#100% Human Hair Extensions

[hairtoppersforwomen]

Clip-In Volumizers Hair Toppers For Women

Discover the Best Clip-In Volumizers Hair Toppers For Women. From clip-in and silk to halo and ponytail, find your perfect style for volume. 100% Human Hair Clip In Hair Extensions.

[hairstyleoriginals-007]

Premium Clip-In Hair Extensions for Natural-Looking Hair

Elevate your hairstyle with our luxurious clip-in human hair extensions. Made from 100% Remy hair, our extensions offer:

Natural-looking texture and movement

Easy clip-in application

Versatile styling options

Perfect for special occasions or everyday wear, our clip-in extensions blend seamlessly with your natural hair. Choose from various lengths, colors, and styles to suit your taste.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Tags - Dragon! Kyojuro, Fem Reader, PIV, Porn with Plot, Blood, marking, slut shaming? details of body transformation, lewd comments, cursing

WC - 19,380

Divider by /Cafekitsune

An illness, that’s what they had said, killed a large part of the dragons. But the eyes in the room knew differently, the fire in the gazes of the dragons told a different story. Anger, Despair, Unnerve. Every emotion was directed at you, and it felt suffocating, but you were prepared for that. As one of the surviving members of the royal bloodline it was your marriage and sacrifice that would ensure the dragons wouldn’t go back on the treaty that had been signed. They would help the kingdom of Ravenhill with expanding into the mountains, help with flattening the land and defending the people who moved out of the inner city for the next 100 years. In exchange the kingdom of Ravenhill guaranteed the safety and protection of the beaches and cliffs that the dragons resided in, digging deep burrows and overtaking caves, Even forming homes under the water. Though the treaty was signed by the former king and queen, your aunt and uncle, it was up to you and your siblings to make sure it would be followed through.

“Do you Princess Y/N of kingdom Ravenhill take King Kyojuro to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” Breaking from your thoughts you looked up at the man whose hands held your own, the unblinking multicolored eyes that watched you every move. Atop his head sat two long black horns, the tips looked like they had been dipped in blood, like his blond hair that faded into red. gold chains wove between the horns decorated with jewels and stamped gold to look like leaves. This was what you assumed their crowns looked like. He was different, not particularly unlike yourself, but the wings he had tried to tuck into his back and the sharp point of his teeth that stick out even when he isn’t smiling was a reminder that this wasn’t love. This was you doing your duty, ensuring the happiness and success of the dragons.

“I do” You smiled, practiced, and poised, the picture of elegance in your wedding attire. Though the corset was too tight, your ribs begging for relief and your breasts threatening to bust the top it was a beautiful garment, off the shoulder chiffon sleeves that fell almost to your knees, the tulle skirt that trailed to the first seats of guests and the red sash that was tied in a neat bow along your hips.

“And do you King Kyojuro of the Ashra kingdom take Princess Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do” The small smile given to you by your soon-to-be husband made you nervous, but you swallowed that down, there was no chance of you running or people would be killed. Going back on a treaty as big as this that had already cost the dragon kingdom so much would no doubt be the end of Ravenhill. You continued to assess the man in front of you, He was ginormous, much like the rest of the dragons, all tall and bulky, Even the women had curves and muscle that was unfamiliar in your kingdom. You had no doubt it was part of the dragon in them, the muscles not familiar to the human body condensed into their much smaller forms. Though you had guessed he stood at 6 foot he was one of the shorter of the 9 that ran the dragon kingdom. Their land was extensive, and the different abilities made them that much stronger. King Kyojuro was the Flame Dragon. Though rumor had it that he was so much more than that, Lava was rumored to be a secret of his, but you hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone who could confirm that.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss your bride” the warmth of Kyojuro’s hands left your own, coming to cup your cheeks, though it felt like if he squeezed his hands would crush your skull. The kiss was quick, just a gentle press of his lips upon your own but the care he put into his was understood. He was careful about his teeth, trying not to smile into the kiss or show any teeth. His hands were shaking as he stepped back, taking hold of one of your hands as he bowed to all the guests, the applause of everyone followed the two of you as you left the castles chapel, being led straight to the honeymoon suite by your sister and his own sister. Her pink and green hair had been braided and wrapped into a makeshift crown atop her head, Between the white horns that sat in her hair were flowers, adding to the whimsy of her overall look. She was one of the nine kings and queens of their kingdom, although she stood not much taller than yourself the muscles in her back were enough to keep you hesitant. Your sister didn’t seem to get that message, chatting away as they led you to the honeymoon suite.

“You will love Tengen he is a wonderful man, and though he is loud it is only his nature. Plus, he has such a good eye for treasure, if you are lucky, he will take you on a ride to the northern isles where the audial dragons go to practice, and he had such a large collection of- “

“-Mitsuri, that is enough. Please. I understand that you are excited, but you need to remember that there is a duty first.” The female dragon deflated, her head dropping to look at her feet as she continued walking.

“I understand we are all here for marriages of convenience, to continue the Ashra kingdom’s lines and help the dragons repopulate after the” Your sister paused, trying to find the right wording “Unfortunate demise of many of your people. But surely there can be happiness in these marriages. We are the heads of our kingdoms and our lines now. We can have babies but that shouldn’t stop us from being happy.” The walk was silent besides the clack of heels and rustling of clothes. Your marriage was the beginning of the alliance with the dragons. You would marry Kyojuro, your sister would marry the Audial dragon Tengen, and Your eldest brother would marry the Poison dragon Shinobu. This was to help strengthen the bonds between the kingdoms but also begin to replace the dragons lost due to the rockslides in the mountains. It was a freak accident one no one could have predicted, but people had paid for it. Not only did it kill the former king and queen of Raven hill, but it killed 86 dragons, Including a few of the cherished dragon elders.

“I am sorry Mitsuri, I do not mean to snap” Mitsuri turned back to you and your new husband shining a bright smile at Kyojuro.

“I understand, there is a lot of pressure. Neither of us have large kingdoms and now is the time we need to join together, but we have time. I don’t think we can rush this, especially when stress destroys the mating ritual, and your stress will get you nowhere. Cool the hot head before I bring Mui to your honeymoon home.” Kyojuro released what you assumed was a chuckle, but it was just a deep rumbling in his chest. There was a lot to learn about your new husband. Thankfully the honeymoon is scheduled to last two weeks, enough time to get to know each other.

The honeymoon home was a small bungalow in the back gardens of the castle, overlooking a pond. Though it was supposed to be the home of a married royal for the first year of their marriage to provide them privacy, it would be your home for only two weeks before you would move into the Ashra kingdom with your husband.

“I know it’s been a long day already, but would you like to join me in the study? I would like to get to know you some more. I feel our previous meetings have been very quick and I’m afraid I don’t know much about the dragons and um, the thing your sister had mentioned earlier.” Kyojuro was shedding the outer part of his robes, the black fabric sliding off his shoulders, revealing lighter clothing, a thin gray silk shirt that left nothing to imagination. The fabric was very see through, revealing each scale and muscle around his torso.

“Apologies, I run hot, and all of this becomes too much.” He placed a light cape over his shoulders, covering his shoulders and landing above the grooves of his wings, still tucked into him. Although the bungalow was bigger, he seemed to take up most of the bedroom, you worried he wouldn’t fit in the bed. “I would enjoy some talking, I am done with all of this business today, seems never-ending.” He huffed, a small puff of smoke escaping his nose as he turned to the bed, folding the robes he had shed.

The two of you sat in different seats, you on the Chaise and your husband in a recliner. There was a thick silence as you tried to think of where to start. You knew virtually nothing about your husband besides his first and last name and which dragon he was.

“Your weddings are quite different than what I am used to, in our kingdom it is an exchanging of our scales. The scales on our chests are the hardest and rarest. Back when dragons were hunted, they would take the scales from our chest and add them to armor or even crush it and mix it into the walls of your buildings. I don’t know if it did anything for the buildings, but the armor is very sought after. The exchange though is a trust, it takes many years to regrow one of those scales so to give it to someone is a vow and a vulnerability to that person. Your weddings are just words that are very breakable.”

“I do not have scales to give you, I feel the closest thing would be my skin and I need that, maybe blood? The life force?” Kyojuro laughed at your notion.

“That is precious, no I will not ask for your blood, or your skin. I simply ask for a good life, and of course some children“ The main reason you were here felt like a slap in the face. You had forgotten about the weight of babies hanging over your head.

“Of course. Babies are first, which is why I really wanted to talk. Your sister mentioned a mating ritual. Um, what is that? Is it like the birds where you must create a nest of pebbles and shiny objects to impress me? I don’t have to like” You stopped, trying to figure out how to put this eloquently. “Do I have to lay eggs?” Kyojuro sat silently, the shock on his face evident as he stared with widened orange faded eyes.

“Goodness no! Eggs?! Do I look like I hatched from an egg?”

“Not necessarily, but you must understand where I come from. You turn into a dragon at will. I do not think my body can handle birthing a dragon, I may die.” The serious look on your face had Kyojuro holding back chuckles.

“I do not plan on killing you with my children. Our children will come out human, maybe a bit on the bigger side but human. The first change usually happens around 8 years of age. With the biggest growth spurt but it can happen at any age after a year. The powers don’t develop until puberty thank goodness, we have time to fireproof things.”

“And lava?”

“Lava? Is that still going around?” Kyojuro sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knee. “I do not produce lava like you have been told. It was an act of playing between the stone dragon and me. We wanted to see what would happen if we were to mix the two. A very similar thing happened with the audial dragon and the void dragon. Also, please understand we are not siblings, all nine of us. We are the strongest in our respective powers, we work well together, and we can lead together. Siblings by nature, not blood.” That cleared quite a lot up. Your home wouldn’t be melted by baby dragons and maybe you won’t burn alive before birth. “To answer your other question since you seem curious, the mating ritual happens in dragon form” Your eyes bulged at the thought, dragon form, the big one, the size of his head was more than likely bigger than your entire body. You would die, your husband would kill you. “It is not like that. I can see your thoughts spinning from here. It is a bonding even deeper than our marriages. We simply mark our partner, choose them and show others that they are yours. At the same time the mating ritual once it is sealed is when we are at our most fertile. I’m sure it can be done in this form it’s just a use of our powers mainly, some just have better control in dragon form, like the stone dragon.” He sat back “Any other questions? Or may I ask some?”

“No please, I’m so sorry. Ask away, I didn’t mean to interrogate you for all your secrets.” He let out a jovial laugh, throwing his head back in the chair.

“You are quite a joy to speak to, not very royal as the former King and queen of Ravenhill.” Your aunt and uncle, the only parents you truly knew. Grief was a funny thing, with everything going on you didn’t have time to process the fact that they were truly lost, never to return. You wouldn’t see your uncle fling peas with his spoon at your brother, you wouldn’t listen to the story of their first meeting, an arraigned marriage between a viscounts daughter and the crown prince. You wouldn’t hear ‘I love you’ come from the painted lips of your aunt and a brief grunt that said the same from your uncle. Sitting here, finally getting to think. It hurt.

“I’m sorry, for the loss. I know some of our people have put the blame on the Raven’s, but it was an accident no one could have seen coming and you have lost cherished ones as well.” His eyes were sincere as he looked down at you in the chaise, surely your face gave away your thoughts, or could he read you so easily already?

“I’m sorry for your people’s loss as well, if we didn’t want to expand, we could have saved everyone. Maybe the kingdom is selfish” Kyojuro shook his head, reaching across the divide to grab your hand.

“Our kingdoms both want better for our people, it’s why we made the treaty. Between the nine of us and the three of you, I think we can do it.” You nodded.

Evening came as you talked, joked a bit and tried to untangle the chains among Kyojuro’s horns. You tried until your lady in waiting arrived with a cart of your dinner, expressing after you eat that she had to take your wedding dress back to the castle for your sister. Dinner was a quieter affair, The two of you simply enjoying the spread of delicious fruits, meats, soups, and even desserts. It was a lavish spread, one that was too much even for your dragon husband. As he sat and digested you excused yourself to the hot springs not far from the bungalow, wanting a nice soak to get all of the perfumes and powders off of you. A cove tucked away from prying eyes and a sense of solitude.

The water was a haven, an escape from all the recent stress and an opportunity to think about where you were at. Married at such a young age, now officially a Queen, and within a few years you would be a mother. Things were changing at such a rapid pace you didn’t know how to really feel about it all. Ruling was never in your cards, your aunt and uncle were still young, closer to your age than your deceased parents. You and your siblings were never to rule, only to run projects and deal with the lords and ladies of the court. As the adopted children of the king and queen your brother alexander as the oldest was to take over, but the transfer of power was split to make up for the deaths and instability in the Ashra kingdom, you could all deal with things differently. You were the youngest, only a year younger than your sister Diane. Your wedding was already set in stone before the accident, an official partnership between the two kingdoms. Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame dragon, your new husband. He wasn’t what you had expected. He was kind, he cared deeply for the people around him, even strangers such as yourself. Now you felt like new friends, knowing each other a little more and even having the experience of trying to figure out the chains that wove around his horns. The failed endeavor brought much laughter and gave you a sense of normalcy. This wasn’t a marriage built on love, but it didn’t have to be miserable.

“Do you mind if I join?” Your thoughts dissipated as a voice joined you. Looking up from the water you were greeted with Kyojuro, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t look away. The scales and skin that covered his body were a depiction of art. It was all protection, but it was something unseen to yourself. His body was carved, each muscle accented with scales, like decoration for his hard work. The reflection of the red scales shone on the water as he stepped into the springs. You finally looked away, clearing your throat to distract yourself from wandering too far. “I was told I would find you here. I’m sorry to interrupt” He was already steps away from you, gazing down at the bits of skin he could see in the water. “Sort of” the relaxed tone gave you chills as you tried to avoid his eyes, looking at the basket of shampoos, soaps, and various other bath remedies.

“I believe I saw some Oils that relax the body. Excuse me” any excuse to get away from your husband who was carved by the gods and given to you on a silver platter was a good excuse. You were terrified, He was very attractive but what if he crushed you? A glorious death no doubt, but still embarrassing. A hand on your elbow stopped you from getting far. He was crowded behind you, bare chest against your back as you stared ahead, shocked at his speed. He was warm against your back, soft hands caressing the skin of your stomach, not wandering far but keeping you against him. Keeping you aware of him.

“When they announced a marriage would need to be made between our kingdoms, I was hesitant but out of the nine of us I was voted as the best candidate. Something deep down told me it would be good, The marriage, the bride. They didn’t, however, tell me how stunning my bride would be, how easygoing and funny she would be” He was next to your ear as he spoke lowly, lips teasing the shell of your ear. “They failed to inform me of how soft she would be” His words ended with a kiss under your ear. “How” another kiss “Appetizing, she would be” His hand on your stomach was hard to ignore paired with his words, the vibrato of his voice sent shivers down your spine, delight igniting along your entire body.

“Kyojuro I- “

“Husband. I’m your husband now.” You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder. Hungry, that’s how he stared at you, like he was a man starved for weeks and you were a buffet. HIs eyes held a darkness that lit a fire in you, ready to drop everything for him.

“My husband” You stopped, watching his eyes flutter shut and a purr like noise rumble in his chest. “I enjoyed getting to know you tonight, I would like to get to know you more, but I’d prefer it somewhere, softer perhaps?” You spun in his arms, fully facing him. Your chest against his chest as your fingers raised to rest on his chest. His muscles flexed under your touch. You were a conductor leading a symphony on his body.

“I know a place, meet me outside the springs, please.” The grin on his face excited you, but it made your stomach flutter, nerves igniting as he quickly made his way out of the water, forgoing a towel or any type of cover to hide his nudity.

The robe you had brought was a perfect cover against the cool night air as you made your way out of the cove. Greeting you outside the entrance was something you never would have expected to come upon. The large head of a red dragon staring you down like its next meal. You yelped in surprise causing it to flinch before looking back at you. The orange ombre of its eyes told you all you needed to know. Your new husband in his full glory. He dropped his head, letting it rest on the ground in invitation. You hesitated, seeing the fang stick out from his lips and feeling the hot breath with each exhale he takes. He rumbled, displeased with your hesitancy. You raised a careful hand, placing it among the rad scales that decorated his maw. He was warm to the touch, like a space heater, almost too hot.

“What are you doing?” He grumbled again, a long leg moving towards you, the claw landing near your foot as he glanced down then back at you, an invitation. “Are we going somewhere?” another noise of annoyance with all your questions. You nodded, he wanted you to climb up, you were going somewhere softer, warmer, just like he said. Climbing onto a huge dragon was a struggle, but Kyojuro was patient, moving his shoulders to hoist you further until you were sat between his shoulder blades, gripping onto one of the black trimmed spikes protruding from his back. You held on for dear life as he moved, slowly at first as he picked himself up from the ground and walked further into a clearing. There was a pause in his movement before he crouched then leapt, taking to the skies in seconds. The wind left you breathless, your eyes burning with the speed and force of it. Kyojuro was quick to level off, gliding through the skies as you tried to keep your eyes shut, face down on his back.

“Kyojuro!” You screamed in terror as he started to dive after a few minutes of easy gliding, nothing exciting until now. The wind was unforgiving, and you could feel your fingers slipping against the force of it. Your thighs squeezed against the dragon, trying to use your whole body to hold on and not plummet to your death. After what seemed like forever he eased up. You could feel the jolt of his body as he hit the ground, scales shuddering against your body, and he flopped. Once he stopped moving you looked up, making sure you were on the ground and not weightless, falling to your death. You felt like kissing the ground while you slid off his back, careful with your steps so you didn’t hurt him. Your legs felt like jelly against the ground causing you to stumble before ultimately falling onto your knees. You huffed accepting your fate as you sat back onto your knees, eyes shutting as you took in the smell of nature.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Kyojuro broke your concentration with his voice. “Found this field on a flight with the others, been visiting as preparations have been made. Somehow, I knew you would look beautiful in this field, among these flowers.” You took the time to look at your surroundings, take in the setting sun and the miles of flora. It was a storybook field, The blossoms in full bloom leading to a rainbow of color. It was a breathtaking sight. “Under the moonlight the flowers seem to glow, would you like to see that?” He sounded so close, but you dared not turn around, you knew what was going to happen. It terrified you as much as it excited you.

“Kyojuro. I would really like to see that” Your voice was soft. There was a hum, close enough to you that your hair stood on end. Hands gripped at your waist before you felt him press himself against you, like a raging inferno against your back, even through the robe he felt hot.

“Then I’ll have to keep you here for a while, won’t I?” Moving from your waist to your chin his hand turned you to face him. His face was flushed, hair windswept like he was the one flying and not the dragon version of him. You weren’t sure what his transformation looked like but that thought passed as quickly as it came. His breath still smelled like the chocolate mousse you dined on for dessert, rich, dark, and seductive as he leaned in. Your eyes fluttered shut as he grew closer, anticipation causing you to lean up, wanting to feel him. His lips were cautious against your, soft and slow as he got used to the feeling of your lips against his. He dared not press into you until you asked or made the move yourself. You turned fully into your husband, arms wrapping around his neck as you rose to your knees, pulling him against your body. That movement broke any restraint he had on himself. He pulled you impossibly closer, hands holding onto you by the string of your robe, teasing with the opening of the robe. He kissed like a man Who had never felt the touch of love before, like he had never wanted something more in his life. It was rough, wet, and the occasional graze of his teeth against your lip was a reminder of just who you were dealing with. His kisses moved from your lips, to your chin and along your jaw. His hands were moving you just so he could get to you, exactly how he wanted you. One hand holding your jaw and the other untying your robe.

“Kyojuro” You were breathless as he moved down your neck, He groaned into your neck before pulling away. He was breathing heavily, pupils blown as he looked down at you. His palm held your cheek carefully. You were slow as you sat back, removing the tie of your robe, and pushing it off your shoulders. Kyojuro’s eyes did not leave you as each inch of skin was revealed to his eyes.

“My queen” His wings shifted behind him, rustling like a shiver ran through them. Once you were fully bare you looked up, meeting the eyes of your husband.

“My king” His eyes shut, a groan rippling from his throat like the words themselves gave him pleasure. You took the chance to admire the work of art in front of you, his bronzed skin decorated with flaming red scales, some that looked like they were dipped in ink, the tips darker than the void dragons flames. He was strong, his body shaped like a warrior, scars were scarce, but they still existed like the one on his chest. It looked like a bomb had hit him, like a piece of his chest had been taken out and healed over. Your hands didn’t stop as they wandered the plane of his pecs, grazing over the scales that lined his sides and decorated his abdomen. You leaned forward, lips parting as you kissed the healed skin over his chest, looking up to meet the eyes of your husband as he cupped your cheek again. There were no words, but all feelings were understood as you rose to meet his kiss again, lips parting for him. He moved forward, body crowding yours as you moved back to lean on your elbows, laid out under him on the silk of your robe. His lips did not leave yours, his hands wandering your body. He left goosebumps in his wake, body igniting with heat. You were sure you were soaking the robe underneath you as his hands wandered your body. His own excitement was more noticeable as he pressed against you, hardened cock pulling a gasp from you as he ground against your soaked folds. He pulled away, huffing for breath as he looked down at you. Cautious hands moved the hair out of your face as you huffed a breath, he was so sexy and intimidating but hadn’t failed to be kind and gentlemanly. Just in a day you had seen many sides to this man, and you were already excited for many more. His head dove to your neck, littering kisses along your collar bone before he trailed lower, slowly he kissed down your body. His lips stopped between your breasts, lavishing each mound in kisses, making sure every inch was touched by his lips. As your breath grew heavier his lips moved faster. He looked up at your flushed face as he gave a tentative lick to your left nipple, his longer tongue making an exaggerated flick against the hardened bud.

“Ah, Kyo” You gasped, he grinned at the noise mimicking the motion before he wrapped his lips around you, sucking and licking at the bud. Moans and gasped spilled out of you as she showed your other breast the same attention, humming in pleasure as you enjoyed it. With a resound pop he pulled away from your chest, spit covering his chin. You smiled back as he shuffled down your body, teeth nipping at the skin of your hips as he got closer, wide shoulders Pushing your thighs further apart so he could fit between them. His lips did not stop moving, trailing down your thighs and moving in closer to where you wanted him most. He paused, letting you whine in anticipation before he dove in. His tongue laved at your pussy like he was drinking from the fountain of youth, slurping, and groaning like it was the finest thing he had tasted. His tongue flicked at your clit, teasing and toying before he flattened his tongue and licked from bottom to top. The stimulation had you singing praises, thighs trembling as he strummed your pleasure like an instrument. Your hands gripped at your own skin, dancing between the meat of your thighs and your hips, unsure where to go but needing some grounding. Kyojuro did not stop his ministrations as he removed one of his hands from your thighs, raising it to your stomach as invitation for you to hold onto. You did not hesitate, gripping onto his hand like a lifeline as he continued to feast on you, stringing you higher until you were nearly breathless. He pulled away, heaving for breath. He looked up, moving your hand that held his to the black horns that stuck out of his hair.

“Hold on to me” He breathed, giving you moments to grab onto him before he went back to work. With both of his hands free he pulled apart your folds, admiring the mixture of his saliva and your pleasure. His other hand teased your hole, circling it, coating his fingertips in slick before he inserted one finger, watching your face as you gasped. He lavished you in praise, whispering comfort into you as he pumped his finger into you, it was not long before he added another, watching your back arch off the robe. He didn’t stop, continuing his pace as he added his tongue, licking and sucking your clit. You couldn’t control your moans if you wanted to gripping onto Kyojuro’s horns like you would float away without it. Your orgasm was rolling to a peak faster than you could comprehend, so much stimulation in such a short amount of time. You squeaked, trying to announce your orgasm to him but that didn’t stop him. His tongue did not stop nor did his fingers, if anything they moved faster, desperate to have you cum on him. You came with a sharp cry, almost a scream as you clenched around the man’s fingers. He slowed his ministrations before pulling out his fingers, not stopping his tongue until he had convince himself you were cleaned up. You shook with the overstimulation, Thighs vibrating against his shoulders. Kyojuro sat back on his heels, Chin soaked in your essence and the biggest grin on his face, all sharp teeth and pride. His hands rubbed soothing circles in your hip, trying to provide comfort while you came back to earth, the after-orgasm fog lifting from your brain.

“You are the most magnificent woman I have ever met in my life.” You gave him an exhausted smile, accepting his hand as he helped you sit up. You couldn’t ignore his hardened cock as you sat so close, it bobbed with each breath he took, red tip almost angry with how turned on he was. It glistened with pre-cum, shiny and tantalizing. You moved without a word, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. He hissed a breath, Wings fanning out behind him. You paused, admiring the sight before you, the setting sun shining on him like a gift of the heavens, coating him in gold lighting. His wings were the same color as his scales, Glistening in the light. He was like a god, offering himself to you and you didn’t hesitate to take him. Your hand wrapped snuggly around his girth. He wasn’t as long as you had imagined but his girth made up for it, thick and heavy against your palm. You dragged your hand up his cock, Thumbing the tip. You spread the pre along his head, dipping your head to lick up the extra. Kyojuro shuddered above you as you gave kitten licks to the head. Your hand continued to stroke him as you teased the head of his cock.

“Please” He whined grabbing the hand that stroked his cock. “I will not last like this. Please, let me” you removed your hand, sitting back up as he tried to compose himself, taking deep breaths and folding his wings against his back. You reclined on the Robe, spread like a dessert buffet ready for a man with a sweet tooth.

“My queen”

“My king” you smiled as he climbed over you, hovering above you with a wicked grin plastered on his face, still shining from earlier mess.

“Is this okay?” You nodded, looping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, giving him a quick kiss.

“Yes, Please Kyojuro” He gave you a quick kiss, looking down so he could adjust. You widened your thighs, giving him room as he aligned his cock with you. He looked at you once again, waiting for you to nod before he pushed in. Slowly he entered, giving shallow thrusts aas you gasped. You knew he was thick, but his cock felt huge inside of you, every vein, every bump could be felt as he went deeper with each thrust. The noise from both your bodies sounded filthy. You were thankful to be alone because the clap of your skin as he thrust himself to the hilt was sinful. You moaned as he pulled out, quickly gaining a steady rhythm as he worked. He was sweating above you, soft grunt leaving his lips and he occasionally bent down to kiss you.

“So good” he praised, grabbing the flesh of your hips so he could rock into you a bit harder. Your moans increased with his added pressure, his praise and his touch. Once again it felt like somehow, he had known you better than you knew yourself, he played your body like a fiddle and there was nothing you could do but take it. Your orgasm rose with the pass of his thumb over your clit, lips attaching themselves to your collar as he mumbled more praise into your skin.

“So pretty, so tight. Not gonna last” he was mindless as he spoke, lost in the heat of you and the feel of what was too soon to be love but felt quite similar.

“Kyojuro” you begged, gripping onto his back, nails grazing the skin of his wings. The appendages fanned out as you scratched at his back, begging for more but crying out too much. It wasn’t long before Kyojuro let out a deep rumbled, hips thrusting shallowly as he panted above you. Your orgasm washed over with his slow thrusts, thumb drawing circles in your clit to ignite that fire in you. You came with a low moan, taking Kyojuro’s mouth against your own so you could taste him while you experience such ecstasy. As you came down from your high Kyojuro slowly pulled out, grimacing at the mess he made before flopping next to you. He gave you a sleepy smile as you turned to face him, trying to ignore the cum you could feel dripping out of you.

“I Fear we may have already gotten you pregnant” he tried to joke, pushing the sweaty hair out of his forehead as he tried to catch his breath.

“I don’t know. We may have to try a few more times.” His eyes widened, already winded at the thought of going again.

“You sweet minx, you shall be the death of me” He laughed, pulling you into his arms, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead.

You woke up with a start, sitting up in alarm as you looked around you. Miles upon miles of flowers spread around you, reminding you that yesterday and last night was not a dream. The soreness you felt in your hips and the bruises around your body were another reminder. Your husband was fast asleep next to you, scaled arm still wrapped around your middle as he snored, deep rumbles of sleep trapped in his chest. It Had to be early morning, the sun was barely over the horizon, still rubbing the sleep from its eyes but waking the world up anyways. You embraced it, the natural warmth, the beautiful surroundings, it was a perfect morning. You took the scenery and the quiet of your morning to admire who you woke up next to, the man you got to call your husband from now until the end of time. You felt lucky, Kyojuro was nothing short of the perfect man. He was kind, funny, adventurous, he knew his duties and wasn’t afraid to speak for what he wanted, he didn’t seem to shy away from the hard stuff and he had treated you like a piece of fine jewelry, with all the care in the world. Even after one full day together you decided this could be a happy marriage, you might even be able to fall in love. Not to mention he was the picture of beauty, a child of the sun. His golden hair that landed near his lower back, the tips dipped in red, similar to the curved horns on his head, the black dipped in red. It wasn’t as shiny as the scales that covered most of him, but it was beautiful all the same. The focal point was his wings though, large and menacing you’re sure he could scare someone even in human form, but last night he looked like an angel, sent for you. Your fingers were soft and careful as they traced the scales on his chest, protecting his heart and vital organs. He was incredible, does he need to wear armor? Were the women like this? You were curious but not enough to ask, surely there were books on it. The castle may have some history books on the Ashra kingdom and its people, maybe you could learn some on your own instead of asking Kyojuro all the questions. He seemed more than happy to answer your curiosity but that would get annoying at some point, wouldn’t it? Plus, maybe there was an alternative for his mating ritual, you couldn’t possibly be the first human to bed a dragon, not when they shone like this. All of them were beautiful so that it seemed impossible for you to be the first.

“What’re you doing?” you jumped at the grumble from your husband. Kyojuro looked like a kitten who was woken up from a very deep slumber, his eyes barely open as he scratched his scalp, trying to smooth some of his hair down.

“Enjoying the morning, It’s even prettier in the morning light.” His eyes were wider, more aware as he looked at you up and down, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes, it is prettier. I think I like the view in the morning a little bit more.” Kyojuro’s eyes held mischief as you matched his smile. He was leaning on his elbows, one leg propped up, the robe laid like a blanket over both of your laps. He truly was a piece of art.

“Lay with me” It was a small ask that you couldn’t deny. At some point in the night he had moved one of his wings under you, acting as a protector, or a pillow if your head wasn’t already resting on his chest.

“Does this hurt? Me laying on your wings?” The skin of his wings wasn’t what you expected, a peach fuzz protected most of it, the same red as his scales. His body was a huge mystery, and you were excited to learn all you could.

“Not at all. It’s like you laying on my arm, it essentially is an arm. I can move and flex it like any other limb.” He accented his answer by flexing his wing. You could feel every muscle move under you.

“Your body is so interesting to me.” He made a noise of response.

“You act as if the human body isn’t interesting. You are very resilient. I don’t know how you survive without the ability of flight. Horses are nice and all that but rather inconvenient, they do not keep stamina like a dragon” You huffed, your body aching was a reminder of that stamina.

“I’ve been thinking since we are going t-“A screech unlike any you had heard before interrupted you, making you jump up. Kyojuro seemed unperturbed by the noise as he looked up. His wing acted as a shield, hiding you from sight as you heard the harsh flapping of wings cutting through the air. The ground shook as multiple pairs of feet landed on the ground. You were staring at Kyojuro who looked over his wing, eyes narrowed.

“I should have known they would send you two” His voice was deep, almost threatening as he spoke.

“Don’t play dumb Kyojuro, is that the Raven princess?” You peeked over the edge of Kyojuro’s wings at the new arrivals. You wish you could remember their names but there was little time to converse with the dragon king and queens. You could recognized royalty though, the straight postures, the sharp eyes. 2 of the kings had arrived, each different rulers of territory within the kingdom but they worked well. The taller one was pretty, his white hair was longer than Kyojuro’s, decorated in jewels and multiple braids through it. His deep violet eyes were watching you.

“You idiots. How could you disappear on your wedding night? The Raven siblings are going crazy with worry. You are the first royal multi-racial couple, and you pull something like this?” The shorter male was quick with his words, the disappointment and anger in his voice evident. “You are lucky I was here, or the treaty would have fallen through thanks to this stunt. No one can track like me, and you know that, although something tells me your dick doesn’t by the smell. Fucking disgusting, you were given a home away from the castle for that not a fucking field like peasants.” The onslaught of colorful words did not stop until he was finished. His bi-colored eyes looked between you and Kyojuro, a sign you were both in the shit.

“Are you decent?” The taller male spoke. Kyojuro looked at you, bare body marked with bruises and red with embarrassment. He was in a similar state.

“no. my queen has a robe but I did not prepare clothing” You could hear the beginning of another colorful tirade before it was interrupted the slip of the tongue as he switched to the ancient Draconish tongue, cursing Kyojuro out without you understanding, Tengen stepped in, nudging the shorter male before a silent conversation happened between the two men standing before you. The shorter male walked off, further into the field where you finally witnessed the transformation. It looked painful, the extension of his limbs, elongating his body and growing over 10X his size. Before you was the one most feared, the Void dragon. The ombre of scales that started black at the top and were white at the tips of his feet and stomach was beauty itself. There was fear in your admiration as he turned and eyes the two of you. The ventilating scales on the sides of his neck flaring with a deep purple color. He released a huff before taking off, obviously annoyed as you watched void flames eat a hole in the clouds before he disappeared.

“Apologies. His lack of sight in such an unfamiliar territory makes him uneasy, let alone the hunt we’ve been on this morning. If you could put your robe on, Kyojuro you may take one of my layers.” He was shedding the outermost coat of his off before he was finished speaking. The long black trench coat that shone purple at the right angle was dangling off the tips of his fingers. “You will fly ahead of me to the castle. There are outfits awaiting you on the bed of your honeymoon home. Change quickly while I am outside, I will barge in if you take too long. There is a meeting to be had.” He wasted no time, turning around and holding the coat out. You took that as your chance to dress yourself, removing the robe from yours and Kyojuro’s laps. He kept a wing covering you as you stood, putting the robe on and tying it tight. Kyojuro’s smile was tight, the corners of his lips not fully lifting as he strode to the other king, taking the robe and covering himself. Tension was thick as Kyojuro walked out into the field, not even done walking before he was shifting, the scales on his body stretching into the beautiful beast who has done nothing but kept you safe.

“After you”

Landing the second time was much smoother now that you knew what to expect. The effect on your body was still the same. You sat in the grass staring at the honeymoon home while your body shook with adrenaline.

“Tengen said we have about 10 minutes, would you like me to carry you?” Words didn’t come to you, moving silently to get up, taking the hand Kyojuro offered and following him to your temporary home. The clothes laid out were nothing too extraordinary, it was summer, so the clothes were lighter, more breathable. Kyojuro came out in white slacks, a red button down and a formal vest embroidered with his kingdoms emblem. Your dress was red to match, the half sleeves and bodice were thin, almost see through but the black corset covered anything that shouldn’t be seen by others.

“Beautiful. I’m sorry for the way Obanai was. He hates it here, too Many smells. Gyomei has some weird connection with the earth so he can see outlines of things but like all other void dragons, Obanai hasn’t had eyesight since he was a kid. Thankfully they sent Tengen with him, somehow, he always calms Obanai down.” You nodded, Tengen, the audial dragon king. Your future brother-in-law. Supposedly he is a menace on the battlefield, the sound barriers he has broken and skulls he has shattered are almost equal. That’s who stood outside your door. It made sense, based on Mitsuri’s chatter about the Audial dragon he seemed to be the biggest hoarder out of all of them. It was a well-known fact that the dragon people enjoyed collecting fine things, it’s how their kingdom flourished, they had a keen sense for treasures

“I understand, there is a reason the Void dragons aren’t often seen outside of your kingdom. Is there anything we can do to make it more comfortable for him here? Everyone will be here for a few months while the transfer of power and the weddings happen, plus we have to be crowned before going back to your kingdom.” Kyojuro nodded.

“That is very kind of you, if this meeting has a moment where we aren’t being chewed out perhaps, we shall ask how to remedy and make things comfortable here. You’ve done great with Muichiro and Giyu. I truly don’t think I’ve seen them besides in the seats at the wedding.”

“I think I saw a tail in the lake when I was going to the springs.” You recalled the slim object, flicking water around. “Can I ask though. That’s the first time I’ve heard Draconish. How would I learn something that complex?” The sound of Obanai’s curses made it sound like he was hissing, a slur of words and noises.

“Your human vocal cords aren’t made for it actually. Theres a level of vibration needed to speak it. Thankfully there Is an enchanter in our kingdom who does specifically that. I am not sure the specifics of what he does but he alters the brain to give you the knowledge and understanding to speak it or something. His name is Murata, he’s good. Really good as a medicine man or doctor” Kyojuro smiled. Holding his arm out for you to take.

Tengen was quiet as he walked with you guys to the castle, heading in the direction of the ‘war room’ although it hadn’t been used for war in decades it was used for meetings between royalty and visitors. The room was full as you walked in. Your siblings sat together, arms crossed and eyes pinched. You could see the disappointment on their faces. The dragons were all quiet, Mitsuri shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. all eyes were on the three of you as you took your seats.

The tension in the air was thick, no one quite sure where to start, Obanai kept his head down but his clenched fists atop the table told you what you needed to know.

“Where were you?” Your brother was the first to speak, his posture lax but you could see his anger clear as day, one leg crossed over the other, leaning on his side as he glared between you and your new husband.

“Kyojuro and I found a field to enjoy the sunset. We ended up falling asleep, it was purely accidental.” You spoke up, knowing to just admit your fault than argue with your brother.

“And I am to believe that? Your wedding night and you two disappear without telling anyone, not even Sasha.” You flinched at the name of your lady in waiting, you hoped she hadn’t been punished for your lack of care. You remembered the way she limped in pain last time she was punished. It was a dinner between the dragon elders and your family, she had slipped on a puddle un knowingly left by a water dragon, resulting in a pot of hot tea spilling on your aunts leg. The burns weren’t severe thanks to her many layers. Sasha’s burns were blistered though. You had helped dress the wounds, ignoring her pleas to ignore it, it was her fault. It was a cruel punishment, she still bore the scars but she never spoke ill of your aunt or anyone else. “This wedding was a step towards better days, to help heal from the losses from both of our kingdoms and you pull something as reckless as this? To have sex in the grass? Are you an idiot?”

“Now, Alexander. Understand it was an accident, we didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Alex scoffed, cheeks red with anger as your sister watched on in silence.

“This was childish and reckless, I expect more from you now that we are to be crowned, things like this cannot and will not happen again. No more whorish behavior, you will remain covered unless in your private chambers. I do not care how old you are or that you are the first to wed, there will not be a repeat of this behavior.” The silence that followed your brother's words stung more than the words themselves. You were used to the lack of censorship when it came to him. He was to take over after your aunt and uncle, he was the only one who truly knew how to rule. But the fact your sister sat in silence and did nothing to ease the sting of his insults hurt you a little more. You bowed your head, looking down at the ring that sat on your finger. Even after a marriage and soon a crown, you were still treated like a child.

“I do not recall whorish behavior. I do recall consensual love-making between a married couple. You will not address my wife in such a manner ever again. You may be king soon, but you are not yet. The second she married me she became the queen of Ashra. Remember your place Alexander because you will not be warned again. What we did was reckless and I accept fault. We should have told someone where we were going, let alone come back afterwards, but I will not accept you degrading my wife in front of me and the rest of the royalty in this room, am I clear?” Alexander sat straight, his eyes flicking between you and the hand Kyojuro had placed on your knee while he was speaking.

“Kyojuro, Y/N. Please do not do something like this again. Our families have suffered great loss already, we cannot lose anymore. If you wish to be adventurous, please let someone know. Or just keep it within the castle grounds.” The Poison dragon Shinobu addressed the both of you, the purple hue of her lips menacing as she smiled at you both. You bowed in apology at the gentle reprimand from Shinobu. You would much rather be yelled at by her than Alexander.

“That is not all we have come together for today though. The marriages between Diane and Tengen, followed by Alexander and Shinobu will not have ceremonies, for time’s sake and the good of both kingdoms they will be signing the binding vows and then all shall be moved forward. After your honeymoon is over, Kyojuro and Y/N you will be moved to Ashra where you will stay, Obanai, Muichiro, Sanemi, and Mitsuri will accompany you. Shinobu, Tengen, Diane, and Alexander will stay in Ravenhill along with Giyuu and I while the expansion continues. Y/N, as your marriage contract originally stated you will live permanently in Ashra, you will be given a list prefilled with what is going with you, if you require certain staff of anything please make changes and give it to your lady in waiting. Diane, your wedding dress is being altered into the ceremonial gown needed for the transfer of power and crowning. Since Kyojuro noted earlier Y/N is a queen in our kingdom's eyes she is not needed at the transfer of power, and such will happen before your vows are signed. Is there anything else that needs discussion?” Your mind was spinning with all the sudden changes in plans and your sudden status change that no one bothered to mention. You had officially been queen this whole time which means Kyojuro wasn’t just using that name in the heat of the moment. Your head felt light with all the thoughts spinning around, like a twister in your mind scrambling everything. Gyomei, the eldest of the dragon royals, waited in silence to see if there were any more questions. With a nod the royals stood, your brother and sister still seated and staring you down. Kyojuro led you out of the room with a careful hand on your back.

“Does he usually speak to you like that?” It was the first thing Kyojuro had said since arriving back at the honeymoon home, his eyes didn’t leave you as you looked over the list left for you to review.

“Alexander?” you questioned, even though you knew that’s who he meant. He nodded. “I am the youngest of the Ravens and yet I am still to become queen. I’m sure he is just upset that all his education and studies had been for naught as he must share the kingdom now. It’s okay” Kyojuro didn’t look pleased, his lips pursed in thought as he paced in front of the bed you sat on.

“Do not make excuses for him. He has no right to speak to you like that. You are your own person, a woman of great strength and resilience” You scoffed, embarrassed at him flaming your ego but also that he suddenly knew all of this and seemed convinced it was true

“We have been wed only 24 hours and you know all this about me? You may think me strong but he’s not wrong. I should have been more careful; I should have thought it through before let-“

“Do not listen to him. Do you regret it?” You shook your head, feeling so small under the hurt look Kyojuro gave you. It made you want to hide under the blankets, to wrap them so tight no one could perceive you. “Y/N, I enjoyed making love to you last night. I have enjoyed getting to know you. Have we only known each other for a day? Yes, but we’ve been betrothed for years, since my father was king. I don’t know about you but there aren’t many dragon-human relationships and if I was a human engaged to a dragon, forced to marry him I would have run away at the thought, let alone a dragon king. Our people lead through strength, meaning the nine of us have won our title by a show of strength. But you are moving forward with this marriage with your head held high, by making an effort to get to know me and talk to me like a normal person. Hell’s, you let me bed you on the first night, not even afraid of my wings, teeth, horns, none of that. That is strength, which is resilience and loyalty. You are more than you realize.” Kyojuro had moved to sit on the end of the bed, a hand resting on your knee as he addressed you. He left you speechless. How had he felt about all of this in such a short amount of time, was he feeling the same connection you had felt? There was an ease with him, like he had been in your life forever. Deep down he had been, you had been betrothed for 10 years at this point, a decade you had been promised to each other, you were raised to be his, and for him it was you.

“Kyojuro. Thank you.” His smile wasn’t as bright, not all teeth shining down on you. He patted your thigh, getting up from the bed.

The remainder of your day was spent organizing your list of things to be moved with you. Sasha sat with you as you decided what to bring and what not to bring. Kyojuro sat with you for a while, but he quickly got bored, deciding to go for a flight around the kingdom.

“So, you and the king will be flying ahead. It’s a much quicker flight than it is carriage. We need to pack a week’s worth of clothing for you to go into the kingdom.” Sasha was trying to figure outfits, what to arrive in but also is comfortable to fly in, she was scratching her head as she looked over your vast wardrobe.

“Do you know what the weather is like there?” Sasha looked at you like you had grown another head.

“Your highness, have you not read the books I’ve left out for you?” She pointed back into your bedroom, a frustrated look on her face. “I shall forgive this since I know the past couple of weeks have been a blur for you. Between the accident, funerals, a wedding, AND ESCAPING OVERNIGHT TO HAVE SE-“ you jumped at your maid, covering her mouth as she began giggling. Since the death of the former king and queen Sasha has been more open with her opinions of things, she had become like a confidant, someone you could rely on and a shoulder to cry on.

“I did not escape. We left on our own two feet, well, his back.”

“And you rode back on his front?” You gasped in horror at her brash words.

“Sasha, I am a queen now. It is inappropriate to speak like this” she nodded, turning back to the clothes in front of you. There were a variety of options, separated between color and cut. The warm colors were on the left and it went to cooler colors. Kyojuro had talked extensively of heat earlier in the day, he was the flame dragon Afterall. But maybe that was how he felt? Maybe he lives in cooler temperatures to fight the fact he is always hot.

“We have a little less than two weeks, I shall do some reading on attire and weather patterns for you. We’ll work on clothes later. Go back to your honeymoon, out” She was waving you out, tossing the edge of your dress ahead of you so you would follow. She was giggling as you kicked back at her, playful like you had been sisters arguing over dresses. The thought made your chest ache. You once had been a family like that. After your parents gave you up to your aunt choosing instead to live their lives as they had, off the money of your grandfather, the former viscount. You were still young, only 5 but old enough to remember the shock of being moved from a small cabin on the edge of the kingdom to the largest building you’ve ever seen, a castle. All you had with you was your brother and sister. Diane was 3 years older than you and Alexander was 5 years older. The age gap never mattered because it was the three of you against the world. You had survived off of mere pennies, how hard could royalty be?

“Y/N! there you are! Come, there is something we must show you!” Mitsuri was the first to greet you in the courtyard, immediately pulling you towards the back gardens where the honeymoon home was. “So. Obviously you and Rengoku aren’t the first inter-racial couple. However, you are the first royal inter-racial couple, which means you set a standard. That’s okay though because there is a long history of couples like you and different means it all depends on the couple. Like our mating ritual, did Kyojuro tell you about that?” She was talking a mile a minute, but you were catching up

“He… Mentioned it briefly. He doesn’t know how I would be able to do it” She made a noise

“Exactly, you’re so small and I’m afraid his cock would kill you” Your eyes bugged out at the crass wording. She spoke like she was reading out the daily newsletter. “So, we know how to do that, all the reading is back at the Rengoku home for you two to get down and dirty with. That’s not what were here for though.” She paused her steps right before you stepped into the back gardens. Looking at you she held both of your hands in her own. “This is a wedding present from all eight of us. I know you haven’t had time to spend with all of us yet but hopefully once everything settles and marriages are final, we can spend it together as a family. This should help though.” She was smiling as she let go of your hands, walking into the back.

Sitting by the lakeside, surrounded by small flowers and clovers sat your lone dragon, his head perched above the water as he stared at his own reflection. Was this another ritual that you didn’t know about? Was the old tradition of making sure your marriage was consummated via audience a regular thing in the Ashra kingdom? Obviously, it was consummated in a field before but when he’s in that form? Where did his cock even come from? You couldn’t see anything from across the lake. Mitsuri whistled loud enough that Kyojuro’s head popped up, yellow eyes locking with you. His jaw pulled back in what looked like a smile? A dragon smile that was all sharp teeth and spit.

“Hey! Come on!” Mitsuri yelled, waving over at Kyojuro. He took seconds between leaping in the air to landing in front of you two. His head bowed, entering your personal space with a nudge of his nose.

“Hello! Feeling refreshed after your flight?” There was a huff of hot air in response, blowing your dresses backwards. His jaw slackened, tongue lolling out as he panted. Your husband happened to be a scaley dog, with a lot of saliva.

“So. Kyojuro, turn around please, you can look later.” She was silent as Kyojuro turned around revealing what looked like a harness? The straps were all brown, almost dark enough to blend in with his scales. Mitsuri reached out, gripping one of the large straps. “This is a saddle. Like your horses, but for your husband. Please only use it for flights and nothing else, it was very difficult for us to find. Only 2 leather shops make them in the entire kingdom! Hopefully that changes but it will take time. Here, let me help you up” She guided your feet into the divest in the leather, like a ladder up to a personalized seat. There were straps that kept your thighs and body onto the saddle and a waist strap that will help with stability. “How does it feel? Uncomfortable? Do you think you need some blankets?” You were adjusting the straps around your thighs as Mitsuri talked, trying to fit it to you. “When you’re done come on down and I’ll show you how to take it off and on.”

The remainder of your honeymoon week and a half was spent getting to know your husband in every form. He spent his mornings in bed, sprawled over every inch of it and only making room for you to cuddle up under his arm, surrounded by his wings. Because he was a walking heater you only needed a thin quilt. After a hearty breakfast he went on a flight to stretch his body and work up some energy, sometimes he would take you with him if you were feeling up to it. Flying got easier with time, and it was nicer with the security of the saddle, even if the name made you grimace. The afternoons were spent in the study, you would read, and he would usually have one of the other dragons over to discuss things back home.

“Are you nervous?” Your turned in bed, adjusting the nightdress that had ridden up. Kyojuro’s hands found home on your hips, looking down from where he was perched against his pillow.

“Very. You aren’t often in this form, or your people aren’t, and I don’t want to make people feel forced to do that to interact with me.” He nodded “you are different, you are my husband and unlike a dragon I cannot physically handle you in your other form. Like the wise words of Mitsuri you would ‘kill me with your cock’ or something along those lines.”

“Oo, very wise indeed. Quite a noble death though, what is more valiant than dying on a kings cock?” he let out a small grunt as you slapped his chest, feeling your cheeks warm at his vulgarness. You had learned so much in such a short amount of time. The people of Ashra were more open with their bodies, women often didn’t wear tops when in human form and there was no need for clothes in dragon form besides decoration like jewels and paints. Although from what you’ve heard that is very special occasions, like births and marriages. It interested you to witness the overall comfort of their people, the trust in each other.

“I’m excited to meet your family though. Also to get to know your people, you’ve seen my home and the little seclusion of it. But yours sounds so” you couldn’t quite find the words to place on it.

“Welcoming?”

“Yes! Just from the sounds of it, you are in there with your people not locked behind tall walls and looking down upon them. Their struggles are yours and I feel that’s why you have done so well as a kingdom.” He was caressing the bare skin of your hip, watching as you talked animatedly about your excitement.

“You will shine in Ashra. Not only will the people find you as beautiful and ethereal as I do, but they will be able to see and know you as a person, not a figure. I think our kingdoms will be good for each other. Your knowledge of nature’s destruction and decay of the natural land will help us grow and our strength will help you grow. Then we shall be one. Like a very large family” you were nodding against the scales of his chest, enjoying the heat he radiated and dreaming of a better future.

“Family sounds nice. I want our babies to grow up in a place like that, surrounded by love and safety.” Kyojuro chuckled, vibrations shaking your head where it lay. He noticed you nodding off, giving your forehead a quick kiss.

“Goodnight my queen”

The Flight to Ashra seemed to take less than an hour but half of it was spent blinking the sleep out of your eyes and letting the cool air of the skies wake you up. Thankfully your arrival wasn’t supposed to be a grand event, there would be a feast in a few days to welcome everyone back and give you a chance to meet the elder dragons and the retired kings and queens. The clouds were low, sitting you on edge as you didn’t know what to expect flying into the Ashra kingdom. Kyojuro lived in one of the northern quadrants, most flame dragons lived there to keep their scales cool and ice harvesting was best done by those who could melt the edges and prevent too much damage. You expected hot weather, but the cold was a welcome change. Layers were easier to pile on than remove. As Kyojuro lowered himself you were welcomed with the sight of green. Lush green pastures greeted you, some dragons were lying about among them, you saw some running around, some even greeted Kyojuro, flying alongside the two of you. There was a rumble below you before Kyojuro let out a call that felt as if it could shake the earth. Baritone and scratchy it was met with everyone around responding in a similar manner. You could feel the excitement in Kyojuro underneath you. The extra effort he put into flying faster, the playful growls as another dragon joined your flight home. There was a longing to know how to communicate with them, to be one of them. In the two weeks of marriage, you had felt more like you had a family than you had your entire life. It was terrifying to start fresh, to be rushed into marriage and a brand new home, a new culture. You were grateful to be granted the official honeymoon phase, to get to know the man you would be assisting in running a territory with. If your betrothal hadn’t already been planned, you’re afraid you would end up like Alexander and Diane. Signing a paper and going immediately into ruling alongside each other. How were they expected to run a kingdom together if they didn’t know each other? Your brief conversations with Tengen and Shinobu had been pleasant, Tengen seemed easygoing, outgoing. He was the opposite of your sister and maybe that would work out for the best, open her up, bring out her adventurous side, it had to be hiding in there somewhere. But those problems weren’t yours anymore. Yours were around you in every shape and size, in every color and kind. As Kyojuro descended further you got an even better look ahead. The ground was still green but further ahead was mountains, white Mountains. Glaciers. Kyojuro explained the history of the keep, built inside of a glacier. It was a gift from the Frost dragons when the first marriage happened in history of their royalty. It was a tale that went so far back Kyojuro said not all of it was known. Due to some structural pieces the keep had maintained its place and has expanded as time passed. It was a fascinating sight, the entryway was intricately carved into the side of the glacier, it looked like a painting. The carvings were even prettier up close as Kyojuro landed in front. Surrounding the glacier were burrows, where most of the dragons resided if they chose not to stay in the keep. There were plenty of them laying around in the sun, looking up to greet the two of you with calls of their own. He laid on the ground while you dismounted, getting your first taste of the chill that came from inside. You had read about packing warm but maybe you would still need to stick with Kyojuro for extra warmth, Goosebumps formed on your arms as you looked around. Lanterns lit the entryway, dragons and humans mingling about the open doors. There was a latch on the front of the harness that helped Kyojuro take it off if something ever happened, but he found it easier than watching you fumble around with the large belts around his arms. Shaking off the saddle he looked down at you, a grumble of some Draconish slipping through his lips before he turned to head inside.

You stared at the saddle, unsure what to do with it, you didn’t want to meet his family while lugging that thing behind you, but to leave it there would feel like you didn’t appreciate the time and effort taken towards acquiring this gift.

“Someone will be taking care of it. Do not worry.” You missed the transformation of Kyojuro back to his human form, jumping at the sudden volume of his voice. He was more casual today. Long flowing black pants and a simple red vest, if you didn’t know better you would say he was going to the beach. Compared to your layers of dress and fur coat you probably made an odd looking couple. “Come on, I’m sure the family is dancing on their toes waiting for us” He chuckled, waving you over from the entrance.

The halls were wide, dragons meandered about, breaking off along the never-ending halls and various rooms, there was an occasional human or Dragons in their human form but for the most part it was all dragons. Your nerves were humming with each step. There was an inferiority in humans when compared to the dragon race. Speed, strength, size. There had to have been many beautiful women vying for Kyojuro as their partner and yet he was promised to you since you were a kid. He was the strongest Flame dragon, he came from a long line of rulers in the Ashra kingdom and he had ruled the Flame territory for three years already. Aside from his achievements, he was physically beautiful. He had sculpted himself into a unit of destruction, but the same hands that could tear out a heart, the same teeth that could tear apart muscle had shown you such grace and delicacy. Were you enough to measure up to that? You were adopted by royals, given away and not expected to do anything but serve. What could you accomplish like he could? Each step felt like a death sentence, you were walking to your final judgement and thins were looking grim. You were nothing compared to them, why would they accept you, your family didn’t even accept you. Kyojuro didn’t mention it but since you’re scolding about sneaking away you didn’t let Kyojuro get too close. He had managed kisses and cuddling but much further and you shut it down, maybe you were acting whorish, but he was also your husband, and you were expected to bare his children, right? The further you walked the less people you ran into, small waves and grumbles greeted Kyojuro as he waved back, sending love to those around but you remained meekly by his side, observing.

“Okay, so this door on the right will be our home and the left, is my family’s home. Are you ready?” Kyojuro stopped in the middle of the hall, pointing between a large red door and a much smaller black door on the other side. The obvious size difference made it obvious which was the home you would live in, though the thought of a dragon sized bed did sound appealing. Hopefully there is a bed large enough to fit Kyojuro and his wings. You nodded, letting Kyojuro drag you into what would be your new home. What you expected was not what you were looking at. The walls were made of stone and the floors were a dark wood. You made out a living room, with a lit fireplace and the comfiest looking sofa, decorated in blankets and furs. You could make out a kitchen and a hallway.

“3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, this room and then there is a balcony that goes out the side of the glacier in the bedroom. Wanted it to be a surprise. The cold to us is so comfortable but I don’t want you to freeze so the family looked into as many blankets and quilts as possible. They are in the spare rooms closet.” You were in shock. The warmth of the room already had you getting a bit stuffy in your layers, but also the care taken and the artistry of making a home your size and accommodating you as much as possible. Your eyes burned at the thought behind your home, the love put into each detail. There were paintings along the wall, depicting the dragons of the Rengoku family in their human forms. There was no mistaking they were related, the red tips of their hair, the red sheen on their scales, the proud looks. The Rengoku’s were a sight to behold. The woman in the Photo was just as beautiful, if not prettier. Although she seemed a bit more docile the fire in her red eyes was something you had seen often in Kyojuro. Her long black hair was braided and matched the black of her wings and scales, she was breathtaking.

“Kyojuro” You spoke softly, unsure if you could speak without bursting into tears.

“Is something wrong? I can call the builders, we can find something else. Any changes that need to be made and it will be done” He was holding onto your arms, looking you over in case there was something wrong. You just looked at him, trying to prevent tears from coming.

“No! please don’t. It’s perfect, it’s beautiful.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room again. The Rengoku family crest hung on the door. “I’m grateful. You have done a lot for me, accommodated me so much and I am.” You paused, looking back at your husbands worried face, a soft smile coming to your lips as you moved to hold his face. “I’m overwhelmed at the beauty of it. The care and the love are embedded in these walls, and it is a lot, but it is perfect. Thank you” Kyojuro’s smile could have broken his cheeks, his teeth nipped playfully at your hand as he stepped back, holding a hand out for you.

“I want to show you the rest.”

The house was beautiful. Every room had been carefully picked out and crafted. The artistry had heart and it showed in each corner. The master suite was large, enough for Kyojuro to stretch his wings fully without hitting anything. The bed had been specially made to fit him as well, comfortably even though deep down you both knew he would be crowding in your space, wrapping you in his warmth. By the end of the impromptu tour, you had both found solace in the comfort of the couch. You had shed some layers, leaving you in just a floor-length burgundy, velvet, long sleeve dress. Kyojuro was spread across the couch, wings spread and arms resting under his head. You sat at the other end of the couch, just admiring the scenery. You were automatically comfortable in your new home, it felt nostalgic, like something you had been missing. A knock interrupted your thoughts before the front door opened. Kyojuro and you rose to your feet as in walked the rest of Kyojuro’s family.

“Mother, Father, Senjuro” Kyojuro greeted them with open arms. His mother was holding onto his fathers arm, she looked just as she had in the painting, all of them did. The Rengoku’s were stunning in person.

“Mr. and Mrs. Rengoku. It is an honor to finally meet you, I am Y/N Raven, crowned Queen of Ravenhill.”

“Oh, please sweetheart, no need for formality. You have long since been part of this family. You can call me Ruka or mom if you want, this is Shinjuro and I’m sure Kyojuro has told you of Senjuro.” Ruka stepped forward, pulling you into a hug as she spoke. Shinjuro stood by the door, observing and Senjuro made himself at home after greeting his brother. “Do you like the home? Kyojuro has been writing frantically since he’s been in Ravenhill, making sure everything was perfect.” Your cheeks burned at her admission of Kyojuro’s nerves, as you looked over you could see the darkening of his own cheeks, the embarrassment he tried to hide behind a cough.

“Its incredible. The thought and care that was put into making a home to accommodate not only me but Kyojuro’s size as well. The balcony is even big enough for him to jump off and go into the field for his morning flights. Its perfect. I’m very happy. Thank you” Ruka was beaming as she looked back at Shinjuro. His stoic expression melted a bit as he gave a more relaxed nod in acknowledgment.

“If you need anything do not hesitate to ask. Murata will be here later tonight, he is helping Kagaya out currently. We hope to have the speech done by the feast in two days. Rest. Enjoy your home. We will come back tomorrow” Shinjuro gave another nod as he held a hand out for Ruka, Holding the door open and letting her lead him out. Senjuro sat still on the couch.

“Can I stay for a bit?” He was looking at Kyojuro who quickly nodded, before waving goodbye to his parents. “What was your guys wedding like? I was so sad we had to miss it and run the territory. Mom and dad won’t let me fly that far by myself. Was it like the books said? Where you just say words and sign a paper?” Kyojuro sat and you followed suit, taking one of the arm chairs facing the siblings.

“It was like that. Y/N wore a beautiful dress, and we exchanged blessings and signed a contract. It was very nice, a lot less blood” Senjuro and Kyojuro laughed at your disgusted face.

“Do you like my brother Y/N? Is he being a stink-butt to you? He likes to hide my favorite shell sometimes. Does he hide your stuff?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Kyojuro hiding shells, playing innocent and telling his poor upset brother he has no clue where it went.

“He hasn’t but that doesn’t mean he won’t. I should hide all my stuff when it gets here shouldn’t I?”

“Yes! Before he starts hoarding it like Tengen does! Mated dragons love reminders of their mate, so he probably has some of your stuff already. Tengen is marrying your sister, right? Hopefully she doesn’t have too many shiny things.” You shrugged. She was no longer your problem, you were over a week's carriage ride away.

“What do you know about mating?!” Kyojuro’s eyes were bugging.

“I’ve read things! I’m not a baby Kyojuro! I will be an adult, I will have a mate at some point!” Senjuro was huffing, the smoke coming out of his nose reminded you of the annoyed puffs that Kyojuro distributed. It was cute seeing the similarities in the family, you could only hope it would continue with your children. Kyojuro continued to pester Senjuro about his knowledge and other readings until the younger Rengoku was called for dinner.

Murata didn’t arrive until the sun had long passed the horizon; He was accompanied by Shinjuro. Murata was human, no teeth, no wings, no horns, he was only a few inches taller than you but paid no mind as he sat right down, making himself at home as he unpacked various items from his bag.

“Your highness. Y/N Raven, the human queen to the dragons. It’s an honor, and about time I’ve seen it happen.” He smiled, brushing his black hair out of his eyes before turning back to his bag. “Shinjuro, I appreciate your hesitance on me working on your son, but I fear this is a bit personal, do you mind stepping into the other room?” Shinjuro’s glare barely eased as he stepped into the kitchen, out of earshot but still keeping the three of you in his eyesight. Kyojuro sat on the couch, grabbing your hand as you sat next to him to watch the enchanter work. He pulled out vials, a wooden bowl and various herbs.

“The reason I asked Shinjuro to step out is because you two are unmated” Kyojuro’s gaze sharpened, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the enchanter. “It is very possible to mate with humans, Kyojuro. For dragons the mating ritual is almost like a mark. Using your powers you mark your mate, for dragons it is just a mark, on humans you are almost injecting them with a piece of you. Mating with Y/N will change her physically, all I do is give that extra push to help her along with speech.” You let go of Kyojuro’s hand, there was never any talk of you turning into something else.

“The mating process will need to happen in order for her to fully develop that speech. You will take a scale, preferably a chest scale, using your flames, heat it until it clows and insert a piece into an open wound on her body. It will hurt, but only while it is happening, the pain should soothe almost as soon as you remove the scale. Y/N in order to do this you must give him blood. So, bite her, anywhere, even just a drop on your tongue is good enough and using that bite for the scale is all it takes. While you sleep your body will adapt. You will be able to withstand heat easier, your body will be able to create life using dragon sperm and your vocal cords will stretch, allowing that vibrato needed to speak Draconish. That is, it, nothing else. What I am having you drink is essentially liquid education. You are getting the Draconish language in a pinch. You can understand and speak once your body adapts. It seems simple but it is a very difficult thing to achieve. This ingredient, the dragon's bane is only found in the frost queen's territory, it's difficult to get through for me because it's found on the inside of the isalic volcano. I’ve lost three couriers in five years to acquire it.” Murata had been mixing everything he gathered as he spoke, rarely looking up from the bowl.

“Is this okay? Are you okay?” Kyojuro took the momentarily silence to lean into you, not taking his eyes off of the man in front of you. You couldn’t look away from the chunky mixture Murata was holding. You would have to drink that and then make Kyojuro drink your blood and burn you? Your head felt light, it was all so much too quick. You were expected to be able to speak the dragon language by the time of the banquet in two days. You would have to become something new. New home, new occupation, new Husband, New language, new body, new, new, new. It was too much.

“I can’t, no” You stood, quickly leaving the room and heading to the bedroom.

“Y/N!” You ignored the calls of your name, just taking time to breathe. The balcony door was cracked, letting the fresh air in and you went straight for it, wanting not to be near anyone and just think for a second. The evening breeze was cold, but it helped with the panic you felt settling into your body, leaving you wanting to run. You enjoyed being with Kyojuro, you enjoyed learning about him and his culture, but was it worth changing everything for?

“I sent Murata out. He left the drink for you to take whenever you want.” Kyojuro had made his presence known with a knock. You didn’t look towards him, just nodding as you continued to look out to the houses around the glacier. “Overwhelmed?” You nodded again, not trusting your voice. “I will sleep in one of the spare rooms tonight, give you that space. Goodnight” He left without another word, shutting the balcony door softly behind him. You immediately felt guilty for not answering, he was always willing to help you, always checking on you and you just pushed him away. Maybe you needed to clear your head with a quick soak in the bath.

Soaking left you with a clearer head, more willing to talk. Once you dressed and braided your hair for the night you went to find your husband. The room next to yours was empty so you went to the next one, opening the door slowly and peering inside to see if he was still awake. Turning to face the door Kyojuro squinted.

“Y/N?” you made a noise before entering the room, squinting to try and see through the dark. As you made your way through the dark a candle was lit, the small flames coming from Kyojuro’s mouth making the room glow bright before the lit candle was the only flame. Placing the Candle back next to the bed Kyojuro turned to you as you crawled in bed next to him.

“Can we talk?” he nodded, pulling the covers over your lap while you both sat with your backs to the headboard. “I’m scared, Kyojuro. This is so much change in so little time and I don’t want to lose myself. My body will change and what if I become unrecognizable?” Kyojuro was silent, pondering what you said.

“For the humans that have done this there isn’t any outside physical changes to your body. But if it worries you that much then we won’t mate, and you won’t have to drink the concoction Murata made. I can translate for you” There was no hesitation in his answer, he spoke so easily like he had no qualms about it.

“But mating is a whole ritual and thing for you” He shrugged

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not a monster” You looked over at the man next to you, finding him already staring at you.

“Thank you Kyojuro” He gave you a smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, looking up to kiss his jaw. He leaned down, capturing your lips with his own in a sloppy kiss.

“I want you to be happy, no matter what” You pulled him back into you, letting him crown you until your back hit the bed. Teeth clashed as your lips grew more feverish, moving with purpose as if you were trying to eat each other whole. You moaned into Kyojuro’s mouth as you felt his hardened cock grind against you. You tried pulling him closer, chest meeting your own as your thighs raised, dress falling towards your hips which Kyojuro took advantage of, sliding his heated palms under your dress, caressing the bare skin of your stomach and teasing the edge of your panties. Every touch he gave had purpose, it was gentle yet held meaning as he grabbed at you. He pulled back, lifting off of you with kiss swollen lips, teeth shining with spit as he looked down at you.

“You are so beautiful, so deserving of everything good in the world. I’ll do anything for you.” His words made you feel on top of the world, like any hardship would be okay as long as you had him. You didn’t respond, just pulled him back into you, meeting his lips in another heated kiss. He sat up, pulling you with him as his hands fumbled with the ties of your night dress. Your hands wandered the expanse of his bare chest, nails dragging along the scales of his pecs. As the fabric of your dress fell away you broke the kiss. Kyojuro didn’t stop, trailing his kisses down your jawline and against your neck.

“Kyo, do it” you moaned, trying to pull him against your body. He sat back, confusion written clearly on his face. “Be my mate” You could swear his eyes darkened as the words fell from your lust soaked lips, he wanted to get on his knees and worship you in any way you wanted.

“Are you sure?” you nodded, giggling as you kissed him again.

“I want to be yours, even if I change, only for you” He smiled against your lips, sitting on his heels.

“Okay, so I bite you, and burn the bite with a scale? You have to drink the thing too! Okay wait” He stood from the bed, wings stretching behind him as he left the room quickly. You took the time to shuffle out of the rest of your night dress. Although you had felt reservations towards mating and the changes, Kyojuro would be there with every step, and you could do anything with him. By the time you had settled back onto the bed Kyojuro stood at the door, the wooden bowl Murata had earlier in one hand and a cloth in the other.

“Let’s move to our room, there’s medical salves and stuff in there just in case” You grabbed the candle, leaving everything else behind as you followed Kyojuro to the main bedroom. You sat against the pillows as Kyojuro put everything on the table next to you. Your nerves were beginning to buzz as he sat next to you.

“c’mere” pulling you into a kiss you quickly fell back under his influence, arousal pooling in your gut as he palmed your breasts. Within seconds you were on your back, pushing the fabric of Kyojuro’s pants off of his hips, watching his cock spring free of its confines. He was practically throbbing against your hand as you wrapped your fingers around him. He was pushing the ‘fabric of your panties to the side while you guided him towards your soaked core. E released a heavy groan as his cock pushed into you. With shallow thrusts he sunk further into you, rocking gently as you moaned against his lips. There was no need for foreplay, no rush, no demands. This felt different, intimate. Kyojuro’s thrust were slow, there was no rush to cum but even so your pleasure built. Each grind of his pelvis against yours pushed you further towards the edge. Kyojuro’s head ducked against your neck, groaning against the skin of your collar bone as he continued his slow pace.

“Please, this-fuck. Please” he was mumbling nonsense against you as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting him to fully take you. He got the message, lips peppering kisses along your collarbone. You could feel his teeth drag against you, leaving goosebumps along your body as he teased you.

“Kyo” you warned, hinting that you were on the edge. He grunted in response, placing a kiss on your right shoulder before you felt the sharp sting of his teeth. It was momentary before he was soothing it over with his tongue, lapping at your skin like a thirsty dog. His thrusts quickened, pushing you over the edge with everything happening. You cried out, nails digging into the scales on his shoulder. He grunted, feeling your pussy suck him like a vice, begging for him to cum inside. With a few more thrusts Kyojuro fell over, Hot ropes spilling inside of you with a groan. Everything was still, just heavy breathing as you tried to come back to earth after that orgasm. Kyojuro was quick to recover, sitting up. He shucked the rest of his pants off, giggling at the fact you were both too eager to let him take them fully off. He didn’t regret it though. You laid in a daze, blood clotting on your shoulder and cum dripping from your pussy but that didn’t bother you as you watched Kyojuro grab the cloth and bowl. He sat next to you, leaning over you to dab at the blood on you before wiping up his cum, apologizing as you winced under his touch. He was as gentle as he could be, letting you recover from such a physically overwhelming experience.

“Do you want to drink this or finish the mating ritual first?” You blinked at him, sitting up.

“Pain then gross liquid, exciting” Your sarcasm made Kyojuro laugh, kissing your forehead as he swapped the cloth for the bowl. “How do you get a scale?” You looked around his body, taking the time to admire him again. He was a sight you would never get sick of. He lifted a hand, in a blink claws had extended from his nail bed.

“Just cut it off, which one do you want?” You weren’t sure why it shocked you, they were a part of him, but he seemed to be so unbothered by it that it made you nervous.

“Do I keep it?” He nodded

“We can make it decoration to represent our bond, a burnt scale and a sum cloth with some blood” You grimaced, and he laughed.

“Gross, let me look” you pushed against his chest, watching him fall against the bed before you straddled him, looking at the scales that covered his abdomen. You didn’t want anything that would be too obvious or would put him in danger but also the bigger it was the more it would hurt, right? There wasn’t a way to truly tell the size of them, they overlapped and created almost a pattern, so you chose a scale that was almost in the exact spot he had bitten into you. You slid off his lap as he sat up, handing you the bowl as he grabbed the cloth again with his free hand. He was careful as he adjusted, you held the scale up, lifting it from the skin underneath. He could feel where you were pulling so even without looking, he was sawing the scale off. The sight made you flinch, but he didn’t seem to be in pain. Blood bubbled under his nail as he worked on removing the scale, carefully pulling it as he sawed it away. The scale was in your hand rather quickly, the sticky rag pressed against his shoulder to slow the bleeding. You looked at the bloody scale in your hand, admiring the way it shone in the light. It felt sturdy as you closed your fingers around it, you might cut your fingers off if you held it too tightly.

“We’ll no doubt have to bathe after this, that rag needs to be burned as well” you chuckled, watching as Kyojuro chucked it before turning to you, gesturing to the bowl in your hand. With a quick cheers you downed the mysterious liquid. The bitter combination of ingredients had you grimacing, but you powered through knowing it was almost over. You practically threw the empty bowl at Kyojuro, taking an exaggerated breath you made it known it was disgusting.

“Let’s finish this and bathe.” You gave Kyojuro the scale before climbing back on his lap, chest to chest. He just watched you for a second, let you fiddle with his hair to distract yourself. His free hand squeezed your hip in encouragement. Turning his head away he let out a breath, fire licking the edges of the scale pinched between his fingers. The heat that was so close made you lean away, too hot. It made you anxious for what was going to happen next. Your eyes flicked to the dried blood on your shoulder, teeth forever to be embedded into your skin. You watched as the color of the scale glowed, enhanced by the heat. As the red turned to a bright orange Kyojuro stopped, turning towards you.

“Are you ready?” You pinched your eyes shut, frantically nodding while you anticipated him getting it over with. “Hold onto my arm, squeeze as tight as you want.” You gripped his free arm with both hands, anxiety spiking as the seconds passed. It felt like an eternity as you waited. Hot, HOt, HOT, your grip tightened on his arm. Tears immediately fell as you opened your eyes. Kyojuro had already disposed of the scale, blowing gently on your shoulder. You let out a pained cry as Kyojuro moved to hold your face, kissing the tears as they fell down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry” He went from kissing your tears to kissing the burn, the smooth skin of his lips easing the burn significantly. It was quiet, the anxious energy of the room dissipating as the pain eased. It was over, you were officially mated to the dragon king.

“It’s been almost 20 hours sorcerer, why isn’t she awake?” Kyojuro was pacing the floor in front of the fireplace. Shinjuro has shown up with Murata in tow shortly after Kyojuro had made an appearance at the Rengoku home, frantically explaining what had transpired since Shinjuro and the enchanter were asked to leave the night before. Murata was a stranger to the Rengoku’s. He resided in Shinobu’s territory and worked with her. There wasn’t enough trust between the flame king and the enchanter for him to not bite his head off right there.

“Your majesty, the queen is tired. The changing of one’s body is not easy, adding that to the fact she is in a new home and an unfamiliar place, her body needs plenty of time to recover and relax.”

“That sounds ridiculous. You never mentioned this. If the queen is hurt-“

“if the queen does not awake by noon tomorrow, you may punish me as you see fit, but I have never not seen this happen. You may ask any of your people who mated a human. They need rest. Her body is much more fragile than yours.” Kyojuro seemed unimpressed as he looked down at the enchanter. The man was tiny compared to the king. He could simply squeeze his throat and break his neck. It would take seconds.

“Kyojuro, she will be okay. If He is important to the Poison Queen, then we shall hear him out. Shinobu would never put her territory at risk by blindly trusting someone like this. Especially with something this important. Give her time to rest.” Kyojuro’s stiff posture hadn’t changed. His shoulders were still tense and raised, wings stiff and slightly puffed out, like he was trying to intimidate the enchanter hovering next to his front door. Though their time was limited, he had grown quite fond of his human wife. Her questions were amusing to him. She desired knowledge and didn’t hesitate to ask if needed. She was firm in her decisions and headstrong. Though she seemed to be troubled by her family and the words Alexander easily three in her face, she stood proudly next to the dragon. He didn’t expect to go through the process of mating. This was a political marriage, not one built from love. You only mated if you saw yourself with that person forever. Mating was a bond that changed both parties. It was an unbreakable connection that had been formed over and over for generations. Though marriage derived from mating, the dragons held strongly to that tradition. But this was different. The marriage was not built with love, but there was love in it now. Neither of them said it, neither of them ever spoke of it. But the trust and comfort they had in each other was all the confirmation needed. The visceral need he felt for his wife was like nothing he felt before. He had, of course, experienced feelings for another. He had felt lust and the envy that sat in one’s body following a crush; He had experienced heartbreak and loss. This feeling, however, was a new one. His every thought had been consumed with her, the orange and wisteria mixture of perfumes and soaps she had smelled like. The color of her eyes that seemed to be everywhere he looked, even the little lemon pastries that seemed to be more sugar and lemon than necessary he had grown fond of. He felt like a dog, wanting to be around her all the time, follow her as she looked off into nothing and ruminated on things. He wanted to sit alongside her as she wrote letters and studied books. He couldn’t put a finger on the moment he fell in love with her, but it was terrifying to think of how fast it was. He expected her to be repulsed by him, to feign happiness that barely masked her disgust of being married to the dragon. Though they never said ti outright, there was a reason humans had settled in a new kingdom, forgetting the dragons they had once lived alongside. The older siblings may react that way, but Kyojuro got lucky. Y/N Rengoku had been the perfect person all along, a betrothal that may have been written into the stars, fate spinning their thread of destiny and intertwining the chord of their lives sos they lived a happy one. That’s why the waiting killed Kyojuro, because if anything happened to her, here would he end up? Heartbroken and unfit to rule. He would give every jewel and every silk he ever collected to make sure you woke up okay.

“Alright, you may leave, I shall wait for the queen” With a dismissive wave of his hand Murata was quick to leave. Kyojuro sunk into the couch, leaning his head back on the pillows with a deep sigh.

“try to get some rest son, I shall have Senjuro sit here in case something happens.” Shinjuro didn’t wait for an answer, leaving the house immediately. Though rest ould not come with his anxiety this high, he knew rest would be a good idea. So he tried to take it easy. He took the soiled blankets, clothes, and clothes to be washed. He hand scrubbed everything to make sure everything was pristine for when you woke. The cloth had blood stained into it, but it would stay as a fond reminder of your mating. Maybe it could be used as abstract art alongside the bloodied scale that sat on your side of the bed. You would find that gross but funny, so Kyojuro kept it on him as he stepped back into the bedroom. You were still fast asleep, the steady rise and fall of your chest indicating that you were still in this world and that eased Kyojuro’s worries momentarily. You didn’t move, not even a flinch as Kyojuro crawled in besides you, laying on his side to look at your sleeping face. You were facing him, your mouth parted slightly as you dreamed. Your hands were under your head, like they were your pillow instead of the silk one Kyojuro had imported for you. It was cute, your little habits. Although he didn’t feel tired, he didn’t want to leave you. What if you woke up and needed something? He felt restless, anxiety filled his veins urging him to run, to fly, to get away. He wanted to scream, to cry. His nerves were shot looking at you, at your peaceful face, when he felt a pit forming in his stomach, growing bigger with each minute you slept. He needed to leave.

Senjuro sat on the couch, a book in his hands while his wings spread out behind him, covering the whole couch.

“Father really did send you?”

“You didn’t hear me come in?” Kyojuro shook his head, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. “What were you doing?”

“Washing some clothes, the soaps in Ravenhill are too strong for my nose, irritate me,” Senjuro nodded, approving of his brother’s answer and returning to his book.

“I’ve been reading about human and dragon relations. There are many relationships in the southern territories. The void dragons and poison dragons in particular. I wonder why that is. Does Obanai have a wife?” Kyojuro rolled his eyes at the question. Obanai would rather slit his throat than court anyone, let alone a human. He dislikes everyone, let alone someone who can’t withstand the lack of light in his home.

“Not at all. He would lose his mind before marrying anyone, dragon or human.” Senjuro laughed at the blunt answer. Nodding along.

“You’re right. Anytime I’ve met him, he’s been very prickly. Shinobu is marrying a human though, maybe it’s destiny.” Kyojuro shook his head again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. There was no destiny for them. Alexander was a bastard, angry and spiteful. He was awful and Kyojuro felt bad for the poison dragon.

“Kyo?” Both dragons turned towards the hall where the queen stood. She wore one of Kyojuro’s robes, the deep gray robe swallowed her whole and Kyo9juro smiled at the look of her. She was still half asleep, eyes squinted and a yawn barely concealed behind her hand.

“I’ll should get home. Hello Y/N” Senjuro was quick to leave, shutting the door behind him. Y/n shuffled over to the couch. Soft steps muffled as she stumbled over the robe. Kyojuro reached over for her hand as soon as she sat down.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” There was no hesitation between his answers, his wife’s eyes trailing over his worried features.

“I’m good. Tired and a little sore, but I’m okay. It’s late, how long did I sleep”

“21 hours,” she chuckled in disbelief, shaking her head.

“That’s a lot. I don’t feel any different. Check me” she dropped his hand, standing up from the couch. She untied the robe quickly, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the floor. Kyojuro sat in shock, looking at his wife’s figure on display. She was bruised, the bite on her a deep purple, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. There was nothing else visibly wrong, and Kyojuro smiled at that fact.

“Your beautiful.” The color that darkened her skin with embarrassment had her suddenly feeling shy, scooping the robe back up and putting it back on. She was speechless, mouth opening and closing while she tried to find a response. There wasn’t one, so she turned around, heading into the kitchen. Kyojuro’s heavier steps followed behind her, stopping in the archway of the kitchen while she fumbled around for a cup.

“Y/N” she turned with her empty cup. “I love you” The baritone in the way he spoke Draconish was intimidating, but the emotion in his voice matched with the sincerity in his eyes made her want to melt.

“Kyojuro.” She paused, surprised by the serpent like sounds coming from her mouth. She placed the cup on the counter next to her, stepping to her husband. “I love you too. You make me feel heard. I feel like you truly see me and anything I can do anything as ling as I have you. I love you so much, i have for a while.” The ease that settled into Kyojuro’s heart at hearing her words spoken in his native tongue made him feel on top of the world.

[luveline]

I have a potential request for the eddie zombie!AU! could I request eddie taking shy!reader under his wing as he is traveling? maybe she is injured and is like 100% sure she’s going to die but then eddie comes along like a knight and helps her to safety, and then they just stick together?

thank you for your request angel! —eddie finds you wounded in the midst of the apocalypse and wants to help, 2.5k, fem!reader. tw for zombie apocalypse typical circumstance, blood and injury

Eddie is absolutely sick of being alone. He imagined the apocalypse cooler than it turned out to be —there aren't that many people around anymore and he's constantly a bit hungry, and having long hair is now the norm. He hasn't seen a real living human being in three weeks and he's starting to wonder (worry) if he's the last man on Earth. 

That is, until he sees blood on the sidewalk outside of a pizza place. He'd been planning on going inside just to smell the floury scent of pizza dough, and maybe pretend to answer the phone (he never worked as a delivery guy, but he thinks it might've been his calling). Blood is everywhere in the apocalypse. Genuinely everywhere, and it smells bad when it's old, vinegary and acrid. There's blood on car doors, bloody handprints on windows, pools of it where people died and then their bodies, reanimated and without control, stood and walked off again. 

So Eddie's gotten good at blood. He knows old blood from new blood when he sees it, dead blood from alive blood, and the blood trail leading behind the smashed glass door of the pizza place is both new and alive. Or, probably alive. Was alive. He nudges it with his shoe, and it's still wet, not even slightly clotted. 

Definitely alive. 

Eddie doesn't really think about how whoever it is that's inside could murder him in cold blood for his gear. Eddie's sort of stacked —he has a bike, a proper one like a professional doing the Tour De French, or whatever, he doesn't remember what it's called, would need. The point is that he has a really sturdy bike and a wagon strapped behind it full of camping shit, and the world is so desolate that nobody's tried to shank him for it yet. He leaves his bike by the door and tries to open the door slowly, not wanting to startle whoever it is that's bleeding that badly into hiding from him and his extensive first aid kit. 

Eddie pulls it to his chest and steps carefully over a path of broken glass. 

"Hey," he calls out. He clears his throat. "Is someone here? I– listen, I'm not here to hurt you, I saw the blood, and I have bandages and antiseptic and everything you need. Maybe. Unless you got shot, I can't do stitches for shit, trust me." Trust the weird huge scar on his ankle. 

"Listen," he continues, approaching the counter, peering behind it at a skyscraper of pizza boxes and a dust covered floor, "I know you have no reason to trust me, so I'm gonna go sit outside, and if you want to come out where I can't corner you, I'll help. I swear." 

He follows the trail of blood to the cabinet under the ingredients counter. The door moves near imperceptibly.

He gives it a second, and then Eddie turns to leave.

"Wait," says a girl's voice, muffled and weak, "wait, please." 

Eddie waits, spinning on his heel to watch as you push open the cabinet door. 

He's surprised at the cleanliness of your top half until he realises the bottom of you might as well have been dipped in an exploded blood bank. 

"Oh, shit," he says, rushing forward. 

You flinch back and he follows on unperturbed, even when you throw your hands up to cover your face. 

"I'm not gonna do anything," he promises, panicked, "where are you bleeding? You'll have to show me." He makes sure you can see his lack of weapons and his huge green first aid kit. 

"It's my side," you say, and as soon as you speak you start to cry, little shuddering huffs of pain escaping you as Eddie kneels at your side. "I– I– I tried to climb over a fence, and I got caught on the barbed wire, I didn't– I don't–" 

He shushes you with as much gentleness as he possesses and pulls up your shirt. It's your hip, not your side, and the cut is a frankly gruesome laceration into the fat. Eddie's going to have to sew you up after all. 

He knows what he should do even if he's only done it once before, finding your blood covered hand on instinct and squeezing it. "It's okay," he says, not knowing if it will be, "I can fix it. I have everything, okay? Can I fix it?" 

"Please," you whimper. 

He doesn't need any pleading. He clicks open the first aid kit and looks first for gauze, pressing it to your side even as blood pools wet and shiny on the floor beneath you. You're in agony, clearly, twisting away from his touch. 

"Please stay still," he says, firm but kind. "It'll hurt more the more you move. I have painkillers, and I'll give you some right now. Right now, okay? Stay still." 

You shriek as he presses down on your hip but you don't move. He hates having hooked a sound like that from you —Eddie's not a violent person, even if he's rough around the edges— and he rushes to correct it. He swaps the soaked gauze for a second, pressing down hard again, and remembers with a white hot panic that he didn't disinfect his hands. 

It's rough going. He finds the painkillers, you take them dry. He has the urge to touch your cheek because you're in so much pain, and the blood has somehow ended up on your face like a crimson tear. Eddie disinfects his hand and your hip, which still hurts wildly untouched by the painkillers, and opens a sterile packaging of needle and medical thread. His hands shake as he ties the thread with tweezers. It's imperative he doesn't touch the needle, even if he did disinfect his hands, because it will end up deep in your skin. 

By the time he's ready to start the stitches you're crying and not speaking, a hand pressed to your mouth. "I don't know how much the painkillers have worked, and I don't think they'll stop this from hurting, but I think I have to stitch it before you lose too much blood. Is that okay? Can I start?" he asks. 

You nod hurriedly. "Just– Don't– Just ignore me if I ask you to stop," you say weakly. 

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood as strongly as he smells it. 

He stitches your wound closed. It's a jagged wound shaped like an italicised 'y', and he does it as carefully as he can manage, even if the amount of blood pouring from it scares him. He doesn't want to do it wrong and have the stitches rip, or cause more pain than they need too. 

He never wants to hear someone make the sounds you make ever again. When he tells you it's alright, that you don't have to bite them back, you start to sob with each string he tugs. He can't imagine how fiery the pain is. 

When it's done, he disinfects your hip again generously. He must not do a bad job at stitching you up, because while the wound weeps blood into the disinfectant like dye seeping into fabric, it's ten times slower. You look down at your hip, hiccup, and look away. There's blood everywhere, so Eddie pulls you by the underarms across the floor and sits you up. You're still crying, sobbing, but you don't say anything. Eddie wipes away as much blood as he can. Then he covers your newly stitched wound with a fresh, thick square of gauze and tapes it. Finally, he wraps bandages around your waist to keep everything in place, and to apply pressure to the wound. 

He looks at your clammy face with a mixture of pity and newfound pride. He doesn't know who you are, but you did a damn good job.

"Well done," he says, rubbing the lengths of your arms quickly, like a hug without closing in on you. "You did awesome. I'm gonna run outside to get my stuff, I have a shirt that should fit you, and some pants. Water, food. I have whatever you need." 

"A tranquilliser?" you ask. 

"Maybe not one of those."

Eddie retrieves his bike and his wagon, carting them into the kitchen, through your blood trail, and into the staff room behind you. It's snug but there's a couch, and that's all that matters. He shoves the bike aside and runs back to your side, crouching. You look like you're gonna pass out.

"Hey," he says, "can I lift you up?" 

"It's gonna hurt," you say. 

"Yeah, but there's a couch in there, and a door that locks, I don't want us to get attacked while we can't move." 

"Are you going to attack me?" you ask, looking like you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

He shakes his head quickly. "No. I promise." 

A promise from someone you don't know isn't worth much, but you take it, and Eddie helps you up and into the staff room. Your crying wanes. Maybe the painkillers are working, or maybe you've run out of steam. Acclimatised to the pain. 

Eddie stops before he gets to the couch. "No funny business, I'm gonna take off your pants." 

"It's okay, whatever," you gasp out. "Sit me down." 

Eddie unbuttons your jeans and you kick them off the best that you can. Your legs are streaked with blood too, but at least you can sit down without absolutely ruining the couch you'll be sleeping on for the next few days. Eddie locks the door, grabs the clothes shears, and cuts off your top. You really do look at him then, your eyes wide with fear, and he backs away from you with his hands up. 

"Sorry," he says, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to scare you. You've been holding your elbow, I thought maybe you hurt that too, didn't want you to lift your arm."

Your fear ebbs with his explanation. He grabs clothes from his wagon, ears piqued when you speak up. "I think I've broken it."

"Your arm?" he asks. That's an entirely different problem. It could be painful for the rest of your life.

"My elbow. It's swollen." 

"I'll give you more painkillers," he says assuringly. 

He grabs the shirt that looks like it'll fit you and a pair of pants that will be too big. He doesn't know why he has all this stuff that doesn't fit him, he kinda thought they were cool. And who could abandon a Dio t-shirt when no one will ever make one ever again?

"Do you need help?" he asks. 

You sigh regretfully. "I don't think I really have a choice."

"You do. We could throw a blanket over you? Two blankets, even." 

"Please help me put on the t-shirt," you say. 

He doesn't resent you at all for sounding untrusting, even if he did potentially save your life a few minutes ago. People are cruel and will do the worst thing they can do to another person if they want to. He helps you into the t-shirt. You flinch when you straighten out your arm, but it goes on well. Next he helps you into the cargo pants that are luckily a starchy but flexible cotton. You wince as they reach your hip. He lets them lie low. 

He makes sure there's a pillow behind your head, laying his favourite blanket over you and tucking you in amicably. 

Pulling his hair out of his face, Eddie laments how sweaty he is and eyes the wagon for what best to feed you with. You're probably nauseous from pain, so while he'd love to feed you hearty oxtail soup or a can of meatballs that promise protein, he grabs a box of crackers, a tin of vegetable soup that he knows from experience is watery and sad, and his big flask of water. 

He sits down a half a foot from you on the couch. 

"Here," Eddie says, opening the crackers. "You should eat something, please. And drink some water, too." 

You accept everything silently, though after a few morose chews of saltine you murmur, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Really welcome." 

"You didn't have to help me," you say, shivering with pain still but looking less like you’re going to pass out now you’ve stopped bleeding profusely.

He looks down at his hands, blood in the grooves of his palms, and shrugs. "Yeah, I did." 

"Most people wouldn't, though." 

"I don't think there's a precedent for what people do anymore. You're the first person I've seen in weeks."

"You're lucky." 

"Yeah?" He tucks his hair behind his shoulder. "I guess I am." 

You eat another cracker, and then you stick out your hand very tentatively. "I'm Y/N. Thank you for saving me." 

He shakes your hand with the same tentativeness.

"I'm Eddie," he says with a smile. "You're welcome." 

"I thought I was gonna die in the cabinet," you say, rubbing your eyes, "like a sick dog. I just wanted to be alone while it happened." 

It's a very solemn thing to admit to, and in the quiet of the room, your face and hands dull with blood, it's macabre.

"Sorry I didn't let you die," he says, trying not to laugh in shock. 

You visibly fluster, your embarrassment held tightly in the set of your shoulders and your frenetic hand as you rub your collar. "I didn't want to die. I don't want to." 

"Then you won't," Eddie says, knowing it's not that simple, but needing to persuade the agony from your face. 

You look down at your lap. Eddie searches for something to offer, something he can give now that you're lucid enough to know you were in the shit. It's terrifying business, knowing you could've died. 

"I have a bottle of Black Coconut rum if you're interested. I thought it might come in handy lighting fires, but I think you could use it," Eddie offers. 

"Yes," you say, your voice small. "I think so too." 

"If we had some pineapple juice, I would love to make you a Piña Colada. Now that would cheer you up." 

"Rum is fine, please." 

Eddie doesn't let you suffer. He gets up to grab the rum and passes it to you. You drink it in surprisingly eager glugs, rum running down your neck in shiny rivulets like shooting stars plummeting through a vermillion sky. He needs to help you clean the blood from your throat and face before it dries. 

You shudder and pass the rum bottle back to him, looking sicker than sick. "That wasn't bad," you say, eyes squeezed closed. You sound like you've been punched. 

Eddie hoots a laugh. He really missed having good company. 

—

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated, and if you have a request for this au let me know, I’d love to write more of their story!! <3

[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! ♡

[most-creature-vibe-tournament]

Round 2 poll 2

Propaganda:

Bdubs (Hermitcraft / life series)

Horse

I'm not even mad that Glares didn't win the mob vote because BDubs is basically just a Glare in human form.

#but bdubs is 100% more creature coded#it’s because he leans into it#Jon is obsessed with staying human#while bdubs said ‘people call me a weird little thing so I made my eyes bigger and grew moss all over’#and I love that for him

Taylor Hebert (Worm (webserial by Wildbow))

Human girl who has superpowers that let her control bugs. She shunts all emotions off into her swarm of bugs, leaving her totally blank and stoic. She outsources sensory-input to her bugs, so she never looks or reacts to anything. In a fight, she reacts to opponents there is no possible way she could see, because she sensed them with her bugs. Overall has virtually no facial tells and moves in a way that makes her seem like she isn't a person. very creature <3 she is just a bug girl

shes such a FREAK. shes completely human (tho with an eldritch alien creature extradimensionally attached to her mind) but God does she not act like it sometimes. she has the superpower to control bugs and uses it to become the worlds most terrifying hero slash villain slash warlord slash apocalyptic threat. she has her bugs crawling all over her all the time. she uses a swarm of flies to scout out areas and then leaves flies in everybodys hair so she can keep track of where they are. she practiced having her bugs make noises until she figured out how to combine their noises into human speech so now she can talk through her swarm. she makes decoys of herself out of large pillars of bugs. once she was concussed and in the hospital and subconsciously calling her bugs to her so she was just covered in insects while the doctor tried to help her. then there was ANOTHER time she was hospitalized and got bored so she made a bunch of bugs so a little dance on her chest. whenever she's in costume and talking she has her bugs make noises to distort her voice and make her sound more scary and she doesnt even realize shes doing it anymore. she surrounds herself in a swarm to disorient her enemies. she doesn't even notice when her hair covers her eyes or anything like that because shes scouting out the area using her bugs so she doesnt have to see. she once used a tide of bugs to clean herself off and dust off her dress after having sex.

#she views herself as more of a swarm of bugs with a girl-shaped computer to control them than a girl herself#her body is just an extension of her bugs which is large and inconvenient but ultimately part of the weapon

#taylor “dissociates into bugs” hebert#taylor “keeps bugs in her hair” hebert#taylor “choke them with bugs” hebert#taylor “no one could ever love me” hebert#taylor “violence is always the answer” hebert

[vllergy]

relations & afflictions

random allergy fic, 2.3k, old ocs of mine jin-young is a cop (he has the kink because of who i am as a person) vesen is a big tall hot alien assassin aliens and humans are working together but it's still pretty new and things are awkward jin and vesen 100% fall in love with each other eventually that's basically all you need to know

Something’s been bothering Vesen’s nose ever since they left the warehouse. His insistence on delaying the inevitable is only driving both the offending appendage, and Jin by extension, insane. 

There’s a lot Jin has yet to figure out about his alien partner. Human and Kheelen relations are touch and go as it is, and the fact that they’ve paired officers up like this for police work is a shoddy effort at best to keep the peace. There’s just still too much they don’t understand about one another for anything to go smoothly. Case in point—until today, Jin didn’t even know if the Kheelen could sneeze.

It’s not that they look all that different. Bipedal, humanoid, all the same parts and facial features—Kheelen just do everything more elegant and longer it seems like. Even now Vesen has to hunch over slightly to fit all the willowy six foot eight of himself inside Jin’s squad car, and he’s one of the shorter ones of his species. Vesen’s face is similarly angular and lean, almost feline, with deep black eyes and a nose that angles regally off the front of his profile. Jin has always thought the Kheelen look how high fashion used to think supermodels ought to look—distinctly alien, a little off putting, but still undeniably beautiful. 

It helps that their skin comes in almost every shade of the rainbow. Vesen’s is a soft lilac, though you wouldn’t catch Jin admitting it. Nor should he even be thinking about how Vesen’s slightly-leaner-than-human nostrils are a little darker purple at the moment as they wriggle and flex with what looks like blatant irritation.

Thankfully, Vesen’s attitude keeps most amorous thoughts of Jin’s to a minimum. The guy’s taciturn, stoic, and doesn’t really give a shit about anyone but himself. He’s got a superiority complex too, but no one at the precinct seems to care. Everyone’s dealing with their own Kheelen partners and the messy diplomatic shitstorms they tend to kick up. It’s just unlucky Jin got the biggest fucking prick of the bunch. 

He’s good at what he does though. They call him the Wraith. Jin has never seen anyone move like Vesen does, not even other Kheelen. At the very least, he’s not going to die with him as a partner.

At least, not from phaser fire. He may die from another problem entirely if the guy doesn’t stop sniffling like a leaky faucet next to him for the rest of this ride.

Jin squirms in his seat slightly and tries not to glance at Vesen out of the corner of his eye. Lean, purple forearms are braced against raised knees as the alien sits slightly crunched in the front seat. The seat is pulled all the way back but his legs are so damn long it’s impossible to make him comfortable. Jin thinks about getting the chief to requisition them some new vehicles. This is hardly fair.

Vesen’s dark silk hair is shaved down the sides of his skull and then braided across the top of his head and hung down his back, the braid extending all the way to the bottom of his spine. Self-consciously, Jin runs a hand through his own dark hair. Regulation cut. No frills. Pretty underwhelming all things considered.

His fingers come away dusty when he sets his hand back on the wheel. He frowns at his fingertips, rubbing them together slightly. The warehouse they raided today looked like it had been abandoned for decades. Maybe longer. He’s going to need a full decontamination shower after this—

“h-nNDT!”

His stomach drops. But coolly, he slides his eyes over to his passenger and finds Vesen as relaxed as ever. He’d stifled with barely a sound or movement at all. Only a slight irritated blink gives him away as he recovers

Jin could ignore it, and probably should. But the words are off his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

“I didn’t even know you could sneeze.”

He can feel the simmering fury radiating from the seat beside him as Vesen turns his head. Dark eyes bore into the side of his skull. Jin knows that look without even having to see it—imperious, infuriated.

Then, flatly in the dark baritone he’s come to loathe, Vesen responds, “Why would we not?”

Jin shrugs, “I dunno. Your biology is different from ours in a ton of different ways, I thought maybe you guys just didn’t.”

Vesen sniffs softly. The sound lashes a current of electricity up Jin’s spine.

“That is preposterous.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jin concedes, “You have noses and you breathe air, so it stands to reason.”

“You—hh?” Vesen pauses, gasps and turns his head away, pressing his knuckle to his septum and flinching into another soundless stifle. He recovers with a dry sniffle and swears in his own language. Jin hasn’t picked up the translation just yet, but he understands the intent just fine.

“Bless you,” he says, and feels a certain thrill at saying it. Especially to Vesen, who by all accounts probably is taking this all as a knock to his pride.

As if on cue, the alien gives him a reproachful look. “What?” he snaps.

Jin waves a hand, “It’s a human saying…well, in some regions. When someone sneezes.” 

“Foolish.”

“What do the Kheelen say when someone sneezes?”

“Why are you so interested, Jin-young?”

Jin’s cheeks flush slightly. The question is an honest one, but it’s said with just the right amount of judgment that it feels like it’s getting too close to the truth. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders.

“Just making conversation. We’re supposed to be learning about each other, right?”

There’s a long pause. The inside of the car is tense. Finally, Vesen sniffs lightly and sighs.

“We do not say anything. It is not a…common occurrence.”

He says this with a bit of embarrassment, which piques Jin’s interest tenfold. No wonder he hadn’t been sure if the Kheelen even possessed this biological function—he’s worked with enough of them for long enough now he was bound to have seen it happen at least once. But it’s never come up before. Not until this at least.

 Trying to keep the angle of the conversation on scholarly curiosity rather than selfish, Jin tilts his head.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Vesen doesn’t answer for a moment, and when Jin looks over he sees why. The alien is caught with his eyes half-lidded, mouth parted slightly, a shuddering breath quaking under his vest. He shakes his head and suddenly bows it, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. A very human pose, Jin thinks, despite only having four fingers on each hand.

“hH’DDIISSShhyue!” 

Vesen rises from his hands instantly and doesn’t give Jin time to bless him, or even react, “We are a very hardy species. Unlike humans, it takes a great deal to afflict our sensibilities.”

Just to be a dick, Jin blesses him anyway. Vesen cuts him a watery glare before Jin continues, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, “But…something is clearly uh…afflicting you now, right?”

Vesen sniffs pointedly, “It appears so.”

Jin’s boiling alive under his uniform all of a sudden. He knows he should stop fanning the fire but his mouth is moving faster than his brain, and he can’t help but keep asking questions. The slightly stuffy quality to Vesen’s deep voice as this progresses isn’t helping things either. He white-knuckles the steering wheel.

“I wonder what it is,” he hums, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.” Flat, unmoved, typical Vesen. Jin almost rolls his eyes.

“Then, are you sick?”

“I am not ill.”

“Then I’m at a loss, bud."

“It is not your concern, Jin-young,” Vesen assures him, but in that slightly dismissive way that seems to suggest it never was to begin with. 

That might have been it, and for a few moments Jin thinks it’s over. But after a lengthy pause, he hears Vesen take a clipped breath beside him. Then, he lowers his face slowly into his hands once more and Jin tenses, waiting for the inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the alien’s massive shoulders rising with a swell of breath before—

“hhH-rrSCHH!” Stronger and harsher than the one that came before it. Vesen lifts his head, thinking he’s finished, but is taken by two itchy sounding ones almost immediately after. He doesn’t bother lowering his head again and merely sneezes freely, misting his own palms as he shudders into them. “Chhssyu! ccHSH!”

“Okay, see, it is kind of my concern,” Jin reasons, and leans over to reach past Vesen’s knees for the glove box, “Because you’re my partner and now I’m officially worried.”

Vesen isn’t listening. He’s lost in the throes of whatever it has meant to finally give into this tickle that’s been plaguing him since they left the warehouse. His hands still cupped in front of him, his upper lip curls back slightly as he gears up for another. Jin unlocks the glove box, the back of his hand drifting against Vesen’s knee for a moment.

“Sorry,” he says, his heart pounding.

Vesen responds in kind with a stuttered gasp and another powerful sneeze. 

 “hH? hhH! ehH’HDJSshoo!” 

He wrenches to the side at the last second to try and direct it against the window but Jin still feels the spray of it against his forearm and nearly loses control of the fucking car. He manages to somehow keep them alive and also force a wad of napkins into Vesen’s hands. 

“Here, Vesen.”

 Vesen gathers the crumpled paper and presses it to his dripping nose. He blows hard—Jin didn’t know they did that either—which seems to help just for a moment.

“I’m gonna get you back to headquarters, okay?” Jin says, trying not to let his voice shake. He’s almost certain Vesen can hear his heart pounding but he’s hoping he’s a little too distracted by the itch to notice.

Vesen nods blearily and gets one liquid sniffle in before something sets him off again. He holds the sodden napkins just slightly away from him and sneezes against them in short bursts. “aeh’ESSCH! chSSCH! t’SHH!”

“Jesus, you gonna make it?” Jin asks. Am I?

“Focus on your driving, Jin-young,” Vesen says evenly and dabs at his nose, “There is no need for alarm.”

Ah, good. So Vesen can hear his heartbeat, but he thinks it’s anxiety, not anything else. Good. Jin can roll with that, at least. Interspecies relations are hard enough without adding weird kinks to the mix. 

“Are you sure? Because—“

“hH’RRSsch!”

“You sound like—“

“hHuh’IISH! ISHH! hh-Hh?…”Vesen pauses on the last one, hanging in limbo with his gaze flickering on the horizon. Jin waits for him, watching his throat bob as the urge takes him.

“hhH’yyIISSHAh!”

Vesen cups that one into his palm, though it does nothing to lessen the volume.

Jin swallows, “Wow. Because you sound like you’re getting worse.”

“A passing ihhritation,” Vesen says, somehow managing to sound cold while his voice wavers. 

In other words: drop it. 

But Jin can already see his face twitching around the need to sneeze again. It’s five more minutes back to the station and god, if he can even get out of his squad car to walk in it’ll be a fucking miracle. Either way, he’s in trouble. They’re supposed to watch out for their Kheelen counterparts in the field. Have each other’s backs. Bringing one back sneezing his goddamn head off seems like the opposite of that. 

“Should we open a window?” Jin asks.

Vesen nods through his next sneeze and fumbles for the controls on the side panel as he snaps forward.

“aeh’eESSCHUu!” 

Jin gets the controls going on his own side for him and both windows peel open. City air streams through the car. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it’s not terrible either. Jin grew up here so it’s part and parcel of his being. He can’t imaging what it must be like for the Kheelen. Breathing sweet, fresh air every day of their own planet to now…this. Maybe that’s why Vesen in particular is so sensitive. Or maybe he’s overthinking it.

A tired, weak sneeze is directed out towards the open air and into Vesen’s curled fist as the alien leans to the window. “hh’iIShoo!” 

“Bless. Any better?” Jin asks.

“It smells of smog and metal,” Vesen complains and slides his finger under his nose, wicking moisture away petulantly.

“Everyone’s a critic.”

They ride the rest of the way in relative quiet, Vesen with his head out the window like a dog and Jin lowering his body temperature to acceptable levels. By the time they get to the precinct he’s actually able to stand up and get out of the squad car and can feel everything below the waist. 

Just in time for Vesen to come around the side of the car and pin him by the shoulder. Jin has to look up at him because he’s so tall, and his hand feels like a vice against him. Vesen could snap him like a twig if he wanted. Something he’s fond of reminding him.

“Tell anyone of what transpired here, Jin-young, and you will not live long enough to regret it,” Vesen hisses at him, pointed teeth flashing. 

It would be intimidating were it not for the inadvertent sniffle that follows as Vesen backs off. His eyes grow slightly hazy even as they try to bore into Jin’s and his hand loosens on his shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon big guy, one more?” Jin asks, eyes flashing.

Fury sparks in Vesen’s face before the need overtakes him entirely. His expression crumples as he releases Jin to cover his nose and mouth with his hand and flinches into it.

“h’NNDXT!”

A full body shudder runs the length of Jin’s body. He can feel his lower belly melting again. 

He smiles, “Bless you.” 

Vesen growls and shoves at Jin with his opposite hand as he sniffles in recovery. He bares his teeth at him. 

“Be quiet,” he says before turning away and heading toward the precinct steps.

“I think we bonded today!” Jin calls after him, “We’re making progress! Pioneers of human and Kheelen relations, you and me!” 

[oh-nostalgiaa]

Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Four

Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists

The Prompts

35 Types of Hugs Prompts

100 Dialogue Prompts to Make a Reader Swoon

200 Random Dialogue Prompts

Affectionate and Affirming Prompts

Amnesia Dialogue Prompts

Angst Prompts

Angsty Question Prompts

Angsty Question Prompts, Part Two

Angsty Question Prompts, Part Three

(More) Angsty Question Prompts

Angsty Sentence Starter Prompts

Apology Starter Prompts

Attorney-at-Love Prompts

Autumn Prompts

Awkward Post-Argument Scenario Prompts

Blanket Fort Prompts

Budding Romance Prompts

Comfortember 2022 Prompts

Comforting Dying S/O Prompts

Cuddle Up a Little Closer Prompts

Dirty Kind of Teasing Prompts

Enemies to Lovers Confession Prompts

Enemies to Lovers Later in Their Lives Prompts

Establishing a Relationship Prompts

Exes to Lovers Dialogue Prompts

Exes to Lovers Sentence Starter Prompts

Extensive Scar Related Prompts

Fall Writing Prompts

First Impression Sentence Starter Prompts

First Meeting Sentence Starter Prompts

Five Senses Prompts

Fluff Bingo Prompts

Forbidden Love Sentence Starter Prompts

Friends with Benefits to Lovers Prompts

General Sentence Starter Prompts

Gentleness Action Prompts

Giving Flowers to Your Lover Prompts

Grumpy + Sunshine Dialogue Prompts

High Pain Tolerance Starter Prompts

Human x Ghost Prompts

Human x Werewolf Prompts

Hurt / Comfort Dialogue Prompts

"I'm Paying Attention" Love Language Prompts

Injury Prompts

Instigation Starter Prompts

Intimate Prompts for Slow Burn Relationships

Jealous Confession Prompts

Kiss & Tell Prompts

Long Distance OTP Prompts

Love Languages Prompts

Love Languages - Receiving Gifts Prompts

Love Realization Prompts

Mermaid AU Prompts

Morbid Curiosity Prompts

More Angst Prompts

More Talking About It Starter Prompts

New Year's Dialogue Prompts

Nice Things to Say to People Prompts

Non-verbal RP Starter Prompts

November Prompts

October Prompts

(More) October Prompts

Oddly Obscure Friends to Lovers Prompts

OTP in Denial of Their Feelings Prompts

Prompts to Shake Things Up

Protective Starter Prompts

Random Question Prompts

Roguetober 2022 Prompts

Romantic Confession Dialogue Prompts

Rookie Couple Scenario Prompts

Royal x Groundskeeper OTP Prompts

Royal x Royal OTP Prompts

Scar / Injury Related Symbol Prompts

September Prompts

Setting Prompts

Show, Don't Tell Prompts

Situational Prompts

Sleepy Dialogue Prompts

Smut Prompt List

Smutty One-Liner Prompts, Part IV

Soft Gestures for Lovers Prompts

Soft Touches Prompts

Some Poorly Timed Confession Prompts

Some Simple Comfy & Sleepy Dialogue Prompts

Spooktober 2020 Prompts

Spooktober 2021 Prompts

Things Done While Sparring/Fighting Prompts

Things Done with Hair Prompts

Things You Said Prompts

Unrequited Love That's Actually Requited Prompts

Vampiric Starter Prompts

Ways to Respond When Someone Says "I'm Okay" Prompts

Wedding Dialogue Prompts

Welcome to the Holiday Season Prompts

Werewolf Starter Prompts

When in Doubt, Fake a Marriage Prompts

Whumpcember 2022 Prompts

Workplace Romance Prompts

Worried and Relieved Dialogue Starter Prompts

[hairtoppersforwomen]

Discover the best hair extensions and toppers for women. From clip-in and silk to halo and ponytail, find your perfect style for volume. 100% Human Hair Clip In Hair Extensions.

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Sitri Attacker Card - Chapter Six (Finale)

TW: Oh, we’re getting angst again, Morax being a wholesome bbygirl, MC comes clean about her motives, A whole lot of crying and confiding

——————————————————

Paradise Lost

Once the trio reached Paradise Lost, Sitri and Ra-On were led into separate rooms. Marbas set about getting Ra-On an antidote for the aphrodisiacs, before letting her have some rest.

Meanwhile, despite Sitri’s protests, Morax had used his healing powers to absorb the deep scratches and bites that littered his upper body.

“There! All done! How are you feeling?”

Sitri couldn’t help but inwardly grimace at the kind-hearted devil. He took on too much of Hell’s pain in this war, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t take it too far.

“Feeling a lot better, thank you. Where’s Solomon resting?”

Morax paused to glance at a clipboard on his desk, bandaged fingers tracing down rows of patients until he found the line he was looking for.

“Ah, she’s in Room 49. Would you like directions?”

Sitri shook his head, not wanting the constantly injured devil to exert himself further.

“I’ll manage by myself. Thank you again, and please, take care of yourself.

Sitri quickly left the room, teacup in hand. The smell of disinfectant stung his nose as he paced the corridors, until he reached the room where Solomon was resting. He opened the door quietly.

Ra-On was laid in the pristine hospital bed, blanket pulled up to her armpits. She flicked through a book, unaware of the company she had.

Sitri crossed the room, before sitting on the edge of the bed. Something had been plaguing his thought since he arrived in Paradise Lost, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Solomon?”

Ra-On’s eyelids flickered upwards, greeted by the sight of the blue-haired devil before her. She set her book aside and was about to speak before Sitri cut to the chase.

“Solomon, I have a question for you.”

The human shuffled to sit upright, curiosity marking her features. She nodded, a sign for Sitri to continue.

He took a second before enquiring, curiosity with a hint sadness obvious in his tone,

“I recall that you said earlier that you took that medicine to fake your own death, to see what would happen. What did you mean?”

Ra-On swallowed hard and glanced away, to hide the tears that brimmed on the corners of her eyes. It was time for her to confess, though she was afraid of the consequences that would spark from her words.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous but I… I wanted to see who you would mourn…”

She choked out a sob, unable to stop the tears now.

“I thought that if I had passed away, who would you mourn? Me? Or Solomon? 

Everyone has been so nice to me since I got here, but I feel like no-one is trying to get to know me, they just want to play catch-up with Solomon.

I was afraid that my existence means nothing; that I’m just an extension of the man loved by all.

What hurt the most was… You… You called his name over and over, even during sex…”

She couldn’t look Sitri in the eyes now. Her soul was exposed to him, her emotions in a state of vulnerability that she never thought she’d experience.

But the devil’s actions surprised her the most. 

Sitri pulled her into a tight hug, allowing the human to seek refuge in the warmth of his firm chest. Her cries vibrated through his body as she returned the embrace just as tightly.

“Solomon… No. You’re Ra-On. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. Please forgive me.”

His chin settled on the top of her head, while his hands comfortingly rubbed her back.

“It’s been hard for all of us, you see. Your ancestor may have been gone since 931 BC in your world, but for us devils, it’s only been 100 years.”

Tears started falling onto the top of Ra-On’s head as Sitri recalled the loss of Solomon.

“I know that 100 years is a lifetime for you and other humans. But most of us devils are centuries old. It… For me it only feels like a short time ago when I last saw him alive. I’m sorry Ra-On.”

The human tilted her head up to look at him. She couldn’t help but quietly marvel at how pretty the devil looked, even when tears streamed down his face. Without thinking, she reached up to wipe his tears away.

“Hey. It’s okay. I can’t begin to understand how you feel, I’ve never known the loss of someone who could have been my ‘forever’. Although I lost my parents a few years ago, and it pains me to know that they’ll miss out on so much of my life. I still miss them greatly, they’re always in my thoughts.”

Sitri gazed at the human in his embrace, biting his lip slightly. Now it was his turn to confess, as he leaned into her hand.

“Sol- No. Ra-On. I really like you. More so than just calling this a friendship with sexual benefits. I…I’m trying to love you for who you truly are, and not the man I lost, who you painfully remind me of…

…I just need you to be patient with me. Please.”

Ra-On settled her head against his shoulder, grasping him tighter than before.

“It’ll take some time, Sitri. But I’m here. I promise.”

[fanfiction-blep]

i simply have not seen enough so do u think u could do some neytiri x fem reader smut??? human would be really interesting but either way works. something fluffy and romantic <3

I agree there is not nearly enough smut for Neytiri, I also just don't see Neytiri with a human reader? I might explore a series down the line but for now smut! I did just do a post very similar to this, but I'll change it up a little my mind has no shortage of smutty scenarios.

Thigh Riding~ Neytiri X Fem/Reader

Warnings: Mentions of oral f/receiving. Thigh riding, overstimulation. Slight Mommy kink. Soft dom Neytiri.

Neytiri is a very soft lover, for the most part. But that is what we will focus on today. ;)

She will brush her fingers and knuckles against your skin and push your hair out of your face. Littering you're face with kisses and cooing in praise.

"So pretty" "A gift from Eywa" "Ma (Y/N) so beautiful for me."

Not so smutty but I am convinced that she will braid your hair. It's her favourite thing to do, style you're hair.

anyways back to the smut

She is so soft and sweet and if she has been gone on a long hunt she will make up for the time that she couldn't give you the attention that you crave.

"Oh don't worry my love, I am here now" she would cup your aching core "No need to whine, I'll take care of you"

All I imagine is her soft humming, cooing and whispering to you.

SHE ADORES THIGH RIDING

it allows her so much control, she can hold onto you hips and control your movements. The easy access to you're neck and exposed skin is just a bonus.

pushing you down and across her thigh gets her so wet and turned on but she wont stop until you've cum enough for her liking.

"There you go flower. that feel good?" Nodding and mumbling a 'yes miss' Oh god she loves it when you go all subby on her, soft Dom vibes for real.

she just loves watching your face as you cum and she prefers to do that with no distractions even her own pleasure. her fingers would bite into the flesh of your ass and her teeth would graze gently against your skin. Queen of hickeys. She loves to see the small purple bruises forming on your skin, it just shows that you belong to her and vis versa.

I don't think that she has a Mommy kink, totally a Dom. Don't get me wrong if that women told me to do something the only words that will leave my mouth are 'yes' and 'mommy' but if that becomes something that you two do its because you ask her, and after a few months of trying it out she starts to get into it. Other wise it is 'miss' I don't know, it just feels right.

She 100% wants to make you cum as many times as you can.

imagine you pass out against her chest while she's forcing you to grind against her thigh pulling another orgasm out of you. but it would be so soft and sweet. pushing her cheeks against yours.

"Come on sweet girl, you've got be a good girl for me and just one more?" latterly so soft spoken and sweet.

PLEASE

Oh could you imagine if you squirted i think she wouldn't be able to contain herself, she would HAVE to taste you now.

69 is a favourite of hers it allows you to pleasure each other at the same time and after extensive overstimulation i means that you don't have to move too much, you can rest up while also getting pushed to another orgasm.

[octuscle]

DeepTraining Part 1 - Stephen

Until now, Stephen had only heard rumours. About a medical breakthrough regarding the possibilities of altering the human body. But with extensive research on the darknet, he had managed to get an address. Communication was difficult and encrypted several times. But now he had got an appointment. From the outside, the office building still looked perfectly normal. But the windowless meeting room where he was now waiting was bug-proof to the max. The pinnacle of possible discretion.

Stephen was in his mid-thirties. He had bad skin, his hair was thinning. His body had never been worked out and was in the worst possible shape thanks to a diet of mostly junk food. But Stephen had money. A lot of money. He had already taken three start-ups public and made a few hundred million dollars each time. And the money had been well invested and had multiplied abundantly.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and a decidedly handsome young man entered. He shook Stephen's hand and got straight to the point. He asked Stephen to tell him what he would like to change. Stephen was prepared for the question. He wanted to look respectable. He wanted it to be quiet when he entered a room. He wanted no one to dare contradict him. He wanted to be an alpha. The ultimate alpha! The young man smiled and said that in principle this was not a problem. You could never tell exactly what the change would look like, but in this case you would just have to reduce the body fat percentage, increase the muscle mass, tweak a bit the condition of the organs and the testosterone level. And Stephen would become a new man. If that was okay, and if any side effects were accepted, then they could do business.

Stephen asked what was meant by side effects. The young man asked if Stephen was familiar with Deep Learning, Artificial Intelligence and Big Data. Stephen smiled painedly and said that you could say he invented it. His counterpart replied, unimpressed, that DeepTraining could be compared to ChatGPT. Just as ChatGPT writes essays from scraps of words, DeepTraining would form bodies from wishes. And in the process, attributes, images and other data would be merged. DeepTraining could not make someone older or younger. But fitter and healthier. To a certain extent, even DNA could be changed. Then, for example, eye colours or the predisposition to body hair could change. But side effects could also be changes in hairstyle or a pierced ear, if objects in the data pool with the desired characteristics had just that hairstyle or a pierced ear. Stephen nodded. It all sounded more than logical.

If there were no further questions, he would like to clarify the financial conditions, the young man said. The transformation as such would cost $ 100 million. Compared to the development costs of DeepTraing, this is a bargain. He would recommend additionally booking the package to support the start of a new life. There were several packages with different levels of comfort. He slipped Stephen a brochure. He would recommend the middle package at $10 million, which would guarantee coverage for the first year. Stephen asked why this was necessary. The young man smiled. "Use your imagination, he said. If you changed, you would not be able to live in your house for the time being. Everyone would think you were a burglar. You would no longer be able to withdraw money. Video surveillance would reveal you as a thief. You can no longer apply for an identity card, a driving licence, because no one would believe that you are the owner of the old identity card. The change will be significant. You will have to go into hiding for at least a year if you want to return to your old self with a new body afterwards. We will make sure that you get to know your new body during this time. You learn to use the new body. And after a year at the latest, you can then enjoy it." It all sounded extremely well thought out too, Stephen thought. And although he could certainly have afforded the US$10 million, after a quick glance at the brochure he said he would take the light package at $6 million. "As you wish," replied his interlocutor. And added: "In addition, we recommend that you secure financial assets and transfer them to your new identity if necessary. For this, we charge transaction fees of 20 per cent. However, the possible upper limit is 10 million US dollars." Stephen briefly reviewed his financial options. If all else failed, he would of course like to continue to have enough money to live on. His current liquid assets were around $ 250 million. He said that he would then like to transfer this 10 million. The young man smiled "With pleasure. That would bring us to 118 million US dollars. The payment would have to be made in bitcoin within the next 24 hours. The offer would not be valid longer." The young man took two plain sheets of paper from his document folder, ticked "Light" under the support package and entered "10 million USD" under the transforming assets and handed Stephen both sheets to sign. Stephen looked questioningly, the young man guessed his thoughts and said with a smile that probably no one knew better than Stephen that an analogue contract was the safest option. "Finally, just one question: at which location do you want the transformation? We currently offer Minneapolis, Berlin, Johannesburg and Canberra for Caucasians." Stephen commented that he would like Berlin. "An excellent choice," was the reply. Then please be in the lobby of the Hotel Adlon in four weeks' time on 28 April at 07:00. Our driver will pick you up there. In this brochure you will find all the information you need to remember until then."

Stephen was breathing heavily when he was out in the fresh air again. He had just spent most of his fortune. No idea if it would all work out. He spread the word among his friends and acquaintances that he had decided to take a year's sabbatical. With complete isolation. He appointed replacements for all his posts. He organised a large amount of cash. For 26 April he organised a big farewell party, at the climax of which he threw his mobile phone into a fire bowl. "My friends, I am gone now" he shouted and, to the jeers of the party guests, boarded his helicopter, which took him to the airport. A few hours later he was over the Atlantic on his way to Berlin.

At 07:00 he was sitting in the lobby of the luxury hotel as arranged. He was wearing a plain suit and had nothing with him except a weekender with 2 million euros in cash and the contract with DeepTraining. Right on time, the revolving door turned and a muscular fella in workout clothes approached him. "Let's go," he said curtly, took Stephen's bag and headed for the exit. Stephen smiled goodbye to the concierge, slipped the doorman another 100 EURO as a tip and got into the Mercedes SUV that was parked in front of the door with the engine running.

The drive was short and ended on an abandoned factory site. In one hall was a gym. Muscle Mountain led the way, Stephen followed. And inside the building, the young man greeted him. "Welcome to DeepTraining. Today your new life begins. Please join me." The two walked to a lift. The young man folded away a sign and scanned his iris with the apparatus behind it. The lift rushed downwards. Stephen didn't know whether to rejoice or try to escape. The lift door opened. The young man explained the rest of the procedure to Stephen. He was to go through the first door and undress. In the room he would find something to wear. Then he should go through the second door. There he would receive instructions over the loudspeaker. He would then receive the bag with the cash back with his starting equipment afterwards.

Stephen took a deep breath and went through the first door. He stripped naked. Probably everything was full of cameras. No matter, there was no way back now. On a chair was equipment for a gym workout. Socks and jockstrap. Shorts and tank top. Shoes. And a belt. Stephen put it all on. It didn't fit front and back. He looked in the big mirror hanging on one wall and had to grin. He looked absolutely ridiculous. Then the second door opened. A rather dark room. It smelled strange… Like a hospital… Or a chemistry lab… A pulsating spotlight illuminated a treadmill. "Stage one: ten minute warm up" Stephen stepped onto the treadmill which automatically started moving. A slight jolt went through his body as he took hold of the handles. The next spot came on. "Three sets of bench press." Stephen lay down on the weight bench and performed the desired exercise. Another beat as he picked up the barbell. Exercises for the legs, for the back, for the biceps followed… Stephen didn't even notice that the weights were getting heavier and heavier. Stephen didn't notice that he was getting heavier and heavier. He had no idea how long the training went on. He had started to sweat massively. Then the light came on. The door opened. The voice said "DeepTraining successfully completed." Stephen couldn't wait. He went into the changing room and looked in the mirror. And had to sit down. The bench groaned under his weight.

The second door opened and the young man stepped inside. He smiled. "Well, I don't think I've seen a more pronounced transformation before. I am very impressed." "But that's not me any more," Stephen said in a considerably lower pitch of voice. "Look closely, it's clearly you. The features, your irises, your fingerprints unchanged. But the rest is indeed…. Bigger…" Stephen looked in the mirror and rubbed his new beard. "But what am I doing now? I look like a freak, don't I?" "Well, I'm glad you asked. First of all, here's her training bag. Your cash is in the side compartment. You'll also find something to put on there if you don't want to go out on the street like that. Here's her new mobile phone. The card is registered to the gym. So is the car that goes with this key. And your flat also belongs to the gym. Here's the address. Go home, get some rest. Or go out and celebrate. It's your new life! However, we will give you tasks to settle in. The first task is to be here in the studio at 08:00 every morning for the next seven days. After that, you will have eight hours of training with a personal trainer. You remember Szymon? He brought you here. With your body, you need to know how to lift iron. Szymon will teach you everything. The second task for the coming week is that showers are taboo. No deodorant, no soap. See you in a week."

Stephen's new car was a massive Dodge RAM emblazoned with the gym's logo. It was something different from the Tesla he had been driving. Finding a parking space for this monstrosity was a challenge, though. Stephen was a little awkward. But he would learn. He could have walked from the flat to the gym. But he also wanted to practise driving and parking in the next few days. A man like him had to be able to do that. He was still a little hesitant about whether his decision had been the right one. Now his self-confidence was growing. He was an alpha man! His flat had two rooms and was on the mezzanine floor of a backyard. There was a pull-up bar in the courtyard. Stephen brought his bag into the flat and went straight back out into the courtyard. He wanted to see what his body could do. He couldn't do more than ten pull-ups. But he also had 140 kilograms of weight to move. Stephen took off his tank top and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Applause came from somewhere in the flat. Someone whistled. And Stephen started the second set.

Without Szymon's help, Stephen would have been lost for the next week. But Szymon taught him how the machines in the Gym worked. Showed him how to pose properly in front of the mirror. Explained to him how to eat. And taught him correct swearing in German and in Polish. Szymon also took Stephen under his wing in the evenings. They went to boxing matches, to illegal gambling dens. And after Stephen's stench was almost unbearable, they went to a hammam on the last day.

The task for the second week was to learn two hours of Turkish and two hours of Polish every day. This training was done in everyday situations. Szymon only spoke Polish during his workout. And Stephen spent the evenings in a Turkish shisha bar. From the third week, Stephen had an additional two hours of supervision in the training area every day.

After two months, Stephen had got used to a completely new rhythm. In the mornings from 08:00 to 10:00 he worked out with Szymon. After that, he usually had the morning shift until 14:00. He then worked out on his own until 18:00. Sometimes he already had clients, but they paid to watch him during his workout rather than have him help them train themselves. Stephen didn't care if he got paid for iron lifting or not. And in the evenings he hung out with his buddies smoking shisha. At weekends, when it got crowded, he increasingly took on the role of bouncer. Stephen would have liked to travel to Turkey to see how far he could get with his language skills. But DeepTraining advised him against travelling to a country outside the Schengen area. The risk of being recognised was too great. So he limited himself to travelling to Poland. There he managed quite well with his Polish, which was getting better and better. And there he always found something to fuck. Not only had his dick grown considerably in the course of the transformation. The same was true for his sex drive. In Germany itself, he managed very well with his English, but Stephen also spoke the Turkish-Arabic-German gibberish that the young Turks in particular spoke in the shisha bars and gyms.

It was the beginning of August and Stephen was lying on the beach of the Baltic Sea in Sopot near Gdansk. Here everyone just called him Stefek and he was a minor celebrity. Since it had become very hot in Berlin, he spent a lot of time here. After all, he didn't depend on his wages at the Gym. Suddenly, the young man from DeepTraining stepped up next to him and said they needed to have a talk. The two sat down in a beach bar a little apart and the young man explained to Stephen that part of the support package was also reintegration into his old life, if that was what he wanted. Stephen had to think. By now he was speaking English with a Polish accent. By now bodybuilding was his purpose in life. By now he had more contact with drug dealers and boxing promoters than with investors or employees. He didn't really know if he wanted to go back to his old life. The young man read his mind. It wasn't about getting his old life back, it was about his old identity. About the world seeing him as Stephen, the successful start-up entrepreneur who had used a year off to take his life in a whole new direction. About being the boss of his own company again if he wanted to. Or that he could just sell everything and start a career as a pimp in the future. As Stephen. And not hiding in the half-light.

The young man said that something had been prepared and that Stephen should read it through at his leisure. Then they could talk on the phone next week. The young man stood up, shook Stephen's hand and left. And Stephen began to read the exposé. The idea was as simple as it was brilliant: Stephen would found a start-up in Poland. Something to do with bodybuilding. With the company, he would present himself to the public as a new person in a good six months. And the people of his past could then consider whether they would accept the new Stephen. Sure, he had enjoyed spending his days iron-stemming or on the beach. But he had missed creating something of his own again. And an idea was quickly outlined. He wanted to develop fitness equipment and dumbbells with sensors. And an app that could connect to the sensors. To record workouts, measure progress, enable comparisons with other athletes. An app to document daily routines and nutrition diaries. And thus create a database for training optimisation. And to simplify the distribution of nutritional supplements. Stephen thought straight through to the exit. DeepTraining actually had to be extremely interested in such an application.

Stefek contacted various gyms in Gdansk and the surrounding area. He met with software companies that had the necessary development capacity. He travelled to various manufacturers of fitness equipment. And by the time the young man got in touch, the business plan was as good as ready. Stefek's cash assets were down to 1.4 million EURO, but none of his Bitcoin assets had been touched yet. So there was plenty of start-up capital. The young man was highly satisfied. Stephen's Bitcoins were brought into the new company in exchange for a ten per cent silent partnership from DeepTraining. All initially as a partnership, all in private. And Stefek was back in business. He changed nothing about his lifestyle. He was no longer made for dress shirts and suits. Nor for small talk and endless meetings with lawyers and consultants. His new business premises were housed in a gym. He didn't want to work with people who couldn't coordinate user stories with him between sets of training.

The use of the two permanent personal trainers by his employees was free, as were the two tattoo artists whose studio was set up next to the cafeteria. Protein and nutritional supplements were allowed to be consumed entirely at the company's expense. The main thing was that the data were all recorded in the new app. Stefek made the start-up cost quite a bit. Especially the generation of data by the pilot users. His growing popularity in the scene certainly made sales easier.

Almost exactly one year after going underground, Stefek climbed back onto the big stage. IronData was presented at the Fibo trade fair in Cologne. He had not only generously distributed the invitations to trade visitors and new friends from the beefcake scene. He had also invited everyone he had said goodbye to a year ago. Not all of them came. But the murmur was great when he was announced by the moderator and then stepped onto the stage in the clothes in which he had carried out his transformation. "Everyone can be whatever they want!" he shouted in welcome. "IronData will take you right there." An image of his old self faded in behind him. And the crowds cheered.

[johaerys-writes]

If you were to do a fancast of your fav The Iliad characters, who would the actors/actresses be?

Oh boy careful what you ask for anon haha. I have to admit that I'm not a huge fancast person, mainly because I can usually *see* the characters in my head too clearly to be able to find a real life reference that matches that, but because of this ask I did some (extensive) research. Not all the people I've chosen are actors so not sure if they'd be able to play in a film but anyway this is fantasy land and it doesn’t matter lol.

The Achaeans

Achilles

I should preface this by saying that I've never found a faceclaim for Achilles that is close to how I imagine him; in my mind his features are quite unusual because of his divine blood, he stands out from other humans in a way that isn't easy to explain. But if I absolutely had to choose I think I'd go with a young Travis Fimmel for Iliad Achilles. He's still not 100% how I imagine him but I think some photos of his from the 90s and early 00s hit close!

Agamemnon

I honestly cannot come up with a better Agamemnon than Kostas Kazakos, the Greek actor who played Agamemnon in the 1977 Michalis Kakogiannis film "Iphigeneia". If he had longer hair it would be even better, but this is how I imagine him most of the time!

Ajax

It was really hard to choose someone for Ajax.... Can Yaman is quite close to how I imagine him, only picture him as fucking MOUNTAIN lmao.

Menelaus

I imagine Menelaus as a redhead and with a gorgeous wild mane, so I think Paul Bullion would fit this quite well!

Odysseus

Another tough one, but I looove Michiel Huisman for Odysseus, I think he would really do him justice.

Diomedes

I couldn't find a single person to match the way I envision him, so imagine him as a mix of Busola Peters and Majesh Jadu!

Patroclus

Oh gosh. Okay okay LISTEN. Patroclus is hands down THE hardest to pin down for me, even in my head his appearance changes so like... I have never managed to find anyone that is close to how I imagine him. I chose Tamino, not because he resembles Pat in my head 100% but based on vibes mostly, just those sad fucking eyes and his profile...... I'm obsessed with him face

Also just imagine him with a beard because I do picture Iliad Patroclus with a beard haha.

Tumblr is being dumb and not letting me add any more pictures, so I'll have to do a pt 2 for the Trojans (bc you bet I have more fancasts lol!! If I could give a face to every single person in the Iliad I would)

[lostinwalmartmymomleftme]

What r ur dreamswap headcanons :3

Have to redo this bc Tumblr hates me:

* 7 each

* Human Ver. Specific

Dream

Dream 100% has something that’s dedicated to Ani, (hospital, orphanage, medical organization, etc.)

To add more depth to him being Latino, I choose to believe he’s Chilean-American

He doesn’t like to be touched, but would never correct anybody on it because he doesn’t want to offend anyone and he doesn’t view it as a priority or concern 

Only has one scar and it was prior to the incident (tm), nightmare, dropped a bowl, and a shard of the ceramic cut dream deep enough to form a scar, and subconsciously Dream doesn’t want it to heal, so it doesn’t fully heal, though it is fairly faint, it’s on his wrist directly above the bone 

He’s probably some form of genderqueer, yeah, doesn’t know it and refuses to look into it because he just doesn’t view it as important, he probably goes by pronouns 

His magical blondness, skips a few streaks of his hair, so he has black streaks that he dies blonde to match the rest of his hair

Canonically multilingual, speaking both English and Mandarin, though I would like to add that he can fluently speak Latin, modern Spanish, and French

Bonus: Dream does that OCD thing (w/o actually having it) where all of his pens when they’re laying on his desk are at the exact same place, in a perfect little row

Nightmare

He sits in trees and people watches, like he sits up in trees, kind of in forests and watches people on picnics and fun little family outings, and tries to imagine what his life would be like if it hadn’t been what it is 

His hair is extremely heat damaged, because he totally straightens it (it’s the only thing about him that’s allowed to be straight /j)

Extension on him canonically being Latino: I think he’s Peruvian-American

For some reason collect bottle caps (like the little metal ones you get on alcohol bottles (he doesn’t drink though))

He has a peanut allergy

Despite being an insomniac, whenever he does actually sleep, he starfishes

He doesn’t like looking in mirrors, there’s anything wrong with it, there isn’t really reason why he doesn’t like it, he just find it unsettling and he covers the one in his room with a blanket

Ink

He has one of those canopy beds, but the actual canopy part is custom painted and embroidered (by himself) with band logos, TV show logos, characters he likes, etc.

He is really bad at spelling, professional emails are more like word scrambles

If someone were to ask him to draw them, he would draw them, claim he made mistake, tear it up, then draw a stick figure, and give it to them

Usual Ethnicity one: he actually doesn’t know his ethnicity beyond being Latino, but he is Cuban-American

He’s emo and claims his favorite color is black, but it’s orange which is equally as bad

He has no real gauge of his own pain tolerance and usually has to be forced into medical situations by other people, usually Dream when he reports back to him

Ink’s allergic to bleach and ant bites

Cross

He hasn’t had his first kiss

He uses Old Spice cologne in the classic scent. But he does it to a NAUSEATING level.

He’s Irish, ethnically. I don’t make the rules.

He’s minorly lactose intolerant

This man owns like five Tamagatchis

He makes really good bread for some reason? Like this man SLAYS a sourdough

Cross uses 3-in-1 bodywash

(This is a Tamagatchi if you don’t know)

Blue

This man wears hair curlers to bed 100%

He’s really bad at math

Probably advocates for eating healthy (being a yoga instructor, possible influencer)

Blue is so ADHD to me

American-Italian/Portuguese

Has never made a bed in his LIFE

Blue seems like the kind of man who would burn water

Error

Clean freak, he prefers to keep the house clean, but it ends up a mess anyways because Cross and Nightmare always end up messing it up

Easily the best driver of the Meme Squad

His lock/homescreen is an inspirational quote

LOVES the rain, finds it calming and loves the smell of it, but hates getting caught out in the rain (loves the aesthetic, hates the actual thing)

Maybe American-Moroccan?

He likes dark fantasy books

Was top of his class when he had been in school, prior to his amnesia

Kevin

Can read. (Can’t write (no thumbs))

Can and does steal from the meme squad

Bonus:

How long I think it takes DS to get ready in the mornings:

Dream takes a solid hour and a half

Blue takes an hour

Nightmare takes 45 minutes

Cross and Ink take 15-20 minute for the sake of layers

Error and Finch take like 5 bc they dress really basic

dreamswap by @\onebizarrekai