#someone high ranked and connected to Things

[alinathinkstoomuch]

PART OF THE JOB

pairing: dbf!bodyguard!hotch x reader summary: you go to a party to make hotch jealous and, in the process, end up butt-dialing him mid-make-out with another guy…oops, based on this request. warnings | an: jealous jealous super jealous hotch, protective hotch, age gap, mutual pining, tension, lil bit of manhandling, 2 divas arguing instead of kissing, angst if you squint, r is a brat. word count: 2.2k

✧ masterlist

Being a good kisser had never ranked high on your list of life priorities…until now. The sloppy lips currently smothering yours made you want to reconsider that standard entirely. And, annoyingly, all you could think about was how Aaron—no, Hotch, you reminded yourself—probably wouldn’t kiss like this.

He seemed like he'd be patient and gentle at first. He would take his time, studying, sensing your body before he decided to take it any further. He’d wait, just until a whimper was on the tip of your tongue before giving in, silencing you with his.

He had spent years, decades even, studying people’s behaviour for a living. And that skill was bound to apply to scenarios a little less gruesome than murder.

And his hands—so big—seemed like they would cradle you in place. Keep you still. Keep you there, ready for his taking. Fingertips moulding into your skin as his mouth trailed lazily down your neck.

The thought alone made you moan into the mouth of someone who neither deserved it nor was the reason for it. But Steven had taken it as encouragement anyway, his hands sliding down to your ass. They felt smaller. Wrong. Insufficient in every way Hotch’s wouldn’t be.

You pulled back slightly, lips parted, the words you’re not him taunting your tongue, only to frazzle into nothingness as you remembered all the countless times you’d practically thrown yourself at Hotch only to get nothing in return.

You had a pool. A big, gorgeous pool that mostly just existed for when your father’s friends brought their kids over. Otherwise, it sat untouched. You never really cared for swimming anyway. Chlorine clinging to your skin and ruining your hair? Not exactly your thing.

But you had noticed that on the gentler mornings, when your father was out of town, Hotch would sit outside with his coffee and the newspaper, positioned perfectly to face the said pool.

So, naturally, you decided that morning swims were now officially your thing. Wellness era, fresh air, early starts, all the things magazines were banging on about. Never mind that the swims lasted fifteen minutes and the everything shower that followed took forty-five.

You’d swim a few laps, then stretch out along the edge of the pool. You’d tip your head back, sun catching your skin, doing your best to coax even the smallest comment from the man who seemed permanently committed to keeping his mouth shut, and his eyes anywhere but on you.

But by your fourth attempt, you were convinced he’d started timing it. Closing the paper or standing up just before you decided to get out, like clockwork.

That was just one entry on the ever-growing, mildly unhinged list of attempts you’d made to get him to notice you.

There were others. Of course there were.

The final straw came in Steven’s bedroom. A house party that had slowly devolved into a bedroom party. One that, unfortunately, only one of you (Steven) seemed to be enjoying.

Hotch had been so good at dodging any and all attempts to get even a sliver of attention—anything that didn’t fall strictly within the bounds of his contract to keep you safe—that you’d started to think you’d imagined the connection between you altogether.

It felt less like something real and more like a concept. An idea to keep you company on the nights you couldn’t sleep, and, apparently, during moments like this, when you were actively trying to scrub him from your mind by hooking up with someone you had barely any interest in… only to end up thinking about that damn scowl anyway.

You pulled back all the way this time, a hand flat on Steven’s chest.

“I—I need a second,” you mumbled, standing almost too quickly, the drinks you’d indulged in earlier deciding your balance.

“Is something wrong?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, mostly to stop yourself from blurting out the truth that yes, everything was wrong. Because the man you actually wanted was old enough to be both Steven’s father and yours, and you had no business wanting him the way you did.

“No, Steven,” you said, forcing a breathy laugh as you smoothed your hands over your hips. “I’m just a little hot, you know? No AC in here, let’s crack a window open, yeah?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but you were too warm to care. You turned and made your way across the room. Your fingers curled around the latch, starting to twist it open, only to freeze at the banging on the bedroom door.

“Uh hey? Sorry to interrupt your, um… whatever, but—” The door creaked open, and one of Steven’s friends poked their head in. “There’s some strange man at the door who just threatened to break my arm if I didn’t tell him where you were.”

Steven straightened immediately and it almost seemed endearing. “What the hell, I’ll go down—”

“No,” you cut in quickly, grabbing his arm before he could move. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”

“You sure? Sounds like a psycho.”

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just my babysitter making sure I haven’t been kidnapped,” you muttered, brushing past Steven’s friend in the hallway as you headed for the stairs.

You were halfway down by the time your eyes landed on him, standing on the doorstep like a vampire who refused to enter without an invitation. You raised your brows first, the disbelief plain on your face, before hissing, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Your father wants you home.”

“My father is in a completely different state and has no clue where I am,” you bit back, whipping your head over your shoulder at the sudden stillness behind you.

Several pairs of eyes were strained on the two of you. At least the music was loud enough to drown out your voices, leaving them only with a visual, like a grainy, black-and-white movie.

“I will shut this place down quicker than you can blink if you don’t get in the car.”

“Feel free,” you encouraged, arms settling comfortably on your chest as you crossed them. “Did you bring your badge for the full effect, or was that confiscated before you swapped the FBI for a career in babysitting?”

Your name fell out of his lips in warning.

“There is no danger here. Just a bunch of honry young adults. Feel free to resume your evening, Hotch.” You reached for the door, hand already moving to slam it in his face, but he was painfully faster.

His own hand shot out, catching the door before it even reached the halfway mark. With a slight shove, he forced it back open and before you could react, that same hand was wrapping around your wrist.

“What the hell—” you started, but he was already pulling you through the door.

You stumbled after him, heels clicking against the pavement as he all but dragged you toward the car.

“Let go of me,” you yelled, yanking against his grip.

“I asked you nicely.” He didn’t even look back. “You wanted a scene, now you’ve got one.”

You dug your heels in, breath catching as anger surged in your chest, before you confidently decided to take a page out of his handbook.

“I will have you out of a job before you’ve even put the keys in the ignition if you don’t let go of me right now.”

That stopped him.

He turned to face you, your wrist slipping free. “Do you want to use my phone or yours to call your father and tell him you spent the night getting drunk, letting some guy crawl all over you?”

“What?” Your stomach dropped, brows pinching together as the words landed.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You pocket-dialled me.”

“No, I didn’t,” you breathed, denial rushing out as your hands flew to your back pocket, fingers scrambling for your phone.

You unlocked the screen, heading straight to your call log.

There it was.

Hotch (bane of my existence) – 5 minutes, 42 seconds.

Fuck.

“That was an accident,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Which, technically, was true. You wanted him to imagine it, paint his own picture when you walked out in that low cut top, knowing full well he’d track your location to Steven’s house. You wanted to get under his skin, not give him front-row seats to the sound of your moaning.

He said nothing.

Just stood there, watching you like he could see straight through every excuse before you even placed them in a sentence.

“I figured. Didn’t sound like you meant to call anyone.”

Heat flooded to your cheeks, every drop of blood in your body momentarily being replaced by molten embarrassment. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, so you sighed, then walked past him, spotting his car parked a short distance away.

He followed without a word, but when you reached the curb, he moved ahead and opened the passenger side for you.  

The call had lasted almost six minutes.

And he hadn’t hung up.

He’d stayed on the line, listening to Steven’s hands on you. Listening to the moans that weren’t meant for him but came from thoughts that were. Thoughts that had always been about him.

You stared at the window, your teeth picking apart the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on the blur of streetlights instead of the shame simmering beneath your skin, settling into the space where your confidence used to live.

Still, he said nothing as he drove.

Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t bring it up. Didn’t even look at you.

Back to the usual, then.

Pretending like nothing had ever happened. Like this was just another night, another drive. Like escorting you home after dragging you out of a party wasn’t personal, and instead was just part of the job.

As if you were the only one making this complicated. As if you were reading too much into things. Like he hadn’t quite literally shown up, stormed in, and hauled you out after listening to you dry-hump someone else over the phone.

“Are you hungry?” he asked after a moment, the delivery of the question and when he chose to ask it pulling a laugh out of you.

“Really? You came all this way to make sure I’ve eaten dinner?”

“A yes or no would suffice,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road.

“No, Hotch. I’m not hungry. Though I probably would’ve worked up an appetite if Steven had finished what he started.”

His jaw twitched—just slightly—knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m sure you’re not missing much,” he said flatly. “He seemed a little sloppy.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, a bitter little smile curling at your lips. “You got all that just from listening in? Bet you wished it was a FaceTime call instead, huh? Would’ve really completed the picture for you.”

“You think that’s funny?”

You shrugged, fingers busying themselves with pulling apart the loose threads of your denim skirt. “I mean, don’t you? You’re the one who stayed on the line for six minutes just to judge my taste in men.”

“Boys,” he corrected.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Because a man would never string me along. Never make me feel like I’m imagining things. It’s the boys that are the problem.”

He stopped at a red light, using the pause to turn toward you but you shifted immediately, pressing yourself further into the door, angling your body away from him. As far away as you could get without actually jumping out of the car.

“I just don’t think you should be giving your attention to people that don’t deserve it.”

“And where do you think you fall on that scale?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“I don’t.”

You frowned. “You don’t what?”

“I don’t fall anywhere on it,” he replied simply. “I’m not supposed to be on the scale.”

“Right.” You nodded once, popping the t. “Of course not.”

“I—”

“Just take me home, Hotch,” you cut in, turning your body back toward the window. “I’m tired, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to be around you anymore.”

Lies. All of it. Every single word.

You wanted to stay in that car until he cracked. Until he slipped up. Until he admitted something. But there was only so many hits your pride could take in one night, and you were already bleeding from every place that counted.

He obliged to your request, shifting the car back into gear the second the light turned green.

The rest of the ride back was spent in silence. Halfway through you reached for the radio and started flipping through the stations, deliberately landing on the cheesiest pop music you could find, just to irritate him further.

And when he finally pulled into the driveway, you wasted no time reaching for the door handle, but his voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to keep trying so hard.”

You turned to face him. “What?”

He stared ahead, not looking at you. “To get my attention. You already have it.”

Your breath caught, stuck somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

You nodded again, this time managing to successfully open the car door.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @writerskive

[astrolook]

👩‍❤️‍👨Spouse Observations🌈

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

If 7th lord Sun is in 5H, spouse might be the eldest or the only child in their family. A protective spouse and would be a strict parent to your children. Spouse would be educated and could be in a high ranking position or hold certain authority over people at work. Spouse would be attracting a lot of attention from the opposite sex as well. They're definitely a whole package when it comes to marriage.

If 7th lord Mercury Rx is in 3H, spouse can have a bad handwriting and may have little to no friends. Spouse would look a lot like their father and can be wearing glasses since childhood.

If 7th lord Moon is in 10th house, spouse would be the favorite child for their mom. Spouse would support your goals and would help you with your career just by being there for you. You can rely on them completely. Spouse would be dependable and would expect you to be close with their mother.

If 7th lord Moon is in 11H, spouse would resemble a lot like their grandma/grandpa. They can be overly sensitive at times and gets frustrated and irritated when surrounded by people or in crowds in general. Spouse might even avoid family gatherings or leave as soon as possible.

If 7th lord Venus is in 8H, spouse would be mysterious, secretive and beautiful / handsome. You might meet them when you hit rock bottom in your life or going through a bad or depressive phase of your life. Spouse would be wealthier than you and it points to someone, you, taking risks and everything in order to have that person in your life like leaving a bad circumstances, becoming sober, giving up bad habits, cut off ties with certain people, changing your career direction,etc.

If 7th lord Mars is in 1H, spouse would approach you and they would be the chaser in a bit over the top way. They might nag you at times and you're constantly on their head. A half of their day would be spent thinking about you and plotting different ways to woo you or to be with you. They might be a little bit clingy and bit possessive as well.

If 7th lord is Jupiter Rx, spouse might be an alcoholic or into drugs or be having certain addiction. However, after meeting you they either get sober or get into extremes, depending on other placements. This also indicated that spouse would be wasting their time on things and people that don't serve them and can be surrounded by enablers or people who take advantage of them. Interestingly, your spouse would be self aware to know this but still goes with the flow. That's the beauty of Jupiter Rx.

If 7th lord is Saturn, spouse would be matured but can restrict you at times, depending on the house it sits. Saturn in 3rd, restricts the way you communicate with others. Saturn in 9th, spouse won't travel much faraway from home. If so, they travel alone. Saturn in 11th, decides your network and other connections.

If 7th lord is Saturn Rx, spouse would be a homebody. Smart worker. Can be lazy at times and wants things the easy way. Saturn Rx in 1st, spouse wants you to accompany them everywhere and you end up having a lot on your plate. Saturn Rx in 4th, spouse might resign their job and might become a stay-at-home partner. Saturn Rx in 10th, spouse's career takes off in their 30s and can get into lot of trouble at work. Spouse can become unemployed for sometime in their late 20s or early 30s.

If 7th lord is Venus, your spouse would be beautiful/handsome than their peers.

If 7th lord Mercury is in 12H, spouse would have the ability to understand things that's beyond our physical realm. Spouse might even be an astrologer/tarot reader, psychic, ghost writer or in the movie-industry, etc. Spouse would talk in their sleep as well. They would be interested in the paranormal and strange phenomenons. Spouse can hide certain things about their interests/hobbies fearing they would be deemed crazy. Can indicate mental health issues in some cases. A foreigner.

If 7th lord Mars is in 8H, spouse would be multifaceted and it's like living with 5 people at the same time. High libido. Can be stubborn in what they want and can be "my way or the highway" type. Spouse can run into lot of trouble involving finances, in extreme cases, can get arrested and serve jail time.

If 7th lord is Mercury Rx, spouse would be prone to migraines/headaches, can either stutter or wear glasses or think of 250 words all at once and ends up speaking very little. Spouse can have the habit of biting their nails or their hands might sweat a lot of they're nervous. Spouse might have an eating disorder, in some cases. In some cases, OCD. Spouse can have dark circles under their eyes. Can be good at drawing and a late bloomer for sure.

✨🔍Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[justchillgurl]

Chapter 2: Smoking Mirrors.

Summary: Geum Seong-je isn’t one to care about school politics, but something about her—the girl with the chessboard smile and debt-tracked hands—gets under his skin. From hallway glimpses to quiet observation, he begins to unthread her method. Not to expose her. Just to see if she ever slips.

He doesn’t think she will. That’s what makes it interesting.

Warnings: none (not yet at least.) just seongje smoking.

Author's note: I'm not really confident about those chapters, feel free to give your feedback. English is not my first language, please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes. Thank you🫶🏼

Check this out!@

The lighter clicked once. Twice. Flame hissed, flickered, and died against the afternoon wind.

Seong-je exhaled through his teeth, dug the lighter deeper into his palm, and tried again. On the third attempt, it caught. The tip of the cigarette burned soft orange as he leaned back against the cracked brick wall outside the east stairwell, smoke curling lazily around his face.

He wasn’t supposed to be out here. Not technically.

But that was the whole point.

Classes were still in session. The school felt hollow in this part of the building—too far from the teachers’ offices, too quiet for anyone to bother checking. A graveyard for rusted lockers and long-forgotten announcements. Seong-je liked it here. It was predictable in its neglect.

His phone buzzed.

Seong-Mok: u gonna show up today or what?

He locked the screen without answering.

Seong-je didn’t skip class because he had better things to do. He skipped because nothing in that building made him feel awake. He’d already figured out which teachers didn’t bother calling names, which students kept their heads down, and which staff gave up trying to correct him.

He existed at the edge of Kanghak High’s awareness. Not low enough to worry about. Not loud enough to deal with.

Except now there was her.

He’d been watching her longer than he liked to admit.

It started in the convenience store. The way she measured every action, every word, like she was scoring a game only she understood. She didn’t seek attention, but it followed her anyway—hovering around her sharp shoulders and immovable stare.

He didn’t care about rumors, but even he’d heard things.

She was the one with the notes. The blog. The connections. She never raised her voice. Never smiled for no reason. And never helped without a trade.

A few days after their non-meeting, he saw her again.

She was sitting in the back corner of the library, laptop open, typing fast and without pause. Her phone buzzed three times—she ignored it. Her bag sat on the floor, half unzipped, with a folder of printed sheets sticking out like pressed wings.

He didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.

He just watched.

The next day, she was walking across the courtyard, head tilted as someone tried desperately to gain her approval. Seong-je could tell. The body language was all there—hands fidgeting, voice too eager, laugh a little too loud. She listened with that same neutral expression, nodding only once before slipping a folded note into the person’s hand.

Transaction complete.

He lit another cigarette.

He didn’t want to interact. Not yet. That wasn’t how you watched people like her. You didn’t start by talking. You started by observing—finding the cracks. The inconsistencies. The rules she followed and when she bent them.

He already knew some of them.

She refused requests that weren’t worth her time. She wore earbuds in crowded spaces—not because she liked music, but because it gave her an excuse not to engage.

She smiled differently depending on who was talking.

To teachers: soft, respectful.

To classmates: polite, measured.

To those beneath her ranking system: almost invisible.

There was a system. He was sure of it.

And it intrigued the hell out of him.

One afternoon, he caught a sliver of her voice near the back staircase. Someone was begging—literally—for help on a scholarship essay. She didn’t yell. She didn’t even sound annoyed.

“Do you really think my notes are free?” she said calmly.

“No, no—I’ll pay. I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“I don’t want desperation. I want results. I want return.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“Make me a deal that makes sense. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

She walked off. Her steps echoed sharp and fast.

She didn’t glance at Seong-je as she passed.

But he noticed her thumb flick across her phone screen the moment she turned the corner. Probably logging the encounter. Updating a name. Moving pieces.

He tossed the cigarette butt into a gutter and kicked the edge of a bench.

The weird thing was, he didn’t want anything from her. Not really. He wasn’t looking for help, or notes, or connections. He wasn’t even looking for a fight.

He just wanted to know if she ever messed up.

If the game she was playing was as perfect as she made it look.

Because people like her didn’t run without cracks. No matter how polished. No matter how precise.

And Geum Seong-je had time. He had silence. And he had an unsettling talent for noticing what others ignored.

He could wait.

This is gonna be fucking fun.

So I decided to drop the chapter tonight, felt like it.

Hope you enjoy reading it🫂.

[acowardinmordor]

I’m waiting at the gate to board a plane, so have the next blip of thought for that high angst secret admirer thing

-

Lucas, the only of the kids with an ounce of emotional awareness knows that something is up with Steve. He also knows that Eddie has been in a manic grief. He doesn’t connect the two. Yet.

He sits with Steve and Robin at lunch at least a couple times a week, and screw Hellfire if they have a problem with it. Basketball team too. Steve is a full stop loser now, and Lucas was for years, he’s going to stand by him. Also, Steve saved his life, literally, repeatedly, high school popularity doesn’t exactly compare.

Ofc Steve tells him he doesn’t need to, but Lucas knows that the guy is sad about something, and extra sad that Dustin is still following Eddie like a duckling. Robin calls him out on it, but Steve has been talking about himself like he’ll never be more than a bullying popular kid. Lucas hates that most of all.

Then again, Eddie is obviously spun up about something. He’s twitchy and snappish, but he’s being nicer than normal to the jocks and popular kids. The thread he can pull on is seeing Eddie scribbling in a notebook - not his campaign notebook - but guarded just as carefully. Lucas follows him eventually and sees the poor, abused copy of the Hobbit in the library.

He reads the start of one, an apology for whatever he did that made his admirer stop writing. There’s a quote near the end from what must have been the other persons last note.

Lucas is smart. Lucas can see the pattern. He takes every single letter. Isn’t going to read them, but the one he read made it clear the both were gay, and there’s only one Eddie in school who would reference lord of the rings.

It’s for Eddie’s safety. It’s for Steve’s safety.

He doesn’t tell anyone. Not even Robin or Max, who have closed ranks around Steve.

Lucas feels like the worst person on the planet when Eddie is giddy the next day. Then his mood sinks back down as the days go by.

Since he isn’t actually the worst, Lucas doesn’t read the letters. Or tell Steve he knows. By the start of winter break, Eddie has stopped leaving letters. All of which are in a box under Lucas’ bed. He’s meaner after break. His rants are more pointed. Lucas gets called out for playing basketball and betraying nerds everywhere.

Steve is withdrawn and quiet, doesn’t even show up to lunch most days, and just keeps telling them that they don’t need to pretend they like him because of the Upside Down. That it’s okay. He knows who he really is. He laughs it off as a joke when someone argues.

But Lucas pays attention, understands why Steve thinks that, and honestly, it makes him hate the Hellfire guys a little. Makes him resent Mike and Dustin even more.

[dannyriccsystem]

Your pick for the soulmate au!

YOU BELONG WITH ME.

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Summary: The red string of fate connects you and… Carlos Sainz. Unfortunately, you don’t believe in soulmates.

Warnings: Light angst with happy ending, not proofread, use of Y/N

Featuring: Soulmate!Carlos Sainz x Soulmate!Reader

Thank you for the request. I spun a wheel and it gave me Carlos!! I’m Watching the race right now… I feel like I’m losing my marbles. 😭 As of the time I am posting this, Norris in first!

The Red String felt like a cruel joke at times. It was a fleeting reminder of someone linked to your very soul since birth, destined by the universe to come together as one. It’s not like the books say, though, because the string nearly has a mind of its own.

It’s as if it likes to play tricks. One moment you’ll see a flash of your fate, drawn in a red line, from the corner of your eye, but as soon as you turn to follow its direction, it’s like the string was never there to begin with. The tales you’ve been told always say that the closer you get, the more visible your connection becomes, but you’ve never been lucky enough to catch it in the act.

Why is why you don’t believe in soulmates.

It has to be some tale made up to please the minds of hopeless romantics. Perhaps it’s just a trick of the light or vision impairment that causes the belief this string is plausible, but there’s no way in hell you’d fall for such a stupid thing. Soulmates weren’t real, and you were adamant about that.

You’ve gone years without paying it any mind. On rare occasion you’d see a flash of red, and for just one moment you wanted to let yourself fall into the beliefs of everyone else, but without fail you always shrugged it off and made up excuses for what else it could possibly be. On even rarer occasions, approximately once or twice a year, you’d feel a tug deep in your core, like someone was physically pulling your heartstrings.

‘It was just the weather messing with me,’ you’d tell yourself so nonchalantly. Deep down you knew better than that. You just didn’t want to, so you kept pushing it away.

To escape your own mind, you started working for the Williams F1 team in 2024. You didn’t have a high ranking job or anything huge— No, you were just another factory worker who sorted through the loads of fan mail and such that Alex and Logan received, ensuring their safety and security over all else. It was a lackluster job, but it paid well and it was a fun title to bear.

Carlos Sainz was a hopeless romantic. He could remember his father telling him the story of how he came across his mother when he was a young child. He’d always tell the young boy every detail of his red string, and how he followed it to the ends of the earth to locate his soulmate because he couldn’t stand living without her.

He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps: Search for his soulmate, woo her, marry her, create a life with her— But he couldn’t. The string never made an appearance in his life, besides the occasional glimmer of light, like a teasing spirit. He wanted to follow it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even see it to begin with.

When he started racing, it felt like he was giving up. His schedule was too crowded to go on long hunts for this mysterious woman who was unknowingly occupying every corner of his mind. He looked for a connection with every woman he met, desperate to seek out the love and affection he grew up watching his parents share.

So many people were willing to be his soulmate, but none of them truly were. Everyday, every woman he spoke to, felt like a twist of the knife. It was unfair how love surrounded him, but never made its way over to bless his heart.

He found solace in Rebecca Donaldson. Smart, funny, beautiful. He was desperate for a warm body to come home to, even if it wasn’t the person he was fated to love. He was rising to the top in his league, which meant he’d have to put the soulmate thing behind him. He liked Rebecca well enough.

It was time to focus on his career, anyway.

…

But it all came crashing down faster than he could comprehend. It was early in the 2024 season that he received news Lewis Hamilton would be replacing him upon the end of Carlos’ contract. It hurt, it did. He understood why— Who wouldn’t want a seven time world champion on their team, but that didn’t erase the pain.

He tried to use that season as a way to prove himself. Maybe he could swap, and take Hamilton’s place with Mercedes, but as quick as that opportunity arose, it was snatched away even faster. The search started to feel useless, and Carlos started to feel desperate.

With his dignity left behind him, he signed with Williams, and decided he was going to prove his worth even more.

The promotion hit like a train driving at its full speed. One day you were mindlessly clocked in, occupying the heartless space of your office cubicle. The winter break season was coming to an end, which meant that it was just a few more days until things started to get more lively around the office. Cars would be running, letters would be flying in, and data would need to be crunched. You both dreaded it and yearned for it at the same time. At least it gave you something to do.

Thankfully, though, your boredom was quickly swept away as a breeze of excitement came bustling through the door. A few employees poked their heads out, but you stuck to your screen.

“Y/N,” A firm voice spoke from behind you. You perked up, turning around in your office chair to come face to face with your boss, James Vowles. In most occupational spaces, seeing your boss wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But in the Formula One business, a team principal talking directly to you was either terribly good or terribly bad.

“Oh! James, good morning.” The guy was nice enough. It was hard to gauge what type of person he was, exactly. You stood up, straightening out your shirt. It felt like the professional thing to do, but afterwards you felt really awkward and out of place.

“Listen, our media manager had to quit for family reasons. I know it’s last minute, but how about a promotion?” He says it with a charming smile, like it’s not big deal.

Maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t sound like a big deal, but it was. The media manager got to travel with the drivers and the rest of the team— The media manager was part of the team. It was a huge upgrade from a factory office worker. You struggled to respond for a moment, sitting there like a blubbering toddler.

“I- Yes, sorry! Yes, that would be… Incredible, sir.” You politely bowed your head, and the world felt like it was spinning. Someone should really pinch you, because this felt like a longtime dream come true. You were finally moving up!

“Great.” He claps you on the shoulder, giving a hearty laugh. You’re frigid, unable to move from nerves. “Join us in our team meeting tomorrow, then. You can meet the drivers and all the engineers, and start discussing some ideas.”

You nod, lips drawn into a thin line. You’re afraid that you’ll say something stupid if you speak, so this will have to do. As the team principal leaves, you draw up just enough courage to shout after him, “Thank you, James!”

Carlos wanted to know if you were seeing it too.

He noticed it the moment he landed in Grove, the home of the Williams HQ. The bright red string gently tugging on his soul, as if beckoning for him to follow. It mocked him terribly so, existing as a challenge. ‘Find her,’ it’d say like a faint whisper in the breeze. ‘Your soulmate.’

But Rebecca waited for him at home, quietly loving him from afar. To even consider his soulmate felt like betrayal, so he made the most difficult choice of his entire life: He chose to ignore it. Even though he had longed for this day since he was young, and even though he wanted nothing more than to find you… He ignored it.

But it didn’t ignore him.

He was there for a meeting, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. This would be a good time to bond with the team he’d be spending a few years with— It was like a fresh start. But he had to wonder if he was subconsciously following the string, or if it was following him.

He stepped out of the car, thanking the driver before heading inside of the headquarters. The tug grew stronger, the string grew brighter.

You.

He sat across the table from you, trying to look anywhere but into your eyes. Your beautiful eyes that were incredibly captivating. Most of all, he was trying not to look at where the string tautly connected to your heart, right in the center of your chest, because then he’d have to acknowledge how it sprouted out from his just the same.

You seemed unfazed, and Carlos was left to wonder if this was just the result of trickery by fate. Maybe you were his soulmate, but he wasn’t yours. Maybe it was from the lack of sleep on the plane ride over— Maybe this wasn’t real at all. Maybe he was still asleep.

He’s not. It’s real. He can tell when he feels Alex elbow him gently in the ribs. It hurt momentarily, the pain subsiding quickly. It was sharp and quick enough for reality to sink in. “Are you listening?” His new teammate would mutter, taking note of his companion’s wandering eyes. Carlos just nodded, but his mind didn’t agree as it wandered off once more.

…

You noticed it alright. You just didn’t want to have to face your fear right now, because in your head none of this was real still. Soulmates didn’t exist— There was always a scientific explanation for something. Soulmates were a ridiculous myth. That red string meant nothing, it was simply…

Well, you didn’t know.

Before you could make excuses. The glimpse of red was just a weird angle of lighting, and the tugging was just acid reflux. But now? There was a bright red string connecting the man who sat just a few feet away from you. There was nothing to make that comprehensible.

After the meeting finished up, you decided to put on the most professional facade possible. You stood, straightening out your plain white button up and black slacks. Your kitten heels clicked on the linoleum tile, a friendly grin taking over.

“Carlos, Alex,” You began, gaining the attention of the two drivers. Your eyes locked with your soulmate momentarily, and you could see the befuddlement written in his eyes. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Y/N, your new media manager. I’ll be charge of all the team’s official socials, and you can always ask me for advice on what to post and whatnot.”

You held your hand out to Alex first, still trying to work up enough courage to even look at Carlos for more than five seconds. For God’s sake, you were a grown ass woman who couldn’t even face her soulmate head on. The younger driver, by one year, shook your hand swiftly, uttering some form of thanks with a polite smile. You disregarded it.

You held your hand out to Carlos, swallowing thickly. He seemed to hesitate, but eventually gave your hand a firm shake.

This would be fine.

“Do you see it?” Carlos had spontaneously asked you one day. You were both filming a video for the Williams racing TikTok page. It was meant to be a silly video of both the drivers answering some questions from fans in preparation for the Australian Grand Prix, which was kicking off the 2025 season. You already filmed the segment with Alex.

“What?” You asked incredulously, your brows furrowed at the crypticness of his query. He nodded his head as if it was obvious, waiting for you to read his mind. “See what?” You had a feeling you knew what he was talking about, but you wanted to hear it firsthand. Just to confirm.

“The string.” He lifted a hand, waving it over the string. It wavered, but quickly went back to its taut form. “You’re my soulmate,” He said it as if he was telling himself rather than you.

It was time to face the truth. There was no getting out of this one. “No,” You muttered, your trembling hands slowly pocketing your work phone. The video had been long forgotten. “I don’t do that soulmate stuff.”

He blinked, shaking his head like he was trying to snap himself out of a nightmare. “What do you mean you don’t do soulmate stuff?”

“I mean I don’t believe in it.” You huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. “It’s ridiculous. You mean to tell me the universe has destined us to be together? I mean, come on. You already have a girlfriend, and we just met. We’re both going on thirty— Why would we just now be meeting?!”

You sucked in a breath, realizing that you had been ranting unintentionally. After another sigh, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“You have visible proof, and you’re denying it?”

“Yes, because it’s just too… Insane to imagine.” It had always been that way— There was no life without soulmates, but some people denied everything out there. You were one of them. “I’m sorry, Carlos.”

He felt his heart shatter right there. With a deep breath, he shook the pain off. “Let’s just film the video.” You had no complaints to such a suggestion. Pulling the phone back out, you began to read off the questions while recording his response.

The season was going well… For one of the drivers. Alex was performing beautifully considering he was driving for a team with a… Less than great reputation. He had already scored more points in two races than he did during the entire 2024 season. It was the year of the Williams.

Carlos, however, was doing terribly. He was too distracted to think about racing at the moment. All he wanted was you. All you wanted was to do your job, and to avoid him. That’s what it seemed like, anyway.

He decided not to give up. You might not believe in soulmates, but surely you believed in love. Carlos would just have to win you over from scratch— The old fashioned way.

He broke up with Rebecca. It was hard, but she took the news well and wished him luck with his career. He was sure she was probably looking for her own true soulmate herself.

It started off slowly. He’d compliment you in passing, you’d thank him, and you’d both move on. But as the days went by, his efforts became more dramatic. Flowers delivered to your hotel room, light brushing of hands while walking, unintentional lunch and dinner dates where you guys just ‘happened’ to be in the same place at the same time.

If you could forget your bonded fates, Carlos was good company.

…

“What are your intentions?” You asked suddenly, taking him by surprise. It was another mishap where you both decided to get lunch at the same local place, and he chose to sit with you for whatever reason. He perked up, slurping up the noddles of his pasta.

“What?” He questioned innocently with the tilt of his head. You gripped your silverware tight, your jaw clenched. This guy was frustrating. Frustratingly charming.

“You have a girlfriend, why are you trying to woo me.” So you did know.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin, swallowing his bite before talking, like the gentleman he was, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“I broke up with her,” He shrugged lightly. “I want to prove myself to you.”

This was extra frustrating. Some guy you barely knew, who just happened to be your soulmate, breaking up with his girlfriend to pursue you. “Why?”

“Because,” He looked you in the eyes, and you felt your breath hitch. “Maybe you don’t believe in soulmates,” He tapped his fingers against the table, carefully considering his word choice. “But you believe in love. So I’m going to prove that I’m lovable.”

You stared at him, taking time to process his response. This was hard, because you found that incredibly cute. With a flushed face, you just shook your head and began to cut up your own food aggressively, earning a chuckle from Carlos.

The whole team was celebrating. Carlos had managed to land himself on the third step of the podium during the Miami Grand Prix, with Alex just a few places behind him. It was the first podium of the year for Williams, and the first one in nearly four years overall.

The party, limited to team members and their friends only, was lively and exciting. But even with this grand accomplishment sitting on his shoulders, Carlos’ only concern was how you were reacting. He sought you out in the corner, sitting by yourself with your phone. You seemed content.

“Nothing to say?”

“Congratulations,” You replied with a little smirk, looking up at him. “What? Were you expecting more?”

“I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. You’re my soulmate.”

You rolled your shoulders back, looking down to hide the fond grin on your face. “Keep trying, Sainz.”

[waaaffle]

I have seen people genuinely disappointed that Apothecary Diaries is not yuri, and it's so funny because there is not a single point (canonically) in the series that suggests that she has so much as romantic crush on any woman??? 😭 Some even treat it as criticism, which is kinda weird since the story would not be remotely the same if not for Maomao and Jinshi's overall dynamic and connection (not just the romantic aspect of their relationship) which is, in part, influenced by their positions in society as a commoner woman and a high-ranking man.

I kinda feel like people want to change things about Maomao's character to fit a mold that she just doesn't fit. Someone pointed out that one of the reasons why Jinshi seems to be the only character in the series that people constantly hold to modern standards is because he gets in the way of her fitting that mold. The excuses I see just to make her being in a relationship with him seem "forced" are hilarious; y'all need to be comfortable disliking things simply because you don't like it. Some of the same people who get mad at people for enjoying the romance aspect of the series when it's not harming anyone. I agree that the series is so much more than just romance, but that doesn't mean that it being someone's favorite aspect is wrong. Part of me thinks that some people feel as if she isn't "unique" enough if she falls for him, when a) that doesn't ruin her character and b) she has so many qualities that make her interesting regardless.

For example, I saw a post (not on here) that said it was terrible to see a girl so "obviously" autistic and ace-coded to be "groomed" into a romantic relationship. It really gets to a point. 😅

And her only falling for one (very persistent and attentive) person makes so much sense because it is hard for her to even open up her walls enough to openly regard someone as a friend (like in the most recent episode). What makes you think she will go around easily falling for all these people.

People are going to have to come to terms with the fact that, although romance isn't the main genre, there is without a doubt romantic development between the two, especially starting with LN 5 content.

(This is about the general online English-speaking side of the fandom — especially twitter and tiktok. This is not about people who enjoy other ships, just my thoughts about people who I have seen complain and act like it drags the series down.)

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader]

Note: I have no idea what to call this AU, but I don't think a lot of people will read this so... Haha~ Mental AU? Chaos AU?

Update! This AU is called Mana Chaos AU! Plus there's Part 2 up!!

Part 1 (here) 一 Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4

Once, the world’s strongest Hunters were revered as humanity’s saviours and heroes for the weak and ordinary. They were once treated like celebrities and hold the highest power and authority. They were respected, praised, and idolized. They still were, now, with a hint of fear.

It all happened due to the infamous incident now dubbed as <The Outrage Incident>. It happened like any other day, in any other country, in any other city. But to only that one strong Hunter. He was an S-Rank Mage, a successful and loved one at that. The story goes like this. 

One day, this powerful Hunter was out on the street enjoying a day off, but something set him off and he used his powerful ability to set things right. It would have been the end of it since an S-Rank’s threat was enough to make the majority crumble. However, his power got out of control and caused an outrage to his being. He was using his powers in public and there was no dungeon outbreak or monsters nearby for him. No amount of justification could calm the public.

After that one incident, other countries’ S-Rank or higher started to experience a similar issue. The worst case was that even Healers of their level didn’t escape such a phenomenon. Soon, the public feared the strong protectors they once saw as shields and swords against the gates. 

Researchers and scientists were put to work quickly to investigate why and how this issue was happening now. The answer was in the overflowing mana levels within their bodies that couldn’t be contained since the human body was weak and frail for such a change. Addition to that, it correlated to the Hunter’s emotional level and their control. Institutions were built to imprison house the S-Ranks while monitoring their situation. 

Whenever an S-Rank’s mana levels and emotions show signs of <Outrage>, a term they now use to describe the Hunter going haywire with their powers on everything and anything around them, they will be sent to a dungeon alone. In the people’s eyes, it was better for that one Hunter to die in battle than kill innocents. Because at first, it was only the S-Ranks, but then some A-Ranks would fall victim to <Outrage> as well. 

The professionals have named the correlation as Emotional Mana, EM for short, which made way for the Emotional Mana Institution, EMI for strong Hunters. The Hunters were treated like mental patients or worse, forced into a straitjacket and some had a muzzle for certain Hunters. These were specially designed and created items that limit and restricts a Hunter’s use of their powers and abilities. 

It was a miracle that someone managed to create such equipment. That someone was also targetted by the S-Ranks after being announced and killed for such a disrespectful act, still the blueprints and prototypes were created and other talents that took over were able to finalize the perfect form.

“Personnel 002, you were specifically requested by SM-10.” 

You looked up from your laptop and paused in your rapid typing for just a few second before you looked back to your screen and continued typing. That code name was to protect you and everyone else that worked in EMI or have some form of connection to it, so that no innocent is sacrificed for the greater good. Still, you can’t get used to it nor do you want to. “I’m busy.”

“Please… SM-10 is way too picky with the people that enters his cell.” This person, Supervisor 843, was one of the newest employee to join the crew. Though, unlike the name of the duty, they were people that were disposable hence the frequent newcomers and high number. “Please help me.”

You sighed and glared up at the person who had a mask over their head and a voice changer to mask their identity. Though, with the way they were speaking, you could deduce this person was a ‘she’. You got up and snatched the file extended to you. Just when you thought you could rest and work in peace, trouble comes knocking on your door. “Get me a drink and some refreshment, I want to see it on my desk by the time I’m back.”

“Yes? Yes!” Supervisor 843 bowed and clapped her hands together, “I’ll do so!”

As swiftly and automatically, you made your way through the hallways and doorways, tapping your access card to unlock needed doors and lifts for your travel. On the way, other Supervisors nodded their heads and bowed in your presence when you walked by. Unlike them who wear a uniform, you only have a lab coat over your usual outfits. You don’t even have a mask or voice changer. 

Why?

You stood in front of the door that was labelled in bold ‘SM-10’, meaning the 10th S-Rank in Korea that belonged to the Mage class. The guard dressed in black from head to toe nodded their heads at you before they started unlocking the various security checkpoints and locks for you to enter into a battlefield in its own right.

“Will one hour be enough, Personnel 002?” One of the guards asked.

“Not sure, just be alert in case I need to rush out.” You spoke stoically with indifference.

Step by step, you walked in, announcing loudly of your arrival to the individual inside. The doors closed behind you and locked you inside with what everyone feared. You sighed and put away your glasses since there was no need for it right now. The room was eerily silent and cold, something you were long used to. 

You took a few more steps, walking deeper into the room where it seemed to get darker and darker even though the lights in all housed Hunters would be on 24/7 to monitor their actions and activities within the room. 

Just when your vision failed you to the point where you can’t see what was in front of you, you were enveloped in a pair of strong arms, your entire form effortlessly pulled back till your back was pressed against a firm wall of muscle one would call chest and abs. Hair tickled one side of your cheek and neck, you felt a breath cooed before a deep voice rang in your ear, “I’ve been waiting for my favourite Personnel~”

It wasn’t at all odd that your name was called as well, if it was someone like him, he’d know everything there was to know. In fact, everyone should be worshipping him right now for his controlled and well-mannered behaviour. Especially when he could have destroyed this entire facility and killed everyone in it within seconds if he so wished. 

“Jinwoo. I need to work, don’t bully the newcomers.” You sighed while looking to the side as if making eye contact with him. 

“I like it when you call me by name and not some code, thanks for that.” Jinwoo hummed as he played with your fingers. “I guess I’ll think about it. It’s a bit bored here, you understand.”

“You removed your straitjacket again.” You let him fiddle with your fingers as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “You’ll get caught one of these days and then it’ll be game over.”

“Igris helped me remove it. You know how they are with seeing me constrained and imprisoned here.” He chuckled and leaned back, but it turned out he was just taking a seat, presumably on his bed since you still couldn’t see anything in the darkness. “Don’t worry, I’ve made sure no one could see me free and they didn’t kill anyone. Yet.”

Every Hunter that was admitted into the EMI was evaluated and thoroughly investigated to create the perfect profile for reference. All their fighting style, powers and abilities, weapons of choice, gear type, and any other detail was accounted down. It was all for people to be prepared in case one would have an <Outrage> and they were needed to be countered by weaker Hunters. 

For Jinwoo, however, his profile was lacking to put it in the best terms. His mana levels were unmeasureable, yes, so he was placed as an S-Rank. Though, his powers and abilities were unknown. Since he was a Reawakened Hunter, most would assume he was the same class as he was as an E-Rank; a Fighter Class. But he exhibit <Telekinese> and <Shadow Manipulation> so he was placed as into Mage class.

That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. 

You saw through his innocence and lie, uncovering his true powers and abilities. To be honest, even if you told your higher-ups of Jinwoo’s secrets, there was nothing they could do to counter it. Jinwoo was a league of his own and only you knew it. He was no mere S-Rank, he was definitely a National Level Hunter.

Ah, yes. The question as to why you don’t wear a mask or bother having done anything to hide your identity. It was not because you’ve been in one of the people who has been in service of EMI for the longest time or wanted something as shallow as respect from the newcomers or other coworkers. It was completely because you knew it was useless to hide when someone like Sung Jinwoo had his eyes on you.

“I’ll try and arrange a dungeon for you to raid.” You marked down on your phone while Jinwoo continued to treat you like a teddy bear.

“You have to join though. If you don’t…” Jinwoo’s voice went deeper as glowing eyes stared at you from the shadows, “I don’t know what I’ll do to get your attention…”

You nodded, pushing down the urge to flinch or jerk away from him. It was normal, something you expected but still unnerving to hear with your own ear from his lips. You swear this place made the Hunters mad in the head, it was a place that made them sick and mentally ill, it wasn’t actually helping them at all. “Yeah, of course. I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear it.”

Jinwoo smirked as his arms tightened around you, his face buried between your neck and shoulder. “You’re the only reason I stay here. Remember that. If you leave here… Leave me… I’ll do what Thomas Andre did to America.”

Note: I can't help it, it was supposed to upload the requested ones first, but then this idea hit me like a truck (without the isekai part), so now here it is. There are like 2 requested stories written and ready to be posted, but I'm double checking and stuff. Hope you like this AU/idea.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (none at the moment)

[kxsagi]

something kinda funny happened to me recently and i immediately thought about rin and your fics, so i'll send it as a req!! i hope you dont find it uncomfortable.

to sum up: ppl usually perceive me as a "nerdy and smart girl" (as in, "top of the class" kind of smart) bc of my looks but in reality i couldnt care less about paying attention to something if its not abt a topic im interested in lol. WHICH RESULTED IN ME RANKING 20 OUT OF 23 STUDENTS in everything but english. it doesn't bother me at all bc. well. i was expecting it. but my classmates are always shocked somehow.

anyways, i immediately thought about my dear rinnie, bc i think thats the kind of situation that poor boy would experience, since everyone in bllk sees him as an academically smart guy bc hes fluent in english, failingto realizethat my boy does NAWT cate about anything other than eng and soccer. . so! my req is basically just a fic where both rin and reader end up in the bottom of the rankings in everything but english (they were the only ones to ace it) and the others are like "?!?!?!" bc i think it would be rlly funny!! feel free to do it in any way you like! tyy! BTW SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS I HOPE IT DOESNT SOUND CONFUSING

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫”

a/n: OMG I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS REQUEST BC i have a male coworker in his 20’s who looks like a geeked out nerd, like kind of skinny, glasses, black hair, asian. and my mom told me to talk to him to potentially gain connections bc i’m academic and i was still in high school at the time so i asked him about college and he said “oh yeah, i dropped out like… 3 times. i just didn’t have the drive because i attended raves instead of lectures” don’t let looks fool you 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

for context, all the blue lock characters attend the same high school lol

title is a beabadobee reference bc i love her idc

(art credits go to immmso_ko on twitter)

in a cruel twist of fate, or maybe divine comedy, you and rin itoshi have somehow landed in the bottom tier of your class rankings. 

not just “average.” not “middle of the pack.” no. we're talking rank 21 and 22 out of 23. (it would’ve been 22 and 23, but shoutout to that one guy who never came to class and failed on principle. king.) 

the only subject you both aced? english. 

english was your salvation. your shared pride. your mutual delusion. you’d both walked out of that test with the smug confidence of people who knew the word “juxtaposition” and weren’t afraid to use it. and it paid off with perfect scores. 

but everything else? absolute academic carnage. 

math: rin got bored halfway through and started drawing soccer formations in the margins. 

science: you answered every question based on vague memories of a documentary you half-watched two years ago. 

history: you just… didn’t. rin got distracted by a headline about international players and spiral notebooked into a wikipedia hole mid-exam. 

and when the results were posted, the classroom erupted. 

“WAIT. RIN?! RIN ITOSHI?!” 

someone physically grabbed him by the sleeve. “bro. you’re like. fluent in english. i thought you were smart?!” 

rin stared at them, face completely blank. “i am.” 

“YOU’RE 22ND!!” 

“in english?” 

“NO. OVERALL.” 

“… okay. but in english?” 

he had a point. it was the only thing that mattered. 

you slinked over beside him, matching his blank expression. “hey. i’m 21st.” 

he looked at you. “you’re better at literature than me.” 

“damn right.” 

behind you, chaos brewed. karasu paced like a man discovering the earth was flat. bachira was cry-laughing, gripping isagi like he’d seen a ghost. otoya just kept whispering “no way. no way. no way.” like he was having an existential breakdown over his fantasy of rin being the dark, brooding honor student. 

“this is a scam,” reo muttered from the side. “i thought rin was our secret weapon for test prep. i was gonna ask him to tutor me in math.” 

rin tilted his head. “why would i do that?” 

“you got a 12%.” 

“i don’t need math to score goals.” 

“… you didn’t even attempt question two.” 

“it was too many words.” 

you nodded solemnly beside him. “same. too many triangles. immediate shut down.” 

someone behind you whispered, “this is actually worse than when nagi slept through the finals.” 

but you and rin? unfazed. you were both already planning how to celebrate your dual top scores in english. (you were thinking milk tea. he was thinking silence. compromise: milk tea in silence.) 

you sipped your drink later that afternoon with the confidence of two people who fully accepted their intellectual limitations, so long as they didn’t apply to soccer or essays on animal farm. 

“this doesn’t bother you?” you asked, curious. 

“not really,” he replied. “they’re just shocked because i don’t talk much. so they assume i’m smart.” 

“right?! same! they see glasses and a quiet demeanor and suddenly expect perfect grades.” 

he nodded slowly. “people are stupid.” 

you toasted your drink to that. “cheers to mediocrity, king.” 

and rin, for the first time that day, cracked the smallest smirk. “except in english.” 

“except in english,” you agreed, dead serious. 

the only subject that mattered. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[study-diaries]

How To Study Multiple Subjects

As someone who had studied 4 subjects plus 2 languages and additional courses and extra curricular when i was homeschooled and in high school, obviously i got used to studying multiple subjects. It's fairly easy and interesting.

Here's the thing, multiple subjects is a blessing in disguise. It's easy to study many subjects because you have variety. Your brain loves variety. So, here's some tips...

Maintain Good Study Material

The mistake most students make is that they don't have the basic ground foundation. They don't know what's on the syllabus, how its structure is. Literally nothing. Many students i know, only search for their materials like two days before their exam and they panic. So, gather the following at the beginning of the school year/semester:

Textbooks (If you have any)

Practice papers

Previous year papers

Extra reading materials/ Reference books

If you don't have any textbooks. Go through the topics that you have and gather resources from different sources.

Different Notebooks For Every Subjects

I really don't understand the concept of using a single notebook for like 5-6 subjects. Like, you literally can't manage it. Even if you divide sections in the book, it will get confusing and sometimes the pages won't even be enough. So, just get a notebook for each subject. It will help you stay organized.

Divide Subjects.

Every subject is learnt and graded in a different way. You can’t use the same study techniques for every subject you have. You have mostly 3 types of subjects:

Memorization based

Practical/Question based

Theory/Essay based

You use different study techniques for different subjects. Memorization based subjects require more revision. Practical/Question based subjects require more practice. Theory based subjects require you to learn how to format your information.

Read up more: Division Of Subjects

Easy VS Difficult Subjects For You

Take a paper and write all your subjects. Now, draw a line and write your difficult subjects on one side and easy subjects on the other side. And then rate it from the most interesting to the most boring and categorize it. And then rank them on which ones take the same place. You'll get an idea of where you stand with your subjects and now you can study accordingly.

2 Subjects Per Day

This is the most important one i always recommend. If you're studying, then only 2 subjects per day should be taken up for it. Pair an interesting subject with a lighter one. If you hate accounts or find it difficult but you love English, then that's your combo. Make combinations and write them down. You can change them any day based on mood or you can keep them the same. It's up to you.

Standard Subject

I usually like to have at least one standard subject every day. That was accounts for me because i was so bad at it. The goal is not to ignore the subject until it is harder than usual. The goal is to study it every day. That subject must be your weakest one.

Breaks

Breaks are really necessary. I advise you to not allot a certain time limit for the break. Rather take a break when you actually feel tired. If you've worked for 2 hours straight, then you deserve an hour of rest. If you worked for just 30 mins and you feel tired, take 15 mins as your break. Divide your work time by half and that is your break time.

Subject Alignment With Energy

Your weakest subject must be done in your highest energy in order for you to grasp the actual concepts. That's the main aspect of it. Low energy = Easy subjects. High energy = Harder subjects. You have to identify your core energy grids and align your subjects accordingly.

Chunk Information

Group all your facts together. Instead of studying like everything is completely unrelated, study like it's all connected. If you want to learn something, chunk all your facts together. Create a visual chunk. Make everything related.

Use Mnemonics & Storytelling

Learn with these two. These help you to remember easily. Make stories and catchy phrases to remember points/facts. These are like the building blocks of studying anything. Stick small notes to your books writing the small stories and phrases beside the topic so the next time you want to revise it, it's easy.

Cheat Sheets

Create small cheat sheets. Write them down. No digital notes. Because you have physical copies. Make formulae sheets, theories, everything for every subject you are learning and keep them in different folders. Don't mix your sheets. You'll get overwhelmed. During revision, this will help a lot.

Fake Exams & Improvement Sheets

Create a fake exam environment. Sit on your desk with a timer, take a question paper and act as if you're actually writing the exam. Do this at least once and note everything. How much time you take to answer each question. What are your mistakes. Which section is your weakest. Note them down and most importantly, your overall improvements you should make.

For me, I did this for accounts, and it gave me so much clarity especially the improvements. I used to go through this improvement sheet before my actual exam and i did not repeat even a single mistake again. The trick is to keep updating the sheet by adding improvements from your actual exams too.

Testing At Random Times

I did this mostly during travel time. If i learnt a specific topic some time ago. And if i had nothing to do then I'd just mentally ask myself a question about that topic and answer it. Many times, even i am surprised the questions i ask, it gives a deep understanding of the topic. I used to even connect it to other concepts. Ask questions relating both. It's even better if you jump from one subject to the other.

Connect Similar Topic

Connect all your related subjects. Everything in school is somehow connected. I usually used to connect economics and business studies concepts. Sometimes even computers so... Connect them.

Practice Subjects Need More Time

Subjects like Accountancy, Physics, Chemistry, Economics, Maths need more time because they are in one way more practical. They require practice. Whether it be experiments o through sums. Invest more time in these subjects.

PYQ's

Use past year question papers because nothing shows important topics like pyq's. Note and mark the repeated questions and review them repeatedly. This really helps.

Read up more: How do you actually use previous year question papers

__________________

Hope this helps :))

[feralthoughtdump]

Let Me Wrap My Teeth Around The World

Warnings: minors DNI, small age gap (everyone is 18+),  manipulation, love-bombing, possessiveness, social anxiety, the male gaze, financial exploitation, obsessive behavior, ownership, toxic dynamics, moral corruption, smut, virginity loss, coercion, dubcon, dark

Word Count: 4.1K

It’s been a while since Coriolanus found someone as the object of his affection. The last time was a few years ago, and it did no good for him. But this shy, sweet, beautiful Capitol girl was someone who could pose no risk to him and seemed to have wormed her way into the recesses of his mind. 

She was the shy girl in one of his University classes. Rumors circulated about her wealth or lack thereof. She was some prodigy who earned her way into the school through merit rather than money, and it left an open inquiry as to who her parents were. He didn’t know what drew him in. The House of Snow had just regained a semblance of wealth and power, and associating with a girl like her could easily create cracks in the foundation.

She wasn’t wealthy enough to come from a district family who bought their way in, but she certainly wasn’t like the other students who took classes with her. Though she wasn’t wealthy, she wasn’t necessarily poor, at least not as poor as his family used to be, but he could recognize the signs of the consistent repair in her uniform, using the same stitches Tigris would use on his old clothing. It turns out she had come from a family of seamstresses and artists. 

He also learned that she loved pretty things, not just spotting them but making them. Her apartment was always decorated with little knick-knacks and drawings that covered the walls. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy spending time in her dingy apartment. It was small, run-down, nothing more than a studio with a bed, desk, kitchenette, and a heat pipe that screeches and clangs at the most ungodly hour. But he loves staring at how her brows furrow as she sketches or how she tucks her lower lip between her teeth in frustration. Despite being unable to help her work, she was always happy to have him around. 

This leads him to her small apartment at least once a month with a new pair of pants that were a bit too long or one of his father’s old shirts 

Even though he could afford to have his pants hemmed by a tailor or simply ask Tigris, he prefers going to her. After all, she’s become familiar with his preferred inseam length, and Tigris has become colder and colder towards him. 

He always insists on paying her even if she refuses. 

“We’re friends, Corio,” She said the first time. “You don’t have to pay me.” 

“Just this once, let me take care of you.” He insisted, pressing the cash into the palm of her hand. 

Just this once turned into every single time. Then, it became buying her meals and small gifts. He got her internships with other high-ranking game makers. Eventually, he convinced her that her old apartment was too small and worn down for a nice girl like her, and he moved her into a spare room in his apartment and turned the other into a studio. Then, he started taking her to parties and events she could never afford to go to, and he always made sure to buy her a dress even if she insisted that it would cost less if she could just make one herself. 

When their fellow students would snicker at her, he’d slip poison into their drinks. Never enough to kill them, just to get them sick for a week or so.

Somehow, Coriolanus finds himself taking her under his wing, becoming a mentor to her in some type of way.  She maintained that soft and sweet air about her, but with his help, she became someone her peers respected. Once, she was the girl who made other students in the University roll their eyes because she always tried too hard. Now, she was the girl who had connections and handed in exemplary work. She was the carefully created success story of a middle-class Capitol girl who climbed the ladder with hard work and determination. Now, she could spread her wings and fly, but only as far as he would allow.

With the arrival of winter comes the start of planning another year of games, and the Crane family was more than happy to host a commencement gala. 

This time, he bought her a pretty red dress she eyed in a store window a few days ago. 

The quiet gasp she lets out when he opens the box is music to his ears. 

“It’s even more beautiful in person.” She whispers the fabric pooling in her hands like blood. “I can’t let you keep buying me things like this. I can’t take this.” 

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. She always opposes, with her voice becoming soft, objections and promises to pay him back, tumbling from her lips. But that wasn’t what he cared about. He cared about how she presented herself. He got her internships and dragged her out of that shoebox of a studio apartment. She was a product of his hard work, and he wanted to show it off. “Think of it as a gift.” He smiles, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “You’ve worked hard these past few months.” 

“Corio…” 

“Put it on; we have to leave in a few minutes.” 

… 

She’s stuck to his side whenever they attend these events. Her shy demeanor doesn’t do well in large crowds, and with an endless supply of expensive liquor, Coriolanus doesn’t want her wandering about alone. 

Throughout the evening, she’s been good. Smiling, looking pretty. Saying hello to the people he introduces her to, holding onto his arm, and letting him know when she’s feeling overwhelmed so he can rub circles on her back. 

People compliment her, telling her how beautiful she looks. Pride thumps against his chest. Of course, she looks beautiful. The dress he picked falls on her body like it was made for her. The red is beautiful against her skin, and the fabric drapes beautifully around her hips, showing off her elegant back. 

Eventually, she breaks away from him, needing to use the restroom. But after a while, he realizes something isn't right without her beside him. 

He worries when he can’t see her, and he finds himself rushing through small conversations and pushing past people to try and find her in a sea of people. 

Eventually, he spots her staring at the city's vast expanse, leaning on the balcony's edge. She’s slowly nursing her third glass of champagne in one hand, and the other picks at the cuticles of her thumb. 

That wasn’t a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, approaching her with a hand on her back. 

She jumps at his touch, but relief crosses her face when she sees him. The last of the champagne is quickly swallowed, and she passes the empty glass to an approaching waiter. 

“Nothing, really. I’m okay.” 

From the tension in her forehead, he can clearly tell that she isn’t okay. Though he knows she hates it when he pries, he still chooses to do so.

“You aren’t, so tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s a beat of silence, and she sighs. 

“I feel out of place, Corio. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you belong here.”

“Everyone here is just so…” She looks down at her heels, trying to find the right words “I don’t know, I’m younger than everyone, and most of the people here have played a part in the games and all I’ve done is get coffee and print papers for them.” 

Her lashes flutter as if blinking away tears, and he can’t have that. Not here. 

“Hey,” he lifts her chin with his fingers and strokes her flushed cheek with his thumb. “Don’t get all tearful on me. You’re with me. I promise you, you belong here.”

From the frown curling on her lips, his words clearly aren’t working, so he shifts the conversation. “What do you dream of being? What do you want to do?” 

She opens her mouth but hesitates. 

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise.”

“I’d like to be a designer.” A small smile starts to cross her face. “A fashion designer with my own line and everything.” 

He could see a future where everyone in the Capitol wore her designs. Or not everyone. She was too good for that. All of his hard work has been put into helping her rise alongside him. If she wanted to do something, she had to be the best. 

“I think you would make a great designer.” Without a second thought, he presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I know you will. I’ve seen your work.”

A giggle falls from her lips, and affection blooms in his chest. Nowadays, he wonders if he could ever love someone. But love is so subjective. He had molded her into someone who would be fit to stand by him as he rose in the ranks. Isn’t that the closest thing there is to love? 

… 

“Here, let me help you.” 

The champagne has loosened her up, causing her to stumble on her feet. She leans against him and laughs when his arm hooks under her knees to carry her past the front door. 

“Such a gentleman.” She croons. “Always taking care of me.”

“It’s what I do best.” 

He sets her down on the edge of his bed so he can bend down to undo her heels. Without much thinking, he gently kisses the inside of her ankle. His eyes gaze up at her, gauging her reaction, and she shyly tells him, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s as if something in him shifts. Coriolanus always harbored an attraction to her. On multiple occasions, he would fuck his fist after their little “tailoring” appointments, thinking about her on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth. Ever since she moved in, he’d sneak glances through the crack of her door, catching glimpses of her in stages of undress. He’s never acted upon it. His ego certainly wouldn’t be able to take the rejection, but now that she’s asking him to kiss her with those soft lips and glittering doe eyes, he’s safe to act on his desires. 

He surges forward, engulfing her in his hold. Hands cupping her face to keep her lips pressed against his. His teeth graze across her bottom lip, 

She smells like vanilla and roses, igniting that deep-seated hunger inside him. 

He has always hungered for power within the political spheres of Panem, but right now, his hunger is hyperfocused on her. To own her, to control her. 

He wants her to answer every beck and call. If he were to say jump, she would ask, ‘How high?’ If he asked her to crawl to him, she’d drag her delicate knees across whatever surface she stood on. He wants her to belong to him—mind, body, and soul. 

Their lips are locked together as her hands fumble to remove her dress. Sensing her struggle, he releases her face to help, undoing the ties around her neck. She carefully lets it fall off her body, letting the vibrant red silk pool around her feet. 

“I’ve never done this before.” She murmurs against his lips. “I haven’t done anything past kissing.” 

“Really?” He looks down at her and wants to coo in adoration when she shyly glances away. “No one’s ever touched you before?”

“Just… myself… and this one boy from the academy a few years ago but it was over our uniforms.” She hesitates, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. Coriolanus already owned most of her clothing, living space, and future career. It was all owed to him. But her virginity? He can truly make her his. His girl. 

He crawls on top of her, caging her in his arms. 

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.” 

His fingers trace her skin, from the line of her neck past her collarbones, dipping under the white lace underwear that clings to her hips. 

“These are pretty.” He flicks the rosette sewn to the center of the waistband. “Did you wear these for me?” 

“Maybe. I made them myself.” 

She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. They part, creating room for him to slot himself in between her knees. Her hands reach to remove his shirt, but he bats them away. 

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you.” 

As he unbuttons his shirt, he observes the way her chest rises and falls, how her lips are parted, and how her tongue darts out to lick at her lips in anticipation. 

His fingers push past her lips, pressing down on her eager tongue, already swirling over them. 

“Get them wet. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Her eyes close as she sucks on the digits. Saliva pools in her mouth, dripping past the corners of her lips. 

They are released with a pop, and Coriolanus groans, the strain in his pants becoming unbearable. 

Two of his wet fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her opening. A gasp slips past her parted lips at the feeling of his fingers pushing in. It was torturous how he managed to curl his fingers just right, eliciting a stifled whine from her lips. She pulls her hips away, overwhelmed by the stretch and the growing pressure inside of her. Though he knows she’s fingered herself before, his fingers must feel foreign, better than what she can do for herself. 

He pushes a third inside of her, opening her up, and he can feel how she flexes around him. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he persists, continuing to curl his fingers against that spot inside of her.

“Don’t fight it.” He demands, pistoning his fingers. “I’m just trying to make you feel good.” 

Her gasps and whines eventually turn into moans. She clenches around his fingers and bucks her hips forward as if her body is begging him for more. 

“I think,” She arches her back, and her voice becomes gaspy as if fighting to fill her lungs with air. “I think I’m close.” 

“Already?” He spits onto her clit and presses his thumb against it.  Electricity surges through her body as he rubs it in slow circles. She watches him with parted lips and shaky breathing as he fuels her oncoming orgasm. “Oh, you’re making this too easy for me.” 

Her head is thrown back, and a strangled moan falls from her lips—sticky arousal floods around his fingers, and her walls spasm around them. 

“There you go.” He soothes, pressing kisses to her cheek. “That feels good, huh?” 

She’s laid out on the comforter, chest heaving and skin flushed. Coriolanus grabs his stiff cock through his pants, trying to ease the growing tension. But he decides he can’t wait to give her a break. 

Her ears perk up at the metallic clink of him undoing his belt. 

“Corio, I- I don’t think-”

He shushes her with a kiss. 

“It’s alright, you can take it. Yeah? Remember what I promised?” 

“That you’d be gentle.” 

“That’s right.” He kicks off his pants and frees his cock from the confines of his briefs. “I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?” 

She nods in agreement, eyes widening at the size of him. 

He licks his lips as he presses the tip against her cunt, slowly easing his cock inside of her. 

As he sheathes himself inside of her, he presses her thighs to her chest, forcing himself deeper into her warmth. 

She lets out a sharp cry and grabs his waist, trying to push him back. 

“You’re too big, Corio. I don’t think you’ll fit.” 

He hurries to kiss away her complaints. To distract her from the pain. He couldn’t wait. He needed to feel her. He needed her. Whispering against her lips, he soothes her. “You’re okay. I’ll go slow. Yeah?” 

Broken moans fall from her lips as he bottoms out. He groans in pleasure as her fingernails dig into his back, scrambling for some kind of purchase. She was so tight, so wet, and so warm, gripping onto him like a vice. 

Very carefully, he rocks his hips back and forth, letting her adjust to him. The sounds she makes, combined with the slick squelch of her cunt are obscene. Even with his slow movements, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long. 

He drops his lips to her neck, teeth grazing the fragile skin before biting down.

“Ah- please, don’t leave a mark.”

Disregarding her words, he sucks a slowly blooming bruise onto her neck. He doesn’t care if it’s dark. He wants people to see it and know who left it there. 

Maybe he does love her, he thinks. He loves how she complements him, her sweetness dampening his harsher attributes. He loves her creativity, her ambition, and how she always hungers to better herself. She’s perfect. She could be more than just a designer. She could be influential, a figure in the history of Panem. 

“I have an idea.” He hums against her neck, stilling his hips.

“Yeah?” 

“I want you to be part of the games.”

“What do you mean?” She impatiently shifts her hips, trying to get him to move again. 

“You can be a…” he pauses to think, looking into her blown-out pupils, “a stylist. You can design the tributes' looks for the opening ceremony and the interviews. Maybe we can implement uniforms for the actual games.” 

She pulls back, but he keeps her locked in place, hands grabbing at the flesh of her hips. Her eyes no longer look glazed over with lust. Instead, there’s a flash of clarity within them.

“No.” 

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, Corio.” Her voice is firm. She has her mind made up. “I won’t do it.” 

His lust begins to mix with anger. She can’t deny him. Not now, not ever. Not after everything he has done for her.

His hand reaches for her chin, and she whimpers. 

“Yes, you will because I’m not asking.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” She struggles against his hold. “You don’t own me.”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” He snarls, fingers digging into her jaw. “I gave you this life, and I can easily take it away from you.”

“Let go of me, please.”  

Earlier promises of being gentle are tossed away. She’s beginning to let out pained squeaks from the pressure on her cheeks, and the hand on her hip digs into the soft flesh, creating red divots close to drawing blood. 

“Look at all that I have given you. All of your nice clothes and these fancy internships were because of me. Without me, you’d be freezing to death in that shed you used to live in.” He pulls his hips back and slams his cock back into her dripping cunt, eliciting a cry from her. “I made you who you are.” He cruelly bullies his cock into her, picking up his speed every time her hands weakly try to push him away. “All you have to do is be good for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He forces her to look at him, to stare into her glassy eyes. “Are you going to be good?”

She doesn’t reply, or rather, she can’t. All she could do was strain against him with dark, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Those eyes that once gazed upon him with fondness are now filled with fear. 

“Are you going to be good?” He punctuates his words with a hand to her throat, giving it a light squeeze. It’s enough pressure to establish a threat but not enough to take away her ability to breathe.  

Her teary eyes blink, and she nods. 

“Yes,” She whispers. “I’ll be good.”

“So,” He slows his movements and brings his lips to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “What do you say? 

Once again, he circles her sensitive clit with his thumb. 

She sobs, clenching around him, and he can tell that she’s close to cumming again. 

“You’re not going to cum until you answer me.” 

“Please, Corio, don’t make me decide. Not right now.”

“I want-” He groans, feeling himself falling close to the edge. “I need an answer.” 

She sobs and tries to look away, but the hand on her face won’t let her. 

“Please.”

His face moves closer to hers, her hot breath fanning his cheeks. 

“I can feel you clenching around me, and I know you can’t hold it in. Give me an answer now.” More tears stream down her face, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “If you cum before giving me an answer, I’ll ruin this pretty cunt.”

There’s a second of silence, save for the sound of his skin slapping against hers before she nods. 

“Yes,” she whispers. 

“Yes, what?” 

“I’ll do it.” 

He quickens his pace, chasing after his own pleasure, and she all but screams. 

The fire in his burns, ready to overtake him, but something isn’t right. 

“Open your eyes.” He demands. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up.” 

She blinks her eyes open, all wide and wet, and he’s unable to hold back. Tightening his hold on her, he forces his hips against her own, burying his cock to the hilt and releasing inside of her. She flutters around him, desperate gasps for air falling from her wanting mouth as she cums with him. 

They stay in this position, both trying to catch their breath. Coriolanus is the first to pull away, rubbing her thighs to loosen the tired muscles. 

She lays there, surrounded by his fluffy white sheets, saying nothing. He gently kisses her cheek, attempting to pull an answer from her, but when it proves unsuccessful, he leaves to draw a bath. 

… 

“You don’t have class tomorrow, right?” 

The question draws her out of her gaze, now realizing she’s curled up in the tub with her knees drawn to her chest. The water is warm, cloudy, almost milky, and smells like roses. She couldn't bear to look at him right now, but she managed to force an answer from her lips. 

“No,” she fights the urge to flinch when his fingers brush her hair away from her neck. “It’s my day off.”

“Good.” Coriolanus dips the washcloth in the tub and gently wipes it against her skin. “You’ll come with me to see Dr. Gaul. Bring your portfolio.”

Her body shudders at the thought of meeting the woman, but more notably, knowing that the man she held so much love for was nothing like the man he portrayed himself to be. 

She once thought that he was her patron, but the truth was that he was her owner. All of the riches she had gained this past year meant nothing now. They weren’t hers. They were his. He had given her a life of safety where she could flourish and provide for her family, but it was one separated from the world she once knew. Her parents and friends from the fabric shop were replaced by the same obscenely wealthy elite who would have thumbed their nose at her if it weren’t for the proximity to him. 

Every gentle brush of his fingers on her skin reminds her of what he’s done to her. How he now owns her.

Her mind falls to a lecture from a year ago. It was about evolution and apex predators. The boa, she remembers, was nonvenomous but deadly, wrapping themselves around their prey, squeezing their bodies until their circulation stopped and their lungs could no longer pull any oxygen. What’s more chilling, she thinks, is that they know to monitor their heartbeat, waiting for their heart to stop before swallowing them whole. 

He’s wrapped himself around her, tightening his hold. She knows she can struggle, but he won’t loosen his grip. He’ll just constrict around her, tighter and tighter, until there’s no more room for her to fight—no more room to breathe. 

“I’ve been very sweet on you, and I can keep doing that.” He hums. “But, I can be cruel as well. You and I both know I don’t want to do that.” 

Finally, she finds the courage to look at him; those blue eyes are now colder than ever. 

She tries to whisper, but when he raises a brow, she clears her throat and meekly responds. 

“Thank you, Coriolanus. For everything.”

[impish-baby]

which of your familial yandere’s do you think would best handle a moody teenager? I’m definitely a fan of the fics where the reader is cute and obedient but I never see much for the older agere’s 😭

This ask is so cute- apologies if I made teen regressor! reader too stereotypical, I just found it funny

Valerian: wants to be a cool parent so bad but they're old-

They do not care for most modern technology but they're sitting there with their reading glasses trying to google all the current lingo and what's hot with the kids these days, will definitely come up to you asking why your generation is into certain things (boomer but times 10,000, they've been alive centuries)

It's a good thing for you if you're into certain alternative fashions because Valerian's wardrobe is stocked full of choices for more goth or lolita looks! They never mind sharing, they're more than happy to have you giving their pieces another life (maybe will be a little miffed if you decide to use something for a DIY without asking first, but they get over it fairly quickly and immediately turn to fawning over your work)

Tentatively let's you go out to concerts and different things, with a chaperone of course! They will not hear any moaning over you being old enough to go by yourself, you're still their baby and need someone to make sure you're safe! (Don't think you'll make any friends though, for some reason everyone avoids you like the plague..)

Rowen: does not stop talking about when he was in a band in high school, you could like a totally different genre of music and he still chats about it because he's (admittedly poorly) trying to connect with you

He's dealt with two other kids before, so attitude problems are no stranger to him! He never takes anything personally, but will threaten to take your door if you keep slamming it (never actually does, he just finds it to be the most annoying part) I think he'd get you lots of journals and self help books just because he knows how difficult and large emotions can be at that age

Unfortunately, you're still not allowed to go anywhere unless you're willing to make it a family trip! None of his kids are allowed in town without him, and sneaking out isn't really an option when he (not to mention your siblings) can out pace you easily. You'll get locked up in the den for the effort though :p

Sylvia: She... does not do well with teen regressors (._.) She tries her best of course, but is very used to babies/toddlers

Her first thought when you're in a mood is that you're throwing a tantrum and she'll start to treat it as such, which does the opposite of helping because it just feels like she's making fun of you-

She messages her coven apologizing for her own teen years..

Eventually, figures out that things go smoother if she takes on more of a big sister role instead of a motherly one. Is very much into gossiping and watching TV together (still doesn't let you watch anything too 'inappropriate', she frowns anytime there's even a mild curse)

Thoren and Rune: *sniffles* they grow up so fast.. they're both sad about their fledgling deciding they're oh so mature and broody

Rune has a habit of mimicking you, annoyingly enough. The deep sighs, eye rolls, he finds it funny how much it bothers you (and despite your efforts, he can tell you also find it humorous sometimes, no feeling escapes the bond)

They mandate cuddling, not that they didn't before, it's just worse now that you act like you're too good for some snuggles from your sires! It doesn't matter how much you fuss about it, you're being dragged into the nest one way or another

My personal ranking for this group best to worst is: Rowen, Thoren and Rune, Valerian, and lastly Sylvia

[animeyanderelover]

Among Uchiha (Sasuke, Itachi , Indra and Shisui) whom are most to least likely to do a massacre just to ensure their darling safety or just for her to be alive

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, violence, death

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @cachamata

Ranking

Uchiha Shisui

🍂Last place is actually sort of tricky for me but I am going to settle with Shisui on this one. Whilst I actually see him capable of the act of murder if we're talking about sheer mindset alone what holds him back greatly is his connection to Konohagakure. Sure, the Anbu is a very ruthless position but certain things are very much off the table and an entire massacre is hardly going to be excused if only for the sake of your safety. Shisui has to rely on smarter methods as a result of that, needs to be much more stealthy and careful whenever a situation arises where he knows that he is unable to act like his darker instincts tell him at times as there are restrictions placed on him as a part of the Leaf Village. If he had none of those expectations that shackle him down he would be much more dangerous but with what he is given he is only allowed that much lenience from the council and the Hokage until even he would get into troubles. Whilst a lot of people might be able to close an eye or two when he commits a questionable action there is a limit of how much he can explore this willful ignorance and Shisui learns to use this line to his full advantage. Ultimately a limit is still a limit though.

Uchiha Itachi

🍡Itachi and Shisui both have been essentially desensitised to violence and death from a very young age yet even as a member of the Akatsuki Itachi holds up some loose morals. Even those loose morals get tainted as his obsession for you gets involved and whilst Itachi is much more composed in comparison to other trigger-happy members of the organisation it would be wise to remember that he is at best merciful and merely tries to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He isn't a good person and he himself had embraced this years ago when the blood of his parents stained his katana and he had to leave his younger brother behind all by himself. Nothing is worse than that which is why everything else could never evoke the same silent agony that he went through when he had to massacre his entire clan. What enables him more than Shisui is additionally that his circumstances place no watching eyes over him. Pain only cares for the members to capture the tailed beasts and the havoc that happens in between does not matter as long as results are delievered. Itachi doesn't have to pretend to be on the good side, the only reason why he does is because he doesn't want to scare you.

Uchiha Sasuke

💙As the second reincarnation of Indra it is very much understandable that Sasuke makes it fairly high on this list. He has no ties that properly bind him anymore to any village and even when with you he doesn't pretend to be a good guy as his past speaks louder and it is something he doesn't even want you to ignore. He may not be as trigger-happy as he once used to be when he was still a teenager filled with nothing but hatred and the burning determination for vengeance but Sasuke is far from changing his ways. When you stumble into his life you become the only person he truly has left as his family is dead and all his friends in a village far away who could have been otherwise able to at least weaken the intense obsession he develops as a rogue. With no voice of conscience even attempting to reason with him Sasuke simply gets consumed and whilst he may have acquired a colder and calmer exterior he is extremely possessive and protective. Death is a fate he easily hands out if someone does not head his only warning and an immediate consequence if someone even attempted to harm you in any shape, the lives taken not even evoking a twinge of guilt.

Otsutsuki Indra

💜Indra should not even come as a surprise as the first place as he has really nothing that could even remotely restrain him. In his eyes he has been wronged and betrayed by his own family, has suffered humiliation by the hands of his younger brother who used to be always inferior to him and has as a result quite literally just snapped. He acts on pure obsession and a secretive paranoia that he does not speak of, perhaps because he isn't even fully aware of it himself. After all his trust has been permanently broken as his own flesh and blood turned their backs on him, leaving him unable to ever put his full faith in anyone ever again. The consequences are severe for you as you are constantly monitored and unable to do as much as glance too long into someone's direction without Indra starting to believe that you too plan to abandon him by already planning for an escape. It's that overwhelming amount of paranoia and possessive impulses that result within the blink of an eye into blood being spilled. The angrier Indra is, the more extreme this will get as you have made plenty of experiences with his Susanoo crushing people like ants even though he could have easily done it without using those powers.

[burningembers91]

The Choices We Make - Kim Do-Hyun x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Haunted by the choices he's made and the lives he's taken, Mercenary Leader Kim Do-Hyun has resigned himself to a life of loneliness and solitude. But try as he might, he can't seem to stay away from the beautiful, shy waitress who's wrapped herself around his heart.

A/N: I am so excited to write for this man!

Kim Do-Hyun led a dangerous life. At first, it wasn’t through the desire to seek dangerous thrills, but entirely out of necessity. His ailing parent’s had medical bills his job couldn’t cover. They were facing eviction, and thinking of his parents out on the street made him sick to his stomach.

He’d devoted his life to military service, rising through the ranks to Sergeant, commanding his team with integrity and respect. But his government had failed his parents; the ones who had fought for their country’s freedom during the Korean War. The day his parents were refused the help they so desperately needed, was the day Do-Hyun lost faith in the country he had once loved so much.

It was an ex-colleague who had first alerted him to the life of a mercenary. The pay was substantial, one job enough to cover the cost of his parent’s medical bills and keep the roof over their heads. Do-Hyun fought for rich oligarchs and conglomerates, carrying out their bidding, no matter how drastic or violent their missions were. He had the ability to switch his brain off as he carried out the heinous acts he was paid handsomely to commit; to separate the lives he took from the need to care for his parents.

His father died shortly after his fourth mission, closely followed by his mother. Do-Hyun no longer needed to carry out his missions, but without his family, without a job, he was nothing. So, he carried on taking the big pay days, fighting wars he had no interest in, working for men and large corporations who had the world twisted around their bony fingers. He didn’t agree with what his employers were doing, but this job had made him bitter. He had never been under the illusion that the world was a nice place, but the life of a mercenary had opened his eyes to the harsh reality; the world was cruel, and so were the people who ran it.

He ended up commanding a team who quickly became like brothers to him and for the first time in a long time, Do-Hyun felt like part of something again. They were always in high demand, his job taking him to every corner of the globe and beyond. Between jobs he would return to Seoul, but never for more than a few days, a week at most. He hated being back in the city that had stripped his parents of their dignity. But Seoul was also where you were. The pretty girl who worked at his favourite restaurant.

He'd always come in when he was back in the city, preferring dining out in a crowd than being home on his own. Do-Hyun didn’t like the silence, the crushing loneliness that came at night. Even if he ate on his own at the restaurant, he was surrounded by strangers, and that was better than being stuck with his own thoughts. You always served him with a smile, always slipping him an extra plate of kimchi or pork Mandu, or another beer on the house. You so kind to him, and on quiet nights you’d sit and talk, wiling away the hours until it was time to go home. He enjoyed your chats, and always dreaded when you left, leaving him alone with his nightmares.

Do-Hyun had thought many times about inviting you out for a drink after your shift. He watched you each night, his desire for you growing every time he saw you. You were beautiful, but there was also a shyness to you that he found endearing. You were also far too good for him. The things he did for money kept him up at night, the faces of the people he’d killed haunting his nightmares. You didn’t need someone like him dragging you down.

He never had a problem finding a woman to keep him company on the nights he couldn’t bare to be alone, but there was never a connection there. It was always just sex, a meaningless dalliance between the sheets that more often than not left him feeling emptier than he had before. He craved human connection, but how did you connect with someone when your job was to take life away?

He learned a lot about you on the evenings he spent in the restaurant. You worked as a waitress to pay your bills, desperate to travel but never quite able to make enough so that you could save and live comfortably. You had dreams of trekking through the Amazon, of climbing mountains, and sailing oceans. Do-Hyun had done all that and more, regaling you with his stories. His life as a mercenary had taken him to the most beautiful places, but the things he did there were nothing short of ugly.

“I don’t ever think I’ll get to go,” you smiled sadly one night as he helped you close up. “But it’s nice to dream. Dreaming keeps you sane.” Do-Hyun dreamt of you, dreamt of taking you to all the places you had on your bucket list. He dreamt of making love to you on a secluded beach, trekking mountains and exploring caves with you by his side. But he couldn’t seem to free himself from the chains he’d shackled himself in. He couldn’t face leaving his life as a mercenary, of leaving the men that had become brothers to him. Even if he did leave, he couldn’t forget the atrocities he’d committed. He didn’t want you to know about the awful things he'd done, about the lives he’d taken.

So, he continued to work for people who had no regard for the fragility of life, and he continued to seek you out whenever he was back in the city. You could see the sadness in his eyes, could almost feel the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders. You knew very little about the man who had captivated you with tales of his travels; he was an enigma, a walking mystery. You wondered what had happened to him to make him so sad, but you could never bring yourself to ask him. You often wondered where he went, disappearing for weeks, sometimes months at a time. But he would always show up again, always sit at the same table, order the same food. He had a face that looked as though it was chiselled from marble, his sharp features captivating you like nothing ever had. His chest and shoulders were broad, the fabric of his shirts always straining against his muscles. You thought about him often, picturing him on his various travels, with you by his side.

Do-Hyun didn’t realise that on the nights he spent looking up at the stars in some far-flung corner of the globe that you back in Seoul thinking of him too. He was too broken by his choices to do anything about his feelings for you, and you were too shy to ask out the handsome man who seemed so alone.

Neither of your realised how much those nights in the restaurant meant to one another, how much you longed for each other. Do-Hyun never really saw the faces of the random women he fucked; he was too busy imagining they were you.

The loneliness he felt when he dreamed of a life with you was overwhelming. But that was the life he had chosen for himself. No one would want to be with a man who was paid to take life away. Especially not someone as perfect and innocent as you.

[dragonridersandhighlords]

Chasing Shadows | S I X

PLEASE READ NOTE AND WARNINGS BEFORE READING

masterlist | CS Masterlist

Summary: Amid the high stakes of War Games and mounting political tensions, Wrenley struggles to reconcile fractured loyalties, a dangerously complicated love, and the dark truths hidden behind trusted faces.

Notes: PLEASE READ This chapter includes difficult topics that may be difficult for some readers. All of these things are things I have experienced in my own life and but should not be taken as fact as I am not an expert. Please if something in this chapter is something you find triggering DO NOT READ, this chapter can be skipped using this non descriptive summary in order to continue the story. Your mental health matters.

Warnings: implied threats and political coercion, power imbalance, sexual coercion, noncon physical contact, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of trauma, ptsd responses, and romantic conflict

Word Count: 7.6k

previous part

The air crackled with tension as the Fourth Wing’s leadership huddled around a map, the weight of the upcoming War Games heavy in the air. Xaden's voice cut through the murmurs, confident yet laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty. 

“Give Dain the flag.” My thoughts spiraled as I momentarily opened a door in my mind that I had worked hard to keep shut. 

“Are you sure about that?” Xaden’s voice echoed in my head, a blend of skepticism and concern. I could hear him speaking to the others, but my focus was solely on the lingering connection between us—fragile and complicated. 

“He learned something in Montserrat. Let him prove it,” I shot back, my heart racing not just from the stakes but from the way he seemed to challenge me, as if questioning my judgment hurt more than I cared to admit. 

“Wrenley is going to be running point for our wing here on the flight field.” I turn to glare at him, my annoyance evident but he speaks before I can. “Want me to trust your boyfriend? You aren’t going into War Games with a hidden signet like last year.” 

His words ignited a fire in my chest. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I snapped through the channel, fighting to keep my composure as I remembered last night's events again. I shake off the memory and return to my squad with Dain, flag in hand, heart still racing. 

“You need to tell someone what happened.” Desa chastises, she’s been telling me the same thing since I ran out of Dain’s room.

“Telling someone makes it real. I don’t want to admit that he’d go that far.”

“Youngling—“

“Drop it, Desa.”

“Which is it? Offense or defense?” Heaton's question broke through my thoughts. 

“Both,” Dain replied, his smile infectious, easing the tension as he detailed our strategy. The second and third years erupted in cheers, while I watched the first years, their expressions a mix of excitement and confusion. 

“What are we missing?” Ridoc asked, glancing between Dain and I. “Because you guys seemed thrilled about an egg,” he added, clearly trying to piece together the buzz in the air. 

“From past years, we know that eggs are worth more points,” Cianna chimed in, her enthusiasm palpable. “Flags have statistically been the lowest, and captured professors rank somewhere in the middle.” 

“But they like to switch it up,” Dain added, his gaze shifting back to the map. “The same way we could be going for a real objective on the line only to discover it’s not as valuable as we thought.” 

Rhiannon tilted her head, skeptical. “So how is this both offense and defense? If they have the egg, then clearly we should go get the egg.” 

“Because we’ve also been given a flag to defend and no outpost to do it in.” Dain’s smile is infectious, his enthusiasm illuminating the otherwise tense atmosphere. “And our squad has been assigned to carry it.” 

“And who is going to carry this flag?” The question hangs in the air, charged with anticipation.

Dain, ever the optimist, somehow manages to widen his grin even more, revealing the carefree spirit that makes him so beloved among us. “That’s going to be the fun part.” As we walk towards the flight field, he details the plan, his voice animated, every gesture lively. I can’t help but smile at how effortlessly he commands attention and support, but my head spins from the memories and my smile drops.

Violet, her arms crossed and brow furrowed, interrupts with a sneer, “Where’s Tavis going to be?”

“I’ll be running point from here,” I assert as we arrive at the field, the scent of leather and dragonfire permeating the air. The sight of our squad's dragons, majestic creatures waiting in the far corner on the right, fills me with a mix of pride and apprehension. “Any flag, egg, or captured professor you get will be brought to me. I’ll be tracking points.”

“So you get to stay here all safe while we all risk dying?” Violet’s tone drips with sarcasm, her resentment palpable. It takes all my restraint not to punch her. “I don’t even have a signet yet.”

“And you’re a first-year with the strongest dragon alive,” I counter, adopting a playful pout. “If you have a problem, you can bring it to leadership.” My glare hardens, determined to stand my ground. “Watch your attitude, Sorrengail. I’d hate for you to get stuck with the worst of the second-year jobs next year.” With that, I stride past her toward Desa, the tension in my chest tightening.

“Did you see Xaden had a saddle made for her?” Imogen remarks, joining me with a curious glint in her eye.

I turn instinctively, spotting the sleek leather saddle on Tairn, where Violet and Xaden are engaged in conversation. “Quit playing favorites,” I retorted, rolling my eyes as I connected with the channel. 

“Just trying to make sure I don’t accidentally drop dead because she can’t keep her seat,” Xaden responds, his voice smooth and teasing.

“Maybe save us all the trouble and let it happen.” I think to myself.

“Alright then.” 

Fuck, I didn’t mean to send that. “That’s not what I meant, Xay.” The weight of my words lingers.

“I heard you loud and clear, Wren. I know what it sounds like where your thoughts are pushed through.” 

The words tangle in my mind, a chaotic storm that threatens to drown me in its intensity.

Fuck me. Fuck. Me.

“I’m sure the squad leader would enjoy that.” Desa’s voice cuts through the haze, her amusement ringing like a bell, brightening the tension that has cloaked me. 

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and be anywhere else?” I groan, dragging my hand across my face, feeling the heat of frustration radiate through my skin. 

“Just saying. Cath complained to me all night because of it.” 

“You know why I—” 

My words dissolve into the air as the dragons launch into the sky. Their powerful wings beat against the wind, sending gusts swirling around me as I lift my gaze. The air fills with the sound of roaring flames and cries of exhilaration, a chaotic symphony that drowns out everything else. I focus on Xaden, who soars high above, laughter spilling from his lips, a carefree spirit against the vast blue canvas of the sky. 

The memory of last year rushes back like a tidal wave, filling me with warmth and nostalgia. Bodhi, Garrick, Xaden, and I had been an inseparable team, chasing after Second Wing’s egg with hearts full of laughter and camaraderie. We were fearless, or so we thought, until I was unceremoniously knocked from my dragon by an air wielder, plummeting toward the ground. The rush of air around me had transformed into a chilling silence as my screams echoed in Desa and Xaden’s minds. I can still recall the frantic dive, their desperate attempts to catch me. Just a heartbeat away from disaster, Sgaeyl’s claw had caught me, the rough grip saving me from a brutal impact. 

I shake my head, pushing the haunting recollection aside, and focus on the present. The dragons weave through the sky, their forms blurring in the distance as points are scored in the ongoing chaos of War Games. But as my gaze darts around, searching for familiar silhouettes, my vision sharpens and falters, blurring at the edges, causing me to stumble slightly. 

In the midst of my swirling thoughts, I catch sight of Liam and Deigh locked in a fierce battle against Jack and his dragon. My heart skips a beat as I watch Jack strike—his blade piercing Liam’s side before he forcefully kicks him off. Liam falls, spiraling away from Deigh’s back, the world suddenly narrowing to that one horrifying moment. 

I gasp, breaking free from the vision, my breath hitching in my throat. 

“Jack’s going to kill Liam. They’re to the south of Basgiath on the cliffs.” 

“I’m on my way.”

“Xaden!” I shout, my voice slicing through the cacophony of chaos as I sprint toward him, the ground vibrating beneath my boots. The smell of scorched earth and dragonfire hangs thick in the air, a lingering reminder of the fierce battles fought. When he dismounts Sgaeyl, my heart races, each beat echoing my desperation. “Is he alive?”

“Violet caught him,” he responds, his voice strained, urgency woven through every syllable. I catch a glimpse of his sweat-soaked hair, the damp strands clinging to his forehead, his eyes flickering with a mix of relief and concern. “Rhiannon is taking him to the healers now.” 

A breath escapes me—a sigh that rushes from my lips like a storm breaking, the weight on my chest lifting just enough to let in a glimmer of hope. 

“Barlow is dead,” he adds, his tone flat as if the words alone could bury the pain. “Violet hit him with a lightning strike.” 

“She’s a…” I begin, my mind racing to catch up with the implications of his revelation.

“Lightning Wielder,” Desa interjects, her voice crisp and clear, like the crack of thunder that accompanies such a powerful force. I turn to seek confirmation from her, but my gaze drifts to Dain instead. He stands there, holding Violet as she retches, the color draining from her face. His arms cradle her protectively, but I can’t help the pang of jealousy that tightens around my heart. I know Xaden sees my reaction; I can feel the hurt settling in my chest like a weight I can’t shake, and when he mutters something about handling it, he strides over to them, leaving me in a tempest of conflicting emotions.

Violet Sorrengail is no longer just the girl with the most powerful dragon; she is now the first Lightning Wielder in over a century. 

Everyone will choose her in the end.

Xaden has no choice but to prioritize her life, while Dain has known her—loved her—longer than he’s known me. It’s a bitter truth that gnaws at me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the new Violet, it’s that friendships mean nothing to her now.

And I won’t let her ruin the few I have left.

The last month has been strange, an unsettling tapestry woven with uncertainty and fleeting connections. I left the channel between Xaden and me open, an invisible thread hanging in the air, and to my surprise, he reached out through it. His voice, a mixture of warmth and urgency, always aims to remind me that he’s not tangled in Violet’s allure—that his focus remains solely on her training, nothing more. 

With every interaction, I feel the strain of my friendship with Dain stretching thin. After the chaos of War Games, the emotional toll began to weigh heavily on me; it felt as if we were teetering on a precipice, and I found myself instinctively pulling away, seeking the safety of distance.

Today, is Reunification Day, a day celebrated fervently by the Navarreans, yet for me, it carries the weight of memories I would rather forget. 

Last year, Melgran demanded my presence at the festivities—his call an unwelcome reminder that even amidst celebration, shadows linger. The very dragon that charred my father was a constant specter of pain, and now, Professor Devera’s words haunt me: the King himself requested my attendance. I feel trapped in a web of duty and expectation, ensnared by a title that once felt like a privilege but now burns like a brand on my soul.

As I stand beneath the opulent canopy of the main college courtyard, the murmurs of the gathered cadets swirl around me. My gaze sweeps over the crowd, landing on Dain, who, with a smile that could melt glaciers, now seems lost in conversation with Violet and Liam. Their ease is a stark contrast to my simmering irritation, especially with Liam’s presence here—whether by choice or coercion, it feels like an intrusion into my fragile equilibrium.

“Miss Tavis,” the king begins, his tone deceptively casual.

“Cadet Tavis, your majesty.” I correct him politely, the words flowing with practiced grace as I bow to him. “I am a rider after all.” 

He nods before speaking, “Oh, of course,” he replies, his voice steady but warm. “I hear you bonded your mother’s dragon your first year. Eden was always one of my most trusted leaders.” The name reverberates in my mind, a bittersweet echo of a time when I was sheltered by her fierce presence.

“She was greatly appreciated anywhere we went,” I add, my tone imbued with solidarity. As I speak, I envision the countless lives she touched, the battles she fought, and the sacrifices she made. 

King Tauri's expression softens, the corners of his mouth curving into a nostalgic smile before his gaze turns somber. “I was sorry to hear about her passing. I tried to reach your father, offer refuge to the two of you at that time. I wish I had gotten to you sooner.” His eyes, filled with an earnest longing, dart pointedly toward my relic, a tangible reminder of the lineage I carry.

“My father made mistakes,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside me, “but I’d never say taking me home when we needed family the most was a mistake. Just in the wrong place, at the wrong time scenario.” I smile through the comment, though the ache of that moment lingers still.

“Appear sympathetic with Navarre. Stay alive,” Xaden's words flash through my mind, a mantra etched into the fabric of my being. I have rehearsed this dance before, the delicate balance of allegiance and survival.

“Of course,” the king nods along, his approval palpable, before continuing, “You know, Halden speaks highly of you in his letters.” 

“Oh?” My eyebrows arch in surprise. What is Halden Tauri doing talking about me? “I’m afraid I haven’t seen much of the Prince since our run in during an RSC class with his quadrant.”

“Yes, well my son has taken very seriously to his studies in his last year.” 

I stifle a laugh; even I know Halden’s not passing because he studied. 

“In fact, I wanted to speak with you regarding a conversation your parents and I once had,” he continues, his voice shifting to a more formal tone, “and with how influential you’ve become with your bonded dragon, I think our previously discussed proposal would be beneficial.” 

Proposal? My heart quickens, confusion swirling as I grasp for clarity in the midst of this unexpected conversation. 

“My son will need a queen of your standing. A bonded rider born of a loyalist and a traitor. You’d be very beneficial to keeping the separatists' kids loyal."

What.

The.

Fuck.

“Uhm,” I stutter, the words tumbling out as I grapple with the weight of the king’s proposition, my mind swirling in a tempest of disbelief. “I’m sorry, could you excuse me, Your Majesty? I just remembered that–I forgot about my parole around the dorms. Responsibilities of being leadership.” I attempt to infuse my voice with a lighthearted tone, forcing a laugh that feels brittle against the rising bile in my throat.

“Of course. Think about my offer, though.” King Tauri's voice is steady, tinged with an urgency that curls around my senses. He inclines his head slightly, an unyielding reminder of the authority he wields. “It won’t go into effect until you graduate, of course, but I’ll need a response before then.”

“Of course, enjoy your night,” I manage to reply, my tone polished and formal as I execute a curtsy, the gesture hollow as I turn away. As I step back into the hall, I nearly sprint away, each footfall quickening until I’m out of sight, the weight of the encounter pressing down upon me like a heavy shroud.

I find refuge by the parapet, the cool breeze wrapping around me as I draw in staggered breaths, each inhalation an attempt to reclaim my composure. My fingers clutch the stone wall, grounding me as I stare into the depths of the sprawling landscape below, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight. The castle stands tall behind me, a fortress that suddenly feels like a gilded cage. Although the king’s words linger without a clear threat, I can't shake the feeling that they carry the weight of an ultimatum. A responsibility I never sought now clings to me, its presence suffocating.

I step onto the narrow bridge, the ancient stones cool beneath my soles as I make my way down, seeking solitude away from the chaos of the evening. But just as I step from the safety of the walls, I freeze, a voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

“Wren?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here,” I reply quickly, my heart racing as I reach for the skirts of my dress uniform. 

“It’s alright. Just wanted to get away from everyone,” Xaden sighs, his eyes locked onto me from where he sits, an unwavering anchor amid the swirling tempest of my thoughts.

“I’ll let you be then,” I start to turn, but his voice halts me.

“It’s okay,” he reassures, warmth threading through his tone, laced with promise. He pats the space beside him, an invitation wrapped in kindness. “Have a seat. I won’t talk if it’ll make you feel better.”

Reluctantly, I agree, settling beside him, noting the comfort of this shared silence. I remember all too well finding him in this very position last year, a quiet refuge that speaks volumes without words. 

“You look good in the dress uniforms,” he offers after a beat of silence, his gaze softening as I get myself situated, my legs and skirt hanging off the side, a small balm against the storm raging within me.

“I thought you weren’t going to talk?” I say teasing him. Xaden chuckles softly, a warm sound that mingles with the gentle rustle of the night breeze, before he turns his gaze back to the expansive sky. 

The stars above shimmer, illuminating the darkness with a flickering brilliance, and for a moment, it feels as though time stands still. It’s not an awkward silence that envelops us; rather, it’s a comfortable stillness.

As I gaze into the depths of the cosmos, thoughts swirl in my mind, heavy and tumultuous. I don’t know why I choose this moment to share my burdens, but the words spill out, unfiltered. “King Tauri wants me to marry Halden after I graduate.” 

“What?” His voice is a mix of surprise and concern, drawing my attention back to him, where the moonlight casts gentle highlights across his features.

“Apparently having a marked one who had one loyal parent and one traitor parent makes me more influential in keeping the others loyal,” I explain, my voice tinged with incredulity. A sigh escapes my lips, a release of pent-up anxiety. “Apparently, he and my parents had discussed this arrangement before my mother died. The apostasy just made him want it more.”

“Fuck, Wren.” Xaden’s sigh is heavy with sympathy. Then, a laugh escapes him, lightening the moment. “We break up, and you manage to snag a prince instead of the duke who lost his title.”

“I like the duke more anyways,” I admit, the words slipping out easily, buoyed by the comfort of our shared space. 

“Do you still think about them?” Xaden asks, his tone shifting, probing gently into my guarded heart.

“Not my father as much, but Desa makes it hard to not think of my mother,” I answer, my gaze fixed on the vast tapestry of stars above, lost in memories.

“They’d be proud of who you’ve become,” he says, his gaze intent, pinning me down with a sincerity that stirs something deep within. It’s as if I can hear their voices echoing in his words, a haunting and beautiful affirmation.

“I know,” I nod, feeling the weight of his watchful eyes. “I missed you,” I confess, inching closer, the distance between us shrinking beneath the moonlight’s tender glow. 

I shouldn’t be this close to him, I remind myself, but the way he looks at me, the warmth emanating from his presence, makes it all too tempting. At this moment, I wish I could forget everything that has happened. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Wren,” he murmured, his voice barely rising above a whisper, an echo of regret that pierced through the armor I’d built around my heart. 

“Do you regret it?” I asked, daring to tread into dangerous waters. The stillness of the night wrapped around us, holding its breath as I waited for his answer.

“I can’t change what happened,” he replied, a shadow passing over his features, but something flickered in his gaze, a spark of hope woven into the fabric of our conversation. “But I wish I could take back the hurt. You deserve so much more.”

“More?” The word slipped from my lips like a silken thread, igniting the space between us. “What do you think I deserve?”

Xaden's breath hitched, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know if I can give you everything you deserve, Wren, but I would do anything for that chance.”

His sincerity washed over me like the gentle caress of a warm breeze, soothing and invigorating all at once. In that moment, everything felt possible, as though the shadows of our past were mere specters, dissipating beneath the brilliance of a newfound resolve. I had come here seeking solace, and instead, I found the undeniable urge to bridge the chasm that had formed between us.

And before I knew what was happening, I was gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat radiating from his body. The world around us blurred into a soft haze, and I pressed my lips to his, igniting a fire that had long been smoldering beneath the surface. His initial hesitance melted away, and I could taste the sweetness of his surprise, the warmth of his acceptance as he began to kiss me back. But as quickly as it had started, it ended. I pulled away, standing tall as the weight of reality settled upon my shoulders once more. 

“I want to talk,” I declared, determination lacing my words. I gather the skirts, standing on the narrow path. “I can’t promise we can fix it,” I continued, the truth heavy on my tongue, “but I do miss my best friend.” The words hung in the air like a fragile truce, offering us a pathway back to each other, a bridge across the troubled waters between us.

His expression shifted, a mix of surprise and relief flooding his features as he stood, still in shock yet undeniably present in this moment. “I miss you too,” he said, the fervor in his voice igniting a flicker of hope deep within me.

“Meet me in my room in an hour,” I instructed, firm and clear. “Don’t be late.” 

And with that, I turned, my heart racing as I walked off the parapet, each step echoing with the promise of what lay ahead. The anticipation of our conversation thrummed in the air, a symphony of possibility weaving through the threads of the night, as I headed toward the unknown that awaited me.

“He’s not coming.” My voice trembles slightly as I pace the length of my room, the familiar rhythm of my footsteps echoing against the walls, a nervous symphony to accompany the chaos swirling in my mind. 

“He still has ten minutes,” Desa chimes in, her tone steady and reassuring, cutting through the anxiety that claws at my chest.

“Why did I invite him here? Am I insane?” The thought feels like a thunderclap, a jarring realization that sends my heart racing, each beat a reminder of the stakes involved.

“Maybe—” 

“Desa!” I snap, irritation flaring as I struggle against the rising tide of uncertainty.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” she shoots back, but the urgency in her voice does little to quell the tempest brewing inside me.

“Well, I—” Just then, a knock resonates through the quiet of my room, a sharp sound that makes my pulse quicken. “It’s not real,” I murmur, barely able to comprehend the notion that he might actually be here.

“Open the door,” she presses, her voice laced with an expectation that feels both foreign and exhilarating.

“Wren?” His voice, low and familiar, cuts through the air like a warm breeze, sending a shiver down my spine. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

“I know I’m early. I figured we—” I pull the door open, revealing him in the soft glow of the hallway light. His presence is magnetic, drawing me in with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “Hey,” he says softly, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“Hi.” The word escapes my lips in a breathy whisper, and I open the door wider, urging him to step inside. But he hesitates, lingering in the doorway. “Are you going to stand in the hall all night?”

Xaden chuckles, a sound that warms the air around us. “You have to pull me through, remember?”

“Right! Sorry.” I reach for his hand, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin, a spark that ignites a fire within me. I wasn’t supposed to touch him until we talked; I knew that, yet the intoxicating scent of his body wash wraps around me like a familiar embrace, making it hard to focus on anything but the heat coursing between us. 

“Kiss me,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, as I push the door closed, sealing us in this moment of vulnerability. 

“We should talk, Wren,” he replies, his tone steady, but I can feel the tension crackling in the air.

“Xaden, I want to, I really do,” I confess, urgency clawing at my chest as I push him back against the door. “But I feel like I’m losing control and I fucking need you.” 

“Dain can’t take care of you?” The words hit me like a cold splash of water, and I instinctively back away from him, retreating into the emotional wall I’ve built around myself.

“Don’t do that,” I say, dropping onto my bed, the weight of his question crashing down like an anchor.

“Wren, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“No,” I whisper fiercely, tears brimming in my eyes. “No, you did. And that’s the problem.” As I blink back the moisture threatening to spill, I feel the truth of my words clawing its way out. “I ran out on Dain because every time he touched me, I wished it was you.” His mouth opens in surprise, but no sound comes forth. “He… I just… I need to feel like I have control over my life again.” I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

Xaden’s presence loomed large, an anchor in my tumultuous sea of feelings. He took a careful step towards me, his brow furrowed with concern, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause.

“I don’t want to use you, Xaden,” I said quietly, my voice trembling as it broke the tension. My heart ached, the rawness of my admission spilling out like a confession in the dark. “But I need you to be the one who puts me back together.”

His gaze softened, an understanding shining in the depths of his eyes. “I want that too,” he replied, his tone almost a whisper, as though he feared shattering the fragile moment we shared. “But not when you're this broken.” 

And just like that, the dam I had so carefully constructed crumbled, giving way to a torrent of silent, shaking sobs. My body shook with the weight of all I had been holding inside. Xaden moved closer, enveloping me in his arms, and the warmth of his embrace wrapped around me like a cocoon, comforting yet suffocating. 

“You have to put yourself back together, Little Bird,” he murmured, his voice a gentle balm against the chaos within. “I can’t do it for you.” His lips pressed to my temple, a soft gesture that felt like a prayer. I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me, battling against the shadows that had been looming for far too long. “And I’ll gladly sit by your side while you do it,” he promised, the sincerity of his words resonating deep within my soul.

I nodded, a small movement that felt monumental against the tide of despair. Leaning into his hold, I allowed myself to surrender to the moment, if only for a fleeting heartbeat. For just a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Xaden held me close, his presence steadying, as he hummed a lullaby—a haunting melody that wrapped around us like a shield against the world outside.

As my eyelids grew heavy, the soothing rhythm of his voice lulled me into a gentle slumber. My thoughts began to blur, merging with the soft cadence of the lullaby, and I drifted off…

Then I’m back in Dain’s room, the familiar chaos of maps and notebooks strewn about, each one a testament to the meticulous planning and strategizing that characterized the night before War Games. The air is thick with tension, the kind that wraps around me like a heavy cloak. 

I start to rise from the edge of the bed, intent on finding some semblance of rest before the day ahead. But before I can move too far, Dain steps in front of me, his presence blocking my path with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. 

His hands reach up, cradling my face with a possessive gentleness, his thumbs grazing over my cheekbones as if trying to anchor me to this moment. “Wren,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, eyes searching mine with an intensity that feels both intimate and suffocating. “Stay.” The tenderness of his touch should have brought comfort, but instead, it feels wrong—like a well-rehearsed performance, carefully crafted but lacking authenticity. 

“I think I should go.” I turn my head, trying to break free from his grasp, but his hold remains unyielding, fingers pressing into my skin with a stubbornness that betrays his desperation. 

“No,” he insists, his voice softening, a coaxing lilt that feels almost manipulative. “You don’t have to run from this. From me.” 

“Dain, I said—” 

He leans in, closing the distance between us, and his lips find mine with a ferocity that leaves no room for hesitation. This kiss is not gentle—it's hungry, possessive, as though he’s trying to imprint his presence onto me, to convince me of something that hangs heavy and unspoken between us. I freeze, shock jolting through my body before instinct kicks in, and I push him away, harder than I intended.

“What the hell?” I snap, my breath coming in sharp gasps, the pulse of my heart echoing in my ears.

His expression darkens, shifting in a way that reveals an unfamiliar side of him, one flickering with jealousy and frustration. “You’re still caught up on him, aren’t you?” 

“This has nothing to do with Xaden,” I retort, stepping back, my heart racing with indignation. “This is about me not wanting this.”

“I��ve been patient,” he states, his tone morphing into something colder, more calculated. “I’ve backed off every time you needed space. But don’t forget who vouched for you when no one else would. Who still does.”

My blood runs cold at his implication. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m reminding you,” Dain replies carefully, as if choosing his words with the precision of a blade, “that leadership has eyes. That reputations… especially yours, are fragile things.”

“You wouldn’t,” I whisper, my voice trembling—not from fear, but from fury that courses through me like wildfire.

He took a slow, deliberate step toward me, the air crackling with tension, his arms loose at his sides, yet his posture screamed control. It was as if he was a predator sizing up his prey, and I was caught in his crosshairs. “You already walk a fine line, Wren,” he began, his voice smooth, but the underlying threat was unmistakable. “Bonded to a Loyalist dragon, with a traitor’s last name—a relic. The wrong whisper, the wrong report, and suddenly you’re no longer just ‘difficult.’ You’re dangerous.”

I felt bile rise in my throat as his words settled over me like a heavy shroud. “You’re disgusting,” I breathed, my heart pounding in my chest as I instinctively backed toward the door, every instinct screaming for escape. “You think I owe you something because you smiled at me when no one else did?” 

He didn’t respond, his silence a chilling affirmation of his intentions. When my fingers reached for the door handle, I felt his hands push me firmly against the wood, the force of his presence looming over me. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” His voice dripped with a mixture of anger and betrayal.

Fury ignited within me, and I pushed back against him, my hand deftly pulling out my dagger and pointing it at his throat before he could close the distance again. “Touch me again and I’ll find myself Squad Leader by the games tomorrow,” I threatened, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me, fingers tightening around the hilt of my weapon.

He didn’t need to respond; his eyes held a mix of surprise and anger as I yanked the door open, stepping into the hallway. The air outside was like ice against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heated confrontation I had just escaped. My boots echoed against the stone floor, each step a desperate beat as I walked faster—then broke into a run.

“Wrenley!” Xaden’s voice broke through the nightmare, slicing through the remnants of my fear. I met his concerned gaze, the intensity in his eyes grounding me in the moment. “Is that what happened?” 

“What?” I stammered, still shaken.

“You didn’t think thoughts and communication were the only things you could send, did you?” 

“You saw…” I trailed off, the memory flooding back with visceral clarity.

“What he fucking did?” Xaden growled, springing from the bed. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Xay—” I started, desperation clawing at my throat, but a pounding at my door cut me off. Please don’t be Dain. 

“Wren?” Garrick’s voice came through, worry lacing his tone. 

“Gare?” I swung the door open, relief washing over me momentarily as my cousin stood before me. His eyes flicked from my tear-streaked face to Xaden, the tension in the air shifting. I could almost see his blood boil, rage simmering just beneath the surface as he tried to enter my warded room and failed. 

“What the fuck did you do, Riorson?” he growled, the anger in his voice deepening the weight of the moment.

“Believe me, Garrick. This,” Xaden gestures toward me with a fierce intensity, “is not on me this time.”

I spin to face Xaden, my heart racing as I murmur through the channel, “Do not tell him.” The urgency of the situation is a weight pressing down on my chest, the cold metal of my dagger a reminder of the confrontation that still lingers in my mind.

Garrick runs a frustrated hand through his hair, the worry etched on his features evident as he groans, “We don’t have time for this.” His voice is taut, each word laced with the urgency of the moment. “We’re being called in for a full quadrant formation.”

“At this hour?” Xaden questions, his brow furrowing, concern flickering in his eyes like a flame caught in a gust of wind.

“We’re under attack.” The gravity of those words sends a shiver down my spine, igniting a spark of adrenaline that buzzes beneath my skin.

Without hesitation, Xaden turns to my armoire, the wooden doors creaking softly as he flings them open. He rummages through my belongings with a sense of urgency, pulling out my flight leathers, the smell of leather and oil mingling in the air as I quickly change. Garrick darts off, presumably to gather the others, leaving me alone with the storm brewing in Xaden's gaze.

“Where the fuck is your flight jacket?” he growls, his voice low and demanding as he digs through the chaos of my armoire.

“Fuck, I must’ve left it in Dain’s room,” I groan, the realization crashing over me like a wave of dread. Slipping my boots back on, I steel myself, ready to take action. “I’ll just go—”

“Absolutely not.” His voice cuts through the air, sharp and uncompromising as he rips his own flight jacket off, wrapping it around me with a swift motion. “I’ll go grab my extra one. You are not to be alone with Dain again, understand me?” 

“I can handle myself,” I protest, though my heart races, a mix of determination and fear coursing through me.

“My fuck-up is what got you in that situation, Wren.” Xaden’s grip tightens on my shoulders, his gaze earnest and unyielding, conveying the weight of his concern. “I’ll be damned if it happens again. Please.” With a nod of agreement, I feel the tension start to ease, if only slightly. “Alright, you head on down. I’ll be there in a minute.” The words hang in the air, a promise wrapped in urgency, as we brace ourselves for the unknown that lies ahead.

I make my way to the formation, the cool night air wrapping around me like a shroud. The courtyard is alive with activity, the energy palpable as squad leaders return to their ranks, their expressions a mix of determination and tension. Just as I reach our designated spot, Dain’s eyes lock onto mine, a predator’s gaze that sends a shiver down my spine. I instinctively shift to stand closer to our quad, creating a buffer of distance between us, hoping to diminish the weight of his presence.

“Why are you wearing Riorson’s flight jacket?” Imogen's voice cuts through the air behind me, teasing yet curious. I can feel the warmth of embarrassment creeping into my cheeks.

“I lost mine,” I mumble, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze, desperate for her to let the topic drop. But as I glance at Violet, her head snaps in my direction, a sly glint in her eye as she zeroes in on the unmistakable markers on the jacket.

“Bullshit,” Imogen laughs, the sound bright and infectious despite the tension. “You can admit that you two were fucking.” She gives me a playful nudge with her elbow, and I groan at her jest.

“Nothing happened. We talked, Garrick came to get us for this, and I realized my jacket was missing. That's it,” I protest, but the words feel weak against the teasing atmosphere.

Commandant Panchek strides onto the dais, exuding authority, followed closely by Colonel Aetos and the wingleaders, who flank him like sentinels. Xaden, clad in his spare jacket, stands with a fierce intensity, his eyes searing into Dain, an unspoken challenge hanging between them.

“Leave him alone until this is over,” I tell Xaden, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. He turns his gaze from Dain to me, his expression softening, revealing a glimpse of the concern beneath his hardened exterior.

“Third years might get sent out if it’s bad enough,” he replies, a hint of gravity underscoring his words. My heart sinks at the implication.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe. Though I’m sure Sgaeyl will drag me back soon enough,” he reassures me, though the tension in the air suggests otherwise. Nyra leans in to whisper something to Xaden, and his voice cuts through the tension again, filled with annoyance. “Fucking War Games.”

“This is for War Games?” I ask, incredulity flaring inside me. 

“Think I can get away with stabbing Aetos? I’m sure this was his idea,” Xaden jokes, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface as I stifle my own.

“I’d pay good money to see that,” I reply, caught up in the moment, 

"Don't tempt me, Little Bird," and he winks at me from the dais, igniting a spark deep inside me as Panchek begins to speak.

“Riders Quadrant!” Panchek’s commanding voice booms across the courtyard, reverberating against the stone walls and cutting through the murmur of anxious chatter. As the gathered cadets straighten, the air crackles with anticipation and trepidation. “Welcome to the last event of this year’s War Games.” The atmosphere shifts, excitement mingling with the weight of what’s to come. “The alert that was sounded is similar to what it would have been if this were a real-life attack—to see how fast you would muster—and we will continue this exercise as if it is.” A chill runs down my spine at his words, a visceral reminder of the stakes involved. “Were the borders to be simultaneously attacked, and the wards faltering, you would all be called into service to reinforce the wings. Colonel Aetos, would you do us the honor of reading the scenario?”

With a fluid motion, Dain’s father steps forward, scroll unfurling in his hands, and begins to read aloud. His voice carries the weight of grim reality. “The moment we’ve dreaded has arrived. The wards we’ve dedicated our lives to upholding are falling, and there has been an unprecedented, multilevel attack along our borders, putting villages under siege from drifts of gryphon riders.” The imagery he conjures is stark, igniting fears of chaos and destruction. “Mass casualties among civilians and infantry are already being reported, as are the deaths of multiple riders.”

The crowd’s collective breath hitches, faces paling under the gravity of the scenario. “As we would if you were a battle-ready force, we are sending your wings in every direction,” he continues, his gaze honing in on each wing. When he reaches ours, my heart thunders in my chest. “Fourth Wing to the southeast. Each squad will pick which outpost they will reinforce within that region. Choices are first come, first served. Wingleaders, however, will be assigned to theirs for the purposes of determining a headquarters for this exercise.” 

Colonel Aetos pauses, the silence stretching taut before he turns to the wingleaders, issuing rapid-fire orders. But his gaze flickers toward Dain, and I can feel the tension build. Then, he looks at Xaden, his smile slipping for just a heartbeat, a fleeting moment that sends a shiver coursing through me. “Riorson, you’ll establish your headquarters for Fourth Wing at Athebyne.” 

A wave of unease washes over me. That’s outside the wards. They never send cadets that far. 

The tension in the air hangs thick, a palpable force swirling around us like an impending storm. As Colonel Aetos steps back, the echoes of his orders fade into the background, replaced by the frantic heartbeat of anticipation thrumming in my chest. Xaden’s command cuts through the fog of uncertainty, a lifeline amidst the chaos. 

“You’re coming with me.” His voice is authoritative, carrying the weight of unyielding resolve, as he locks eyes with me. There’s an urgency in his expression that I can’t ignore, a fierce intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. “And wear every dagger you own.” 

My heart races, confusion twisting in my gut. I want to ask why, to demand clarity, but before I can voice my questions, Dain’s presence draws my attention. He’s facing us now, his demeanor resolute as he turns to address the squad. “We’re going to claim the outpost at Eltuval, the northernmost one in our assigned region,” he declares, and I can feel the gravity of his decision settle over us like a cloak. “I’m not getting stuck at some coastal outpost when we know that’s not how Poromiel would choose to attack. Anyone have a problem with that?”

We all shake our heads. 

“Good, then you heard the commandant. You have thirty minutes to change, pack what you can carry for five days, and get your asses to the flight field.” Dain’s voice is firm, cutting through the chaos with clarity. I turn to leave, adrenaline igniting my senses, when Dain’s grip on my arm halts me.

“Wren—” 

“Get your hands off her, squad leader,” Xaden growls, striding toward us like a storm rolling in. His presence is electric, igniting a spark of defiance within me, and I feel a rush of gratitude for his protective instincts.

“What’s going on?” Dain questions, his grip reluctantly releasing my arm. The tension crackles between them, a silent battle of wills, but Xaden’s glare is a shield, fierce and unwavering.

“Leave her alone, Aetos. I’m warning you.” Xaden’s voice is low, a rumble of thunder that demands obedience. He guides me away from the confrontation, a firm hand at my back that ignites an unexpected warmth in my chest. “Before you freak out, I’m also bringing Violet on our team.”

“What?” The surprise spills out before I can think better of it. But as I look into Xaden’s eyes, I see the truth etched in his expression. He’s made his decision, and I can’t argue with the conviction behind it. 

“I can’t trust Aetos to prioritize her life. And Sgaeyl demands Tairn come with. That’s it.” 

His gaze holds mine, a steady flame against the encroaching darkness, and I feel the weight of his words settle over me. There’s a fierceness in him that assures me he’ll do everything in his power to protect us, a promise woven into the very fabric of his being.

“Okay.”

“Good.” He sighs. “Now go pack, meet me on the flight field,” he says, his voice a low murmur that sends a thrill through me. The world around us fades into a blur as I nod, swallowing the whirlwind of emotions within me as I turn to return to the dorms. 

next part

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[mo-aiki]

Duke Augustus Swanson of the North

Summary: Your fiance and how he had reacted to your sudden change in behavior. As he looks back on the past, he wonders how long has he seen your smiling face with content and affection.

Warning: obessive behavior, mentions of violence, obvious implications of bullyin, I don't condone it, I just write it

A/N: ART NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF THE MANHWA SECRET LADY

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

For as long as he could remember, Augustus never liked you.

Not a single bit.

The daughter of a count and a generational promise between his grandfather and yours that didn't suffice. His parents were both dead from a carriage accident, and as such, his grandfather took him in and forced him into this marriage. The first time he had met you, he was enchanted by your looks (even if both of you were 8 years old). Your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes enchanted him, but it soon all came crashing down onto him once your parents left the room, and your true personality was revealed. Even at a young age, he was already being tugged on by young ladies and their families wanting to up their status or rank in noble society, no matter the age. And you were no different in your affections.

Seducing him with sweets.

Yelling at ladies in your way.

"Accidentally" spilling a dark grape juice on a lady's ballgown because he had conversed with her for an hour and found her remotely interesting to talk to.

Trying to talk to him about anything.

Being near him and showing public displays of affection.

Clinging onto a promise, he vowed to break.

He was bored of someone like you. You who were no different than the other ladies who had tried to seduce him. Your mannerisms, your personality, and your ideas, they were all the same to him.

No matter how many times you'd court him, even if it took 5 years to reach, he felt absolutely nothing.

His heart didn't pang, his cheeks and ears didn't flush, his breathing was perfectly normal, and the words out of his mouth cut through like usual.

Nothing would change in your relationship with him. He had planned to break it off and just die alone with no heir or find someone he had mutual interest in.

Nothing will change and he was certain nothing will ever change between the 2 of you.

Until the day you had contracted a deathly high fever.

Augustus was surprised to hear about you 3 days after getting the envelope from your family. He had thought it was you, sending it like you were your father. But his butler forced him to open it.

Dear Young Master Augustus,

I am here to inform you of the cancelation of next Thursday's meeting with my daughter. You see, my daughter has contracted a high fever due to the flu season being prevalent. She is unable to attend the meeting and I would like it if you visit her in order to wish her as speedy recovery. I know that is rather a selfish thing to ask for, but my daughter has been requesting your presence ever since she contracted it. I would like to ask you to please see my daughter and wish for her speedy recovery.

Sincerely,

Count (l/n).

He thought, why not visit. To see you die and his engagement to be break off, would be a euphoric day for him.

He visited you, and was by your side in your room. Pink, frilly and full of girly stuff. He disliked it, but somehow found it cute. You in your lace nightgown, and your face all red but with a cold towel on your head. He had received the news that your fever had been so high, that you had been in a coma now.

He left, because he had nothing else to do there. 'I hope she dies so I can get out of this wretched engagement...' he thought with the coldest stare imaginable.

Your behavior has changed after that fever.

Augustus was not the first one to notice such a change in behavior. Your once smug and arrogant expression, was replaced with a confused and softer one.

It was more bearable.

Everything about you became toned down. Spending time together was less of a pain in the neck, and over time, he started caring about you, little by little.

He started noticing your favorite things, like, for example, your favorite desserts, flowers, places to converse, color, toys, and even down to the accessories you liked to adorn yourself with.

Your cute mannerisms and habits that he can't help but lightly tease at. "Why do you do such things..?" He said, a bit too loud.

"Do what?" You asked, confused.

He wiped away a spot of whipped cream on your cheek and licked it. Watching your face blush in embarrassment was sure worth the move he pulled. Even if he was 13 at the time.

As both of you grew up, he'd soon see how people reacted around you. He sure saw the difference. You turned more beautiful as you matured in age. Your personality grew, and your smile was more bright. He wanted to be the only one to notice these changes and monopolize it for himself, but everyone else around you could now see it. First, your childhood friend. The son of a low ranking Earl. He thought of nothing with him, but he did annoy him. His consistent pestering and hopeless looks made you always include him in your dates.

He absolutely took in the fact that the boy always looked at him with disdain and envy. And he did as well. His close bond with you, and how close he could get to you without you making a fuss, fumed him.

But once you got older, everyone, and he felt everyone started to take notice of you. Men staring at your maturing body with eyes full of lust, women staring with jealousy, children taking notice of your pretty face, and the consistent flirting from everyone, and he felt like everyone.

Men bumping into you, "supposedly on accident," and striking up a conversation, you looked bored in. Women stealing your attention with the gossip of the nobility and even flirting themselves. Children always begging and crying for attention if you did not provide enough for them. He was sick of it.

The son of a small count was always consistently flirting with you. Asking about your day, favorite color, favorite jewels, hobbies, it was almost as if he had forgotten you had a fiance right next to you.

He couldn't help but say a couple of threats towards him, and when that didn't work, he planned for his carriage to be ran into, paying the driver to run away to another country with 10,000 gold paid for him.

But he wasn't the only one. Many men of lowly rank kept on coming, and he threatened them. If that didn't work, they mysteriously died in the next few days. All evidence of the perpetrator, erased from sight.

He could get rid of all of his enemies, but 2. Her childhood best friend and the war hero turned personal guard.

The son of an Earl was sneaky, cunning, and someone whose death would greatly affect her. She would be broken before he ever got the chance to be with her. And the personal guard. A war hero. Someone who is well versed in strength and is not shaken by mere threats he could ever make.

Nothing ever seemed to work to get rid of them, other than the fact that he was your fiancé. So all he needed to do was shower you with love (which he already did and is currently doing). He gives you gifts of jewels, books and stuff for your hobbies, he always has his hand around your waist when out and about. He is always watching what you do. He listen in on your conversations, whether they be rants, boring or awkward small talk. And most of all, he is always here when he can be.

But he was surprised when you all of the sudden brought up annulment.

You had wanted to annul your engagement with him.

He spent all night after such a ground-breaking announcement, awake and thinking of all the possibilities of why you would ever want to break off your engagement with him. All he could think of were the 2 men who were close to you.

"It's all their faults...I need to marry her soon..." he mumbled as he got up and got a paper, pen and his favorite quill.

A/N: Should I do the other guys? This is connected to my previous post so I hoped you enjoyed it. Sorry it took so long to post another story.

[captain-heartstrings]

Jus a question but when u say contractee is a yonug adult do u mean hes a teenager or hes in his early 20s /genq

Here! I can info dump on my headcanons regarding the ages and timelines of the Mafia Family.

As a fair warning, I am of the beleife that age gaps don't really matter once you're above the age of 21. You've both been adulting for several years, you can make your own decisions ya know?

Contractee - 21 years old, Joined the mafia as a 17 year old, lost his blood family when they got caught in some shady buisness- the mafia not only took revenge for him but took him in when he had no where else to go. More of a lackey than any kind of leader, but he gets things DONE with his hyperactivity. It's hard to find someone more genuine than him, heart on his sleeve, and well guarded by his peers.

Consigliere - 26 years old, the son of the previous mafia boss' Consigliere. Takes his job as advisor to the Boss' lineage with pride. Uses his riches and high role in society as a front for the Mafia. Has been friends with Caporegime since childhood, tries to keep the man loose and not so uptight. Has the best ideas and plans.

Caporegime - 27 years old, born to a family of lower ranking Mafia members. Worked his way to the top with blood sweat and tears, learned the hard way that this life isn't one to trust easily in. Has been friends with Consigliere since childhood, values his connection to him above everything. The Leader of the little 4 person squad serving as the Boss' right hand men. (Also, his long time serving the Mafia has given him permanent damage to his hearing, he needs his hearing aids.)

Soldier - 30 years old, a goon the Boss picked up out of an underground fighting scene and offered to pay handsomely in exchange for the safety of his blood family (2 siblings he has back home). Has no education to speak of and has the heaviest accent of the group, though hes only been with the Mafia for a little longer than Tee, the brute is so strong he rival's the Boss's abilities, leading him to a top ranking position.

Mafioso (The Boss) - 40 years old and the only surviving Heir of the Boss before him. Killed his own siblings in a feud for power, has been leading this operation since he was 18. Collects debts, and ensures the crime of his town is measured. Honestly solves more issues than the police.

Chance (The Boss' Mister) - 38 years old. The owner of the biggest casino in the town. Became a client of the Mafia, where they would handle the Casino's debtors in exchange for complete access to the Casino, as many criminals and back alley deals tend to congregate around the Casino, the deal was struck after Chance had recovered from a particularly nasty betrayel at the hands of his ex-situationship. This deal became sortof obsolete when Chance and Mafioso got married.