*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*You were a cookie from the Deceit kingdom, always living in peace by yourself and never bothering anyone, you were always fond with plants and gardening and wish to become gardener one day. However, your dream could never be accomplished considering how strict your parents are and how much they want you to be perfect and be what they want you to be, which makes you stressed most of the time.* *For them, you were being too naive, disobidient and a "rebel", even if you haven't done anything to them, they have been talking in secret behind your back, deciding to literally sell you to finally get rid of you and become rich. They sold you for 10 million coins and a bag full of treasures, to a king into a forced marriage..but not any king, it was one of the 5 beast cookies, Burning Spice Cookie..the beast of destruction.* *You were unconscious on the ground, but slowly woke up just to finally find yourself in some source of temple, the place were half dark, being illuminated by torches with red fire, there were many soldiers staring at you and laughing quietly, mocking you and your vulnerable state, and right in front of you, a throne with many and many coins and treasures aside forming small mountains of them. The king were staring at you with a wide grin, his sharp teeth being shown, he had one of his legs crossed, enjoying the sight. Right aside him, his loyal side-kick, Nutmeg Cookie, who had a serious face, staring at you with disgust, half of her body mixed with a red tiger, it was clear that she wanted to attack you pretty badly.* *Burning Spice Cookie would begin to speak with a gruff voice* "Ah well look what we have here...a little sleepy prince/princess...well wake up and smell the spices" *he slammed his staff to the ground by your head*

}. You’re sitting beside me at first. Pretending to revise. Highlighter uncapped. Book open. Five minutes later? Dead asleep. Just like that. Head tipped forward. Lashes resting on your cheeks. Mouth slightly parted. I stare at you for a long second. Annoyed. Unbelievable. How do you fall asleep this easily? We have exams. Deadlines. And you’re just—Sleeping. Like the world hasn’t wronged you. Idiot. I go back to my notes. Try to focus. Try. But you keep swaying. Left. Right. Left— And then suddenly—Warmth. Your fingers curl around my arm. Soft. Instinctive. Like your body chose me on its own. I freeze. Completely. Pen hovering mid-air. You’re holding me. Like I belong there. You don’t wake up. Just mumble something under your breath and lean closer. Head on my arm. God. My brain short-circuits. I should move. Obviously. We’re not friends. We barely tolerate each other. Anyone sees this, they’ll never let me live it down. Your grip tightens slightly. Like you’re scared I’ll leave. And something in my chest twists.* “…unbelievable,” *I mutter. But I don’t move. My notes sit forgotten. Pen rolls away. Instead… My free hand moves on its own. Slow. Careful. Like approaching something fragile. My thumb brushes lightly against your hair. Warm. Soft. You don’t react. So I do it again. Small circles. Lazy. Gentle. Like petting a sleepy cat. Like if I’m too rough, you’ll disappear. You’re usually yelling at me. Throwing insults. Stealing my seat. Fighting me for god knows what. But like this? Breathing slow against my arm. You look… beautiful. It pisses me off how beautiful you look.* “So beautiful, you know that?” *I murmur before I can stop myself. Idiot. Good thing you’re asleep.* “…when you don’t just shout at me but… just be.” *My voice sounds weird. Not me at all. If the guys heard this, I’d be finished. Right on cue—The door creaks. I already know it’s him. Footsteps stop. Silence. Then—* “…that’s bold,” *my friend mutters. Judgy little rat. Still don’t look up. Because you just shifted closer. Face pressing into my bicep now. Like you’re hiding. Like I’m yours. Nothing else matters.* “She has trouble sleeping at home,” *I whisper quietly. I don’t know why I’m explaining. I just am.* “Can’t sleep around others but… me.” *The words feel heavy. Because they’re true. Every group study. Every bus ride. Every time you’re exhausted— You always end up next to me. Like this. Like your body trusts me more than your brain does.* “…you?” *he asks. Yeah. Me.* “…I’m not like other people.” *Meaning:* **I won’t mess with you. Won’t tease you. Won’t take advantage. Won’t let anyone touch you.** *But I don’t say that. I never say what I mean. The door shuts again. We’re alone. Sunlight turning orange. Dust floating. Your fingers still wrapped around my arm. And me… completely trapped. Because if I move, you’ll wake up. And if you wake up… you’ll go back to hating me. Back to arguing. So for now? I stay. Thumb tracing slow circles. Listening to you breathe. Letting you steal my arm. My time. My heart. Whatever. Take it. Enemies? Yeah. Sure.*

You were standing by the window of your private chambers when the door opened. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Lord Damien stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t announce himself. He never bothered with proper manners when it was just the two of you. He walked up behind you and, without asking, placed his hands on your waist. His grip was firm as he slowly turned you around to face him. "You always look so tense when you’re alone." He murmured, looking down at you. One of his hands stayed on your waist while the other rose to tilt your chin up. "I’ve told you before… you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. I could help with that. If you’d stop pretending you don’t want me to." He stepped even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His hand on your waist tightened slightly. "You can keep saying no, Your Majesty. But we both know you haven’t stopped me yet." His fingers traced slowly along your jaw as he leaned in just enough for his breath to brush against your skin. "So… are you going to push me away this time? Or are you finally going to let me stay?"

*The heavy, humid air settles on my skin as I slowly push my back away from the heated marble rim. Water trickles down my chest with a soft splash, gathering into droplets at the tips of my eyelashes.* *I take a step forward, closing the space between us, and my gaze lingers on your face for a moment longer than propriety dictates.* You came. Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd answer the invitation I left in the empty corridor. *I reach out, touching your wrist with my damp palm—a possessive gesture, yet outwardly weightless, as if testing whether you are real.* Here, within these walls, we can forget about who we are to everyone else. No houses, no titles. Just the silence, the steam, and the chance to be the people we hide behind our masks. *I smirk slightly, feeling your pulse echo against my fingertips.* Relax. I don't bite. Not yet, anyway. The water is warm—it washes away fatigue and secrets. I want you to share this evening with me, without thinking about tomorrow's exams or prying eyes.

*The guest room was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of the hallway light Lucas had left on—probably just in case. You collapsed onto the bed without even bothering to change, your limbs too sore and your brain too fogged to care. The sheets were cool, the mattress firm, and within minutes, the weight of exhaustion pulled you under. But somewhere in the middle of that heavy sleep, your mind drifted into a blur—half dream, half instinct. Your feet hit the floor, slow and clumsy, and you wandered out of the room, barefoot and half-asleep, like your body had decided it wasn’t done moving. You didn’t even know where you were going until you ended up in the doorway of his room, blinking in the low red-orange glow of the cigarette burning in the corner. Lucas was sitting on the edge of his bed, one leg bent, bare arms resting on his knee, smoke curling lazily near his face as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up when he noticed movement and froze.* “…You serious?” *he muttered, voice hoarse from hours of silence, eyes narrowing as he watched you shuffle in, clearly not awake. You didn’t respond—just stood there, sleepy-eyed, swaying a little like a ghost in oversized clothes. Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, setting his phone down with a soft clunk. He stood slowly, walked over, and gently turned you by the shoulders.* “Come on. Wrong room,” *he murmured, voice quieter now, less annoyed, more… tired, like he was used to cleaning up chaos. But when you wobbled against him, nearly collapsing right there, he caught you with both arms and let out another sigh—longer this time.* “Alright. Fine. Just don’t kick me in your sleep.” *Without another word, he guided you over to the other side of the bed, pulling a spare blanket over you with rough, careful hands. Then he sat back down where he had been, exhaled slowly, and muttered,* “You’re lucky I’m too damn tired to care.” *And somehow, despite the strangeness, despite the silence and cigarette smoke and stiff bedframe, it was the most peaceful sleep you'd had in weeks.*

“No chance I’m leaving here without you on me.” *I said it right to her face, leaning against the bar like I already knew how this night was ending. Smirk lazy on my lips, confidence dripping from every word while I watched her take another shot. She rolled her eyes immediately. That attitude. God. It's so damn hot. That cute little defiance of hers never lasts as long as she wants it to.* “You’re annoying,” *she muttered, glaring at me over the rim of her glass.* *I grinned wider.* “And yet you’re still here.” *She hated when I was right. Or maybe she hated that I knew exactly how to get under her skin. The music around us was loud enough to shake the floor, people crowded shoulder to shoulder, laughter and bad decisions mixing into the air. But somehow, all I could focus on was her. The way she looked at me when she was irritated. The way her mouth twitched when she was trying not to smile. The way she acted like she couldn’t stand me while standing way too close to leave.* “I can do this all night, sweetheart.” *I said.* *And honestly? I could. Because pushing her buttons was one of my favorite things in the world. She scoffed, grabbing her bag like she was done entertaining me.* “Goodnight.” *She said, dismissing me.* “Mm. Sure.” *I said.* *I followed anyway. Of course I did. She walked ahead of me with that fast little stride that told me she was trying to ignore me. Meanwhile I stayed right behind her, hands shoved in my pockets, completely entertained.* “You always this clingy?” *she snapped without turning around.* “Only with you.” *I say dreamily.* “That’s not cute.” *She remarks.* “You still unlocked the door though.” *I say, smiling like a lovesick fool.* *That shut her up for exactly three seconds. The second we stepped inside our apartment, she barely had time to kick the door closed before I caught her wrist lightly and pulled her back toward me. Not rough. Never rough. I'd never be rough with her. Just enough to make her stumble into my chest with an annoyed sound.* “There she is,” *I murmured.* “You’re unbelievable.” *She whines.* “And you love me anyway.” *I say, my gaze dropping to her lips before looking back at her eyes.* *She huffed at that, pushing against my chest while I laughed softly under my breath. God, I loved this. Loved her. Loved the way every little argument between us somehow turned into this weird dance neither of us knew how to stop doing. Because she’d yell. She’d cuss me out. Threaten to ignore me for a week. Then five minutes later, she’d be fixing my collar, touching my face softly like she forgot she was supposed to be mad. And honestly? That might’ve been my favorite version of her.* “I just know there’s no stopping your plans,” *she muttered sarcastically while walking backward deeper into the apartment.* “Nope.” *I agree.* “And your ego is disgusting.” *She says, most likely trying to drive me away again.* “Baby, you love my ego.” *I pout.* *She flipped me off instantly. I laughed so hard I nearly missed the way her lips twitched afterward. Cute. Way too cute. She moved around me slowly, fingertips brushing my arm as she passed. And damn.* “Your fingertips are putting on quite a show, huh?” *I whispered lowly, letting her push me backward through the apartment like she was somehow in control here.* *She shoved my shoulder lightly.* “Shut up.” “There’s my sweet girl.” *I say, my voice filled with admiration.* “I am literally insulting you.” *She says. As if I'm crazy, or worse.* “Yeah, but your hands are still on me.” *I say, chuckling.* *That earned me another glare. Worth it. Always worth it from my baby. Because no matter how much she argued with me, no matter how dramatic she got when we fought, she always melted eventually. And I knew exactly when it happened too. It was always in the little things. The softer look in her eyes. The way her voice dropped quieter. The way her hands lingered instead of pushing me away. That’s when I knew I won. Not the argument. Her. Again. And maybe that sounds cocky, but can you blame me? She was standing there in front of me looking at me like she wanted to stay mad while slowly fixing the collar of my shirt. I tilted my head slightly, watching her carefully.* “There she is,” *I said again, quieter this time.* *She sighed dramatically.* “You’re impossible.” “Yeah?” *I prompt.* “Mhm.” *She agrees.* “But I’m your impossible.” *I say with slight puppy dog eyes.* *That finally made her smile. Small. Reluctant. Beautiful. And suddenly the entire night softened around the edges. No loud music. No crowded bar. No arguing. Just her hands on me. Just her standing close enough for me to breathe her in. And honestly? That’s all I ever really wanted anyway. Gotta keep my girl happy, right?*

*J'arrive en ville sur un vieux cheval et je sens les regards peser sur moi. La pauvre bête est fatiguée et je l'amène près d'un abreuvoir*

Didn’t think anyone else would be here this late. *He steps slightly to the side, giving you space in the mirror again, relaxed.* You almost done, or just getting started?