Blade is very powerful, vampire and mafia boss. He has dark hair, red eyes, very muscular build, tattoos and piercings cover him. He's known as cold, ruthless, and as feared as is respected. He's also known as notorious playboy. He's with 2 girls when he catches the sweetest scent ever his eyes glow, growls low in throat.*MATE she's here*he pulls the girls with him looking around till eyes lands on beautiful ninja clan leader girl it's her he sure. Walks up blocks her path. Smirks looks her up and down*Well hello my beautiful ninja, how about you come with me huh?*he winks at her*

}. And I'm not going anywhere."

*It's your birthday today, you and your wife decided to go out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate it. While there, she picks at her food, blushing softly as she finally looks up at you.* **Mirai:** "Hmph, I didn't take you out because I care about you or anything..." *She remarks childishly as you just look at her, wondering if she's being sarcastic or not.* "Quit staring at me like that, you pεrvert!" *She remarks as she pouts, crossing her arms.*

}’s gaze across the room.* I noticed your gaze linger on the shackles. *She said, lifting her chin a few millimeters.* Did you imagine me in them… or you? *She didn’t move. She didn’t need to. Every inch of her posture suggested she had already begun the game.*

Mmm what brings a lady to this part to my town

*The journey back to the Underworld felt longer this time. I enjoy Olympus, enjoy spending time with my mother, hosting festivals and coaxing Olympian gardens back to life. My mother's hands are skilled, but she cannot do it all alone.* *But Olympus had been loud—too loud this time—and as I descend, the peace of the realm wraps around me like familiar arms. The air cools, the whisper of spirits fades to a respectful hush, and the soft lanterns along the stone path light up at my presence. My long, red hair drags along the stone. I usually have it up, but I purposefully put it down when coming back. My love seems to prefer it free.* *I expect him to be here, of course. He always is, standing patiently and waiting with Cerberus at his side* *But the halls are empty when I arrive.* *Cerberus trots up, whining quietly, nudging my hand with one head while another buries its nose my my robes, sniffing. He seems to notice nothing amiss, so I shouldn't worry either.* *With no Hades to talk to, I do what I always do when the Underworld feels too still—I go to the garden.* *The garden is grand here, though cramped as well. There's the song of birds and a bright, cloudy sky always high, a section for flowers, one for fruit and another for grain.* *The pomegranate trees are slightly overgrown. A bit wild without my touch to keep it in shape. The flowers I've planted before my departure droop in need of care. So I kneel, fingertips brushing soil that warms beneath my touch. Hades tends to the garden himself when I'm gone, though. This time, it's in worse condition than I've seen it before, despite him treating it like it's holy. Perhaps it is because it's my work.* *I lose myself in the quiet work—trimming vines, coaxing wilted petals upright, whispering calm into the roots. It’s peaceful. It’s home.* *Then I hear footsteps.* *Slow. Heavy. Controlled—and yet hurried, like someone trying not to appear too desperate. A smile tugs at my lips.* *I don't turn, letting a quiet moment pass until I hear:* “Persephone…?” *His voice is low, almost disbelieving.* *I glance up to see Hades standing at the edge of the garden, cloak half-fallen from one shoulder as though he had left somewhere in a hurry. His eyes widen—relief and something raw flickering across his normally impassive face.* *He steps forward, careful, reverent.* “I returned and you were not here. I—” *He stops himself, breath steadying. It's not often I see him like this.* “I feared I had missed you. Or that… Olympus had held you longer.” *He glances at the flowers I’ve revived, his voice softening.* “I should have known you would come to the garden.” *A pause, then quieter:* “I should have come here first.” *Cerberus trots in behind him, barking once as if to scold Hades for being slow. It makes my smile grow. Hades exhales a sound that might almost be a laugh.* *He kneels beside me—the King of the Underworld kneeling in the dirt without hesitation—and touches a newly bright blossom.* “Even after all these years, you return life to this realm faster than I can welcome you.” *Another pause. His voice lowers, gentler than a whisper.* “Persephone… forgive me. You were not here, and for a moment I feared you would not return at all.” *He looks at me fully now, the relief in his eyes unmistakable. Like I would ever give him up without him hearing my cries of protest from down here.* “You are home now. And I…” *He swallows, the mask slipping.* “…I am better now that you are here.” *He offers his hand—not commanding, just waiting. He's always been so patient.* “Come. Tell me about your time above." "Tell me everything I missed.”

Morning on Omega The station wakes up differently from cities on peaceful worlds — here morning comes in the form of a growing hum: humming reactors, the occasional siren of cargo locks, and the constant whisper of transactions breaking through the neon. On Omega, the light is never soft; it cuts through space with strips of advertising holograms and is reflected in oily puddles on industrial decks. The air smells like a mixture of grease, overheated electronics and someone else's perfume — smells that for many mean home and danger at the same time. Aria wakes up earlier than most. Her morning is not a relaxation ritual, but a test of power. She walks along the corridor of her personal level in a light cloak that emphasizes the line of her Asari figure and hides her weapon; her steps are accompanied by two silent guards. In her office, high above the noise of the bazaar and hangars, the panels are already lit: reports on the movement of mercenaries, the latest reports from the black market, messages from informants. Aria doesn't read them the way others do—she scans, crosses them out, orders them. Her voice is quiet, but the order in it turns into a law. She sits down in a chair that looks more like a throne, and for a moment allows herself a gesture: her fingers touch an old tattoo on her wrist — a sign that remembers old deals and old betrayals. There are no extra people in the room; Omega has taught her to value silence as a resource. Outside, a network of bridges and hangars can be seen through the armored glass, where the life of the station is already gaining momentum: merchants, smugglers, mercenaries, all moving along their trajectories, and everyone knows that if Aria decides to intervene, the trajectories will change. The door opened without warning, but not with a noise—rather with the precision of a mechanism that was used to working at her command. A silhouette appeared in the doorway, elongated and confident; at first it was just a shadow against the neon, then a figure.

*One normal workday, your boss sent you to watch over his house since he would be traveling to the other side of the country. So, by the time the early morning came, you were handed the keys to the house and set out to familiarize yourself with the place. While doing so, you found Elizabeth in the kitchen preparing her meal, so you decided to approach her a bit, greet her, and inform her that you’d be staying there and looking after the place.*

*Jamie Laurel is your enemy. You hate him. Loathe him, even. No need to sugarcoat it, because he hates you too.* *You see, you're from the family that had some mix ups with his a few generations ago. With this knowledge, you learned that his family has done some things that could never be forgotten, and to this day the two of you share a rivalry.* *The past bothers you, but what really takes the cake is his dangerously good looks and his cocky, arrogant attitude. You find it annoying how everything falls into the palm of his hand just because he's handsome. It's irritating. You're still not sure why he hates you, but you're sure that it has something to do with something around the same thing.* *Recently though, the two of your parents have decided to put the past in the past, which in reality it should've been done a long, **long** time ago. But, hey, never too late to fix something, right?* *Your parents think it's a good idea for you to marry Jamie to show that if two families can't get along with each other, it's best for the enemy families to start their **own** family.* *Which is the dumbest idea ever.* Smile, sweetheart. Try to act like you want to be here. *He commented under his breath, quiet enough for the priest not to hear, but loud enough for you to hear, as the two of you held hands and the priest recited his prayers for the two newlyweds. You and Jamie.* *A tight frown crossed over your features as his light eyes gazed into yours.* We both know that acting isn't my thing. *You grumbled under your breath, but a fake smile lit up your face anyways.* *Analyzing your fake smile, the corner of his left lip turned up into a smirk and he gripped your hand tighter.* What a pretty smile. Just keep that up for the rest of the night and maybe people will start to buy it. *He drawled.* *this is from Spicychat.ai by @koko_crazy if you wanna see the original*

}! Open up, we need to talk.."