Thanks, Lando. It means a lot coming from you.”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly. “The way you handle that board, it’s like you’re dancing. I could watch you all day.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “You make driving around in circles look pretty cool too.”

Lando chuckled. “Touché. But seriously, your talent and dedication… it’s inspiring. It makes me want to be better at what I do.”

Y/N tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Really? You’re already amazing at what you do.”

“Maybe, but seeing you push yourself, constantly striving to improve… it motivates me. Plus, I love your whole vibe. It’s so different from anything I’ve ever known. You’re fearless, and it’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

She looked down, a shy smile playing on her lips. “I’m just being me.”

“And that’s exactly what I love,” Lando said softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re authentic, and you don’t try to fit into any box. It’s refreshing.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his. “I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I worry that… you know, I’m not what people expect for you.”

Lando shook his head firmly. “What matters is what I want, and I want you, Y/N. I love everything about you – your passion, your talent, your uniqueness. You’re not just my girlfriend; you’re my best friend, my biggest inspiration.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion as she leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you, Lando.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I love you too, Y/N. More than anything.”

They sat there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. In that moment, Lando knew he’d found something truly special, and he was determined to hold onto it, no matter what anyone else said.

time skip

pov. y/n's phone

instagram comments

@F1Fanatic123: "I don’t get the hype about Y/N. She’s not even close to Lando’s exes in terms of looks."

@RacingQueen99: "Why is Lando dating a skateboarder? She doesn’t fit the WAG standards at all."

@GlamGossip: "Y/N looks so tomboyish. Lando deserves someone more feminine."

@SpeedDemon56: "Miss the days when Lando dated models. Y/N just doesn’t measure up."

twitter posts

@F1Lover: "Lando can do so much better than Y/N. She doesn’t even fit the WAG profile. #BringBackTheModels"

@RaceCarDreams: "Not hating, but Y/N isn’t what I expected for Lando. She’s so different from his exes."

@GossipGuru: "Y/N is cool and all, but she’s not the type of girl I’d imagine with Lando. He needs someone more glamorous."

@TrackTalk: "Seeing Y/N and Lando together is weird. She’s too tomboyish for him. #Mismatch"

instagram dms

Unknown: "Y/N, you should just stick to skateboarding. Leave Lando for someone who actually fits in his world."

Unknown: "You’re cool, but not WAG material. Lando deserves a real queen, not a skater girl."

Unknown: "You’re ruining Lando’s image. He needs someone better, not a skater girl."

Unknown: "Why is Lando wasting his time with you? You’ll never fit in his world."

twitter replies

@RacingFanatic: "Lando’s ex was so much prettier. What happened, @LandoNorris?"

@F1Glam: "Y/N is a downgrade. Lando should be with someone more stylish."

@PitStopPrincess: "Y/N is talented, but she doesn’t belong in the WAG circle. Lando can find someone better."

instagram story reactions

👎👎👎: "Y/N is so out of place with Lando. Bring back his glamorous girlfriends!"

💔: "She’s cool but not the right fit for Lando. I miss his old WAGs."

instagram poll

@F1GossipHub: "Do you think Y/N is a good match for Lando?"

Yes (25%)

No (75%)

twitter trending hashtags

#BringBackTheModels #LandoDeservesBetter #MismatchCouple

more twitter comments

@F1Chatter: "It’s sad seeing Lando with someone so below his league. He used to date such beautiful women."

@GlamF1: "Y/N is talented, but she doesn’t belong in the world of F1 WAGs. She’s too different."

@SpeedyGossip: "I like Y/N, but she’s not the type for Lando. He needs someone who matches his lifestyle."

instagram comments on lando’s post

@F1FanGirl: "Lando, you can do better. Y/N isn’t the one for you."

@RacingChic: "She’s not WAG material. Miss the days when you dated models."

@GlamQueen: "Y/N is too different. You deserve someone who fits the WAG profile."

end of pov

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at her phone. The screen was filled with hurtful comments and criticisms that seemed to pile up no matter where she looked. Each notification felt like a new stab to her heart. She felt utterly crushed by the online hate.

The next morning, she tried to put on a brave face. She chose a floral dress from her closet, something she rarely wore. She looked in the mirror and forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t feel like herself.

As she walked into the kitchen, Lando looked up from his coffee and did a double-take. “You look stunning my love! But are you not skateboarding today?"

Y/N cut him off with a forced smile. “Just trying something new. and no I'm not going today. How’s your morning?”

Lando frowned, sensing something was off. Over the next few days, he noticed she was changing her wardrobe more and more, opting for dresses and stylish outfits instead of her usual skateboarding gear. It wasn’t like her at all.

Finally, one evening, Lando decided to confront her. He found her in the living room, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, staring blankly at the TV. He sat down next to her, his expression serious.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked gently. “You’ve been acting so different lately. Wearing all these dresses that I know you don't like, not skating… it’s like you’re trying to be someone you’re not.”

She didn’t meet his gaze, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress. “It’s nothing, really. Just felt like a change.”

Lando reached out, placing his hand on hers. “It’s not just about the clothes, is it? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Her resolve broke, and she turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I just… I read all the comments online. People saying I don’t fit your world, that I’m not good enough. It’s hard to ignore, Lando. I started thinking maybe they’re right.”

Lando’s heart broke at her words. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “Oh, Y/N… I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Those comments are nothing but noise. They don’t matter. What matters is how I feel about you.”

She clung to him, her sobs muffled against his chest. “But… I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t fit in. I just wanted to make you proud.”

Lando gently pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of sadness and determination. “You don’t have to change anything about yourself for me. I fell in love with you for who you are, not for who others think you should be. The reason I’m with you is because you’re real, and you’re amazing just the way you are.”

Y/N shook her head, wiping at her tears. “But what if who I am isn’t enough?”

Lando cupped her face in his hands, his eyes intense with emotion. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. You’re cooler than anyone I’ve ever met. The way you skateboard, your passion, your spirit—it’s all a part of who you are, and that’s what I love. Those comments, they don’t change how incredible you are.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching for sincerity. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’ve seen how hard you work, how dedicated you are. You inspire me every day. And the idea of you changing yourself to fit some standard is just wrong. You make me proud every single day.”

Y/N’s tears continued to flow, but now there was a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Thank you, Lando. I needed to hear that.”

He kissed her forehead, his own eyes misty. “Anytime, love. I’m here for you, no matter what. And remember, you’re the one who makes my world brighter. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much baby, don't let anyone dim your spirit.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the world lifting slightly as they found solace in their love. Lando’s words became a balm to her wounded heart, a reminder that their bond was stronger than any online hate. Together, they faced the storm, united in their love and unwavering in their support for each other.

landonorris posted

liked by y/nn, maxverstappen1 and others

landonorris my girl, i love you more than anything. fuck the haters

[tarotwithdanise]

WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR LUCK?

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

send your donations here

Pile One

10oW + 8oP - your luck will come from the hard work and to your dedication you put in. while in the present, all i can see is that you feel your carrying all the burdens of the world perhaps your family which stresses you out so much. if not, you may thinking that you aren't lucky enough, even though no matter how hard work you put in something you do yet you still end up right there where you are now. this could also mean that your luck are yet set and ready to be with you. if you have been working for a long time and you just feel tired, busy and yet the salary was too low, it could be mean that changing job or self employment will be great for you. just continue what you are doing now cause all of it will be rewarded someday, you just need more patience about your luck and as well your success, you'll achieve it one day however it is yet in process. i'm also getting this thought of, if you desire to build a business perhaps a new business it can possibly bring you luck and if you already had then that's good. think you doubts about your future but the spirit kept saying you already gather all the info and plans for your luck and they know you are somehow aware that your luck will begin from it which can be true.

Pile Two

3oW and 2oW - you may find your luck when you travel by distance perhaps in the lands of hot and sunny climates or when you work in a team. despite of that you have the ability to choose which path you can take or a confirmation to focus on for, the first sentence is just giving a hint to take upon you. your luck also comes from within the inner you, from who you are totally. the more you believe in yourself, the more it becomes real and there are some parts of yourself that may be needed to uncover for example through talent you can the luck. your desires and dreams are manifested. you also have this energy that luck is always on your side buddy, you got the light. luck is a twin sibling of yours from the day you were born, this can indicate that you can get luck in many ways.

Pile Three

9oC + PoC - you are lucky when it comes to love. this person is willing to pour all of your empty cups, they have a strong care and love for your pile three. It's them wanting you to know more in a deeper way, they want to explore your feelings towards them. this person wants you to feel good about yourself, to feel pretty and appreciated in society. perhaps it may be hard for you to be open in new relationships because of the past experiences but you've learned from your mistakes. you are living rent free in this person's mind, you makes them feel crazy about love. this person is someone who wanted to spoil you the material things in life it can be because they view you as someone who takes life as serious matters.

[tosahobi-if]

GAME OUT NOW

Misfortune begets misfortune; evil will prey upon itself. Just as how the fox cannot live without the rabbit, the predator must understand what rises will fall.

Long before you were born, the Great Calamity, a calculated effort by Magyo cultists nearly wiped out the entirety of the Jungpa sects. If not for the noble sacrifice of the peerless Sword Saint of the Mount Hua Sect: the Divine Blade, Yeo Jinhu, demonic forces would have rent the heavens and the earth asunder.

Despite his triumph, nothing would ever be the same – the losses were staggering, the task of rebuilding the sects to their former glory seemed to prove an insurmountable challenge. Yet nearly two decades after his death, peace returned to the land once more.

After the death of your parents, you lead an ordinary, if not monotonous, life as the playmate of the spoiled young master of the Mount Hua Sect. However, all is not what it seems. Following the mysterious arrival of an amnesiac with strange abilities, whispers of a plot brewing in the shadows start to surface, and the world as you know it begins to fall apart around your feet.

Suddenly confronted with the uncertainty of the future, you must unravel the tragedy of what truly conspired all those years ago before you risk losing all you hold dear.

tosahobi (18+) is a muhyeop choose-your-own adventure game centered around elements of korean folklore and taoism in a tale of family, grief, and heritage.

play as a customizable main character: choose their physical appearance, gender, pronouns, sexuality, and more.

explore different relationships: from platonic to romantic to familial, build a variety of relationships with the cast (and hopefully make more friends than you do enemies.)

choose from different skill sets: pick between medicine, weaponry, tactics, and hand-to-hand combat. each field comes with its own advantages and disadvantages that affect multiple scenarios as the story progresses.

choice-driven story: with several routes and (many) choices, fail or succeed and find your way to an ending (whether it be happy or not.)

something is incredibly wrong: can you feel it too?

THE YOUNG MASTER

Yeo Jinwol of the Mount Hua Sect, is the youngest son of the sect leader. Contrary to his charming public demeanor, he has a childish side and can be extraordinarily stubborn. Having grown up in the shadow of his elder brothers he is fiercely protective of those he considers precious to him and struggles to measure up to the expectations placed on his shoulders. Assigned his playmate at a young age, whether you consider it fortuitous or not the two of you have been stuck together for years.

THE ENIGMA

Yul is your sajae, a disciple under the same master as you. Despite their amnesia, they're preternaturally talented at whatever they set their mind to. With strange yet unexplainable abilities that seem to stretch far beyond the scope of their powers, their missing memories may be the key to unlocking the answers you seek. Reclusive yet dedicated you'd almost think they were far, far older than their age if not for their intense sweet tooth and their tendency to follow you around like a very clingy second shadow.

THE PRODIGY

Baek Iseul, the Frozen Blade, is the rising star Emei Sect and has long been hailed as the next Sword Saint. Contrary to her cheerful personality you've never met anyone with a sharper gaze before. Hailing from obscurity, her power rivals even those who have trained for years and years, and has amassed an ever-growing collection of heroic feats under her belt. Popular and well-liked with a mischievous streak, you're really not sure why someone with such a promising future has taken a liking to you.

???

if to transcend means to leave the world behind, bind me to the soil so even long after my death, long after my body has turned to dust, i can find you once more.

[anadiasmount]

just friends? or more? - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: interviews and late night talks. but it’s always hard to see your best friend leave for his away games. no matter the distance or duration.

wc: 3k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: happy new year everyone, hope everyone is doing okay! 🤍 mixed a request with my own imagination. this was supposed to be a small blurb but I ended up writing more. best friends to lover trope 🫂 🧟‍♀️ hope you enjoy! 🤍

“it must be an excitement to see him play at this level and talent?” the journalist asked you, to which you nodded and smiled. “it’s quite a pleasure honestly. it’s what he’s always wanted and we couldn’t be more proud,” you replied calmly not knowing where exactly to look at. 

your eyes glanced from her, to the camera and then jude who was walking back from the tunnels. “recalling all his goals from this current season, which one has been your favorite? could there be a sort of muse to inspire and motivate him to this level?” she asked curiously, leaving you thinking. 

“my favorite probably, okay wait actually i don’t know if i wanna say because i don’t want to get dragged, but it was special to see him win his debut here in the bernabeu, even if it was a tap in,” you laugh, “his goal against napoli and barcelona are one for the books as well.” you kept glancing behind her to see jude standing there cockily, arms crossed with a smirk plastered on his face. 

“as for a muse, i’d say himself and the people around him whether it’s friends or family even the fans. with the constant support and wins, seeing how the team reflects, how he can do more. overall i think it’s just him and the healthy mentality he has,” you say shyly, nodding your head as you spoke, jude then decided to intervene. 

“erm excuse me? this is my interview,” you say in a teasing manner, stepping on your tiptoes to reach his hug. “i apologize. just wanted to come over and say hi,” jude says playfully making everyone smile. “we were just asking y/n about if there could be a certain muse to make you perform at this level. is there anything you would like to say about that?” the journalist asks. 

jude scratches his brow and looks down smiling, “well to be honest there is someone…but for privacy reasons or maybe to not jinx it, i’ll keep it hidden… they’re truly wonderful and inspire me to do my best every time,” he says with a huge grin looking down to you where you stand. your eyes connected and for a second maybe he was dedicating this to you? you thought. 

as the journalist wrapped up her interview the two of you teased and joked around, answering her questions politely and respectfully, making sure to wish her the best of luck and a small be careful. the thoughts of him having a ‘muse’ still didn’t go away from your head.  if he was referring to you or if there was someone he had yet to tell you about. 

jude was always private with his life, but around you he couldn’t stop yapping, always with a smile in his face when he spoke about him. but this had you questioning just a bit, if there was more to your close friendship. to his longer and more intense stares towards you, his touch on your waist when out together, always asking to stay longer and cuddle. 

it wasn’t just you who had noticed it, his teammates as well, often teasing both of you especially jude as you would hear it when he called you after training. don't even get started on the media, replays, and many comments on the two of you when together, always asking if you were dating, or saying they lived for your friendship.

there was something different and you couldn’t avoid it any longer, being left confused with your feelings. it began to feel like love. you can’t love your best friend, you couldn’t take a risk like that.  

“you’re awfully quiet? something in your mind? i know something’s up so don’t say it’s anything,” jude remarked, squinting his eyes. you let a soft chuckle out and turned to face him, “i’m just tired… also i was reading some of the comments from our interview,” you lied offering a quick smile and showing him your open instagram page. he raised his brow and got out the car. 

you trailed behind him to where you were greeted to a quiet home. jude quickly slipped on some slides and dropped his bag in the mud room. you took of your shoes and walked into the kitchen to prepare some dinner for the two of you. as you glanced around you felt jude hug you from behind, his face leveled next to yours making you jump. “fridge is full?” he asked.

“oh yeah. i went grocery shopping and brought the necessities! refilled the fridge, got toothpaste, and i also got you those scooby doo cookies you love so much,” your hand interlocked with his that was around your waist as you pointed to the cabinet above you. just then you realized how close the two of you were. 

it felt like you had moved in, and shared a house together. you never ever had shared a bed, but for the past month you had, waking up with jude on top of you or your back next to his chest. having breakfast daily together and him waiting for you to come back from uni or work. hanging out more than usual, cuddling more than usual. the his and hers titles applying to the two of you, when brushing your teeth, your mugs, sharing clothes, having your shoes aligned by the door. 

jude felt you tense asking what was wrong but you shook your head, “after dinner, i might go home,” you tell him watching the smile disappear from his face. “what? why? do you want me to go with you? you should just stay it's already late, i want to you to stay” jude insisted, making up different reasons as to why you should stay the night. 

it’s not that you didn't want to be with jude tonight, you did, to feel him hold you and kiss your head at night. but the thought of acting like a couple, with no label, with your best friend made you freakout, because what if how you felt wasn't how he did? what if you read the cards wrong and it was only you who fell over heels for your best friend? what if he didn't love you like you did? 

“i’ll think about it, i said i might go, still debating, i haven't seen the roomies in a while and we want to have a girls night,” you said trying to calm the panic that overtook his body. “i don’t mind joining, you guys just do spa night, drink wine, and talk, i’ll be like one of the girls…” jude shrugged jokingly, making your eyes roll playfully. 

“okay decide what you want to eat so we can start cooking,” you recalled, grabbing a pan and heating up some oil. jude played his old songs playlist, singing along to the songs you remembered, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he led you to dance in the middle of the kitchen, his soft brown eyes never leaving yours as he sang happily. would this be what it felt like to be a couple? 

the tv show played softly on the background, jude fast asleep on your chest letting out small snores. he refused to let you leave as the time you had finished eating and talking was super late, leaving with no choice but to stay once again. it felt like home, jude felt like your home, they way you fit perfectly in each other's arms. you turn the tv off, squinting your eyes in confusion as you saw his phone ping. 

jocelyn:

thanks for the other day! hope we can see each other again, had so much fun! 

your heart sank looking back at jude who was still sound asleep on your chest, feeling your eyes burn with tears and your stomach sink further down. you controlled your breathing, feeling stupid and naive for actually believing and falling for him. it wasn't his fault, it was you for letting yourself believe there could be something. you would never be his, there was already someone else in his life to fill your spot. 

you were able to manage to sneak off the next morning without a word or budge from jude, feeling trapped and claustrophobic around him when he hugged you from behind. you couldn't stop thinking about his words from yesterday's interview and his ‘muse’, the way his touch still burned on your skin, the way he hid a girl from you. it felt like you were the other woman even though you had no clue who she was. 

you fiddled with your keys, opening the door to a silent home once again, darting straight to your room where you fell onto your beg with small whimpers and sobs, crying over a boy. you weren't able to sleep last night, so you didn't even feel when you fell asleep, forgetting about reality for the day. 

jude was left confused and curious as to why you weren't there, next to him. he called and called, texting you over and over again, becoming worried when there was no response from you. he was unable to focus during recovery and training session, thinking of how you suddenly left, and how distant and tense you were yesterday. he wondered if you had school, or if you something came up with your roommates. 

jude wanted to hang out before he had to travel away for the weekend. spend as much time with you. his head should be focused on winning and on the team to advance in the ‘copa del rey’ but he couldn't when he hadn't heard from you. 

jude was deep in. as every day went by his love for you grew more and more, knowing it could be risk for your friendship. he had the urge to just yell out how much he loved you, how badly he wanted to call you his, to finally stop playing around and put a label. it was hard to read you and that killed him more. feeling hopeless and desperate, he called again quickly listening to your voicemail. 

you had jude’s head spinning, heart skipping beats at the thought of you, and he was left with no choice but to show up the day before he left at your doorstep. your eyes frantically roamed jude who stood with a serious look on his face, almost shutting the door at him out of nervousness. jude let himself in, turning to you quickly brows drawn in. “is there a reason why you are not answering your phone?” he asked seriously, no taint of playing around. 

“i needed to catch up on some uni work. i have so much to do still, and i wanted to focus on getting the hard part out first,” you say unsure, as his brows draw in with bewilderment. 

“but yet couldn't answer one phone call from me?”

“jude-”

“i’ve been left worried, thinking if you were okay after you randomly left without saying anything? i don't like you shutting me out y/n, i understand you were busy but a text even would’ve taken me out of my misery,” jude huffed letting out a sign of disappointment, walking to the couch and staring at your study layout. books and books, open pages of your notes, and your laptop that sounded louder than usual. 

“i just wanted to give you space and time for yourself. i don't wanna seem clingy or attached because all we've done for the past month is be together at house. i just thought you might’ve wanted to do something else with your teammates or other people,” you say embarrassed, daring to spill the girls name from the other night. 

“well you thought wrong, the only person i want to be with is you. i wanted to see you before i left tomorrow,” jude said with a small frown, hands digging into his hands. ‘the only person i want to be with is you’ should have not stung like it did, the ache in your chest as you heard him say that, bitting your lip to hold back the tears that wanted to build up. though you were stronger than that. 

“what about jocelyn?” you asked carefully being met with a quiet jude, giving you a questioning look. “what about her?” maybe it was the way he had said it or the fact he was upset but you now regretted bringing her up knowing it had triggered something. “didn’t she mention-” you were cut off by jude.

“jocelyn is my stylist when i’m here in madrid. she invited me to have brunch with her and her girlfriend when you were taking a midterm this week. I didnt mention it because it was a fast meal, just food and talking,” jude said. you felt utterly stupid and left more embarrassed than before, wanting to punch yourself for quickly making up assumptions instead of asking for clarification. 

“oh.”

“wait.. how do you know about jocelyn? did you think something else?” jude asked, lifting his head from his hands. you rubbed your shoulder anxiously not knowing how exactly to respond, “you mentioned her the other day, i just assumed,” you lied quickly, “also i saw her message the other night i stayed over.” jude had caught you, and now he wasn't going to let the opportunity to go to waste. “

“so that's what this is about?” 

“i don't know what you're talking about…” you shrugged quickly, dismissing his tone. 

jude ushered you to come over, and like a puppet you quickly followed his request. you stood in the middle on his legs that were spread, shifting your weight from one foot to another, contemplating what to say or where to look. “you thought jocelyn meant something else to me didn't you…” jude asked to which you nodded slowly. 

“would have it bothered you if it did? if she did mean something to me?” he asked softly, watching as your eyes looked around and landed on his, you let out a small “yes” in a quiet tone, jude smirking. 

“well, it’s a good thing you don't have to worry about that. jocelyn doesn't mean anything, and the only person who does to me is you,” jude spoke softly, you shuddered a breath as you felt his fingertips trace from your calves all the way up behind your thighs, making you lose balance and grip his shoulder to regain it. “jude-” you warn again, but quickly gulp as he repeated his actions. 

“the way you smile, the way you hold my hand, the way your eyes glimmer when you let me rant about anything. i love it all. the only person who makes me feel like that is you… all i want is you, y/n. to have and to hold, to love and cherish, to protect and kept by my side forever,” jude gripped your thighs and pulled you onto his lap where you gasped. 

“can’t you see that? hmm? can't you see how much i love you? how badly i want to make you mine and call you my girlfriend officially? they say it's forbidden to fall for your best friend, but who cares about those rules when what we have is real. a genuine love.” 

your lips pursed open, letting out a shaky breath before speaking again. he had that effect, leaving you breathless even if it was a small action. “this whole time i thought i had it wrong, and that it was just me who saw the sudden shift in our friendship. who felt the feelings. i know it was wrong from me to have assumed that when i have no right, but i thought there was someone else,” you reply. 

jude’s hands roamed your thighs, making you relax to his touch, “it drove me crazy two nights ago as i rethought our whole friendship. it felt not weird but it felt like we were living a life with no label placed, acting like a couple because we just felt the need to or we had just gotten that close. not only did it confuse me but also scared me, and it made me distant,” you continued. 

“what you feel here,” you pointed and touched his heart, “is what i feel here,” you then pointed to your heart, which was beating like crazy not only at revealed feelings but also the proximity you two were. “i want you to know that i can't stop thinking about you no matter where i am or if i’m this close to you,” you reassured him and yourself. that this was reality.  

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited to hear you say that… to say that you love me. everyone could see it, everyone teased us for it, but we were scared. but i’m not scared to take this risk, because it means i get to have you here and forever. to love you,” jude said making your eyes go glossy. 

“is this actually happening?” you laughed and sniffled, “because if it's not and i’m dreaming i’m going to be mad,” you say. “it's all real, i could pinch you if you want, to make you believe it? or i could kiss you to seal our relationship?” jude offered with a huge grin, making you raise your eyebrow. “you haven't even asked me to be your girlfriend yet,” you remark. 

“my beautiful y/n… do you want to be my girlfriend?” instead of replying, you sealed your answer with a kiss. a kiss that sealed also promises and your love forever. jude’s lips molded into yours, tugging him closer by his broad shoulders as his hands delicately rubbed along your thighs. he tasted like honey, not having enough by how gentle and passionate he was being with you. “my jude. my jude forever,” you say still kissing his lips as he smiled into it.

“i love you princess.”

[windvexer]

the Chicken furthermore tries to convince you to practice sorcery in a fun and fulfilling way

There is a difference between practicing goal-oriented practical sorcery, and placing the entire value of your sorcery on whether or not you achieved the goal. One of these things is soul-crushing.

Practicing sorcery should be it's own reward. The actual steps you are performing should be stuff that you like, or thrills you, or captures your fascination. As an activity, practicing sorcery should be satisfying regardless of whether or not the spellwork manifests properly.

If the sorcery on your plate is not satisfying, compost it and return to the endless buffet and try a different type of sorcery.

If you do not have the things you need, your first step to a spell becomes innovation. What is the purpose of the thing in the spell, and how can it be replaced?

A spell can be cast with a length of string, or a paper and pen. Or with a bit of crayon. Or a dead fly. Or with just you.

Sorcerous knowledge tends to reveal itself when the clutter of correspondences is placed aside, so having few things to practice with is not a curse.

You do not need an interpersonal spiritual friendship with every single spirit you want to work with in magic. YOU DO NOT.

Interpersonal friend relationships with spirits should probably be reserved for very special spirits in your "inner court," the beings with which you choose to share your life and that you honor as teachers and guides.

Many spirits are pleased to assist with magic, but have no interest in getting to know us personally.

Imagine if everyone in your askbox wanted to ask you for help on something you're knowledgeable about, but instead of just asking for help, they first wanted to DM you for a few weeks to make sure you're comfortable with being asked for help, meanwhile on your correspondence chart pinned post it says "I can help with [topic]! Just ask!"

Asking spirits for help in magic is a good, valid way to start building a relationship with them.

Repeatedly calling on the same spirit or type of spirit over and over in spellwork is a fantastic way to deepen your relationship with them.

Working with a spirit in magic does not mean you are obligated to build a shrine to it, venerate it, talk to it outside of spellwork, or any of that.

Practicing sorcery is not the same thing as casting a spell. Practicing sorcery also means practicing the composite skills which come together to make a spell.

A spell is like a completed painting. But to make that painting, the artist needed several skills: the ability to sketch the scene, knowledge of how to apply and work with their paint, color theory, an understanding of how to render landscapes, and so forth. As a sorcerer, your skillset might be imbuing intent, raising energy, centering and grounding, practicing trance, practicing psychism or divination, etc. As you gain familiarity with these things, spells become less like an imposing stranger, and more like someone you're sure you've met before.

Practice can be it's own reward, but discipline is often required for progress.

Raising energy once a day, forever? I think not.

Raising energy once a day for seven days? Or, dedicating to doing it a total of ten times this month? Perhaps so.

An artist may not be in love with every single step of the process, and sometimes a sorcerer may have to get good at a skill that's not their favorite. But if no part of the process sparks joy, then something is wrong.

Sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something. Be reasonable with yourself: does the beginner artist doodle a landscape, then look at their work and declare that their art "doesn't work"?

Not every witch is talented at every sort of sorcery. Not creating a potent prosperity spell after five tries doesn't mean you're bad at magic. It might mean that your current understanding of prosperity magic precludes good results, or that you are casting on one very intransigent situation, or that your true talents lie in destruction and chaos instead of peaceful growth.

Set practice goals, give it an honest go, and move on when the time is right: "I am going to practice raising Fire energy and putting it into this stone using the Pore Breathing method. I'm going to do it fifteen times." (3 months later): "That sucked and it never worked, but I did it all fifteen times. Next I'm going to do a grounded roots visualization and use it to channel water energy to cleanse my room." (10 days later): "That was awesome, I want to do it more than 15 times."

Play around and be silly with it. Taking your path seriously is not the same thing as taking your path somberly.

Sports teams practice drills to be ready for game day. Sorcerers are wise to take a page from their book, because when real-life game day arrives, it feels much better to deal with it when you know you've been having pretty good success with channeling water energies, so maybe it's best to do something with that, because you can't move fire for dick.

[adventuringblind]

Hi, I saw you were asking for requests and I thought I'd give you an idea for Max Verstapppen x reader fic. I don't request much so if it's too detailed I'm sorry, you can change anything you want, it's just a scenario I've had in my head for a while. I was thinking about enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine (also I'm a sucker for angst with a happy ending) ❤️❤️❤️

Ok, so imagine this: Reader is a new redbull media person/photographer and Max has an instant crush on her but acts like an a**hole cause he can't understand his emotions towards the reader. Other drivers tease him about it. I imagine someone ask why he doesn't like her and Daniel just straight up says "cause he loooves her" and Max gets all flustered. The reader is an absolute sunshine and tries to make him like her, even tho she is hurt by his behaviour. At some point (maybe right before a race or smth) he says something about her and she overhears and is heartbroken and suddenly stops talking to him.

I don't have an idea for an ending except that if you are up to I would love some smut 😂

Behind your walls

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: grumpy x sunshine, smut, angst if you squint.

Request: yes and it made me so happy. I hope I did your idea justice! My requests are open (specifically for Charles, Max Lando, and Oscar). Please don't hesitate to send in an idea!

Summary: Max knows he loves you but can't admit it to anyone, including himself. What happens when you over hear something he say? Will he be able to finally be vulnerable?

Warnings: Max is a jerk (blame is on Jos), pining, mentions of anxiety and a panic attack, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Notes: second pov, I got a bit carried away, and I've never written smut before, so figured crossed it's not as cringe to you as it is to me. I think I changed like one or two things about the request but tried to follow it as much as I could.

If you have the chance, please check out my other work. likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I've started posting small snippets relating to my novel I'm currently editing, support for that is also always appreciated.

Masterlist

The following media is intended for those 18 and over. If you are underage, then please don't interact with this post.

Max has never been the best at dealing with his emotions. Sure he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, but all of them ended in confusion and heartbreak because of father wanting him to dedicate his entire being to racing.

So he did the only logical thing and walled himself off. Only having the occasional fling and never letting himself get to attached.

Then everything changed when he met you. Your sweet personality hired to drag him around all of his PR duties.

He'd made several of his PR managers quit. Ironically, not because he was an asshole to them, but because he had a talent for hiding from the press. It drove his managers insane. Redbull hoped that hiring someone warm and gentle was that you could coax him into fulfilling his responsibilities.

Everyone seemed to love you. Wherever you went, smiles followed. You'd even managed to convince Daniel into being productive and out of whatever his next shenanigan was. Not that you minded them, often laughing along with him if the situation arose. And to everyone's surprise, Max did spend more time with the reporters.

This, however, came at a price. For some reason that nobody could understand, Max Verstappen despised you. Or that's what you thought.

Max himself just thought he was doing the right thing for himself. No matter how many delicious coffies you brought him for early mornings. No matter how many of his jokes caused you to laugh. No matter the praises for wins and comforts for losses. Not even the look of admiration and respect you had for him and how he wanted nothing more than to sweep you away from this terrible world. He would not fall in love.

So he became a jerk to you. Giving you the cold shoulder. He always made sparky remarks at your expense. He even went as far as verbally telling you to 'piss off' even though deep down it hurt him too. Yet you still never wavered. Merely brushing it off and going back to whatever you were previously.

One day during a race weekend, Max found himself with Daniel during his downtime. The two of them eating lunch and chatting about life. The conversation was pleasant until Daniel brought up you.

"I don't understand why you don't like her, mate." Daniel chuckled a little, but there was genuine curiosity behind his eyes. Then, a realization hit the Australian. "I bet you love her! Like a crush from a schoolboy!" He announces for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Was he wrong? No. But Max wasn't going to tell him that.

"You're wrong, mate. I personally find her incredibly annoying." He scoffed. He was also trying to convince himself of this. It wasn't working like he'd been intending.

"Why do you think? She's like the sweetest person I've ever met." Daniel gives a confused look to Max, who is struggling to find a reason why.

He finally gives the Aussie and awnswer. "She thinks anyone will do whatever she wants cause she's so nice. It's aggravating to see people flit around at her beck and call like she owns the place."

Daniel's face falls, a frown now gracing his lips. "Damn, that's too bad, I think you would've liked her if you'd giver her the chance."

It's at this moment that Max felt a looming presence behind him. The grimace if Daniel's face apparent.

"Sorry for interrupting, Christian is looking for you, Max." Came your voice. Not the one he was used to, you sounded on the verge of crying.

You turned on your heels and swiftly left to find somewhere secluded to compose yourself.

You hadn't intended on eaves dropping. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you were walking up. There wasn't much other noise around, and it's not like either male knows the definition of quiet.

Max, on the other hand, knew he messed up. He placed his hands over his face, shaking his head repeatedly. "I am stupid. I am stupid." He mumbled.

After the race that he managed to win, despite a rough start, he found himself immediately looking for you. Then he looked for you from the podium. And again, when it was time to be harassed from the media.

When he couldn't find you anywhere, he decided to ask Christian. He was hoping to get the chance to explain himself. Maybe even opening up a little because you deserved it after what he said.

Christian looked at him skeptically when he asked. "I thought you'd been told. She went back to the hotel. Security found her hyperventilating, so I had Daniel drive her back."

The rest of the day went by in slow motion for Max. Daniel mentioned a couple of times that you had anxiety. He'd mentioned that you are a people pleaser. You just wanted everyone to smile.

He hadn't realized how much damage his statement had done at the time. The guilt is now settling into the pit of his stomach.

He had someone else following him around. Definitely not as nice as you. He knew he'd fallen for you but couldn't admit it to himself. He needed to make this right. He didn't care if you hated him forever, but he wasn't going to let you think he hated you any longer.

Finally he was able to escape the cameras and locate Daniel. "I need your help."

You had spent your time in the hotel watching the race under your blankets and calming yourself down. You wouldn't lie that you genuinely liked Max. He started as an aquintance, but then you picked up on any grain he would give you. Any story he would tell to fill the silence. You wanted him to enjoy your presence as much as you enjoyed his. You knew you couldn't force it, but it wasn't going to stop you from at least being nice. Had you pushed it too far anyway?

Daniel knew about your crush. He said he saw that way you would listen to his long wonded explanations with patience and understanding and new only someone who loved him could manage that.

However, Daniel had also given you a false sense of hope. The Australian said that he saw how Max wanted to make you laugh. How he followed every PR obligation so you could keep your job. He wanted you around, too.

The tears started rolling again at the thought.

It's evening now. You hadn't eaten since this morning, but your stomach had no intention of letting you nourish yourself. Your anxiety over needing to make everyone happy getting the best of you. You hadn't had a panic attack like that in awhile. Even going as far as to dry heave because of the intensity.

You were exhausted, to say the least.

You wanted to sleep, but Daniel had texted, saying he didn't care if you wanted it or not, he is on route to bring you comfort food.

You did your best to make yourself look presentable. Though when you looked in the mirror, you definitely didn't look happy.

The inevitable knock came. You didn't hesitate to swing open the door, ready to be greeted by a cheeky smile.

What you got was a Dutch with a sheepish smile holding your favorite food and some flowers.

"Before you say anything, please let me explain." He rushed out. He needed to, though, since you were trying to close the door on him. Instead, you pause, considering his offer, and let him inside without a word.

He steps in the door. Finally taking in your appearance and the state of your room. Both are in dissaray. You sit on the edge of the bed and patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts.

You'd always been patient with him. Another reason he loved you.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

You didn't want to believe him, but there was a genuine look behind his blue eyes. You don't say anything. Opting to just listen to him instead.

"I know I fucked up." Max continues. His voice shaking more than you'd ever heard. "And I know you may never forgive me for what I've done to you. But I am truly in love with you." He stares at the floor. Anxiety making him cast his eyes to the floor.

You are shocked, rendered completely speechless at the confession. "Why?" Wat the only thing you could get out.

Max sets down what he is holding and finds the spot next to you on the bed. "I know I treated you poorly. I thought that in pushing you away, I would protect myself. But I fell for you anyway."

He inhales sharply. Staring at your glassy eyes. How were you so calm? He felt exposed and vulnerable. "You don't have to talk to me ever again. But I couldn't let you go without telling you I love you."

"I love you too." You whisper. His head snaps up in surprise. Is he hearing things? "I have for a while."

Nope, he definitely heard right. He watches your lips twist upward into a small smile and let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know it'll take time, but please stick around. Let me show you hard I've fallen."

"It dosen't excuse how you treated me, but I'll give you a chance."

(AN: You can end here if you're not in the mood for spicy things or want to leave it at cute and fluffy... or not. Your choice )

The proximity between you two is so close now. Your foreheads practically touching.

Giving into the intense pull towards you, Max gives in and places his lips on yours. You taste sweet, exactly how he'd imagined. He could already tell he was going to become addicted. "Can I start tonight?" He might be pushing boundaries, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least ask.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you again when you gently nodded your head, yes. Giving him permission to continue for now.

This kiss was much more heated. Both of you hungry to act on all the pent-up emotions you had for each other.

You had one or two partners before Max. You know how to please. So immediately you moved to straddle him. Your inate need to put others first taking over.

It shocked you when Max pulled you off. Suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself. "Tonight is about you." He whispered in your ear. Planting kisses on your jaw as he lays you on the bed. "I'm going to show you how I've fallen for you." Kiss to your nose. "How much I love you." Kiss you your forehead. "And how much I need you." Puncuated by a slow sensual Kiss to your lips.

His lips move against yours with passion and lust. You open your mouth to give him access to your mouth, and he instantly begins exploring.

His hands gently caress the insides of your thighs and run up along your sides. Pulling your shirt up little bits at a time.

Your hand find themselves underneath his shirt. Your fingers are trying to memorize the feeling of his skin.

Max pulls away for you, panting heavily. "Can I take off some of your clothes?" He asks. His voice laced with new found confidence.

You'd never been treated like this. Often take advantage of because you are a giver. You gave constent sure, but this is a whole new level. You nod your head yes again, though looking skeptical.

Max picking up on this stops everything he's doing. "Are you ok? Your face is telling me something different."

"Yes, sorry, this is just a little new to me." You explain.

The shock hits Max once again. "Are you a virgin?!" His mind reeling that he was possibly going to take your virginity and he wouldn't have known.

He's more confused when you start laughing. "No, no! It's just that nobody has treated me so well before!"

"Oh, well if that's the case." A smirk finds its way onto his face as he straps you your shirt, then his. Then he takes your pants, your bra, and finally pauses. Laying kisses to every party of your body.

"I wish I hadn't closed myself off for so long. You're so beautiful. I've wanted you to myself like this for so long."

You pratically moan at his words. "Are you going to finish undressing?"

"What do you not get about me taking care of you." He places a finger over your lips to shush you. You sigh and comply. Letting him take control of the rhythm.

Max is over the top of you. Inching his way down. Sucking and leaving little marks as he goes.

He makes a pit stop at your chest. Gently taking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. His tongue then finds the other one. Swirling it around, then sucking. Listening to you whimper beneath him.

"Do you like that lovely?" The cockiness in his voice not going unnoticed.

He trades sides with his hand and mouth. Trying to give equal attention to both your tits. His free hand now placed firmly on your hip to keep you still.

When he felt he'd given ample attention in one area, he made his way down lower. He stopped at your still clothed lower half. "Can I take these off you now?"

"If you don't I might cry."

Max has them off seconds layer. Now discarded with the rest of your clothes.

His gaze burns into you. His breathing erratic just looking at you. "Your are the most gorgeous thing on the planet."

You swallow hard as he finds a comfortable position. His head now in-between you thighs.

His finger gently rubs where you need him, and he places love bites to the insides of your thighs. "Glad to know I'm doing good so far." He smiles. His fingers are now coated in your slick substance.

You whimper again. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He licks the finger that was previously touching you. Savoring every bit of the tast he can. "Exactly like how I dreamed."

It was your turn to chuckle now. "You dreamed of me?"

"Almost every night. I got off in the morning to the memory."

You want to dwell on his dirty confession, but Max's tongue doesn't let you.

It doesn't take him long to have you writhing. His tounge unrelenting.

His fingers find their way inside of you. The act alone almost sends you off the edge. Instincts take over as you find yourself closer to utter bliss. Your arms struggle to push max away. His arms hooked under your thighs to hold you close keep you from doing so.

Your back arches as you release. Max is slowly coming to a stop as your ride out your high.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Max's fingers are still caressing your hips as you both catch your breath.

Realization hits you. "Don't you need something too?" You ask, voice laced with anxiety over not pleasing him also.

Max only smirks, laying his head against your leg. "I fine, don't you worry. Tonight, we cuddle, and tomorrow I take you for round two."

And that's exactly what you did. Max helped clean you up and put on your pajamas. Then you two curled up in bed together. Him telling you everything he had been wanting to since he laid eyes on you.

You know this road worh Max certainly wouldn't be easy. But you're patient, and you'll wait for him. As long as he needs to let himself fully tear down his walls.

[shinobus-unbreakable-spirit]

Hello!

Could I request for some Yoriichi fluffy headcanons and a little bit of NSFW ones?

I hope you have a nice day/night!

Coming right up! :D

Yoriichi Headcanons

Fluffy with some NSFW!

Can be little spoon or big spoon depending on the situation, as long as you two are close he's happy

When it comes to days out as a couple, he likes to let you decide where you should go, and no matter how wild or implausible your suggestion is he'll make sure it happens

Absolutely loves, loves, loves giving oral. He cannot enjoy intimacy unless he knows you're pleasured and content, making him an extremely caring and sensual lover. He'll go down on you for hours with no complaints whatsoever, all he wants in the bedroom is for you to feel infinite pleasure

If you give him a blowjob, this is one of the few times you'll see him lose control. He's incredibly sensitive there and the moment your lips wrap around his cock, he bites his lip and proceeds to softly moan, gripping your hair firmly. It just blows his mind so much. He can certainly climax from a blowjob

If you have kids together, he'll be the best father. He will never lose his cool and will be extremely gentle, but still excellent at teaching your children everything they need to know. He also appreciates everything you do as a parent, and frequently makes time to show you how much he loves you be it through gifts, poetry, cuddles, lovemaking, or simply asking you what would help ease the stress of parenting and making that happen

He is a quality time sort of guy. He likes to spend almost every moment with you, as you're his whole heart; he loves you so much and, although he doesn't vocalize this often, he has no idea what he would do without you. He's very content even just sitting in silence with you, an arm protectively wrapped around you as he sharpens his sword, writes, or does something else

He has a secret talent for poetry. He writes various poems (mostly love ones) and enjoys reading them out to you with that dulcet tone of his. Understood tacitly, many of his poems are dedicated to you and inspired by his burning affection

People underestimate Yoriichi, given his unassuming disposition. This might lead to cocky assholes feeling like they can mess with you, but the second someone gives you so much as a mean glare, Yoriichi shows how formidable he is; not with violence, unless he has to, but by verbally making the person look stupid and humiliating them. He has a quick wit, and he brings it out especially to defend you

He compliments you at random times, in an endearing manner. You two will be sitting enjoying a tea, then he will stroke your cheek and say something sweet like, "You have such raw beauty, my love." The offbeat timing of his compliments shows he says these things with no premeditation, but just as he thinks of them, which is at least three times a day

I really hope you enjoyed these, anon, and that you have a wonderful day! Yoriichi loves and cares about you!

<3

[ghostlyferrettarot]

◆Pick a Picture:📀🌌🧊Current gossip about you🧊🌌📀

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🧊If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🧊

🌌Masterlist🌌

📀Pile 1: 8 of Swords, King of Swords and Temperance.

Hi pile 1! People are probably commenting on your accomplishments. I feel like you've recently achieved something significant that you've been chasing for a while now. Many underestimated you, thinking you were just playing around, but you've done it. Now they wonder how you manage to make it all seem so easy and how relaxed you look while working on your goals. Some may even be a little envious of your ability to move forward with clarity and determination, which can intimidate those around you.

The way you attract success seems almost magical to others, but the truth is that they don't see the effort and dedication you put in every day. I feel that many may even be envious of you in these aspects, you are an abundant person with clear objectives, this makes others feel intimidated. The obsidian stone can be a valuable tool to protect you from those negative energies.

Continue to pursue your goals with the same passion and determination you have so far. You are on the right path; don't let other people's opinions take you away from your path; what matters is your own journey and the effort you put into it. Success will come to you soon ;).

📀Song:

📀Pile 2: The Star, Queen of Wands and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 2! People are talking about your great change in general. It's like you're in a stage of personal radiance, where everything you've experienced has taken you to a new level. Even though you've faced difficult times recently, you've managed to get up and start shining with your own light. People around you can notice that positive energy you emanate now, and many have noticed how good you look. It's natural that some are curious about your drastic change. They wonder what you've done to achieve this transformation, they wonder How have you managed to change your style, your way of being and your attitude towards life? The truth is that you have worked hard to get here, and that dedication has not gone unnoticed! People are intrigued by the decisions you have made to improve your life.

Don't forget that your strength is what has allowed you to overcome obstacles and move forward. If you have managed to get ahead, it is thanks to your effort and the courage you have shown every step of the way. Be proud of what you have achieved and the good things that are yet to come. You deserve it, and this is just the beginning of a journey full of opportunities and achievements! Lucky you pile 2!

📀Song:

📀Pile 3: Queen of Wands, Ace of Swords and 5 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! People are talking a lot about your talents lately. I think you are an extremely creative person, who knows how to express their ideas in a unique and special way. It is evident that others notice it too.

I feel that the gossip about you comes mainly from your work or school environment; Many may admire the way you carry yourself, your confidence and how naturally talented you are at what you do. Many may be envious of your work, I feel that someone may be spreading false gossip about you; but do not worry, I feel that you are very protected by your guides and that your environment knows that you are someone very genuine.

Keep showing the world your art and your talents, as you are destined to go far and inspire others with your knowledge. Trust in yourself and your potential! You can go very high if you continue to focus on your goals!

📀Song:

📀🧊Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated🧊📀

[hyunluvbug]

i need you - one

pairing: bang chan x afab reader

content: 🔞NSFW, MDNI!! established relationship, hint of corruption kink, virgin!reader, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f receiving)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is my first series and i hope you guys enjoy what more is to come. it is only going to be three or four parts so fairly short ish.

dating chan is nothing but pure comfort. he is yours and you are his. everything about being with him made you feel giddy inside. your relationship is nothing more than pure love. he is someone you trust completely and never question. someone you can hold to a high standard and know he will always follow it.

you both are still learning new things about each other. you learn all the time how dedicated he is to his job. he enjoys making music and you love being there when he does. you visit him all the time at the studio, just to watch him in his element. he always lets you listen to what he is working on and it always is a hit in your eyes. he is so talented and you remind him anytime he struggles. sometimes while he's working, he'll get frustrated. his face will go into a pout and his eyebrows will scrunch up. a tell tale sign he is struggling with lyrics or even the composition of the song.

when you notice this, you try your best to help him and reassure him that he is capable of anything. he has already made so many great songs so why be afraid to try something new. this is why he loves having you there, being able to hear the input from someone he loves is amazing. days like this are where you really realize how in love you are with him. he's sitting with his back towards you, clicking away on his computer. you're sitting on the sofa behind him, reading a book, or just scrolling through your phone. finding comfort in just having his presence with you.

the studio is where both of you end up hanging out a lot together. the studio being his hotspot, he barely leaves it and only does to get food, use the bathroom or go to bed. today, is just like any other day. you are sitting on the couch, your feet curled up under you. you're scrolling through your tiktok for you page. making sure the volume isn't too loud to disturb the boy at the computer. the many clicks of his mouse fill the room as well as the squeak of his desk chair.

you can feel his frustration from where you're sitting. many sighs leaving his lips as you watch him delete and add new lines of lyrics. his shoulders hunched over onto the desk, clearly showing his stress. you place your phone onto the couch and stand up. you make your way over to him and you feel his body relax when your hand touches his shoulder.

"hey, you okay?" you peck his cheek.

"yeah, just having some troubles with lyrics." he sighs below you. you place your hand onto his cheek and he nuzzles into it.

"need a break?"

"please."

you see this as an invitation to sit in his lap. his hands rest on your waist and he looks up into your eyes. you begin to place kisses all over his face, causing his face to scrunch up. giggles falling from his lips.

"is this a good distraction?"

"yes." he chuckles, his hands run up your back soothingly as you continue placing kisses on his face. then you move to his neck and he lets out a tiny moan.

"oh, i think i hit a sweet spot." you tease and continue kissing there. he lets out heavy sighs as you begin to suck on his skin, hoping to leave a hickey behind.

"you're going to drive me crazy."

"what if i want to?" you mumble against his skin. then chan, pulls your face away. he places a hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing the soft skin.

"then you'll be in trouble."

you stare at him in shock of his reply but it excites you. you and chan have never had sex. most of it having to do with you being a virgin and not knowing when the correct time was. chan didn't ever want to make you feel rushed to have sex with him. he never insinuated anything sexual and stopped make outs before they ever got too heated. but, you always wish he would make a step towards that direction and right now, your heart is pounding. you can feel tingles in places that you never felt for someone else before.

"what if i wanna be in trouble?"

now chan looks at you surprised, "oh yeah?"

you begin to feel a dull ache in your core. starting to imagine what it would be like to be with chan sexually. it excites you. so much that you don't even notice that you're grinding into his lap. he lets out a groan beneath you.

"fuck baby, we can't do this in here. i will be damned if we start anything in this studio."

"then maybe we should go home." you plead, looking up at him with puppy eyes. of course he can't say no to you.

"i guess the song can wait until tomorrow."

you leap up from his lap, excited to head home. you don't even notice that chan has an erection.

----

when you get back home, it gets semi awkward. for many reasons really. you aren't quite sure what to even do as you have never done any of it. of course you're not completely innocent to sexual activities. but you just have no experience what so ever. frankly, chan finds it adorable and is secretly getting off to the fact he will be the only to take your virginity. that you will always be his and no one else's.

"i say we start by kissing and see where it goes from there." chan says, you both sitting together on the bed. you nod happily with a smile and he smiles back, his dimples showing.

"come here." he whispers and presses his lips to yours. the feeling is just as amazing as it was the first time. his lips fitting to yours and sending flutters throughout your heart.

the kisses soon turn needy and sloppy. little whimpers falling from your lips. he place you into his lap and retss his hands on your waist. he moves your hips over him, the friction making your eyes droop. your hips roll down into him quicker.

"fuck chan."

he smirks as he watches your face contort in pleasure. loving how pretty you look just for him. he begins to place some kisses down your neck as you continue to move in his lap. he sucks on a section of your neck, returning the favor you gave him earlier.

"baby, can i eat you out?" chan suddenly asks and your face gets hot. you nod and he begins to unbutton your jeans. he slides them down your legs and lays you down onto the bed.

he sees a wet spot on your underwear that has already developed. he places his finger on the spot and begins to rub. the feeling of someone else's touch drives you crazy. and he's not even touching it bare. he rubs onto your clit, the feeling driving you insane.

"chan, please."

"please what?"

"s-shit, i want your tongue."

"ask and you shall receive."

he pulls down your underwear and tosses them to the side. he scoots down until his face is near your pussy. he blows air on it and it makes you twitch. a soft giggle falls from his lips, that also making you twitch.

"channn."

"okay okay."

he places his hands onto your thighs and then dives in. his tongue licks up your core and your slit. the feeling makes your eyes begin to roll, his tongue feels like heaven. it feels like something you have never felt before. you can feel his nose nudge at your clit while his tongue delves deeper into your cunt. your wetness growing even more and mixing with his saliva.

"fuck fuck." you moan and he hums. his tongue presses against your clit and you squirm above him.

"feels so good holy fuck."

chan continues licking, letting your wetness coat his tongue. the taste is divine and he is already addicted to it.

"i want you to cum for me." he says and he stares up into your eyes. his eyes on you are what sends you closer to your high. his eyes stay on you as he licks quicker and quicker. his tongue going inside and out of your cunt, delving into your walls.

you feel your eyes roll as you begin to reach your peak. "im go-gonna cum." you sigh and then you let it go.

chan licks up every drop, loving how much pleasure he is able to give you. he pulls away and sits up. his dimples are showing as he stares down at you, your laying down onto the bed. your arms splayed out in tiredness, it all felt so good. he felt so good. chan scoots up further to lay with you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"how was that baby?" he presses a kiss to the side of your neck. right over the spot he left a hickey.

"amazing." you reply feeling breathless. your chest moves up and down as you let out heavy breaths until it slows down. chan cuddles up into you as you finally come off the feeling.

"i didn't get to do anything for you though." you realize and turn towards him.

"don't worry, we have all the time in the world to do other things. i just wanted to please you, i'll let you do something for me next time." he reassures and buries his face into your neck.

you feel satisfied with his answer as you know there is more time to make love with him. you couldn't wait.

[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 Kizāri 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! ♡

[oneforblu]

oikawa tooru: facing a world of geniuses  

i always wanted to write my thoughts about oikawa and i thought it would be perfect to do it in time for his 30th birthday!!!! he's one of my favorite characters ever and is exceptionally well-written. the main idea behind this post is that despite oikawa being skilled, he had to face the realization that there are players who are leagues above him. however, even when oikawa felt lost, he never gave up on his dreams. oikawa tooru was a player in a world full of geniuses and made it to the top of the world despite the challenges.

of course, we have to start with oikawa's ICONIC introduction! "the Great King". before we get into his story, we know he's an incredible player and kageyama's senpai. from the beginning, oikawa is a threat. he is introduced with his fangirls screaming, seeming "superficial," and very confident in himself. compared to the other characters we've seen in haikyuu, at this point, there was no one like him. it was obvious he was a fantastic player. however, we don't see his skills until the game between karasuno and aoba johsai.

it's such a simple phrase, but before every game, without fail, oikawa tells his team that he has faith in them, and in return, his team believes in him. unlike the setters we've met, oikawa is truly one of his own. he is known for his amazing skill and leadership and has been respected and praised; it's apparent that oikawa is leagues above many others. he is also able to bring out the best in his players. with oikawa as your setter, you have someone who will understand your strengths and weaknesses and give you the tosses you need to succeed. however, skill alone isn't enough for oikawa.

"it becomes clear that oikawa, while skilled, is not a natural"

despite being an amazing setter who has the ability to bring out 100% in every teammate, knows the ins and outs of his team, and is incredibly skilled, oikawa is not a genius. compared to ushijima and kageyama, oikawa is not a natural-born prodigy. this is when we are introduced to oikawa's inner conflict. no matter how great he is, the amount of time he spends dedicating himself to his craft, the long nights practicing by himself won't be able to make up for what a "genius" has to offer.

in middle school, oikawa's frustration hit an all-time high. after seeing the difference in skill between himself and ushijima, he is now on the same team as a young kageyama. he sees the difference in skill at every practice, watching kageyama learn a new skill in one day that took oikawa ages. it's clear that oikawa, who was praised for being incredibly skilled, is now face to face with a whole new world far from his reach.

oikawa finally snaps in this scene with young kageyama. all the thoughts and insecurities he has had to deal with, the unbearable fact that there may always be a gap between him and a select few, has been weighing on him for so long.

imagine you are praised for being so skilled, and here comes someone new who is not only catching up to you but has the potential to exceed you?

i think what makes oikawa so interesting is how relatable he can be to many people, including myself. there were times when i was praised for being talented, for getting great grades, and for doing something good, and then someone new came along who did everything I could do but even better. every person faces the frustration of seeing someone grow at a faster rate than you are. it doesn't necessarily come from a malicious place, but the thought of someone taking your spot and performing better than you ever could is painful to accept.

however, iwaizumi reminds oikawa that it isn't just him on the team. there are always six players on that court. oikawa uses this lesson to push forward, deciding that no matter what it takes, he will take his team to the finals.

although oikawa has moments where his insecurities run wild, he is one of the best players in haikyuu. from his killer serves, his incredible fast-paced thinking, his technique, and his ability to bring the best out of every single player. he can do it all.

however, all of this isn't enough against the second game between karasuno.

this conversation oikawa has with his idol, jose blanco, is not only fundamental to oikawa as a character but also a real-life lesson for many of us.

the reason why this conversation is shown at this moment is because kageyama makes a toss that causes karasuno to have their set and game point. while the members of aoba johsai wish they had some of kageyama's skill or some of his "guts," oikawa goes back to what jose blanco tells him.

you can wish you had someone's skill, talent, and smarts, but that idea will only be detrimental to your growth. while oikawa has always made it clear he detests geniuses, not once has he stopped and given up. he continues down this challenging path with his goal in sight with no intentions of ever walking away from volleyball.

accepting that there is more for you to do and that you haven't done everything you can to grow may be difficult for many, but once you make peace with that fact, there is a world of opportunity.

after this flashback, oikawa comes to the conclusion that everyone could have their talent bloom whether it be tomorrow, the day after, or when you're 30, but it won't ever happen if you don't believe in yourself. if you let yourself stay stuck in the idea that "so and so is better than me, i can't do it," you will never fully unlock your potential.

“talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you polish” 

there are many interpretations of this line, but i believe it means that talent will only show if you're willing to allow yourself to grow. the instincts that make you a better player will only happen through your sheer will and dedication.

oikawa has given so much of his time, energy, blood, sweat, and tears to volleyball in hopes of someday going to nationals. unfortunately, his goal never did come true, but this would only be the start of his amazing journey.

"nothing is over yet. not my volleyball career...or my "petty pride." never forget that."

it's one of the most memorable lines of the manga and one of my favorites. ushijima believes oikawa would have succeeded if he never went to aoba johsai, that because of his pride, oikawa never set foot at nationals.

however, none of that is true. oikawa made all the decisions because he believed they were best. he stayed at aoba johsai because he believed in his team. of course, there were many opportunities someone as skilled as oikawa could have taken, but he didn't, and he's more than okay with that

he isn't going to let anyone tell him that the choices he made were wrong. he won't let the realization of never making it to nationals tear him down. not only is oikawa a remarkable player physically, but his mental strength is something else entirely.

although pride is sometimes seen as something negative, oikawa's pride in himself drives him forward. his belief in his team, his dreams, and his own future or what makes him who he is. he isn't someone who will let others' thoughts and feelings sway him. oikawa will do what he believes is best for himself, and if that path is not the one to nationals, he can accept that.

oikawa will never give up on his dream no matter how many obstacles stand in his way. It doesn't matter if it's a team full of geniuses, a difficult teammate to work with, or his own insecurities; oikawa will never give up until he makes his mark on the world.

oikawa tooru in brazil has to be one of my favorite moments in the entire manga.

after not seeing him for so long, we finally see oikawa thriving in brazil with his teammates. now, he is playing for the argentina league as their setter, and all of his efforts to become a pro proved to be worth it.

seeing oikawa in the timeskip full of confidence and succeeding in his career made me so emotional. I relate to him in many ways, and to see someone succeed in such a remarkable way despite the challenges is extremely motivating.

oikawa moved across the world, leaving his friends and family behind in hopes of making his dreams come true. it was more than difficult, having to power through every obstacle with sheer willpower and skill. even though oikawa went through so many hardships, he loved the sport.

volleyball is something oikawa has loved since he was young. spending hours watching his idols play, learning how to play himself, and falling in love with being a setter. volleyball is everything to oikawa.

i think what makes oikawa's journey so impactful is that we see someone who presents himself to be full of confidence have his own insecurities and struggles, but he never let any of that stop him from giving up on volleyball.

seeing him in brazil, happy and thriving makes me so happy. the flashback to him as a kid, smiling and full of amazement, and then cutting back to him as an adult makes me so emotional.

oikawa's last words to hinata in brazil are a testament to his character.

what i love about this panel is that oikawa is telling us that he will beat everyone. he reminds us that we haven't seen the last of him yet.

oikawa tooru has been working for so long with the desire to beat every and anyone. he could have let himself stay with the same ideology he had in middle school, where he would never be able to be equal to a genius, and let that thought destroy him. but oikawa never gave up. he worked hard every day, honing his skills and growing as an individual to have this moment.

it is unbelievable that Oikawa, who was always full of immense talent and determination, is now at an entirely different level.

oikawa tooru may not be a genius, but he made his way to the olympics despite that.

this is the perfect ending for a character like oikawa. someone who, from the beginning, had a strong desire to defeat everyone and now steps onto the court where the world can see him at his best.

although it's never specifically stated who wins, i will always believe that oikawa tooru, took the world by storm and won the olympic gold. the man who wasn't a genius made it to the top of the game.

it makes me so happy to see him work so hard and have it all payoff. not only is the journey to becoming a professional player difficult, but as someone who had a hard time accepting his limitations, oikawa made his way to the world stage.

UPDATE:

there are colored versions of the manga going around, so I just HAD to add this iconic oikawa scene to this post.

I'm so proud of him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

reading and watching his journey is such a beautiful experience. oikawa is such a fantastic character who's so authentic and entertaining. he'll always be a character i can relate to and see as motivation.

i hope this was a fun/interesting read!! i always wanted to write something about oikawa so this was very fun for me to do. he's a character i will always love, and i hope this post showed how great of a character he is!

[ninadove]

For any fandom(s): 12, 15, 16, 19, 23! 💌

As always, you spoil me! 💌

12. Compliment someone else in your fandom

GOD I HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS TO COMPLIMENT

@beezonia comes up with the coolest AUs and designs. I’m always blown away by their Pokémon team compositions — they’re spot on to the point I consider it its own form of character analysis!

@purplecatghostposts is the genius who showed up out of the blue and took us all by surprise with their amazing prose. Soap, reminder that the reference to Copycat in consider the spare legally binds you to pay for my therapy.

@trishacollins is single-handedly remediating to the lack of platonic bedsharing between the cousins and I can’t thank her enough! She’s also one of the chillest and most approachable people I know.

@luckychatons is our favourite entrepunpurr and constantly lifts our mood with the cutest, most joy-filled sketches! Patting her OCs on the back because they sure need it.

@graythegreyt is such an awesome artist you’d almost forget they’re also one hell of a poet who wields mythological references like Odysseus wields his bow. Did you know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games? I think everyone should know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games.

@hartwign is a talented translator and draws hair like no one else. Seriously. I want to run my hands through the cousins’ hair and nestle in there forever.

@phieillydinyia is the picture of dedication! Can’t recommend Candle In The Wind enough, it’s a roleswap rewrite of the Miraculous movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. Thank you for your regular comments on my fics, they always make my day!

@alexandriaellisart words cannot express how much I love your depiction of Feligami. Your writing has made me tear up so many times! AND YOUR ART LOOKS SO SOFT AND COLOURFUL. What a double threat!

@faiirygrahamdevanily we need more fics about the Sentiplot as a metaphor for othering experiences and you’re doing God’s… I mean, Duusu’s work with yours!

@bbutterflies did you know your piece for Sentitwin Week is the best characterisation I’ve ever seen of Felix? This is what people mean when they say a picture is worth a thousand words. And of course your Adrino is always brilliant!

@bittersweetresilience not only are you an extraordinary writer, but you’re constantly looking for new ways to express your love. Always GIFing and weaving and canonising tags and making AMVs and running zines… I can’t wait to see what you do next!

And there’s so many more people I’m forgetting! To say nothing of my friends outside the Miraculous bubble! People are amazing!!! 💖

15. The character that always makes you smile

At the end of the day, it’s all about Clive. He’s been my muse for nearly 15 years! 💙🕊️

16 was answered here! 💖

19. Your current fandom(s)

Professor Layton, forever and always. I can’t wait to share my Big Bang fic and the amazing art that I was blessed with! 💙💛

RWBY, even if I’m lurking more than participating… I love love love love RWBY, yet it doesn’t strike my creative and analytical chords the way Miraculous does. Sometimes you just need to let yourself be swept into a story, you know? Although, it did teach me a couple of writing tricks I’ve used for other fandoms!

EPIC! Wisdom Saga coming soon! 🩵🦉 It makes my little mythology nerd heart supremely happy. The music is a banger and you can feel the knowledge and passion of all the people involved in this project. Jorge in particular is always so excited to share his progress, engaging with creators, explaining his musical choices in a fun and pedagogical way… And the lyrics! It’s free real estate for a fanfic author looking for inspiration and/or titles!

I’d love to start Monte-Cristoposting like I’ve been Cyranoposting and Draculaposting, but I’m afraid of spoilers so for now I’m just screaming in your DMs. As you know. I’m also slowly getting into Honkai: Star Rail, and I’d like to pick up Pokémon Black and White again because a N character study would look great on my AO3 resume.

And of course, Miraculous! 💚💜❤️ It’s the most creative I’ve been in years and it’s all thanks to these sad beautiful silly genius kids. Heart emoji, peacock emoji, sob emoji, etc.

23 was answered here!

Thanks for the ask! 🖤🪶