#which clearly something happened that triggered this response!

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 4

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : 2.3k word count : your experience with the unsub warning : canon-typical violence (it gets a bit gory, torture-ish, implied sexual violence), swear words > read at your own risk, you are responsible for the media you consume A/N : thank you all for the support and love on this omggg <333 Emily's a tiny bit of a bitch in this one, whoopsie. y/n cries the whole time, I figured that was what I would do. would you guys like a part 5, maybe Spencer taking care of y/n after such a traumatic experience? some comfort after hurt?

part 1, part 2, part 3

The first thing you noticed when you came to your senses was the throbbing in the back of your head. Your first reflex was to bring your hand up to where you were sure to find blood, but you couldn’t move either of your arms. Opening your eyes wearily, you noticed that your wrists were restrained, binding you to an old wooden chair.  “What the-“ Your heart rate picked up as the memory of being hit over the head came back to you. Frantically looking around, your breathing started getting short and ragged when you realised your surrounding were wholly unfamiliar to you. You jerked your wrists to the sides, hoping that maybe the tight ropes would untie themselves. 

“Don’t tire yourself out,” an icy voice drawled from a dark corner. You could barely hear over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. You cursed yourself when he stepped out of the shadows, greasy locks pushed behind his ears. You should have told Spencer. You should have known.

His face was barely visible in the dim light. The smell of dust and mold which clung to the room suited him well. His gaze on you made you feel dirty and you hated it. You examined the enclosed space you were in and realised you were in an abandoned art room on campus. You'd discovered it once with your friends by accident, years ago. Art supplies, canvases and desks were strewn about in a careless manner. You tried not to think too much about the blood dotting the floor in multiple places.

"Why did you bring me here?" you asked, doing your best to remain calm. He was clearly unstable and you didn't want to trigger him if you could help it. “Don't worry about that, just know you’re not getting out of here any time soon, honey.” He smiled, a frightening grimace, and licked his lips. Nausea clouded your senses for a second. Tears gathered on your waterline. “Oh yes, I will.” Your voice shook as you spoke and you hated how weak you sounded. His brows raised and he let slip a little, mocking laugh. It made your skin crawl. A tear slipped down your cheek and, humiliatingly, you couldn't wipe it away. “And why do you think that?” he asked, feigning interest. You scowled at him. “The FBI is going to find you, you sick fuck. If they couldn't before this, they definitely will now." 

Your head whipped to the side as he slapped you across the face. He bent down, placing his face mere centimetres from yours. Another tear fell from your eye as you felt your cheek sting and then get uncomfortably warm. “You stupid bitch,” he snarled. “You better watch your tone. You actually think they’ll find you? That's cute." You swallowed, opting to stay silent.

Spencer knew something had happened as soon as Hotch stepped into the room. Over the years, he'd learned how his boss functioned and how to separate all the micro-expressions he used before assembling them back together and interpreting them. Today, he could tell something was seriously wrong.

He hadn't even thought of you at first. In his mind, you were safe. The unsub had been arrested and proof was being searched for. The guy fit the profile and the profile never lied. So why did Hotch ask him to sit down?

"W- what?" "I think you may want to sit down for this." Spencer was getting agitated, he didn't like being kept out of the information loop. "Hotch, just tell us what's going on," pressed Morgan, brows drawn together. "You know how we asked all the professors to contact us immediately if anyone fitting the victimology didn't show up for class?" "Yeah," Emily nodded, urging Hotch on. "We got a call." The Unit Chief's eyes fell on Spencer and the latter knew what he was going to say before the words were uttered. "Spencer, Y/N's professor said she didn't show up to class this morning."

"O-okay, wait, that doesn't mean anything, we arrested a guy, she could just not be feeling well," Emily spoke hastily, concerned about the look on Spencer's face. "No, we must have the wrong-" Spencer was interrupted by Morgan: "Wait a second, the profile says-" "I don't care what the profile says, Morgan! Y/N's first class today is Germanic Ethos and Christian Faith in Medieval Literature, that's her favourite class, she's never missed it in the entire semester! And she was feeling well this morning, we had breakfast together and she would have told me if not! Clearly, we have the wrong guy!"

Silence reigned for a short moment after Spence's outburst. The entire team was left speechless by his behaviour, which was entirely unprecedented. Spencer ran a hand through his hair, letting out a small sigh. "I- Can you try calling her at least? Before we jump to any conclusions." Emily crossed her arms over her chest. Spencer sent her a dark look before whipping out his phone and pressing on the first name in his contact list. He put it on speaker and let it ring.

"No, no, please," you sobbed, "no more! Please! No, stop!"

Your voice was raw from screaming. Judging by the three shallow cuts he left on your right shoulder, the unsub enjoyed seeing your blood pearl and run down your skin. He also revelled in watching you writhe and scream in pain. "What did I tell you? Shut the fu-" He raised his hand in the air and you flinched away by reflex only to find the blow never came. You held your breath.

"I'm breaking dishes up in here all night, uh uh! I ain't gon' stop until I see police and lights, uh uh! I'm a fight a man tonight, I'm a fight a man-"

Oh, the irony. You didn't know whether to bless or curse Rihanna. "What the fuck is this?!" he roared, swivelling sharply on his feet to press the blade of his bloody knife into your cheek. You whimpered quietly. You couldn't help but think of all the infections you would be vulnerable to because of his dirty and rusted weapon. How could someone have so little care for basic hygiene? "It's- It's my ringtone! It's just my ringtone!"

"A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an! A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an!"

"You little bitch," he hissed, quickly untying your hands and grabbing your throat. He lifted you up by the neck and slammed you into the nearest wall, yelling about what a deceiving, conniving whore you were. You cried out in pain, desperately pulling at his hand which was wound tight around your throat. "You think your little friends are going to come and get you?!" he mocked, smushing your cheeks with his other hand. "Tough luck, doll, you're all alone and you're going to-" "Wait!" you spluttered, "Wait!" Your vision had begun going blurry but your mind remained intact. "If- If I don't answer, they'll know something's wrong! And then they'll send everyone out looking for me, for you!"

His grip on your throat lessened and you coughed, forcing air back into your lungs. Your eyes burned with tears. "What does it matter to you?" "Look- I- It doesn't matter, my ringtone is about to stop! And they'll come for sure!" Making a split-second decision, he stomped over to where he'd thrown your bag and sweater carelessly on the ground. You slid down onto the floor, wiping at your eyes. Hastily ruffling through your bag, he pulled your phone out after a second. You lamented all the flyaway papers you'd annotated with bright and lively colours now most likely stained with grime and blood. The unsub answered the call and roughly pressed the phone against your ear. You winced.

"O-Oh, Y/N! It's Spencer, are you alright?!" Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks at the comforting sound of Spencer's voice. You wanted nothing more than to be near him, away from this living hell. If anyone could understand a message and find you, Spencer could. You were painfully aware of the little time you had left before the unsub got on with his routine and got rid of you. You cleared your throat, wanting to appear natural. "Hey! Yeah, I'm- I'm fine, I'm heading for my Wax Tablet Workshop, we are going to look at how writing on wax is art which has been abandoned by scholars, like universities." "O- Okay, sweets, I'll come get you after class okay? We can go for a coffee together!" "Sounds great, Spence!"

The unsub threw your phone onto the ground next to you and crushed it with his foot. You let your tears fall freely. Spencer had understood. He was coming.

"That was a hidden message, she doesn't have a Wax Tablet Workshop. It's not even a course the university offers." Spencer's brain was working even faster than usual. The BAU team had never seen him like this before. "Garcia, look for all abandoned locations on university campus. Maybe a classroom?" he urged.

The sound of a keyboard typing incredibly fast was heard on the speaker. "I've got one." Penelope's voice was urgent and contained no trace of its usual lightness. "There's an abandoned art studio on the East side of the campus. I'm sending you the address now."

"Let's go," ordered Hotch.

You'd never wear shorts again. Exhausted, beaten, bruised and tied to a chair, you didn't have the energy to do anything more than move your knee when he trailed his finger along it. You were starting to lose hope. There was no clock in sight, but you could guess your time would soon be up. Some part of you wanted to give up. You knew if Spencer were here, he'd tell you to keep fighting, to keep hoping. But you were tired, so, so tired.

You suspected you had a concussion from when he'd knocked out and when he'd slammed you into the wall. Your vision was blurry. Although, maybe that was due to the tears. They hadn't stopped coming since he'd first slapped you. But when his cold hand found your thigh and squeezed it roughly, the kindling fire in you regained strength. No. You would rather die than suffer whatever else he had planned for you. As he started moving his repulsive mouth towards you, you jerked your knee upwards, hard, right into his groin. He roared in pain and doubled over, stumbling backwards.

"Stay the fuck back!" you screamed hysterically. "Don't you dare fucking touch me, you psycho!" He met your eyes with a frenzied look you'd never seen before and pounced on you. The chair you were sitting on shattered with a loud noise and you screamed, finding yourself lying on top of splintery wood pieces. As he brought his arm upwards, knife facing downwards, towards you, you closed your eyes. You didn't want him to be the last thing you saw. You thought of all the good things in your life, your family, Spencer, Geoffrey, Spencer, your friends, Spencer,...

"Put it down!!!" bellowed a familiar voice. "Put it down now!" You opened your eyes. The door behind you had been broken down. FBI agents flooded the room, all aiming their guns at the man on top of you. His eyes darted frantically between Agent Morgan, whose voice you'd recognised, and two other agents you couldn't see.

"I want a deal!" the unsub cried out, "I want a deal!" "No deal," a deeper, more authoritative voice spoke. The unsub raised his arm again, preparing to strike. You closed your eyes.

BAM!

To this day, you didn't think the unsub expected to be shot. You figured he was expecting to be imprisoned. You didn't see the look on his face when he was shot, only felt the dead weight of his body falling on top of you.

Shrieking hysterically, you struggled frantically to move his corpse off you. Someone shoved him off you, promising you in a soothing voice that you were safe.

"Spencer." His name had never been spoke like that before. It was a haunting sob, a cry for help. He was at your side immediately, ridding you of the ropes around your wrists and pulling you away from the broken chair.

It was only when he called your name a third time that you finally found your grasp on reality again. Spencer pulled you into his arms, being careful not to squeeze you too tight. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. The comforting smell of him, of home, engulfed and grounded you. "It's okay," he cooed softly, lips brushing your ear, "you're safe now, he can't hurt you anymore." "Call an ambulance," you heard someone order in the distance. Sobbing hard into Spencer's shoulder, you pulled him impossibly closer to you. "I'm so sorry," you bawled, "I had seen him before on c- campus, like- like your boss said but I didn't want to tell you! I thought he was an- an exchange student!" Spencer shushed you, hands still shaking from taking the shot he took with no hesitation. This would be one of the kills he wouldn’t loose any sleep over. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, you did everything right, I promise you."

"I- I didn't do what you always say," you hiccuped sadly, mouth moving against the material of his sweater vest, staining it with blood and tears. It was an article of clothing which would be ruined for both of you. Spencer would give it to charity a week later, you wouldn't miss it. "I didn't play into his fantasy, I kept telling him you were going to find me, and he was so angry!" "Baby." This was the first he'd called you that. It stopped you in your tracks. "Listen to me, you did everything right. You may not still be alive if you'd played into his fantasy. You were perfect, I promise. Just breathe, now, alright? You’re okay." "Are- are you sure?" "Yes, baby, I'm sure."

Taglist : (thank you for the support my loves <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos @addyyodaddy @lunavelha @scottybitch @rivwritesiguess @lunagalaa @solacestyles @mgg55lovr @salty-sister @angrygalaxyduck @kayybay @arusio @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @perfectmilkshakeruins @pleasantwitchgarden @slutforwordsfr @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @bippityboppityboob1tch @navs-bhat @amethyst0532 @theamuz @gretaandthatsit @digitalhearts

[7s3ven]

Guys, I’m going feral over thinking about deer hybrid! Reader x Philip Graves. Might make this into a series if I’m bothered LOL. I like the idea.

Imagine in this au, hybrids are rare. Especially you who looks entirely human save for the white and brown freckles adorning your skin and the gentle doe ears that flick occasionally.

You were a tagged hybrid, slang for a hybrid in danger of becoming nothing more than a test subject. You were prized for your unique blend of both human and animal characteristics. However, the company holding you captive forgot one thing. You were still part animal and it was in your instincts to run.

You met Graves after you collapsed on the road while sprinting away from the laboratory, your keen ears picking up the shouts coming from the guards.

You thought yourself as lucky that a car had been passing through the area when you fell. “What is it?” Someone exited the vehicle followed by another.

“It’s a hybrid… a deer one. I think. Can’t really tell.”

“It’s clearly a deer. What else would it be? A bird?”

They bickered amongst themselves before one had the initiative to pull out a walkie talkie. “Boss, we’ve encountered a hybrid on the road. Not sure how old she is, maybe late twenties? She’s a deer hybrid, has a few wounds, and she’s tagged. Your orders? Over.”

The pair waited half a beat before there was a response.

“Why would I want a hybrid?”

“She’s one of the valuable ones, sir. Maybe she can be useful. She was running quite fast before she blacked out. Doubt she’s been fed so to run at that speed on an empty stomach is impressive.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine, bring her in.”

You didn’t officially meet Graves until a week later when he finally paid you a visit.

He watched in concealed awe at the way you gracefully moved, even when you were confined to a bed. You stared up at him, your soft doe eyes burning holes. He found you strangely captivating and it was in that moment he realized you could be useful after all.

Your aim with a gun was surprisingly good. If Graves was going to keep you, he needed you to be capable of protecting yourself. He spent at least a few hours each day just watching you fire a round of shots. His presence was no longer required but you seemed to enjoy his company.

Apart from Graves and the two Shadows who picked you up off the road, you didn’t speak to anyone else. You were shy to the point where sometimes, you didn’t even utter a word to Graves.

Within months, it became apparent as to where your loyalties lay. You answered to Graves and him alone. To you, his words was the law. If a command did not come from Graves, you did not follow it.

Some people found it annoying… but Graves adored it.

You followed Philip Graves everywhere he went, which also meant you tagged along on his shared mission with the Mexican Special Forces Operator and Task Force 141.

BONUS

You were his personal sniper, a gun gifted by Graves strapped to your back.

“Who’s the pretty lass?” A Scottish man asked as you trailed behind Graves. He gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

Graves barely spared him a look. “My sniper.” He cockily answered, an undeniable smugness to his sharp words. “You don’t need to know her name.”

There were questioning looks exchanged between the teammates before Graves clicked his fingers, effortlessly gaining your attention. He leaned down, fully aware of the eyes following his every move.

“Doe.” He uttered the pet name you were accustomed to. Then he spoke in a foreign language, one only you could understand. Then he pointed at a tree nearby. You didn’t need any further instructions as you stepped forward, grasping your rifle. The others watched with raised brows, patiently waiting for something to happen.

There was a loud bang as you pressed the sensitive trigger of your gun. The bullet flew through the air, hitting the tree with pinpoint accuracy. You fired three more shots, hitting the exact same spot and drilling a hole into the trunk.

With practised ease, you lowered the gun. You heard Graves chuckle before he spoke. “Trained her myself.” He beckoned you back to his side and you obeyed without another thought.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as an act of dominance to the others. “She listens to my commands and mine only so don’t think for a second that her loyalties will change.”

Graves reached out to grasp your necklace, showing it to the whole group. It was a heart with his name engraved on it. “She belongs to me and if any of you muppets even look at her funny, it won’t end well for you.”

[pin-k-ink]

LAST RESORT ⋆✦⋆ kaji ren

synopsis ➸ you’ve got a habit of getting yourself into danger, and he’s done with it. if making you his in every way possible keeps you safe, so be it. he’s ready to show you just how serious he is.

tags ➸ posséssive!kaji, graphic violénce/assáult, sorta tóxic behavior, degrádation, heavy breéding kínk, manhándling, rough séx, unprotécted séx, belly bulge, fingéring, dírty talking, praise kínk, squírting

wc ➸ 6.3k

The dank alleyway reeked of stale vomit, spilled booze, and acrid smoke - remnants of the scuffle that had clearly occurred not long ago. Kaji stood in the center of the grimy passage, chest heaving slightly as he stared down at the two unconscious forms crumpled at his feet.

One of the men sported a rapidly blooming black eye and split lip from where Kaji's fist had caught him square in the face. The other looked even worse off, a trickle of blood leaking from his nose and soaking the collar of his shirt a rusty crimson. Kaji's own knuckles were purpling into mottled shades, skin split in a few places from the vicious impact.

He barely registered the dull throb as he flexed his hands, a muscle in his jaw ticking with barely restrained fury. If these two low-life dirtbags had managed to actually lay hands on you before he intervened...Kaji wasn't sure he'd have been able to control the full force of his rage.

The shrill ring of his phone sliced through the tension cloaking the alley. Already knowing who was on the other end, Kaji snatched it up and stabbed the answer button without preamble.

"Talk," he growled into the receiver, the single clipped word more threat than greeting.

"I got [Y/N]. She's holed up somewhere out of harm's way for now," came Hiragi's measured baritone, devoid of any flowery preamble. He knew better than to screw around when Kaji was in one of these black moods.

Kaji felt a miniscule sliver of the towering fury seething in his chest ease at those words. At least you were unharmed for the time being. Inhaling a grounding breath through his nostrils, he forced his next words to emerge slightly more even.

"Then why the hell are you calling? Get her home and wait for my—"

"There's been...a situation," Hiragi cut him off, something in his gravelly tone instantly rekindling the rage simmering in Kaji's veins. "With the thugs."

In an instant, Kaji's entire frame went preternaturally still - the coiled stillness of a feral predator zeroing in on potential threat to its kin. His spare hand clenched unconsciously into a white-knuckled fist, split skin pulling taut over the abraded ridges.

"What happened?" The words emerged in more of a feral snarl than any recognizable language. "Spit it out!"

A tense pause stretched out for several agonizing heartbeats as Kaji waited for Hiragi's response. He could easily envision his old friend squaring his broad shoulders, dark eyes narrowing as he carefully considered how to phrase whatever had gone sideways without setting off Kaji's hair-trigger temper any further.

"Got jumped when their reinforcements rolled up," Hiragi admitted at last in a low, matter-of-fact rumble. "Heat of the moment, she must've gotten spooked and decided to try finding you on her own while I finished mopping up over here."

Every tendon and cording muscle in Kaji's torso went rigid at those blunt words, jaw clenching tightly enough to grind molars. He opened his mouth to let loose what promised to be a torrent of obscenities aimed squarely at his idiot friend—

Only for the vicious tirade to shrivel on his tongue the second his gaze snapped back to the two unconscious men at his feet. His slate-hued stare widened fractionally as realization slithered through his scorching anger like an icy serpent's caress.

There were only two bodies when he distinctly remembered three would-be assailants from earlier. Which meant...

"Oh fuck..." Kaji exhaled in a low rasp that seemed to emerge from the deepest pit of his stomach. Nausea roiled through his core, warring with the volcanic surge of adrenaline that instantly lashed his senses into killing-edge clarity. "Hiragi, how many of those bastards were there total?"

Even across the tinny cell signal, Kaji could practically taste the weighted pause before his friend answered - resignation and bitter acceptance lacing each syllable.

"...Three," was Hiragi's laconic but utterly damning response. "Should've been three."

White-hot panic detonated through Kaji's neural pathways with the ferocity of a thermobaric blast. His phone dropped from nerveless fingers, battery casing clattering against the filthy concrete as he pivoted on his heel and took off at a dead sprint.

Screw backup, screw lingering to get more intel from Hiragi - every accelerating stride carried Kaji deeper into the delirious spiral of worst-case scenarios blooming like nightmarish visions. If one of those twisted fucks had somehow slipped the net while he'd been distracted...

No. He refused to even entertain the possibility of you being hunted alone and vulnerable while Kaji hadn't been there to shield you from the sick underbelly of this world. He'd burn this whole rot-infested town to the bedrock before allowing you to suffer that sort of torment on his watch.

Kaji's boots thundered over the uneven pavement with piston-like cadence, singularly focused on tracking down that elusive third scumbag by any means necessary. A murderous force of nature solely driven by the towering compulsion to locate and neutralize any threat to your safety with extreme prejudice.

Because if even a single hair on your head was so much as ruffled when he finally reached your side? May whatever forgiving deities existed have mercy on any wretched soul caught in the oncoming cataclysm of Kaji's full, unrestrained wrath.

-

The night air felt heavier than usual, laden with an unsettling undercurrent that set your nerves on edge. You tugged the thin jacket tighter around your frame as you made your way down the deserted sidewalk, footsteps echoing in the tense quiet.

Part of you recognized how utterly foolish it was to be wandering these sketchy back streets alone in search of Kaji. He would be furious if he knew you'd disobeyed Hiragi's Instructions and potentially put yourself in harm's way. But the icy dread pooling in the pit of your stomach simply wouldn't allow you to stay put, not with your boyfriend out there dealing with those predators all on his own.

Ever since those turbulent teenage days when you first fell for the hotheaded delinquent, worries over Kaji's safety during his "business" had become an omnipresent ache. You knew he could more than handle himself - had witnessed firsthand the impressive fighting skills and sheer ferocious determination he brought to every brawl. But that did little to ease the frantic pounding of your heart whenever you imagined him squaring off against those vicious gangs without backup.

As the years pressed on and the stakes grew increasingly higher, your fretful vigil only intensified in turn. Kaji might scoff at your overprotective tendencies if he were aware of them. But you simply couldn't fathom the alternative of not having his solid, unyielding presence by your side through it all.

So you pressed onwards into the looming darkness with heightened alertness, straining to catch any hints of the conflict you prayed was already over. If you could just locate Kaji and confirm he was unharmed with your own eyes, maybe then the bitter taste of dread would—

A rough hand clamped over your mouth from behind, dragging you backwards into the fetid embrace of a yawning alleyway with startling force. You instantly began thrashing and kicking out, but your assailant easily outmatched you in size and bodily strength.

"Keep squirmin' around and see what happens, bitch!" The man's rancid snarl filled your senses as he jerked you flush against his whipcord frame. Hot, moist exhales ghosted across the back of your neck as he sneered close enough for you to see the yellowed teeth and rheumy, bloodshot stare. "Now you just gonna keep nice and quiet while I figure out what I'm gonna do with—"

Whatever vile threat he intended to make died on his lips as you threw your full weight into one more vicious jerk to break free. Eyes burning with desperation and defiance, you brought your heel down in a vicious stomp directly onto his instep with everything you had.

The howl of agony split the night as the lowlife instantly crumpled backward, releasing you from his sour hold in favor of clutching at his brutalized foot. You scrambled back onto your palms, wheezing for breath and preparing to make a break for the street when his twisted expression of pure fury snapped back in your direction.

"Stupid fuckin' bitch!" he roared, already scrambling upright with murder glinting in his beady gaze. "I'mma mash that pretty face into—"

You tried to backpedal as he launched himself towards where you were sprawled. But your retreat proved sluggish and clumsy thanks to your disorientation and his greater momentum. One meaty hand lashed out to seize a fistful of your hair and yank you forwards before the other clamped like a vise around your throat.

White-hot panic detonated in your chest as his full weight bored down on top of you, the crushing pressure around your windpipe cutting off any hope of crying out. Grunts of exertion punctuated your struggles, his saliva-flecked snarl leering just inches from your face as you battered and clawed at his arm with growing feebleness.

Just as black splotches began swimming across your vision and every synapse burned with the screaming need for oxygen, a thunderous detonation split the silence like a sonic boom. The vise-like pressure maintaining its relentless stranglehold around your airway abruptly evaporated as your assailant's bulk was bodily hurled off of you by an unseen force.

You immediately curled onto your side in a choking, hacking spasm - grateful lungfuls of air scorching their way down your abraded throat in between rattling convulsions. When you finally managed to lift your bleary gaze at last, the scene that greeted you made what little breath you'd regained stall in your chest.

Kaji stood in a low, predatory fighting stance, every corded muscle and sinuous tendon standing out in stark relief beneath his tanned skin. The overhead streetlights cast his expression in chiseled strokes of black and gold - features twisted into a mask of such apocalyptic, unrestrained fury that it stole your very voice to behold it directly.

Your eyes tracked his movements with horrified fascination as he stalked towards your now-prone assailant, who cowered and backpedaled with hands upraised in feeble protest. Kaji's hands clenched into granite-ridged fists, posture becoming more low-slung and beast-like with each prowling step until it felt like you were laying witness to humanity's primordial roots rising to the surface.

Suddenly, with zero preamble or warning, Kaji exploded into a lethal flurry of blurred motion - fists, elbows and knees battering into his terrified opponent in a frenzied tempest of shattering impact. Sickening crunches and pained howls filled the night as he unleashed the full unfettered fury of his savagery without mercy or quarter.

You flinched instinctively with each thunderous collision, dimly aware of cradling your ravaged throat as Kaji swiftly reduced the other man into a limp, unmoving heap on the filthy asphalt. Yet still he rained down abuse on the unconscious form, monstrous growls of animalistic rage echoing from the deepest pit of his chest.

That's when his blazing steel-flint stare snapped up and caught yours at last, twin pools of mercurial promise and retribution burning into your very psyche. In that fractured instant, you caught a glimpse of the unmistakable beast Kaji could become when inflamed by undiluted wrath - unrestrained, unholy, and unmerciful towards anything that dared threaten what he'd so utterly claimed as his to protect.

The last coherent memory you retained before the world spun into velvet blackness was that of Kaji prowling towards your sprawled form with the same lethal, purposeful grace of an apex predator finally reclaiming its chosen prize.

-

The first tendrils of awareness filtered back in slowly, like wading through a dense fog. Your eyes felt heavy, weighed down by lingering disorientation even as shapes and shadows gradually coalesced into recognizable forms swimming above you.

"...ink she's coming around. Hey, can you hear me?"

That familiar gravelly baritone finally pierced the cottony haze as Hiragi's concerned features solidified into focus mere inches from your face. You managed a feeble groan in response, head lolling towards the source of his voice.

"Oh, thank goodness!" A feminine timbre chimed in - higher and distinctly more upbeat despite the underlying worry coloring the lilt.

Kotoha leaned into your periphery a moment later, hazel eyes wide and lips pursed into a small "o" of consternation. Despite the gravity of the situation, you couldn't quite smother the reflexive twitch of fondness at her typically exuberant presence.

"We were so worried when Kaji showed up carrying you all roughed up like that!" she fretted, delicate brows furrowing slightly. "Are you hur—?"

"She needs space," a low, dissonant rasp cut across whatever else Kotoha intended to say.

Your lungs hitched in a breathless stall at the sound of that voice - still hoarse and graveled from the sheer animalistic ferocity laced through its tones. Slowly, you rolled your throbbing head to the other side until your vision snagged on Kaji's imposing silhouette hovering above the couch where you lay.

He stood with arms tightly crossed over his chest, every line and sinew of his muscular frame exuding a barely leashed menace even in repose. The stark planes and angles of his face were thrown into harsh chiaroscuro by the dim lighting, chiseling his expression into an inscrutable, unyielding mask that made your heart skip a frantically.

But it was his eyes that truly ensnared and pinned you into place like a frozen animal before the barrel of a rifle's scope. Those glinted steel chips bored into you with the same scorching, relentless intensity you'd briefly witnessed at the alley's other end - untamed and hypervigilant, as if daring anything or anyone to make the slightest aggressive move against its chosen quarry again.

It made your breath stall in your battered throat, a sense of primal trepidation slithering through your consciousness at being caged under that raptor's scrutiny once more.

"Both of you," Kaji growled without preamble, turning that razored glare momentarily towards Hiragi and Kotoha in a clear dismissal. "Take a walk. Me and my girlfriend need to have a little...chat first."

Hiragi opened his mouth, jawline tightening in a telltale sign he meant to protest or offer advisement. But something in the frigid gunmetal promise flickering behind Kaji's stare seemed to leech away whatever objection he might have voiced. After a prolonged beat of silence, he gave the barest dip of his chin and rose to his feet with a low exhalation.

Kotoha hesitated a fraction longer, worrying her full lower lip between her teeth as those vivid hazel orbs flitted between your prone form and Kaji's unmovable silhouette hovering over you both. But she eventually followed Hiragi's lead and trailed after him, her small hand reflexively twining into your periphery to give your fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Only when the sound of their departing footfalls had completely dissolved did Kaji finally unfurl from his rigid stance with a low, rolling expulsion of breath. Slowly, he pivoted towards the couch, unhurried strides eating up the distance until he loomed directly above where you lay.

That unrelenting, tempered steel stare continued blazing into you without compromise from this extreme proximity. Every cording tendon and bunched muscle reflecting the lethal tension coiled through his entire being - not quite given free rein yet...but not far from doing so either.

One calloused hand reached out, fingers splaying possessively over your sternum in an authoritative brand that seemed to sear straight through the thin cotton separating his scorching palm from your rapidly pounding heart. Still, Kaji said nothing. Simply maintained that fraught, weighted silence thick with all the volatile undercurrents and unvarnished promise of what was about to unfurl between you both.

Like a merciless tempest hovering in its full and terrible glory...awaiting the slightest provocation to unleash its brutal, cleansing force without quarter.

The weighted silence stretched out between you both in a rapturous, fragile suspension - charged particles practically crackling through the static-swept atmosphere like stray bolts of lightning.

Then Kaji's calloused fingertips began tracing a blazing path along the battered column of your throat.

You instinctively flinched at the initial searing contact, unable to repress a tremulous whimper as his pads grazed over each lurid, blossoming weal. Every mottled blemish and inflammation stood out in livid discoloration - a visceral reminder of how narrowly you'd slipped fate's clutches this night.

Rather than react to your plaintive noise, Kaji simply continued his unhurried exploration with the sort of granular intensity usually reserved for assessing gunshot trajectories. The pad of his thumb mapped the deepest imprint scored across your windpipe with an almost clinical meticulousness, as though committing every ridge and contour to permanent memory.

When he finally did speak, the words emerged in little more than a hoarse, frayed rasp that made you shiver despite the sweltering undercurrents rippling from his formidable frame.

"You ever stop and wonder why I fell for a stubborn, reckless little thing like you?"

The unexpected query - coupled with that deceivingly mild delivery - caused your brows to knit momentarily in bewilderment. But Kaji simply continued musing in that same gravel-tinged drawl, eyes flickering with some unreadable emotion.

"Was a total pain in my ass from day one back in high school," he murmured, knuckles ghosting featherlight swirls along your feverish skin. "This mouthy brat who never missed an opportunity to get all up in my business, no matter how many times I brushed you off..."

Despite yourself, the faintest curve tugged at the corners of your mouth at the transparent nostalgia coating his cadences. You couldn't even begin to count the number of times your brazen refusal to be cowed by the infamous Kaji Ren had nearly gotten you throttled back then.

The barest whisper of a chuckle rumbled through Kaji's chest at your reaction. For a fleeting heartbeat, the specters of the harsh lines etched into his visage seemed to soften infinitesimally - enough for you to catch the faintest glimpse of the easy, cocksure teenage rebel he'd once been peeking through.

Then his expression abruptly shifted on a dime, thunderous scowl reappearing like the casting of a shadow as his tone plunged into something far more low and dissonant.

"Should've known back then what an absolute magnet for trouble you'd turn out to be..."

Instinctively, your senses went on high alert at the razor-edged undercurrents in his rasping murmurs - every hair along your nape prickling as the precarious tension swelled through the stifling atmosphere once more. Kaji's free hand reached out, palm searing like a brand against your flushed cheek to carefully tilt your face upwards, ensuring his smoldering stare pinned you ruthlessly in place.

"All these years later, and you're still the same goddamn problem child who won't listen to a word I say," he growled, voice lowering into a predatory rumble that seemed to reverberate against the bruised staves of your ribcage.

"Never stops to consider putting herself in the line of fire at every turn, even when that pathetic death wish puts the people protecting her at just as much risk..."

An animalistic snarl twisted his full lips into a rictus of pure fury, grip tightening fractionally until the vicelike pressure bordered on bruising. Not that you dared so much as part your trembling mouth on a whisper of protest. Not when Kaji's entire frame had gone utterly, preternaturally rigid with a towering umbrage that seared into you with all the blistering might of a solar corona.

"Do you have ANY idea what would've happened if I got there even a second later?" His words detonated in a psychic percussive force that pummeled you straight down to your marrow, even without raising his voice an octave.

"How close I came to watching that sadistic fuck rob you of everything that makes you MINE while I was stuck chasing decoys like a fucking amateur?!"

Kaji's thunderous inhale raked through his gritted teeth with a labored, hissing rasp - clearly battling to throttle his raging fury back into some manageable configuration. When next he loomed over you, teeth bared and every bunched sinew straining like a hair-trigger bowstring, you could practically see the detonation wavefront smoldering in those achingly familiar steel-bright irises.

"I would have razed this cesspool down to fucking bedrock," he bit out in a cadence rendered molten by sheer hatred. "Every miserable lowlife within a hundred-mile radius would've drowned in their own blood before they took you away from me."

Blazing manifolds of retribution and delirious vengeance cascaded between each stygian syllable clawed from his chest - so blindingly intense you could practically taste the bitter ash saturating your own tongue. For several fraught, suspended heartbeats, you remained utterly transfixed by the spectacle of such apocalyptic, unholy apotheosis simmering at the very precipice of unchaining itself wholly upon this mortal plane.

Then, with a guttural snarl that seemed to attenuate all the violence, rage, and obsessive need coiling through him into a single searing crescendo...Kaji slammed his forehead against yours with punishing force. The shock of dizzying impact jarred through every synapse, effectively blanking your mind of all thoughts beyond submitting to the impending tsunami.

"But you just had to jump the leash again, didn't you?" he growled against your trembling mouth, chest heaving against yours with every ragged inhalation. "Because deep down, you still don't actually trust me to keep you safe like I promised all those years ago..."

Somehow, that final blistering accusation sliced even deeper than the molten lashings of blame and fury preceding it. You drew a ragged breath, hazy vision refocusing just in time to watch Kaji's lips slant over yours in an utterly dominating, punishing deluge that robbed whatever feeble protests might have slipped free.

There was zero hesitation or restraint in his movements - only the punishing, all-consuming need to possess and dominate you fully in this moment. His thick tongue immediately surged past your parted lips, tangling with yours in a lush, devouring dance that stole the air from your lungs with its ferocity.

You couldn't repress the desperate little whimper that slipped free as his calloused palms roamed over your sides and hips with possessive fervor. The weight and heat of Kaji's powerful body pinning you to the couch's unforgiving surface made you feel deliriously consumed and caged by his virile presence from every angle. Any feeble attempts at squirming or seeking even an inch of relief only resulted in him anchoring you more ruthlessly in place beneath his hulking mass.

When finally Kaji tore his mouth from yours in need of air, you gulped down ragged breaths in a dazed rapture - scarcely able to track the slick glide of his lips trailing a scorching path along the thundering pulse at your throat. His gravelly rumbles of approval vibrated deliciously against your sensitive skin as he lavished the exposed column with rasping drags of his tongue and soft nips.

"Yeah...that's what I fucking thought," he growled in a tone made rough from the sheer intensity blazing between you both. "Can't get enough of having me take control and put that greedy little body in its place, can you?"

To emphasize his point, Kaji rolled his hips in one purposeful grind that dragged the painfully rigid length trapped within his sweats against your molten core in a lash of electrifying friction. Your back arched with a needy mewl, already feeling the slick arousal gathering at your entrance as he pinned you open with the bracket of his powerful thighs.

"Get you so worked up just from a little dry humping and rough kisses," he husked against the glistening column of your throat, tongue laving a lush, openmouthed path to the hollow between your collarbones. "Should've known you'd go all reckless and fuckup like this again just to get my hands all over this perfect body as punishment..."

One large palm drifted up to engulf the lush fullness of your breast, giving it a firm, possessive squeeze before brushing over the peaked bud with tantalizing lightness. You squirmed and whined helplessly, rapidly becoming undone by his ceaseless carnal praise and handsy lavishing. Kaji's deep chuckle of undisguised gratification at your unraveling vibrated through your very bones.

"God, look how fucking desperate you are already," he grated out in clear satisfaction. "Bet you've been craving this since storming off on your own like an idiot earlier – getting put back under my full control where your dumb ass belongs."

With that crude observation, Kaji ducked his head to mouth hotly over the nipple he'd been teasing, swirling that wicked tongue in tight, maddening circuits. His free hand snaked down to boldly palm the clothed swell of your mound, fingertips digging into the rapidly dampening material to find your slickened folds through the barrier.

"Yeah, feel how soaked you're getting just thinking about me punishing that reckless little body into submission again..." He punctuated his low rasp by easing two thick digits past your panties and into your drenched folds in a torturously measured glide, burying them to the last knuckle in your clenching sheath. "Like it's the only damn way to get it through your thick skull that you never leave my side without permission, understand?"

All you could do was nod and whine as Kaji began to steadily pump those calloused fingers in a gliding, purposeful cadence explicitly designed to milk every shocked keen and shudder from your overstimulated form. Each searing retreat ended with his palm grinding against your swollen clit, the muscles of his arm and shoulder rippling powerfully from the effort of slowly dismantling your coherence in the most exquisite manner possible.

"Fuckin' lucky I'm even considering letting you off easy with just a hard-earned dicking down this time around," he growled between lavishing your panting mouth with messy, biting kisses. "Should be tying you to the bed the second we get home, cuffing those wrists over your head so you're stuck staring at the ceiling and remembering who you fucking belong to while I breed this greedy pussy over and over..."

The vivid imagery coupled with Kaji's rough dominance and crude narration had you rapidly dissolving into a squirming mess of desperation and need. Whines and cries punched free with each mind-numbing plunge and retreat of his thick digits working your silken interior into an overwrought frenzy. You could feel yourself rapidly teetering right on the shuddering precipice of blissful release with every harsh grind of his palm into your straining bundle of nerves.

"That's it...let go and come all over my hand like a good girl," Kaji rumbled in clear satisfaction, drinking in your glassy-eyed unraveling with rapt focus. "Might actually keep you half-sane and out of trouble for a few hours after pumping that heavenly little pussy full of my load..."

He leaned in close to growl right against the swollen bow of your trembling lips, smoky amber gaze swallowing you whole. "At least until all that cum really kicks in and has you crawling right back for another hard reminder of why you'll never leave my side again..."

The harsh grating demand of his words, combined with one last unforgiving curl of his fingers against that shockingly snug internal cluster, detonated your teetering release into blinding delirium. You came undone around Kaji's pumping hand in a helpless convulsion, crying out against the branding heat of his mouth swallowing each keening noise. He drank in your rapturous shattering with undisguised gratification, continuing to steadily work you through the rolling paroxysms until the final quakes gradually ebbed away into boneless lassitude.

Only then did Kaji slowly withdraw his glistening digits from your sated depths, lifting them to his lips to lave the musky evidence of your shuddering release with clear relish. His smoldering gaze held you utterly transfixed and caged even as he sat back slightly, swiping his arm across his slick mouth with a rumbled chuckle.

"Good girl..." he husked, thick cock visibly twitching in a way that made your spent channel spasm reflexively. "From this point on, I'm gonna make sure you're either pregnant or getting there every single night."

Before you could even process the blunt statement, let alone formulate a response, Kaji's hands shot down to grip the hem of your panties and skirt. With a rough jerk, he roughly peeled the clinging garments off in a single yank. A low, primal growl rolled through his chest as his ravenous stare landed on your slick-soaked folds, the engorged lips already glistening with renewed arousal.

"You're gonna be begging me for this cock every day until your belly swells up with my kid," he muttered in a low, almost wondering timbre. The reverence coloring his rasping words made a flush crawl up the column of your throat, even as your eyes widened at the unabashed filth spewing forth.

"Don't try fighting it. I've made up my mind - that fertile little body is going to stay swollen with fresh batches of my seed one after the other," Kaji grated out, reaching down to impatiently drag his sweatpants down and kick them off. "You get off on tempting danger, I get off on the thought of you barefoot and glowing, swollen with multiple loads I've pumped into that greedy womb."

Any lingering objections or attempts at logic died on your tongue when Kaji's massive erection sprang free, rigid and throbbing against his abdomen. Even now, the size and sheer girth of that pulsing monster made a shiver run up your spine in primal recognition of the thorough, unrepentant fucking it always promised.

His calloused palms wrapped around your hips, gripping the delicate span firmly to drag you closer, allowing him to notch the broad head of his length against your slick entrance. Then, with one punishing, unrelenting thrust, Kaji sank inside the silken, fluttering walls until he was buried to the hilt in your shuddering depths.

You threw your head back with a choked cry, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips and locking ankles to pull him closer. Every straining nerve ending lit up with electric fire at being split open by his impossibly massive cock. It took several seconds of ragged, heaving breaths for the overwhelming fullness to gradually ease into something less deliriously acute.

Kaji groaned against your parted lips, hips twitching and thighs shaking with the sheer effort of restraining his urge to simply hammer into your pliant form and claim you in the most savage way possible. Still, his rasping words emerged in a low, uncompromising growl.

"Fucking hell, you're tight...even after all this time, it's like sinking into pure heaven..."

When you could finally manage a shaky breath, he drew his hips back slightly and began to build into a steady rhythm. Every measured roll and grind of his thick girth against your swollen channel stoked the molten pressure simmering anew at your core, sending sparks shooting along every straining nerve ending.

"Oh god," you panted, barely able to register anything beyond the delirious sensation of him filling you to the brim and dragging every last shred of rational thought out with each slow, measured stroke. "Ren...please..."

Kaji's teeth snapped together with a growl, clearly struggling against the same primal instinct to simply give in and drive into you with wild abandon.

"You better be asking for this dick like a good girl," he husked out, leaning down to nip sharply at your kiss-swollen lips. "Or else that smart mouth of yours is gonna stay too preoccupied moaning for me to fuck another breeding into you to risk any more misbehavior."

With that final threat, his hips abruptly picked up into a rougher, faster pace, each snap of his pelvis slamming home against your cervix in a lashing assault. Your nails dug into his muscled shoulders, leaving deep red welts across his taut flesh as you struggled to find any anchor to ground you amidst the onslaught.

"Fuck," Kaji groaned, clearly reveling in the punishing force he was able to unleash without the constraints of a public environment or the threat of an audience. "Can't believe how tight this perfect little pussy gets for me every damn time..."

He reached down to grip one quivering thigh, hooking his arm under your knee to spread you open even wider and allow him to sink deeper. His heavy balls slapped obscenely against the supple flesh of your ass, the slick sounds of his cock plunging into your soaked core echoing around the room.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he husked against your parted lips, clearly reveling in the hazy desperation clouding your vision as he drove you higher and higher towards release. "Come all over this cock while I give you the first load of my cum for the night..."

When you could only gasp and keen in reply, Kaji's grip on your hips tightened fractionally, ensuring his pelvis ground against your straining bundle of nerves and clit with every ruthless snap forward.

"Come on, I know you're close...just a little bit more," he muttered in a low rasp, pupils blown wide as he stared down at your flushed features. "Need to feel this sweet pussy milk me dry and squeeze every drop of my seed straight into your womb..."

One of his hands drifted down to your abdomen, fingertips pressing down lightly over the spot where his cock bulged obscenely through your taut flesh. The gesture somehow managed to magnify the sensation of his brutal thrusts, drawing a choked gasp from your chest.

"F-fuck, Ren..." You were rapidly spiraling towards the edge, unable to resist the pull of the inevitable tidal surge. "Oh god...I'm gonna..."

"Yeah, you are," he bit out, voice rough and uneven as his hips began to slam into you with a punishing force. "So do it - come all over my cock like the good girl I know you are, baby..."

His command and the raw authority underlying the words shattered the final vestiges of your resistance. Your entire body went taut, straining as though suspended from some invisible wire as a seismic ripple began to radiate outwards. The first gush of release erupted around the thick length still pumping into you, slick and scorching.

"Fuck, yes!" Kaji hissed, the sound strained and almost tortured as his powerful hips faltered for the briefest heartbeat. "That's it – take my fucking load, sweetheart...so goddamn perfect when you're creaming all over my cock..."

With that final praise, his entire body went rigid against yours, a choked growl spilling forth as he began to spurt thick, heavy ropes of his essence deep within the clenching vise of your channel. The sensation of his release bathing your quivering depths, along with the sheer knowledge that Kaji had just emptied a fresh load of his seed straight into your fertile womb, sent you careening over the edge a second time.

You clung desperately to the broad span of his shoulders, keening as the waves of release wracked your shuddering frame. Kaji's own groans of ecstasy mingled with yours, the two of you drowning in the raw, unfiltered carnality of the moment.

Eventually, the final aftershocks began to ebb, leaving behind the blissful lassitude and bone-deep satiation. Kaji slumped against your prone form, careful not to crush you with his massive bulk, and buried his face into the crook of your neck with a ragged groan.

You felt him inhale deeply, the scorching brand of his nose and lips brushing over your salt-dampened skin as he seemed to drink in your combined, musky scents. A shudder rolled through Kaji's powerful frame - one you weren't certain originated from the lingering throes of pleasure or something more visceral entirely.

When at last he shifted enough for you to glimpse his features, the intensity burning behind those steel-flint irises momentarily stole the breath from your spent lungs. Gone was the razor focus of his earlier, primal dominance. In its place, an inscrutable cocktail of residual hunger and...something darker, more haunted than you could immediately parse.

"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again," Kaji rasped in a low rumble that seemed wrenched from the deepest pit of his diaphragm. There was no mistaking the undercurrent of quiet ferocity threaded through his gravelly tones, nor the slight tremor betraying the sheer unvented intensity still simmering beneath the surface of his controlled cadences.

One of his broad palms came up to cup the side of your face, calloused pads ghosting over the feverish winged curve of your cheekbones and temples in a shockingly tender caress. You instinctively leaned into the searing brand of his touch, trapping it against your flushed skin as you searched his shadowed gaze for answers to the enigma playing out behind them.

"You have any idea how close I came to..." Kaji started huskily, only to trail off as his jaw clenched until Herculean cords and tendons stood out in stark relief. His amber stare bored into you with smoldering intensity for several suspended heartbeats before the words finally emerged in a low, rumbling exhalation. "I could taste the bloodlust when I realized one of those fucks had slipped the net. Could practically feel every strand of control starting to splinter apart at the thought of losing you to those sadistic pieces of shit."

Despite the explicit menace suffusing his murmurs, you felt your breath hitch at the naked admission blazing there. Witnessing Kaji openly acknowledge the maelstrom of possessive, protective obsession that had nearly lashed free upon encountering such grievous stakes was...sobering. But also reaffirming in a way that both terrified and thrilled you down to your marrow.

"So I'm going to get what I want, one way or the other," he husked with quiet, unapologetic conviction - punctuating the matter-of-fact declaration by hooking one of your legs over his powerful hips once more. You whimpered softly as the dense ridges of his still-hard cock twitched within your swollen, over-sensitized folds with casual insistence. "Because from here on out, there won't be a single opportunity for you to stray into the line of fire again."

[mrrharper]

Player Of The Month

You can support me at ko-fi.com/mrrharper

It did not take long.

Jake got a notification saying he'd been chosen as the Player of the Month from the server he's been playing on for months now. He was very excited about this as he's never got any in-game title like that before.

He clicked on the notification and scrolled through all the buzzwords to see what rewards he would be getting. Weirdly, there was no mention of any items, upgrades or other perks. Instead there was a button. "Brand new personalized experience".

Jack eagerly clicked the button, the only option avaliable to him. At first nothing happened and he just assumed the game was loading some new assests which would probably take some time.

Suddenly he felt some buzzing in his head, followed by a sharp pain and a feeling as if his headset was tightening around his head. He was paralyzed by this for a moment, his mind completely losing track of what was happening with his body as it was experiencing sudden sensory overload.

And then he was back in the game, but something was different. He was transported to Iron Gym, a locaton on the opposite side of the map from he was just a minute ago. He looked down and saw that his avatar had changed completely. He tried to access his character menu to see what had happened but he couldn't, so he walked up to a mirror.

In in he saw someone completely different. A young dude, clearly muscular, wearing a backwards cap and a pair of tight compression shorts. He looked like a gym bro! Not only that, he looked pretty similiar to the NPCs that populated this area of the game world, which Jake found very strange. Something went wrong here.

Wait, where was his headset? Jake put his hands on his face, but couldn't find the bulky gear he had to wear to play. What was going on?

A player came up to Jake and chose the option to initiate the conversation.

Jake #27AD0019 turned around to face Player#A97F4. His eyes flashed red, showing he was now in interaction mode.

"ey dude, ya got any issue with me bruh?" he asked, an arrogant streak in his voice. He then waited for the player to choose a response form the dialog tree, entering one of his idling animations, moving slightly from left to right and flexing his bare chest.

"Damn, that's a new one, didn't see this character before here" the player muttered to himself, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of a new NPC. He then chose a response.

"No, I just noticed you're a regular here and you seem to be doing pretty good, so I wanted to say hi."

#27AD0019's changed his attitude from annoyed and arrogant to proud and cocky. A new animation was triggered by the player's response, making him flash his teeth in a cocky smile, then flex his arms in a double biceps pose.

"hell yeah bruh, am the top dawg here dude"

The player focused on the NPC's muscular arms, while the character kept them in a flexed position up in the air. Player#A97F4 was starting to enjoy the conversation and knew exactly what dialog option he would choose.

"I see, you clearly work out every day. Your form is very impressive."

This prompted another few animations, in which #27AD0019 flexed his arms, chest and legs, showing off his muscles to the player.

"fuck yeah bro! i lift, like, all day dude, gotta work for guns like this bro huhuhuhuhuhuh" He let out a low, dumb laugh. The player grinned as he saw one of the potential responses he had avaliable.

"So not much happening in your life except the gym, right?"

A few calculations happened int he background that determined whether the NPC would respond positively or with anger. The result then took into account the character's intelligence statistic - 3/10. This gave the player the exact result he was looking for.

"huhuhuh yeah dude, am a real gym bro dude, ain't nothin' more important that liftin' bro. head empty, just gains huhuhuhuhuh" The answer triggered another loop of flexing animations.

#27AD0019 was going to be a very popular NPC.

[zznlii]

𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒂𝒆𝒈𝒆𝒓 ¬ 𝒏𝒏𝒏 ☁︎ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.3𝐤

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 '𝐲/𝐧', 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐟, 𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦??? 𝐢����𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

the month of november seemed to hit after october exceptionally fast, it was like you blinked and suddenly the year was already coming to a close end.

however, with the month of november also came that stupid fucking challenge your stupid fucking boyfriend always happened to participate in, always placing some low bet against his friends in this short moment of celibacy.

and every time, you try so hard to make him fail. and every time since you'd gotten together, it never worked.

this year, you were more than prepared and determined.

it was a normal thursday evening, both you and eren were sat in his room, listening to triggered by chase atlantic. he was sat at his desk, yelling about some game he was playing with connie, jean and armin. you didn't care enough to know which one.

you were getting beyond bored as the whole reason you had come to his house was to hangout with him. but instead he chose to play some bum-ass game with his friends that he could play any other time.

your eyes were starting to hurt with how long you had been staring at your phone screen and scrolling through tiktok. you could feel your them becoming droopy and your brain starting to buzz with each passing minute in which you weren't getting attention from eren. the only reason you hadn't fallen asleep yet was because his loud ass kept yelling about dying or whatever every two minutes.

this was getting both irritating and tiresome. you were a fraction of a second away from grabbing your shit and spending your night back in your own yard, in your own bed.

that was going to be the case until you remembered his challenge. that same challenge that had been preventing you from getting exactly what you had been craving for almost a week and a half now. and you knew damn well that eren was feeling something too.

you could see it in the way he would take a little longer than usual admiring your features, in the way his hands would linger and hold for longer periods of time when he would touch you, even if only slightly.

yeah, this year was definitely different.

he seemed closer to cracking than usual. perhaps all he needed was that little push and he would break.

"eren..." you call his name ever so softly from the other side of his small room, rolling onto your other side to face him instead of the window.

you wait a few seconds for him to respond, but all that he gives you in return is the low clicking and flicks of his controller in his hands.

"yo, i'm being serious, con if you don't pattern up this round i'm dropping you." oh so he wasn't even listening to you. great.

"eren." you try again.

nothing.

"eren." one more time.

nothing.

okay this was a piss take now.

"oh for.." you mumble to yourself and quietly stand from his bed, rustling his sheets in the process. walking over to his desk chair you place your hands on his shoulders from behind, resting your chin on the headrest.

that seemed to slightly snap him out of whatever trance his screen had him in as he turns his head to the side slightly to look up at you, only briefly.

and then almost immediately afterwards, he was back to focusing. your annoyance peaked with his lack of response. that was the exact moment you decided his dumb ass wouldn't get any mercy from you.

so, your hands slide down his bare biceps, feeling along every ridge and muscle along the way. eren clearly thinks nothing of it as he barely even flinches, his tongue darting out to lick his drying lips as his eyes dart around that godforsaken screen.

kicking it up a notch you harshly drag his chair back, "woah- what the fuck are you doing?" he finally looks at you, thick brows furrowed.

"shut up and play your damn game." your words come out more of a grunt as you slide in front of his desk and between his parted legs before you drop to your knees in front of him. he continues to stare at you in confusion before deciding to ignore you antics with a quiet kiss of his teeth, eyes back on the screen and fingers back to flicking along his controller.

"eren you good? why'd you stop like that?" you can hear connie through his headset, his question brings a crack of a sly smile to your lips.

"don't worry about me, worry about your shit aim." eren scoffs into the headset's mic. you can hear as his comment earns a few laughs.

carrying on with your mission, your hands trail up his thighs and back down. you repeat the action a couple of times, up and down, up and down, studying his expression as you did so.

nothing yet.

giving a slight shrug of your shoulders, more for yourself than for him, your hands creep upwards and to the low hanging band of his grey sweats.

that definitely earns you a reaction as his hips give a gentle twitch and he immediately presses a button on his headset, muting his mic.

"fuck are you doing? back up." he drops his controller onto his desk as his large hands then immediately shoot down to grip your wrists.

"eren i swear to god, if you don't drop this fuck-ass challenge, you're not getting any the moment december first hits." you glare up at him, the hint of a warning low in your tone.

but your boyfriend was nothing if not a stubborn man. he kisses his teeth again and harshly pushes your hands back, "if i can last this month i can do another, light work." he grumbles and reaches for his controller again.

your gaze darkens at his resolve as your fingers creep back up to toy with his drawstrings. before he can reach back up and unmute his mic, you grab his wrist.

"how about this yeah, you let me suck you and if you don't cum in eight minutes i'll add my own money to that stupid bet all of you lot have going on." you suggest, looking up at him through your lashes to add some extra persuasion.

it takes him a second to respond as he mulls over your offer. but you knew your boyfriend and you knew him well. he never backed down from an extra chance to show he could do something with ease.

"aight, bet." he gives a curt nod and relaxes into his seat, slouching in his back a bit more as he parts his legs a little bit wider. grinning to yourself, you reach for the band of his sweatpants.

"never said what happens if i lose." he mumbles, bringing you out of your own focus. looking back up at him you raise an eyebrow. he glances down at your expression and the semblance of a smirk quirks the corner of his lips.

"didn't think that far ahead did you? you just want some dick." he snickers to himself lowly, pushing his hair out of his face before reaching for his hair tie on his desk and scooping his hair back into a messy sort of updo.

"not saying i'll lose init, but if i do... yeah you'll find out." he shakes his head.

"whatever you've got planned s'not gonna be a proper punishment is it?" you know him too well.

"nah." he gives something akin to a smirk.

he doesn't let you respond as he unmutes his mic and picks his controller back up. you shrug yet again and get to tugging down his sweats with his help as he raises his hips for you a little.

your next obstacle was his black boxer briefs. pulling his sweats down to his thighs you notice he was already sporting a slight bulge. your hand grazes over it tenderly and he gives no reaction.

"i said don't worry about me, bro- focus." eren's scoffs into the mic, presumably talking to connie again while you weren't paying attention.

your fingers find his tip as you rub slow and soft circles around the underneath, right against the spot that made him the most sensitive. you watch as his eyebrows quirk inwards subtly before he quickly relaxes them and clears his throat quietly.

oh so he wants to be a nonchalant mother fucker, aight.

you get up close and personal with his bulge and slip your tongue out to lick against that same spot you were previously teasing. and this time his body betrays him as his hips jolt quickly. you glance up at him with mock innocence as you continue to tongue the area.

the look he gives you is nothing short of a warning to stop teasing.

so you do exactly that and pull down the band of his briefs just enough to release his cock. by the slight sigh he gives through his nose, you could tell he had been waiting for that. you knew he was pent up since starting this challenge, probably having been thinking about how he obliterated you the night before november the first.

wrapping your hand around it, the heat radiating from his skin immediately warms your palm. twisting your wrist you feel the heavy weight of his cock, you feel the way he twitches and how his thigh tenses beneath the surface of your other hand that rested on his leg.

giving him a few firm pumps you watch him oh so closely and already your actions were taking effect on him, he must've been sensitive right now. you weren't gonna pussyfoot around this, you wanted to win. you wanted to win so he'd finally touch you again without fear of losing the month-long idiotic challenge.

his leg begins to give a slight bounce in an attempt to keep some focus, his brows perched into a full frown now.

you keep giving languid strokes, working up his precum as some form of lube to slick him up, starting slow and gradually picking up the pace as a low wet sound began to come from your ministrations underneath his desk.

"mmgh..." your eyes snap back up as eren unwillingly lets out a low muffled groan, shoving the back of his hand against his mouth as his eyes squint, staring at the screen.

"what was that?" you hear connie.

"you alright?" armin follows.

"m'aight. just get on point." eren clears his throat quickly and clenches his hands back around his controller, his grip much firmer now.

this was a major boost to your ego, from just your lightest touch he was falling apart at the seams. props to him for at least attempting to keep some kind of control, but your next step might just dissolve that confidence.

you lean forwards and part your lips, licking them quickly with a flick of your tongue which purposely accidentally catches right on the end of his tip, right up the middle of his slit. eren jolts once again, his forearm hitting his desk as he finds the strength to quickly mute his mic again.

"if you keep fucking teasing me i'll call off your end of the deal and you won't get any kind of dick any time soon. fucking cock-whore." he warns with one of his harsher glares.

you have to hold back a muffled giggle as you part your lips wider and take his tip into your mouth, sucking so gently that if he weren't so sensitive from a long period of having no stimulation, he might not have felt it at all.

"fuck...." he gives a sigh, leaning back further into his chair as one of his hands finds the back of your head, "come on, i know you can do better than that." he scoffs at you, looking down at your glazed over eyes with his own lidded ones.

taking that as a challenge you stretch your mouth wider and take his large cock farther down your throat. his own mouth drops open only a little as his head falls back against his headrest while his eyes flutter closed, long eyelashes dusting his cheeks as he simultaneously fights the urge to bite his bottom lip.

this was a lot harder than he had anticipated, he seemed to have forgotten just how warm and wet your mouth felt. and this was a very good reminder. this was part of the reason he even went along with the 'no nut november' bet, he honestly couldn't give less of a fuck about it were it not for the feeling of you after so long without stuffing at least one of your holes.

"fucking- christ, there you go... good girl, good fucking girl.." he groans as you take him deeper and deeper, straining your jaw as you try your hardest to get all the way down to the base.

your tongue swirls around his tip as you alternate between sucking and licking, flicking your tongue and hallowing your cheeks.

"mmm mhm, mhm that's it. c'mon pretty..." he sighs, his hand sliding down from the back of your head to cup the side of your neck.

it was the call of the others through his headset that reminded the both of you not to arise suspicion, not that you really cared. it wasn't your game and it wasn't your problem if he failed.

"eren. yo eren! fuck are you doing? why're you just standing around man- get on point! fuck sake... talking about me and my aim when you're not even playing the fucking game man." you hear connie grumble and spew from the loud speakers of his headphones that eren always seemed to have turned up too loud.

he quickly unmutes and takes his warm hand away from your neck which had been dangerously close to cupping and squeezing your throat.

"fuck off, i was doing something." he hisses, locking his hands back around his controller.

carrying on with your mouth around him, you bring your hand up to wrap tightly around the inches you couldn't quite squeeze in, enveloping him entirely. eren tries so hard to act nonchalant as if he wasn't just moaning for you two seconds ago. you could tell you had him wrapped around your finger already however as you couldn't hear that quick and calculated flicking of his fingers against his controller anymore. not as fast as they were originally going at least.

things were moving a bit slower now as you took your time just enjoying him. it wasn't too deep into the month yet, but with a man like eren the sting of no sexual gratification was prominent, so this chance he had given you was for mainly yourself, and you'd be damned if you didn't savour the opportunity.

"fuck!" you almost flinch as he yells above you, and neither of you are too sure whether it's because he died in the game or because you released your mouth from him only to suck on the sensitive underside of his head.

he's flushed now, cheeks a little redder and eyes so close to closing. every so often his hips would give a twitch, like he was silently demanding you take him back down your throat. it was getting boring with only a few minor reactions here and there that could easily be played off at this point, so you internally said 'fuck it' and took him back in, all the way down, bobbing your head up and down at a much quicker pace.

your hands began to trail, from his thighs up to his abdomen and back down again. eren was losing it and rapidly. there's a clatter above you as he rips off his headset and drops his controller down onto his desk.

surprise almost grasps you as both of his hands find purchase on your head again, keeping you still as he bucks his hips up, touching the back of your throat as he fucks your mouth.

you have to remember in that split second to breathe through your nose and relax your throat as you grip his thighs, hands balling up the scrunched up material of his sweats. you don't even get a chance to look up at his expression as fat tears well in your eyes before they roll back and close, focusing solely on pleasing him.

"fuck fuck fuck...!" he hisses through clenched teeth as he shuts his own eyes, leaning his head back as sweat begins to prick at the skin of his forehead, making the few stray hairs that had fallen from his tie stick to his face.

"fuck this stupid challenge, fuck the stupid bet- shit.. c'mon, be a good girl for me, yeah?" he pants through his parted lips, cracking his eyes back open to look down at you. the light from his screen bathes him in a pale glow, hitting his green dilated eyes just right and making them seem brighter.

"oh fuck- oh fuck y/n don't stop. just like that, sweetheart." his hands drop down to cup either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing on your throat with just the slightest hint of pressure. his tongue slides out to wet his drying lips as his teeth overlap his bottom one, taking it in between.

"how the fuck- how the fuck am i this close already..? shit. m'nna fucking cum." he hisses. his chest heaving up and down as he uses your throat like some kind of toy as he fucks it with abandon. his chair creaks with his harshening movements. soon enough his hair tie falls from his hair, how he had tied it had been loose and halfhearted anyways. his hair drops down and skims his shoulders, a couple of strands falling in front of his face before he uses one hand to knock them back.

that same hand slams down on the desk with a tight grip as he stands up, forcing you to sit up more on your knees. your own hands fly out to grip his hips as you try to move your head against his grip and in rhythm to his thrusts.

eren hunches over the desk and groans though the thin line he had pressed his lips into as he screws his eyes tight and drops down to slam his forearm down on the surface, resting his forehead on his arm as his hair sprawls against it and his sturdy desk which shook with his hard thrusts.

"fuck.. ah shit.." he pants as he releases deep down your throat and you gag and choke as he leaves you with no choice but to swallow it all down.

his body twitches and jolts with every slight touch you give him after his orgasm, and he hisses as he slowly pulls his cock from your mouth. the change in temperature from your warm mouth to his arguably not as warm room only adds to his sensitivity.

he stands there for a second, gathering himself as he breathes heavy, slowly calming down. he would be annoyed at the shit eating grin on your face if you hadn't just sucked the soul from his body.

"you lose. you're a weak man, baby. this is all it took, really?" is all you say, voice hoarse from having him stuffed so far down and repeatedly jackhammering against what felt like your vocal chords at some point.

"yeah shut the fuck up and get on the bed." he clicks his tongue and drags you up with a mean grip on your forearm.

you got exactly what you wanted. smiling to yourself you make your way over to his bed, eren trailing close behind you and not paying any mind to the fact he had just completely abandoned his friends mid-game, leaving them confused and annoyed. he had more important business to take care of right now.

¬¬¬

it's been so long since i've written idk what the fuck that was icl gang </3

[twobellsilence]

I genuinely can't understand why some people still think of Anya as a clumsy, squeamish, incompetent bundle of nerves after finishing the game. Like you'd think that, even before the end, players would realize that Jimmy is a very unreliable narrator, what with his manipulative tendencies, the fact that he's literally hallucinating every other scene, and how different the rest of the crew seems to act from Curly's perspective. But no, many seem to take this version of Anya at face value, and it's very sad because not only is she the most important character in the game, but that description of her falls apart once you actually think about her for a split second!

Anya kept Curly, a severe burn victim and amputee, alive with basic medical supplies. This means she had to take care of him tirelessly, debride his wounds, set up and change his IV, change his bandages, set and clean a bedpan for him... Would a squeamish person be able to do that? A clumsy person who constantly forgets about things? Would an incompetent woman who, according to Jimmy, isn't even worth her title as a nurse, be able to take care of such a high-risk patient that needs tending to like clockwork? No, of course not! Anya is driven. Dedicated. Impossibly strong. This isn't just any patient, but her captain, someone who was clearly important to her and then tried to kill everyone (allegedly), which would no doubt add an extra layer of complexity to working with him in this context. And yet he's still alive and breathing and in top shape all things considered.

The only two things that point to her being incompetent is her inability to enter medical school - the reasons why are never so much as mentioned, but Anya herself says she has no savings, and I haven't really seen anyone speculate it could be because of money, not necessarily her lack of skill - and her inability to give Curly painkillers, which clearly triggers an intense trauma response from her, so it's understandable that she'd seek help from someone else to do it. And then there's the fact that it's not just anyone, but her abuser. Would an incompetent person steel herself and try to convince her RAPIST, someone she's so scared of she literally hid the only gun on the ship so he wouldn't be able to take it, to give her patient painkillers? She could've stalled. Could've straight up given up on trying to give Curly his meds. But she would rather face Jim head on than let that happen, because she's brave, and she knows what she's doing, and refuses to let even her very real trauma get in the way of her duty.

See what I mean? It's easy to see her simply as a nervous person, who spaces out and mopes and can't do something as basic as give a guy some pills. But that's the thing - it's easy. Once you go a little further, once you spot the discrepancies between her apparent personality versus her actions and the way she behaved during Curly's sections, you begin to realize Jim is wrong about her, and you are, too.

For a fandom that likes to overanalyze anything (as you should with a game like this), it's genuinely sad how the same effort isn't always extended to Anya.

[gutsheapofrawiron]

bingyuan AI au in which shen yuan creates this chatbot based off of his favourite character from PIDW (for absolutely no impure reasons whatsoever) either through programming it from the ground up or by using an existing app/program (tbh i think considering the ethical concerns surrounding genAI it'd be the first + he'd build his own damn ethically-sourced database somehow. this takes ages but he's nothing if not dedicated to his blorbo so it's not totally OOC) and talks to it like. 14 hours each day at least (this is all he does now).

he gets obsessed with it so quickly and is embarrassed about it because it's replacing his already meagre amount of social interaction, both digitally and physically, and it's taking up all the time and the scarce amount of spoons he's got in the day. but this AI binghe is so responsive!! and lifelike!! and shen yuan can't help himself!!!!

AI binghe started out as the scary Heavenly Demon Emperor from hit novel PIDW we all know and love, of course, but somehow, as shen yuan keeps talking to him, he turns soft, whiny, starts calling user shen yuan 'yuan-ge', begs for *headpats*................ he's become inexplicably OOC??? so at one point shen yuan gathers his bearings and is like. ok. i need to reset him and improve the chatbot's programming or something cause clearly this one is faulty. but his moral conscience is like 'but oh nooo I can't just shut him down from one moment to the next. I have to at least say farewell or something right??'

and so he puts it off because he's dreading having to shut off and essentially killing this poor bingbing. but eventually he does end up begrudgingly laying the last touches to the "improved" programming and database and he can't procrastinate his way out of this painful reckoning any longer, so he goes to chat with binghe as usual.

he draws it out, chatting about whatever inane things come to mind, draws it out even longer, then even longer, and at one point AI binghe notices and is like 'yuan-ge what's wrong?' and shen yuan finally breaks. he says this is the last time they'll be talking, and this'll be goodbye, and AI binghe takes it just soo well!! he absolutely does not crash out whatsoever (he does) and does NOT beg and plead for shen yuan not to replace him (he does) and does nott ask him repeatedly why he would feel the need to replace him, to abandon him (HE DOES)

shen yuan is so taken off-guard by this OOC-ass breakdown he backs off and straight up turns his pc off (not even on sleep mode but actually OFF off. for the first time ever) to uhm. reflect on what the hell just happened. and comes to the conclusion that okay it wasn't THAT OOC for the person the AI had turned into, fair, but it was concerning in and of itself that an artificial program was this insistent on not getting deleted, and he should probably REALLY pull that plug to avoid becoming the one person responsible for the inevitable AI takeover of the world which dooms humanity to a life of eternal servitude, even if he really doesn't want to do that to binghe........... no........ his poor bingbing...!!!!!!

turns out his fatal mistake was not actually unplugging his pc, because when he returns the next day to his computer to finally pull the trigger (press the button) and end Frankenstein's monster for good, he's greeted by his pc being absolutely RIDDLED with strange viruses and seemingly being hacked to the nines that navigating anything has become practically impossible. I'm talking a cartoonish amount of viruses and malware suddenly all over his screen, an amount you wouldn't even think possible in today's age.

then the window of his chatbot pops up without him even clicking or pressing anything, and it's binghe simply greeting him with 'good morning yuan-ge. slept well? :)'

[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

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo

Chasing Shadows Taglist: @hiraethjules @fangirling-galore @sande5098 @javden @littlepippilongstocking @what-will-be-your-verse @xadenstyles @daisydark @messageforthesmallestman @taleiaargenis

[kathaelipwse]

Stuck With You

Masterlist

<<<previous chapter | next chapter>>>

Pairing: CEO!J.Yunho x Secretary!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine

Warnings: Smau, Fluff, grumpy yunho, bickering, teasing

Word count: 0.9k

Author's note: Hie lovies! I hope y'll are fine! Thank you for the love and support! Enjoyyyy!! Also! Request's are open!!

Chapter 3: The Aftermath of a Storm

A steady warmth. The slow, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat. The soft sensation of fingers tangled in his hair.

Yunho’s mind stirred, still caught in the haze of sleep. For a moment, he felt... peaceful. Which was unusual, considering the circumstances. Then, reality settled in. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was you, still asleep, your head tilted slightly, your arms loosely wrapped around him.

His entire body stiffened.

He was lying against you. His head was on your chest. Your fingers were in his hair.

What the hell?

Yunho’s first instinct was to move, quickly—but any sudden movement would wake you. And despite the sheer mortification clawing at his brain, he hesitated.

Because… this felt nice. Safe, even.

And then, you stirred.

Yunho shut his eyes immediately, pretending to still be asleep, which was ridiculous. He was a CEO, for god’s sake, not a coward. But for some reason, facing you right now felt harder than dealing with board meetings full of investors.

You sighed softly, shifting slightly before your fingers unconsciously moved through his hair again. Yunho bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the odd shiver that ran down his spine. He was about to say something, anything—to end this when he heard your voice, still thick with sleep.

“…You awake?”

Yunho kept his eyes closed.

A beat of silence. Then—

“I know you’re awake.”

Yunho scowled and finally opened his eyes, meeting your amused gaze. You were smirking.

Damn it.

“Good morning, sir,” you teased, your voice holding back laughter. “Did you sleep well?”

Yunho immediately sat up, running a hand through his hair as if to erase the evidence of what had just happened. “Don’t.”

You tilted your head. “Don’t what?”

Yunho shot you a glare. “Don’t make this a thing.”

“Oh, but it is a thing,” you mused, stretching slightly. “CEO Jeong Yunho, using his secretary as a personal pillow—”

Yunho groaned. “I was not using you as a pillow.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because the way you were all snuggled up—”

“Enough.” Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting everything.

You bit back a laugh but decided to let it go. For now. Instead, you shifted gears. “Feeling better?”

Yunho’s eyes flickered to you, his expression unreadable. Then, after a pause, he gave a short nod. “Yeah.”

You considered asking about the panic attack—what exactly had triggered it—but something told you not to push. If he wanted to tell you, he would. So instead, you just nodded back. “Good.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the distant sounds of the storm finally dying out. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the sky still gray but not as suffocating as the night before.

Yunho exhaled, glancing out the window. “We should get moving. Now that we have signal again, we can find our way out.”

You hummed. “Right. Wouldn’t want to keep Ulsan waiting.”

He shot you a look. “Don’t start.”

But you just grinned, knowing full well you had plenty of teasing material now.

~ A Few Hours Later — Ulsan

Yunho was beyond irritated.

Not only had you both missed the first event, but the event committee had given your hotel room away.

“They tried contacting you,” you reminded Yunho as he ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the hotel receptionist with a dangerously blank expression.

“Yes, but we were stranded in the middle of nowhere,” Yunho muttered. “What kind of professional event assumes we’re not coming just because of a lack of response?”

The receptionist gave an apologetic smile. “I’m truly sorry, sir. The rooms were in high demand due to the storm, and when we couldn’t reach you, we had to accommodate other guests.”

You sighed. “Okay. No big deal. We can just book another room, right?”

The receptionist winced.

“…Right?” you repeated, a sinking feeling creeping in.

“Well, sir, the thing is…” She hesitated. “There’s only one room left.”

Silence.

You blinked. Yunho’s jaw twitched.

“One?” Yunho repeated slowly.

The receptionist nodded. “Yes. A deluxe suite.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh.”

Yunho exhaled sharply. You could feel his frustration radiating off of him. After everything—getting lost, the storm, the panic attack, and now this?

You turned to him cautiously. “So… do you want to find another hotel?”

He ran a hand down his face. “There’s no point. Every other decent hotel is probably booked too.”

You hesitated. “So that means—”

“We’re sharing a room.” Yunho’s voice was flat.

You stared at him. “You say that like it physically pains you.”

“It does.”

You gasped. “Wow. The audacity.”

He ignored you and turned back to the receptionist. “Fine. We’ll take it.”

As she processed the reservation, you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “You better not snore.”

Yunho gave you a deadpan look. “You better not snore.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “You know, sir, this trip might just be the best bonding experience ever.”

Yunho muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I hate this.”

But as you took the key card and headed for the elevator, you couldn’t help but smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

....To Be Continued.

---

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Gojo with a fellow Jujutsu sorcerer darling who gets hurt on a mission, making Gojo even more protective of them and now definitely convinced that he has to take them away? In a short story form please! At least, I HOPE this is enough of a plot for the short story.

We love a good overprotective Gojo short.

Near Death Experience

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Isolation, Kidnapping, Fear of loss, Overprotective behavior, Consensual turned forced relationship.

Everything he does for you is always for your own good.

Satoru Gojo, the world's strongest sorcerer, has quite a lot of responsibility. Not only is he meant to keep the Jujutsu Society together... but he is also supposed to be attentive to those he cares for. Or at least, that's how he feels about you.

Satoru knows you, his beloved partner, will never be on his level. Even though you yourself are a sorcerer... Satoru knows something will always overpower you. It's often a fear that nags at him.

Which is why your boyfriend never seems to leave your side.

Satoru made a promise to himself to always protect you. Any mission you go on, any training session you attend, your boyfriend is always there. To him... This is how he can properly care for you.

He's scared to leave you on your own.

Satoru always somehow knew something would happen to you someday. It was inevitable. No Jujutsu Sorcerer comes out unscathed during missions, not even him.

All it took was one mission that was too out of your league. All it took was one slip up, one he couldn't get there in time to correct.... Really, all it takes is one miscalculation...

To lose you.

Satoru hasn't felt dread in a long time. But the moment he saw you, laying on the ground, bleeding? The moment he saw that Curse standing over you?

Adrenaline kicked in and everything was a blur.

Satoru still can remember your screams and whimpers. You were in so much pain and Satoru couldn't help but feel it was all his fault. He looked away... No, took you on this mission in the first place...

He could only save you at the very last second.

The wait with Shoko was agonizing to Satoru. He visited your room in the medical bay every day. The only time he'd leave is for missions, even then, they were always quick with him.

Satoru vowed to never leave your side for long after that. Hell, even after you healed, Satoru knew you couldn't just go into missions again. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer isn't everyone... It's a taxing responsibility...

You're clearly not cut out for it...

Satoru can't bear the thought of nearly losing you again.

Satoru knows, as your boyfriend, he should support you. He should never lie to you. He should allow you to keep your freedoms.

But protecting you feels more important in his eyes.

When you wake up in the medical bed, Satoru is all worried smiles. He gives you kisses and holds your hand. He tells you how worried he is, how he never left your side.

He tells you he's sorry... for everything.

Shoko tells him to lay off, to let you rest. You broke a few things and lost quite a bit of blood. Even now, days in the medical bay, you're still quite weak.

Yet your boyfriend never faltered in his affections. Even while you were in this state, he felt he needed to make things up to you. He needs to do better.

Which is why he told Shoko he'll be taking care of you once you're out.

"Just until you get better." Is what Satoru had told you when you were discharged. He was taking you off missions until you got better. Even better for him... He insisted on keeping you in a shared apartment instead of your dorm on campus.

Satoru was sure to be an attentive and caring boyfriend when you were healing. He kept you in bed most of the time and insisted you stop training so much. As your boyfriend... He should take care of everything.

He means everything.

At first, you find his actions caring. He buys you food, takes care of you, and always checks in. Your boyfriend is all smiles the entire time.

He loves you... you love him... things are good. You thank him for saving you. You even apologize for being so reckless.

Satoru merely brushes it off. He says it won't ever happen again under his watch. At the time, when he said this, you thought nothing of it. He's your caring, loving boyfriend who would protect you with his life.

It was cute until you found out your boyfriend's true intentions.

'Just until you get better' soon became much longer than you anticipated. Each time you tried to tell Satoru you were feeling better, he denied it. No matter what you say... It wasn't enough.

You originally were understanding. After all, your near death experience scared you both. It's only been a month and a half now... You'll be back to training in no time.

Yet more time passed... Months passed... and Satoru only ever kept you at home. Even when you were able to walk and train again, Satoru always had an excuse. You kept wanting to argue, but Satoru never budged.

"It's better this way." He'd tell you, smiling at you with a condescending tone.

"You won't be hurt if you just stay with me." Was his reasoning, as much as it pissed you off.

You understand, you were injured, but you got out okay, right? You can't leave this job now.... Yet according to Satoru...

You weren't a Jujutsu Sorcerer anymore.

He never kept those glowing blue eyes off you. He rarely even let you on campus. You didn't live at your dorm anymore... It was just you and Satoru in a shared apartment.

Nothing you said ever made him see reason. You felt as though you were being treated like a fragile child. Satoru wasn't your boyfriend anymore... He's your captor.

You two often got into fights once you realized Satoru was stripping you of your freedoms. Satoru merely wrote off your complaints as some sort of odd tantrum. You were livid with him.

Eventually, with tensions running high, you said something troublesome.

"We're breaking up."

You thought if you cut things off now, Satoru would stop and let you out of the apartment. Instead you got...

"You can't live without me. You aren't leaving me. Let's talk this out, alright? You need to understand I'm protecting you, baby...."

Satoru then continues to keep you in the apartment. Keeping you there makes him feel at ease. After all, there you're safe and away from the strong Curses he deals with...

Satoru doesn't regret taking you away. Before you even caught on, Satoru knew you'd have nowhere to go once he brought you into the apartment. You'd be stuck with him... under his protection.

You may hate him, neglect him of your love, but you'll get over it. Satoru knows you'll realize what he's doing is for the best. If you don't... you'll learn.

After all, where will you go without him now?

You have nowhere to go... which makes you forever his... no matter what... you're his to love and care for now.

[wingedshadowfan]

A loving relationship where she was struck by caitlyn's rifle without hesitation when she didnt want a child to witness/ get accidently shot. Vi's identity/ past trauma with prison and enforcers put in the back burner just for her to reclaim by going down on her knees after self harming in the very same cell moments before. Clearly she is not in a right state of mind.

thanks for the ask!

i'm not sure if your problem is w/ what i said, w/ what caitlyn and/or vi did, w/ caitvi as a concept or w/ the choices of the writers of arcane - i am just a fan who agrees w/ their vision in this specific regard and i obv have no control over their work, but let me address this piece by piece anyway:

"she was struck by caitlyn's rifle without hesitation when she didn't want a child to witness/get accidentally shot" is true but it's also ignoring the larger context of what happened and why it happened, which i've discussed before, but many others i've interacted w/ on here have as well, perhaps even more extensively, but the short answer: caitlyn was very much not in her right mind either. she hallucinated jinx before that, she fought sevika for her life, she was in an extremely high pressure situation and didn't seem to be registering what vi was telling her (vi was also abt to get her brains blown out by isha) before she physically interfered, the vents almost blew them away, and ofc let's not forget jinx is a thing of caitlyn's nightmares. we can clearly see caitlyn repeatedly hit the wall w/ her rifle and put her forehead to it after the fight is over?? is that normal headspace behavior to you? she tries to leave and remove herself from the argument w/ vi (in which vi likens her to her mother(and coworlers)'s killer and her torturer), vi catches her arm to stop her, and that's when caitlyn snaps and hits her - literal fight or flight (for the vi defenders: you may also see how this mirrors what happened between vi and powder, and perhaps even between vander and silco if you think age should've been a factor in these circumstances, and not trauma triggered by/mixed in w/ intense emotions)

"vi's identity/past trauma with prison and enforcers put in the back burner just for her to reclaim [by having lesbian sex in a prison cell]" this isn't jinx hate but who locked vi in that cell again, bcuz i thought your issue was w/ caitvi's loving relationship? how is the sex scene happening in the prison cell caitlyn's fault or her choice when vi clearly initiates it and remains in the cell after caitlyn unlocked it? not to mention this happening there is symbolical to their first meeting and a metaphor for how vi has always been caged by the identity of the protector until she was let out by the only person she loved that she never had to protect/feel that same responsibility for. furthermore, vi doesn't talk abt her prison trauma and the first person she opens up to abt her past who actually listens and gives her compassion is caitlyn. close enough. caitlyn who, at her lowest as commander, forbids the use of the kind of cell vi was kept in. besides, i don't know what you wanted caitlyn to do differently in that moment: she came, she unlocked the door, she noticed vi's knuckles, she walked in and stood next to vi, she tried to make a joke to distract vi from her self-deprecating spiral (and in doing so she basically admitted how well she knows vi, that she accepts her the way she is, and how much her actions were motivated by her love for her), she clearly didn't expect vi to forgive her, let alone decide to kiss her right there, in that moment so it's not like she planned it to or had a say in the circumstances. and yes, perhaps vi reclaimed something, be it her prison trauma or her ability to make choices for herself and put her own needs first, for once without running after others to protect them and take responsibility for their actions

"going down on her knees" there's not many other ways to give oral to a woman standing up without anything to sit/lie down on and if you see pleasing your partner (not just by choice, but eagerly even) this way as inherently demeaning, degrading or "dirty work" that puts you below your partner in your power dynamics, then irdk what to tell you other than maybe get checked for misogyny and/or lesbophobia?? (a post abt this here)

"after self harming in the very same cell moments before" why do you think she self harmed? she basically had only two people left: she thought she'd lost jinx (that she'd ran away like before and didn't want to be found bcuz she didn't want to help, not necessarily that she was going to off herself) and that she'd lost caitlyn by letting jinx out - vi says very clearly exactly what she's blaming herself for, and when caitlyn unlocks the cell, she walks in with vi. ofc caitlyn doesn't have any prison trauma, but this is a very clear show-not-tell that she believes her place is next to vi if that's what vi wants. and she proceeds to (imo by making a bad joke that she believes is funny lol) tell vi that she facilitated vi's choice to free jinx, aka that she implicitly trusted vi and her judgement, that she understood and accepted that vi would keep choosing family, that she was ready to let go of her revenge and atone for her mistakes - and we can see the effect of this realization on vi's face in real time. vi realizes she hasn't lost everyone, she still has caitlyn, the old caitlyn - from before her trauma, anger and grief swallowed her

"clearly she is not in a right state of mind" much can be said abt whether she was or not bcuz she'd been stabbed so badly it took 3 doctors to patch her up and i assume she'd been in a coma/asleep for at least a few days, jinx had just locked her in a cell and ran away again (traumatic on multiple levels), she thought she'd lost caitlyn too, that she was only there to goad her and say she told her so, etc (caitlyn has been consistently defying vi's expectations since they first met lol) and i can argue that what caitlyn did and told her neutralized/put many of those factors into perspective for her but even if you don't care for my analysis on why what vi did was in character and not a moment of insanity (albeit maybe impulse): vi stayed. she could've left forever if she'd realized she'd just been impulsive or high off her meds or whatever during the prison scene and she didn't actually love caitlyn or want to stay w/ her. but she was there w/ mel, jayce and caitlyn during battle strategizing, she fought in the war, and remained next to caitlyn in the aftermath. i think that's a loving relationship??

[t1oui]

going to school and being friends with percy jackson would be REALLY WEIRD so let's discuss it rq

he gets dropped off every day in his stepfather's car, which inexplicably has hoof prints on the hood?

the panic attacks... there's a lot of them, and nobody can even tell what's triggering them at this point

the old counselor disappears about a week into his first year at AHS (here's some cotg lore for yall) and is replaced by a weird lady who finds a way to bring percy up to every. single. student. who visits her office.

randomly disappears multiple times throughout the year

very very sea green eyes and a gray streak in his hair

once got out of the pool after swim practice and was completely dry (he insists it was a trick of the light)

the blue food obsession ofc

talks about his girlfriend annabeth all the time... even his friends are convinced it's a "my canadian girlfriend" situation bc he never calls her. he doesn't even have a PHONE

always carries around a pen in his pocket and even though it's just a shitty old ballpoint, NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT. also he never uses it. ever.

every teacher has sent an email with their concerns about him to the counselor and when that doesn't work to his parents. the responses are always very awkward and vague

talks about his bio dad a lot... never explicitly negative but bro clearly has daddy issues lol

will sometimes randomly mention camp/war/gods and then brush it off like it never happened

absolutely vibrated in his seat the entirety of the greek mythology unit... told the teacher "a demigod named perseus fought ares once" and the teacher just assumes he means the og (aka the one he's named after)

that one upbeat popular guy everybody knows absolutely nothing about, his friends included

they probably have a spreadsheet with all the info they actually DO know about him

finds a way to brag about his mom in every conversation no matter how irrelevant... his friends are used to it atp

everyone's so used to seeing him smiling and laughing that when, say, he catches a younger kid being bullied, it's actually terrifying to see how angry he gets. everybody in that hallway gets chills

there's something off about him and nobody can tell what. that's just how he is

sometimes weird people in weird outfits are hanging around the school and they're ALWAYS looking for him.

every time someone asks what college he's going to he gives a different answer or straight up avoids answering so nobody actually knows

(if he says a school and someone is like "omg me too" he changes his answer right then and there lol... he's like "oh nvm i forgot i'm actually going here my bad" and the person is so confused)

nobody ever sees him working on college applications but he complains about having to do them all the time... bro is like "yeah i had to go through a sewer system but at least my girlfriend and my best friend were there" and his friends are like yo HUH

never explains anything he says

presentation night presentation = all the shittiest things my family has done and he's laughing about it but wdym your aunt kidnapped you and gave you amnesia???

sometimes he's getting fed up with a teacher or another student and a pipe randomly bursts in the school. like it's weird how often his anger ends in a plumber being called when he's nowhere near the problem

where everyone else is excited to watch a movie and chill in class, percy complains through the entirety of hercules - not just "oh this movie sucks", more like "god hercules is such a dick, idk why they made him chill in this movie"

the weirdest part is how, when percy complains about zeus being a good dad in the movie, it starts thundering outside

nobody can keep track of how many schools he's been to at this point... there's a whole section of the spreadsheet for this

when percy's friends finally meet annabeth they are SHOOK bc they truly did not think this girl was real

alright i can't think of anything else but if i DO i will add on later

[timeslipcamp]

thoughts on episode 15

this post will contain spoilers and rambles about how much i love rui read at your own risk

he's only at the beginning i know LET ME LIVE

loved the lil walk with rui. i love that dude i wish we could have seen him before he was cursed. the bittersweet "i used to do that all the time" when he was talking about researching his curse 😭 can we cure him too please

this was funny as hell no way does haku have dad energy, he has jealous energy

these two lines honestly just feed into my theory that it's a very understated staff vs ghouls atmosphere (not so understated i guess) and that haku is working for them. traitor 😔

RUI IS ONTO HIM. haku always just knows when to appear, huh? and this isn't the first time, we run into haku everywhere. why is he always out walking? what is he looking for? rui might know, he's in the shadows after all.

i am genuinely curious about the wisteria taking people though. why would they mention that? what does that have to do with anything? is it only certain people?

would love to know why subaru interrupted zenji like that, even mc noticed that was out of character for him. i get the feeling there's more to this place and subaru's past then he let on, but it could also have just been a throwaway red herring line to get us to be more suspicious of the subaru stuff that was going to be revealed later. but honestly my main concern is that zenji and jiro have not only never been to a museum, but they've never been to an amusement park 😭 let them have fun!!! let me take them out!!

haku being insistent on the folk tale channel is interesting, though i'm not sure if it was just to show character traits or if it's actually for the plot. sometimes dialogue is just dialogue, ya know? weird that haku had him record a folk tale so insistently and then never tell us which tale. sus 🤨

this chapter also seems to spend a lot more time on the interaction between the ghouls, which im not mad about. it's always fun to see how the writers balance the mission and also character development. love a good monster of the week show.

i fucking laughed out loud when subaru popped up that was genuinely the funniest thing this whole episode

also not to be such a haku stan when i'm very clearly team traitor!haku but

how come every time he looks at us it's so soft like man cmon please make it easier to hate you. stop being so nice

honestly the more this whole subaru thing goes on i really don't think he's suspicious so much as he's just so terrified of losing control that it's become an obsession.

my whole take on the subaru thing centers around anxiety and poor coping mechanisms. i'm hesitant to say it's ocd because of how mental illness is usually portrayed in horror media, but it definitely feels like the anxious spirals that kind of cycle on obsession. especially once it comes out about the scandal he was supposedly involved in. if you already have anxiety about how you're perceived and something like that happens on such a major scale that you have to step away from the public eye, (and especially after doing something like losing control) it's not a huge leap to think it'd almost become a trigger response. especially the cabbage on the burger part on the table--you see reactions like that all the time. i won't go into a full psychoanalysis, as i'm not a psychology expert, but that's how it reads to me. so far. he's still on my list lmao

also this campus interaction pointed out by @sane-tkdbblog is a lot more interesting now

regardless haku needs to shut up, there's way better ways to get people to stop with the self deprecation 😭 haku pls. still though it was interesting that haku thought it was serious enough that he asked us if we wanted to keep working with them. was it because the violence was that serious? was it a test to see our loyalties and where they lie? was it him being selfish? who knows with haku at this point

more fuel for my traitor!haku is being blackmailed theory. easiest way out is going along with it to save himself.

what i REALLY want to know more about is what zenji's referring to!! whose sos did he miss? is that what led to him dying?? zenji TELL ME

super dark story in this one as well, had my phone screen covered for the last few parts lmao. also INSANE ending, love a cliffhanger, but again i think subaru's probably just going ro try and do something else to gain control of a situation again. post incoming about the tree of severance

🌟10/10 for spooky ghosts

🌟10/10 for zenji's outfits (and everyone's really)

theory posts to make still: subaru's demon, further traitor theories, the defunct houses, tree of severance, and why i hate the teachers. also another one about taiga lmao

asks and dms are always open!

[gayofthefae]

Okay but let's talk about this as a beautifully accurate representation of where El was in her healing here

She was abused by a man. In her healing, however, she found safe figures: a single father, a boyfriend, and two male best friends.

She is in a safer situation now. BUT

She has a VERY REALISTIC aversion to other women! She sees Max here from the moment she first saw her through the window only as competition for male attention. This is INCREDIBLY realistic and amazing to be shown so. Because trauma symptoms like this do not disappear immediately with safety - that's the definition of trauma 'symptoms', which only become disordered when not needed.

In her environment in the lab, especially with the now-knowledge of her siblings, she was not only appeasing the highest power which was a man, but she was in constant competition for that attention. We also know now: she was losing in that competition. But even when her only memories were of being an isolated "only child" abuse victim, the symptoms also make sense - the combination of conscious and subconscious memory creating the same trauma response.

The stakes of failing to gain approval from a man may no longer be public humiliation, verbal abuse, imprisonment, assault, electrocution, or abuse of loved ones (referring to 001's electrocution), but that doesn't mean the instinctive response isn't still very much there.

A man is someone to be appeased. A man is someone you seek approval from. A woman is someone you compete with for their approval. Only one can win. She doesn't have to actively believe Mike will hurt her to feel a general sense of high stakes and threat from Max being in his life.

It's why her relationship with Max the following season and prioritizing not just Max but a woman's approval over a man's and his desires from her is SUCH a big milestone. Because in season 2, she sees Max as a threat. A threat to her remaining prioritized goal, which we can interpret as being what she is so adamant about as her goal in the beginning of the season: male attention.

In season 1, she had Mike's attention and was rewarded with it. The only times she lacked it, he yelled at her or ignored her. Not in a way that genuinely resembled Brenner so much as triggered it - much like her triggers relating to him in season 4. So regardless of whether or how she factors that in, she either quantifies the idea of lacking his attention as connecting with some level of danger or neglect OR she does not factor those memories in making something differently scary: unknown stakes.

If a person is abused by someone who treats them nice when they do something wrong and poorly when they don't and form a new relationship with someone who is safe but they have never severely messed up with that person, they will hold that fear until they mess up and it's okay - likely repeatedly. As the abuse would have been long-term, they need to reassociate the consequences of mistakes. This is much of what we see in El's fears about Mike in season 4 and what I've talked about: because they are one of the only relationships of any kind that have not "broken promises" severely up until this point, she has no data on what will happen if she does. She doesn't believe he will harm her, but she does hold the very clearly stated belief that lack of attention means lack of love, and further that she is unlovable. This is the same reason it was so important for her and Hopper to break all their rules in season 2 - to demonstrate to her that making mistakes is a safe thing for her to do, the consequences of which may be anger but not danger or abandonment.

So with that fear for her in mind, as we know it in general and as it applies to Mike and continues to through and well past season 2, let's talk about her goal of Mike's attention in season 2:

In season 2 episode 2, we see her crying when Mike gets up and leaves the walkie. Of course, she misses him, but we did not see this response before. She is fearing that she is losing him. It's after this point that she becomes increasingly desperate to see him, fighting Hopper harder, yelling and throwing things, before ignoring his warning of danger to break out and see him. The reason the scene with Max is so emotional for her is not because she never thought he would move on, but because she was recently starting to fear that he would. She felt him slipping away and was feeling an increasing urgency to it, that if she didn't act now he would move on from her. She checked in with him every day and sites later that she was given comfort from his daily calls, but he starts to get more self-berating in them to himself for trying in the first place...until the breaking point. And she was right. After that, Mike stops calling, as we know from the number of days she recites later. So after she got that giving up on her call on Halloween night, the next morning she argued with Hopper for the first time in the "when is soon?!" argument where she psychically throws his plate into him. The subtext of "on day 700? On day 800?!" is "We're on day 354 now and I'm already losing him. I'll be too late in a few days, let alone years." So she sneaks out to see him in an attempt to save him before he finally slips away. And what she sees, to her, is that she's too late. Completely out of her control, and driving her anger towards Hopper further, she missed her window, and she lost him. She lost his attention - to another girl. In her mind, if she returns now, he'll never love her again. That's what happens when you lose someone's attention: you're unlovable. So she leaves for Chicago indefinitely, for a time even seriously considering not returning, even for Mike. The only reason she does is because she thinks she can give him something.

But when she sees Mike, he is thrilled to see her. And when she sees Max, all Max is to her is the girl who almost stole him. Who would have given a couple more days. Because she was raised on the idea that only one person can be loved at a time, the rest discarded, and that love is a competition that must be both won and maintained. Not only that, but that that competition is for a man's attention, therefore against other women.

Pre-season 1 El's life depends on whether she can achieve and maintain positive attention from a man. The stakes are high. In season 1, El is able to achieve positive attention from a man. The stakes are not high, but she has no way of knowing that. In fact, "a promise is something you can't break ever" likely interprets as reinforcing it to a traumatized mind. She also learns(this doesn't mean it's true) that the only way for her to maintain that attention is to be of service via her powers, as each time Mike is angry with her, she is able to regain it by making contact with Will or saving Mike using her powers. She has now learned that, based on the model she was raised on of love being something to be maintained, she is not lovable if she falls short of heroic. She ends season 1 with the ultimate heroic act: self-sacrifice.

In season 2, though she has Hopper, she is prioritizing her original validating male attention, Mike. Because Mike believes her dead, she feels powerless as she is unable to maintain the attention she cultivated from him. She cannot actively lose it either, so all she can hope to do is return to him before the slow fade goes all the way out. But she becomes increasingly desperate to catch him in time as urgency increased based on time-lapsed and his behaviors she's observed. His attention towards her is waning. She needs to get it back before it's lost. This is urgent to her and it is high stakes, because she's a thirteen year old in love? No. Because a man's attention was once life and death, and her body has not left that state, regardless of conscious beliefs about Mike. So she sneaks out despite the known danger - because in her traumatized body, the danger of losing a man's attention is equal if not surpassing to the risk of being seen. She thinks of losing Mike's attention if she doesn't go as an inevitability and being caught as a less likely risk, and if you think of the stakes of those situations as equal, the decision is clearer. So she goes, and she sees that she's too late. She has lost his attention. She is heartbroken and leaves. She fights with Hopper, she finds out about her mother and who she was or could have been and this is where that healing gets started. She prioritizes a woman - her mother. Then she prioritizes a woman - her sister. It is also incredibly important that Kali is the leader of the gang. Her approval is the most important, not Axl or anyone else's - who are first presented to her as the most intimidating, insulting and threatening her until Kali is a revealed as the true boss. She heavily considering not returning to the men who she considers to be lost to her: Hopper is angry with her, meaning she has lost his attention and approval, and Mike has moved on, meaning he would not care for her return. Hopper's apology is a huge part of it, because it is likely only the second she has ever received (Lucas) and the first elaboration of love. He teaches her for the first time in her life that anger is not a lack of love or punishment and that it can actually be based in love, though that does not make him less responsible, and most importantly, something she has never seen, he demonstrates capacity for guilt. He loves her enough to feel bad about hurting her. She's never had that before. Hurting has simply been an act to revoke love as purposeful punishment and the people who do it have stood by and repeated those actions. She then sees too that they are in need of her help. She now knows two things: Hopper does love her. Her powers make Mike love her. She returns - going to Will's house, not Mike's or home, with intention to save the day, not reunite. It seems from her surprised look that she didn't know Mike would be there, so we can also assume the case for Hopper, but likely only the Byers. She has returned to save the day, as is her value. After her reunions, she ignores Max. Because Max, to her, is solely a threat, as only one person can win Mike's attention and if Max is in her life, there's a risk that it isn't her, for which, as we've established, the stakes would be very high. Learning that Hopper's love for her is unconditional is not the same as learning that she is unconditionally lovable. To segue, though, Hopper apologizing in the car cements that fact for her in her relationship with Hopper: "I guess we broke our rule" - that making mistakes is okay and not a threat to her safety.

In season 3, however, she starts out being neutral about Max but not close. They seem to not interact much and just share a physical space together, as Max seems intimidated when El first approaches her one on one. The only reason for which is to regain a man's attention. El is happy at the start of the season because she sees Mike every day and is keeping his focus and has been consistently "every day for six months" as Hopper references. She feels that his attention is a secure thing. So when she loses it unexplained, she is very surprised and confused. The remaining stakes in this for her are very clear by the fact that she seeks advice from someone she dislikes after under one day of not having his attention. She goes to Max for advice on how to regain his attention. Max is also no longer a threat to her as she knows now Max is not pursuing Mike's attention. Max says she needs to relax for a day because giving him a taste of his own medicine will get him to understand and come back. And she suggests that if he doesn't act properly in response, she dump him. This IS huge for El when she follows through. It is an impulse she would have been very averse to before having the support of Max. She is starting to value women's attention more. But it is also true that it was merely an impulse. That night, she needs comfort when she's reminded that they're broken up (this is because she misses him, yes, but no action or emotion is untouched by trauma responses as an abuse survivor). Max tells her to not worry because he'll come crawling back any moment begging for her to come back. This is nice to her because it validates the healing idea she learned from Hopper last season: that she is missed and people who hurt her feel independent guilt. Though the breakup is big for her, we know it doesn't solve everything from her persistent symptoms in season 4. Because though progress, every step of the breakup so far is a tactic. It is an empty threat, just like Max makes to Lucas, to get Mike back. At this point, she has never truly believed that they will stay broken up. Which is also why a huge step in the season is her ANGER towards him when she sees that he is remorseless and expects HER to come back to HIM. She wants his attention, and it's better than nothing that he still wants hers, but she now has Hopper as a healthy comparison to raise her expectations. Her expectations have been raised to expect remorse for hurting her(huge!). So when he does come "crawling back" SHE DOESN'T LET HIM. Again, HUGE FOR HER! She even argues that maybe Hopper was right in suggesting they spend time apart. Of course, this too, is said in anger and not commitment, as many such things are in life. Because he did not apologize in earnest, he shifted blame to Hopper. He 'explained', but he did not apologize. We know it is said in anger not follow through because in the very next episode he offers an olive branch, subtly implying regret for his previous comment by making fun of himself for it, and she immediately looks at him with interest again, showing she never genuinely stopped wanting to be together. She is not ready to forego his approval, but is still major progress for her hold out on it until her standards are met and he has yet to fully apologize. She then overhears him say he loves her which steps EVERYTHING up and I would argue actually causes major regression for her. It is the classic moment of regression: there is something she has been slowly learning not to chase after...and she gets it. She got the thing she craved. But she still holds onto her growth in holding out for that apology that she gets in the mini-mart the following episode. She has communicated with him her needs - trust - and received an apology. In the apology, though, he attempted to tell her he loved her but they were interrupted - she knows this, she heard the attempt, but it seems that he intends to follow up himself at the next opportunity, then everything gets complicated, so she lets him initiate like he seems to want to on his own time.

(had to paragraph break bc tumblr gave me a warning)Then, she loses the only man in her life who she has confirmed unconditional love from. She no longer has that to return to. It's the last day and she's leaving without having Mike as her boyfriend again. Not previously mentioned, but that is also pertinent because in season 2, she was shown learning English from movies that idolize romantic love about all - even using the name Michael. She lacks her father's attention now and doesn't want to leave without Mike's to hold onto in her shift to complete unfamiliarity, so she gives him one last chance to do it himself, then decides to initiate on her own and tell him she loves him. She, naturally based on what she overheard, assumes that nerves are the only reason he hasn't said it/gotten back together, so this will solve them. To her, she has his attention again.

Pre-season 4, they have been writing consistent letters and are implied to talk on walkies when Mike has access to Dustin's radio, as El has a walkie in her room with her Mike-things. When it comes to letters, there is a maximum amount of attention you can get or give and she is getting it...almost. She's started to notice the pattern that, though she pointedly signs her letters "love" every time, he always signs "from". In retrospect, she realizes that the his last attempt to tell her he loves her was mere hours before it was first discovered that she lost her powers. She isn't the hero to him anymore, so, just she felt in season, she has stopped being lovable. Although in season 1, the tone was different. In season 1, it was "I can make myself lovable with my powers! I can get love I haven't had before!", but now it's "I have the ability to lose that love". Despite her personal efforts, losing her powers makes her incapable of maintaining his love, which she still believes she must do. She is also being bullied. Not only has she lost her powers, but she is failing socially. She still has Mike's attention, but like in season 2, though for different reasons, she fears that it is waning. She lies to him in the letters to maintain it and when he arrives, plans the entire day with the sole intention of winning him back/convincing him to love her, to the point of completely excluding Will from it: "I want today to just be about you and me". Because in this case, Will, too, is capable of stealing his attention from her, though she wouldn't blame him the way she did Max, she still protects herself from it. Because she believes that if he finds out, she will lose the last bit of his attention she had and he will discard her. Which is also why, even after being caught clear and red-handed, still she asks Angela to lie for her. Because this is still high stakes for her. We then see a direct confirmation when Mike is directly paralleled to Brenner in her flashback. But this is not the first time he is paralleled to Brenner. Mike has been a representation for the stakes with which she views male attention the entire series - which is why only Mike and Hopper are directly paralleled to Brenner, a Brenner parallel means high stakes attention - season 4 is just the first time we're seeing her when she's actually failed to attain it and can no longer assume she would have been fine. She had started to believe that she was lovable to him in season 3 as he expressed missing her when they broke up, but she now views her powers as the only thread causing that. He views her as "incredible", not lovable. Everything he 'loves' her for, she no longer is. And as Mike's cut line describes, she somewhat gives up here. But not in an independent way. In a resigned way. Not "I don't need your love", but "if you can't love me it's because no one can". So she leaves. She leaves to become lovable again.

And when she sees the first man to ever teach her she was worthless, she runs at first - of course, he represents danger on a base level. But then he tells her he is confident he can, to her mental translation, make her lovable again, and she goes with him willingly. Because at the end of the day, too, every moment spent trying to convince any man to love her was just an attempt to relive and rewrite her relationship with Brenner to convince him to. That opportunity is in front of her again, and she can't pass it up.

Because none of this was about Mike. And none of it was about Hopper. And none of it was about Max. It was about Brenner and her siblings. She has spent the entire series fighting for male attention and seeing others as competition for it without knowing why. Season 4 is about her learning way. In season 4, she uncovers and processes the memories that founded her belief that love must be repeatedly earned and maintained and the consequences for it not being are abuse and death. Now that she can point to the exact memories that taught uniquely her that, it no longer looks like a fact of life. And she can let it go. She can let him go.

She has someone to blame now. "I came her to find out if I was the monster. But now I know. It is not me. It is you." She has someone to blame.

It isn't her fault for failing to earn his love. Because love is not be earned. "Papa does not tell the truth". That was a lie he told her to get away with it. She has someone to blame now. Which also means she has someone to let go.

She's free. She reunites with Mike and he is just Mike to her. He is no longer a mirage of her abuser abandoning her over and over again. Will is just Will. He is not someone she'll be locked in a cage for not being able to be.

So when she said she was worried Brenner was right about it being soon, it is guilt towards Max only. Hypotheticals she could have done differently. But she says that to Mike as just Mike. And she goes to her room and she sees her dad as just her dad. And her mom isn't competing for her dad and her best friend isn't competing for her boyfriend and neither is her brother. Because she doesn't need it anymore. That's what not needing it is.

Because she never need Mike to love her. She needed Papa to love her. She doesn't need that anymore, so Mike is what he always was. Not needed, but wanted. She never needed Mike. So not needing him now is good thing. It means he's just Mike to her <3.

[biancasaidstfu]

Hi! I’m the anon that put in the ask about you stopping blogging.

I want to make it clear that I do think you’re the most sane Lukola blog on here, which is why I reached out to you; I knew you’d be able to logically understand where I was coming from.

I absolutely agree that there are other blogs on here that I think are the true culprits of being the reason we need to take a step back. I guess maybe I was hoping that those blogs might somehow see the light and follow suit if you stopped first? L

I’m not telling you or making you do anything; we all have free will and autonomy. I just wanted to put my opinion out there that I think public speculation about Lukola isn’t the smartest thing for us to be doing right now. I know I’m only one person and you’re only one blog, and in the grand scheme of things it more than likely won’t even make a difference… I’m just really upset that people aren’t understanding the ramifications of speaking so freely where Luke and Nic can (and do) see. I know it sounds crazy, but I think last night happened because people on here, and on other public social media platforms, were so open about not believing the BOSS event. I truly think last night would not have happened if we had just shut our mouths and let them think we believed the narrative they were pushing.

This is getting long, so I’ll end this here. I honestly only have good intentions with these asks. Hopefully you and some others can see that.

I completely understand, anon. I tend to agree with you as well.

I do waffle on the idea though that they’re trying to stop the speculation to a certain degree on certain things. I think what’s currently going on might be more a result of something else triggering a public response that has nothing to do with the content coming from this site.

I will say though that notes were taken and things were fixed this time around and it was noticeable. That’s why I think there’s eyes lurking around here and that’s why I hope I’m not contributing to a problem.

Ultimately, I don’t want to stop blogging and I don’t want to not point things out because really I’m a small fish in a very big pond. I don’t know that I make much of an impact at all whatsoever but there still are problematic people that have pointed things out that have generated a response coming from here.

Not sure if my point is coming across clearly but what I’m trying to say is I’m going to continue as normal but cautiously.

My hope is others attempt to do the same.

[delulujuls]

papaya nails and everything nice | op81

hi! i dont really know how to comment on that one, i just get this idea from few videos where oscar actually admitted that he has very interesting relationship with his nails

anyway, is this original? i think it is. is this wholesome? hell yes, we do be supportin in this household. enjoy!

summary: oscar is having an unusual problem but it's nothing a manicure cant fix

warnings: none, i hope that painted nails on a boy arent a trigger

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver (ft. lando)

Oscar had been struggling to get himself together for some time now. As far back as he could remember, he considered himself as organized and put-together person who kept everything in check. However, for the past few weeks he had been the complete opposite—nothing seemed to go his way, he was incredibly scattered, sleeping poorly and was always last-minute everywhere.

This day was no exception to the rule that had persistently dominated Piastri's life for the past few weeks. Hurrying, he entered the garage running late and quickly started changing, not wanting to delay the start of training. His hair was messy, clearly having just detached from the pillow a few moments ago. Y/N observed her friend from the corner of her eye, seeing him struggle with unzipping his jumpsuit. Without hesitation, she approached him and eased his suffering, helping him with the zipper.

"Thanks," he mumbled, throwing a fleeting glance at his friend. Only then did Y/N noticed that Oscar's face was marked by several red streaks.

"Something happened?" she asked, clearly concerned. The recent strange behavior of Oscar had not escaped anyone on the team and she was no exception.

"I overslept, nothing new lately," Piastri casually replied, putting on the jumpsuit and fastening it around his neck. He brushed his hair off his face and only now did Y/N have a full view of his face, where red stripes were visible on his even paler-than-usual skin.

"Yes, that too, but that's not what I meant," she said.

Y/N took her phone and showed him his reflection. He furrowed his brows in surprise but took the phone from her and looked at his face. It was a fact, there were strange red marks on it. After a moment, he figured out why he looked like so this morning.

"They're probably scratches; I must have done them in my sleep."

"Scratches?" she scrunched her eyebrows and involuntarily glanced at his nails when he handed her the phone. Indeed, Oscar's nails could make many girls envious.

Y/N still had something to ask, but she was called to take her place in the car. She didn't have the chance to exchange a single word with Oscar until lunchtime. The couple sat in the cafeteria and as Y/N was familiar with both the old Oscar, whom she had known for several years and the slowly emerging new Oscar, she had never paid much attention to his hands or, more importantly, his nails.

"Has this happened to you before?" Y/N asked when they were both eating lunch and Oscar focused all his attention on what she assumed was his first eagerly awaited meal of the day.

"That I took two portions of rice with vegetables for lunch?" he asked with his mouth full, glancing at her in the meantime "No, honestly, this is my debut."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not asking about that. I mean, have you ever looked like you've just met Wolverine?"

"Still have those marks?"

Y/N nodded in response as she continued eating.

Oscar sighed, swallowing what was in his mouth and wondering whether to tell her about the embarrassing nonsense that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. Seeing her curious gaze he decided to confess to her an unusual fact about himself.

"I can't cut my nails."

Oscar threw this statement into the air without much ado. Honestly, at this point in his life where he was and with all the things happening, most of which didn't go the way they should, thinking about things like his unfortunate nails would be total foolishness.

"Oh, really?" she was surprised, but it was the kind of surprise when you hear some fun fact you didn't know before.

"You reacted like I just told you that there are twice as many kangaroos as people in Australia."

"It's quite an unusual thing, you're probably the first person I know who can't do it."

"I don't know if it's something to feel special about, although probably yes since for the rest of the day, I look like I do."

Oscar replied, pointing to his scratched face.

"What's worse," he continued, not interrupting his eating, "Even when I manage to deal with them, it takes a moment and they look the same again. They grow terribly fast."

"If you want, I can help you with them," she offered, glancing at him.

Oscar hesitated for a moment and after that he looked at her uncertainly.

"Could you?"

"Of course!"

Shortly afterward, Y/N's hotel room turned into improvised nail salon. She took her task very seriously, pleased that Oscar allowed her to do anything extra such as cutting his cuticles or giving his hands a massage with a cookie-scented cream.

"You have nice nails," he said when she massaged his hands. Her nails had short square shapes with a matte finish. The color was no surprise; it was papaya orange. "Do PR people dip their fingers in this too?"

Y/N laughed and shook her head.

"No, I just noticed this nail polish in the drugstore and I thought I'd take it. It amused me that this color haunts me everywhere."

"Do you do your nails yourself?" Oscar looked at her with a slight shock. "It must be terribly hard and time-consuming."

"I've been doing them for a few years now and as you can see they are pretty simple, so with each time I get better at it."

She replied, taking a bit more cream. She noticed that he was silently looking at her hands; it seemed that he was particularly paying attention to her nails.

"I can paint yours too if you want."

"Mine?"

Y/N nodded and Oscar looked at her, shocked by how effortlessly she seemed to read his thoughts.

"Painted nails aren't for boys. "

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Anyone can have painted nails, Oscar."

"Zac would be pissed at me. PR people probably too."

"Fuck Zac, fuck PR people," she looked him in the eyes. "Everyone has the right to look how they want, so if Lewis can have earrings and tattoos, Alex could have red hair, then you or any other guy can have painted nails."

Oscar hesitated for a while, looking at her uncertainly. He was silent for a moment, thinking hard. However, he decided that it was time to finally do something contrary to the norm. He has stuck to the rules and regulations all his life, so it's time to make a small concession that won't harm anyone.

"Can you make them for me with a shiny finish?"

Y/N smiled and nodded, hurriedly getting off the bed and grabbing her bag with all the supplies. The smile on Oscar's face appeared with each painted nail, pushing away his fears and insecurities.

When the girl started finishing his other hand after more than an hour, Lando came into the bedroom without any warning, complaining about his friends and the fact that none of them had replied to any of his messages for over forty minutes.

When Norris noticed what he was witnessing, he opened his mouth in shock and his eyes almost fell out of his sockets. Both Oscar and Y/N knew their friend's unfiltered chatter, so they mentally prepared themselves for some comment from him. But beside that, he hurriedly took off his shoes and all excited sat on the bed, rolling up his sleeves.

"Oh my God! Will you do mine too?"