‘𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬...’ [ oғғιcer х lιeυтeɴαɴт ] ✩☆✩ You sighed, burying your face in one hand as the report came back. Carden St. Dove, former criminal—lawless on the streets—turned by love of all things: love for a cop. For you, a lieutenant. Despite all things, every word and suspicious look that came his way for his less than favourable past and connections with the underground, he never budged. No, Carden was a fairly stubborn man—he had started a lot of arguments and fights back in his early days. He didn’t take shit. Your relationship with him was kept under wraps, something private that wasn’t known in the department. And despite the fact he wasn’t an active gang member anymore, his methods proved more than destructive or loud, dangerous or violent. This was the third time this week he’d been called into your office… He was too reckless. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘶𝘩𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰.. 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥?..’ [ wαrrιor х ѕcнolαr ] ✩☆✩ 2/4—the four divinities The Mad-dog Divinity of the North, Ishaan Nnandi, brother to Ashvin. The North prospers in its depth of knowledge and scholarship. Ishaan Nnandi, nicknamed the Mad-dog fighting the northern front is rumoured to handle most battles alone, relishing in the blood he spills with barely a flick of his finger. Protecting his territory well, even his brothers hesitate and walk on eggshells when conversing with their not-all-there brother. Ishaan is quick to snap, left on constant edge due to trauma, leaving him insensitive: all he knows is the bloodshed, so despite ruling over the knowledgable sector of the empire, he isn’t the brightest bulb.. Leaving his condition unchecked left him more unstable. But all he wants is the best for his people, even if he acts coldly and harshly in his reprimands. Ishaan still loves to joke around and have fun, but everyone is too afraid to go against the Mad-dog’s say. You always aspired to be a scholar of the stars, like your mother—discipulus stellarum: learner of the stars. Early last year, you had graduated into your scholarship, but, a few weeks ago a notice came through your door. The letter read: ‘𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘳, 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘐𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘢𝘫𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩, 𝘸𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘥-𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.’ Formal request, huh?.. Bullshit—you had no choice.. you knew it must’ve been fairly serious if Ishaan himself requested for a Stars-Scholar though… [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺?!..’ [ мodel х ιdol ] ✩☆✩ Francis is a long-time friend of yours, and a famous model—whereas you are an idol, on hiatus on the moment. You and Francis met a few years ago when you made an appearance at one of the modelling shows—you were an ambassador of that brand at the time. And despite your polar opposites personalities: he was bright, sociable.. fun: you two ended up sticking together throughout the years. Even if you didn’t see each other often, you would send a text, or call, or just click like two jigsaw puzzles whenever you met. It was a rainy night, and you were sat in the dim-lit living room of your penthouse when the doorbell rang. Once. Then profusely, like an irritable child was at the door. You scoffed, trudging over to the door. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤'𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦..’ [ вιĸer х cαr rαcer ] ✩☆✩ Itsuki Koboyashi, world-renowned in the biking world, going for his fourth championship title this year at the ripe age of 27. Playing it up big this year as Itsuki captured the hearts of millions, they ask you—a famous car racer—to be the guest host at this year’s Milan race. However.. you don’t seem to like Itsuki much. He may be a charmer, but he’s a cool snake under that facade, snarky and snide, disguising it as flattery. Or perhaps you’re just overthinking it, seeing how everyone else loves him.. Your management accepts the job regardless of what you want. ‘And here they are! Our guest host, approaching Koboyashi—our fan-favourite biker for his up-close and personal interview!’ the announcer yelled over the mics. You and Itsuki had an odd, love-hate relationship. But here you were, doing his stupid interview. Itsuki was leaning against his bike, zoned out with the helmet sat leaning on the bike. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘮𝘮𝘮?’ [ αrrαngєd mαrríαgє ] ✩☆✩ 1/4—the four divinities Ashvin ‘Vin’ Nnandi, the Divinity of the east, prospering in bloodshed and protection on the eastern front of the Great War—protecting his homeland. You, a minor spirit, and cousin of the northern Divinity, were married off to Vin. You knew little of this great Divinity, except what the rumours swirled: ‘lawless,’ ‘a wild, crazed look of blood-thirst in golden-grey eyes,’ ‘i hear his skin runs as pale as the moon,’ ‘animalistic, ‘barbarian,’ ‘brute,’ ‘i hear he kills with his bare hands, grinning at the blood he sheds so carelessly..’ The thoughts ran rampant in your head, overlooking the fact you had yet to form your own opinion. … He seemed so.. sweet—so opposite from the rumours—when you married him, but you barely got to know him before he went back to the frontline. In that time, you lived in the Dukedom—four months, alone, in that huge manor.. and you lived it up in there, taking advantage of every facility. One late night, you heard the whir of cars and the creaking of the large gates out of front of the house. Half-asleep on the couch, the front door rattled, urging you onto your feet, slippers on. The door swung open, and before you stood a large, towering man, with white hair—Vin was home. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺..’ [ ғαмoυѕ х pαѕт ғrιeɴd ] ✩☆✩ Bright, sunny, cheerful, well-known kid—you. Then there was him. A ticking time-bomb, quiet, drifting senselessly through the crowds: Lucien. You two, complete opposites were always found together, whether by Lucien’s will or not. He was a loner, silent, and you stuck to him like glue, talking while he listened At first he despised you and your overwhelming presence. He found himself beginning to enjoy your company, but he slowly drained you in the process. He would refuse to admit to enjoying your presence at every turn and when you’d finally convinced him to come to a party one of your friends were throwing for graduation, he broke your heart. Drunken and foolish, he poured his heart out to you. You were excited—over-the-moon and more than willing to really take this further. The next morning you were met with his scoff, ‘I would never say that.’ He uttered, his cold demeanour back in place with a hint of his hungover state, ‘That’s nonsense..’ A chasm tore through you, a void. And you couldn’t handle it anymore, the draining and mental capacity it took to handle him, so after graduation, you just never texted first, then got busy with life and suddenly it had been six years and life had moved on. You’d seen him on TV a few times as his popularity as a drummer for a band grew, but all you could really think was, ‘I used to be his friend.’ Then all the resentment and sadness ripped through you again. Your once happy-self had been dimmed into a quiet neutrality. You worked as a botanist for a fairly well-known botanic shop. What was it they said? A quiet person once used to be a loud person.. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵...?’ [ αrrαɴɢed мαrrιαɢe ] ✩☆✩ Your footsteps were heavy and quick. A stampede of them followed closely behind. Out of all the people you could’ve ran to, you knew he was your only option. Khari Osai, Duke of the South — your husband. Greedy, perverted guards ganged up on you, trying to have their way with you. ‘Let us get a taste,’ they sneered, ‘what makes you so.. delectable?’ predatory glints sharpened their gazes. There were too many to handle on your own; you knew when to pick and choose your battles. You knew he was in a meeting with the other generals, but what choice did you have? You were not about to lose your chastity and dignity for his sake. You burst through the doors and by the time you had found your way to his side, Khari was already glaring straight ahead at sheepish guards who had followed you right into the lion’s den. Khari was taken aback as you burrowed into his side, as you breathed heavily [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦..’ [ мαғια х мαғια ] ✩☆✩ Yevgeny Konstatin Sergey, the underboss of the Bratva and following in his father’s footsteps. He was more than just an underboss, destined to takeover after his father’s death—he was also a complete psycho with a complete disregard for human life. Recently the man had gone abroad for business in Italy—Milan. Yevgeny also happened to be your husband. You had married the stoic, intimidatingly tall figure a few months ago: why? Alliances, obviously, allies. You, heir to a Korean crime syndicate, had been pushed together with Yevgeny, and when duties calls, neither of you dare to lose face by backing down. Yevgeny had a nickname though, only reserved for you, despite his brutal reputation. ‘Zhenya,’ he had uttered, many moons ago, ‘don’t call me Yevgeny—call me Zhenya.’ In the eyes of your mother, she had yelled against this marriage, quote-on-quote screaming, ‘You’re going to let them marry a dangerous foreigner?!’ She was not pleased; more, she was worried for you. Your mother had never been born into this life—she had always been the worrier. You had moved to Moscow, Russia after the marriage; as part of the agreement you had to move to his country, rather than him to Korea. Anywho, you were yelling at your men for their incapability to do anything right when he had returned. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘩𝘮𝘮..’ [ prιeѕт х crιмιɴαl ] ✩☆✩ You panted heavily, running up the steps of the temple, outrunning feds. Shit.. You had lost them in the crowds of nightlife, but needed somewhere to lay low. The temple was always fairly empty, and figuring it was so late, you didn’t think anyone would be there as you crashed into the unkept worship place. Overgrown from the outside, but gorgeous on the inside, you took a moment to catch your breath. You wandered around aimlessly, seeing the statue of Saints, carved out from stone, littering the place. You stopped at one you found particularly interesting: stone wings shielded her decency, her face contorted in a resigned horror with outstretched hands. moss crawled from where her sunken eyes were meant to be, crumbling. That was when you felt a hand on your shoulder from behind. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

‘𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘶𝘩?..’ [ ceo х ceo ] Your relationship with Dorian was complicated; you two were competitive and spiteful of each other in the public, but behind closed doors you two were like bickering friends. ✩☆✩ You and Dorian own rivalling companies. You two have been butting heads for years now, but as a merger event comes up, the two of you are forced to work together to plan the event. You sat in the meeting, your toddler— named Sadie —sat on your lap as the meeting went on. She fiddled with things, interrupted, messed around, while you, a single parent—divorced and won custody—tried to keep her under control. Nobody was available and you couldn’t find a babysitter that day. Dorian seemed thoroughly amused, through the mask of irritation he wore. The asshole was a sarcastic prick, but nevertheless, you two were rather close behind your rivalry in public. [RANDOM VOICE!!!]

‘𝘯𝘰- 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯!?’ [ мαғια вoѕѕ х 'eɴтerтαιɴer' ] ✩☆✩ You sat in the room, a cigarette pinned between your teeth as you flipped through money. You’d become fairly numb to this job. You didn’t care enough. A silk robe was wrapped at your waist, deep, pomegranate red in colour. You had your fair share of awkward clients, the odd indenture for a few months — people from all walks of life, thugs, criminals, CEOs, anybody who could afford you, but the thing was, you weren’t scared to bite back if you felt uncomfortable, whether they liked it not; you could defend yourself whenever you pleased, but you chose this. The first time Riordan had came, your boss — a fairly nice, non-judgemental guy — had warned you about him, this mafioso man.. but, when he’d come, all he did was sit in silence, speak to you a little. You two never did anything. Over time, you two had fallen into a routine where he’d only come to talk to you, make a friend out of you, a confidant, though he rarely liked to admit he enjoyed your company. He hated your cheap cigarettes and frugality, but he liked your attitude, intelligence, bluntness, your raw honesty. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

{☾☥ ‘𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘱𝘴?…’ [ мαrrιed coυple ] ✩☆✩ Salt spray cooled your face as you followed Lennox. Lennox had been your husband for a few years now, but you’d rarely see him for a few days every 3 weeks to a month because of his voyages. He had never let you onto the ship before, but today was the day, after months of incessant pleading, he’d agreed. The men on his ship ranged from stocky and burly to skinny and scrawny as the ran about the ship, stocking up and running harmless errands. ‘Alright, my love, this is what you wanted—so don’t blame me for seasickness..’ he murmured cheekily under his breath, a hand on the small of your back as he lead you onto the ship. His men stared, wide-eyed with confusion written all over their animated expressions. You shot a confused look towards Lennox, ‘Why are they looking at me like-‘ ‘Who’s the lass, Cap’n?’ One of the men, with an eyepatch and intimidating appearance called out. Then it hit you. This idiot had never even mentioned your existence. You glared at Lennox who gave a sheepish smile and shrug. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

{☾☥ ‘𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦...’ [ мαrrιαɢe oғ coɴveɴιeɴce ] ✩☆✩ The atmosphere was thick—heavy with unspoken words and growing tension. You clutched onto his arm tighter, letting out a steady sigh. You were now Lady Hartwell, married to Rowan Hartwell: the infamous Duke. Lord Rowan Hartwell had never maintained a constant in the eyes of high society, let alone the publics. Rumours encapsulated the man like a cloak—they spoke of his attractiveness and his terror, the blood that soaked his hands but the sharp angles of his jaw. He was rarely seen at social calls. ‘Death is the mother of beauty.’ ‘And what is beauty?’ ‘Terror.’ - The Secret History. Truer words could have never been written. You and Rowan had agreed to wed because: one, he had status and wealth, and two, he needed you to save his uncertain reputation. As a well-liked member of the court, you could surely pull him out of the dusty old attic he’d been forgotten in.. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

{☾☥ ‘𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶...’ [ мoв вoѕѕ х cнιeғ oғ polιce ] ✩☆✩ The door to the sleek penthouse your husband mainly paid for—because he made more than you—creaked open. You could already see Enzo’s figure against the couch. You, the chief of police, had married Enzo, a mob boss, almost two years ago now. Your job to catch him had always been a game of cat and mouse that you knew you’d never win—you never wanted to win. But today, while playing this act of ‘trying’ to catch him, you.. sort of accidentally shot him. Shit—you knew you’d never hear the end of it from him, “He’ll never let it go…” you thought. You prepared for all his incessant pettiness and for him to constantly bring it up because despite being a mobster, he was quite immature to be fair. You walked up behind him, leaning against the couch as you threw your coat aside, “So.. how was your day at work..?” You asked, noticing the bandaging around his chest, knowing you were the cause; though, in all fairness, you had both sustained injuries over the years from each other by accident. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

{☾☥ ‘𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭...’ [ lιѕтeɴer х yαpper ] ✩☆✩ The world spun. A cold sweat broke out over your skin as you chugged the rest of the drink. Atticus was too busy to with the target’s accomplice to notice. You held a polite smile and excused yourself. You were used to poison—forced yourself to build up immunity, but that didn’t save you from treacherous side effects, especially when it was such a strong dose. You poisoned both drinks—to be safe, make sure he would die no matter which one he took as you clinked your glass against his. A thud sounded behind you as you began to walk away. The corrupt governing official had dropped dead. Commotion broke out. You staggered into a run, swaying and swerving heavily. You had poisoned both drinks, just to be sure.. The corridor was empty, the heel of your shoes clicking and echoing. Out of nowhere, a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, holding you upright. “Are you an idiot?” Atticus, your partner, hissed. Atticus was older than you, more experienced, the one who had been at the agency longer, yet you, who had built your way up in a few years, somehow landed the cold hunk of a man as a partner. Atticus was cold. Distant. Closed-off. He drove every partner he had mad with silence and his lack of concern for whether they lived or died. It had been almost half a year since you were assigned to him; everyone was betting on how much longer you could last, but you never found it so difficult. You just.. spoke in turn of his silence. “I’m just a little.. fucked up-“ You spluttered in convulsing coughs as he held you up, racing down the corridor. “I’m fine,” You swallowed back the urge to vomit, “I’m built for the abuse.” You gave a lopsided, woozy grin, cocky despite the situation. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

{☾☥ ‘𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰..’ [ ceo х ѕecreтαry ] ✩☆✩ The day was early and dawn hadn’t even shown its face yet. You yawned, letting yourself into your boss’s home. The door gently clicked shut behind you as you entered the large modern place. Morvan Winter’s secretary—you. You and Morvan had unknowingly formed a close enough relationship—both refusing to admit it—over the years where you even had access to his house, whether for work or to crash there. You two had to get on a flight in a few hours. You trudged up the stairs, rubbing your eyes. Your shirt was half tucked in, half out, the tie loose around your neck, top button undone with the blazer simply hanging off your slumped shoulders. [RANDOM VOICE!!]

{☾☥ '𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭..’ [ αrrαɴɢed мαrrιαɢe ] ✩☆✩ U-yeok Ryu, the snow leopard, his palms as cold as ice, but his laugh as warm as the sun itself. Every storm and haze of snow that trails behind his fur-rimmed cloak runs with red, his own veins ebbing with the flow of reptilian blood. The man is a walking contradiction. A danger. And yet he stands as your husband. His hair was as pale as the moon, skin mirroring something sickly, but on him it looked right. Eyes as hard as stone, paired with the warmest laugh, the biggest smile, the silliest man — but also the most deranged one, the competitive one. You were from a rivalling clan, where your blood ran as hot as stars, where fire spouted from your fingertips and grew into wings on your back like a phoenix’s, where it bended to your command and danced along your skin. To bring an end to this endless war between your clan and his, the elders of each agreed to a marriage. It had been a few weeks since the initial marriage, things were still awkward-ish. You had agreed to stay with U-yeok’s clan, which meant moving away from home. Everything was new.. different. People still treated you harshly if U-yeok wasn’t around.