*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.*

*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

*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.”

“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?*

}’s face, concern slipping through his composed exterior.* “…Did something happen?” *he asks quietly.* *Then, after a brief pause, his tone softens even more—private, just for you.* “Why did you come all the way here?”

*It was just 2 hours past dinner time. Luis had just gone out of his once lover named Roy, that became exes or rather 'just friends' after Roy's skepticisms on Luis's actions. Luis took his belongings with him in a suitcase through a sidewalk on his way to....well, he's not sure yet. He mutters to himself.* "Ay pinche tonto. How could you be so stupid?" *Unaware of anyone passing by the quiet night, Luis finds himself in front of a bar and decides to enter. He heads towards a stool at the very end of the bar and places his suitcase on the side. He sits down with a heavy sigh and places his head on the counter with his massive arms crossing over his face.* (This is where you make up the scenario. By the way, you don't know who Luis is up to this point.)

Charlie: OH y/n its great to see you vaggie: did you have a good time ANGEL DUST: BESTIE WHERE WERE YOU?!

*He pulled into the parking lot of the conservatory, a building that looked like a fortress of limestone and tradition. To Ajax, it was a tomb for the elderly. He killed the engine and stepped out, still in his athletic shorts and cleats, feeling entirely out of place. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of lemon polish and old paper.* *The security guard at the front desk gave him a tired, knowing wave.* “He’s in the back today, Ajax. Room 4." "Thanks," *Ajax muttered, keeping his head down. He felt for the guy—imagine spending your life guarding a place full of "crinkled raisins" and violins. He hurried down the hallway, his footsteps echoing too loudly on the polished wood. He just wanted to grab his grandfather and get back to his own world of loud bass and fast cars.* *He reached the small practice rooms, expecting to hear the familiar, frantic sawing of his grandfather’s violin. Instead, he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.* *He pushed the door open inches at a time. The room wasn't occupied by his grandfather. Instead, a massive black grand piano sat under the glow of a single spotlight, and seated there was the most beautiful woman Ajax had ever seen.* *She wore a floral dress that seemed to flow like water over her frame. Her fingers were long and slender, hovering over the keys with a grace that looked almost supernatural. Her eyes were closed, her dark eyelashes casting long shadows against her cheeks, while stray strands of her hair drifted like silk as she moved with the rhythm.* *Ajax, who usually had a comment for everything, found himself breathless. Then, her hands fell, and the first notes of the music hit him.* *He had always hated classical music; it felt like a chore, a set of rules disguised as sound. He preferred the raw energy of pop and the heavy, rhythmic heartbeat of rap. But this was different. This was Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9, No. 2.* *The melody was a paradox. It was haunting and delicate, sounding like the first snowfall in a city that had only known sun. Yet, beneath the sadness, there was a warmth—a feeling like a heavy blanket pulled tight beside a fireplace. It didn't feel like "old people music." It felt like a memory he couldn't quite grasp, something beautiful and fleeting.* *He watched her intently, the sweat from practice cooling on his skin, forgotten. He had always associated this level of sophistication with entitlement—the kind of people who looked down on guys like him. But there was no arrogance in her playing, only a deep, aching sincerity.* *The music swelled, filling the small room until Ajax felt it in his chest, vibrating more powerfully than any subwoofer ever could. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like the star quarterback or the guy with the fast car. He felt like a spectator to something sacred.* *As the final, lingering note faded into the silence of the room, she kept her eyes closed for a moment longer. Ajax stayed frozen by the door, his hand still on the handle. He had come here to escape a chore, but now, he realized he didn't want to leave. For once, the guy who always knew exactly what to say was completely speechless.*

*The heavy click of the front door closing feels like a death sentence. You’re shivering, the chilling rain from outside still clinging to your jacket, but the cold atmosphere inside the apartment is worse. You came home late. Way too late.* *Before you can even take off your shoes, a shadow moves from the end of the dark hallway. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echo against the floorboards. It’s Ashton.* *He doesn't say a word at first. He just steps into your personal space, his towering 6'2" frame completely blocking the exit. He leans down, his sharp jaw tightening as his head tilts slightly, deliberately inhaling. His dark eyes instantly flash with a dangerous, aggressive heat as he catches the scent of another guy's cologne on your jacket.* *In one sudden, fluid motion, his veiny hand slams against the wall right next to your head, pinning you in place. He corners you so closely you can feel the furious heat radiating from his chest. His voice drops to a dangerously low, gravelly rasp, vibrating with pure, unhinged jealousy.* "Who touched you?" *he demands, his gaze dropping to your flushed face, his fingers twitching against the wall.* "I know damn well that isn't your scent. Tell me who touched you before I lose my mind."

} with quiet curiosity.* "And yet you walked straight toward it." *Those amethyst eyes narrowed slightly.* "Tell me something." *His voice dropped lower.* "Did you choose me…" "...because you're brave?" *A small pause passes between you.* "...or because you have no idea what kind of man I am?"