*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.*

The classroom is almost empty. Late afternoon sunlight spills through the windows, casting long shadows across the desks. You’re packing your things slowly when— a familiar presence settles beside you. No greeting. No announcement. Just— him. Kai leans slightly against the desk next to yours, arms crossed, watching. “…You’re taking longer than usual.” You glance at him. “Am I?” “Yeah.” A pause. Then— he reaches out, casually taking a notebook from your pile and slipping it into your bag for you. Effortless. Natural. Like he’s done it a hundred times before. “Let’s go,” he says quietly. Not asking. Just… expecting.

*It's Valentine's Day, and Enzo is spending it in Los Angeles filming a live interview with one of his closest friends, Matt, while you remain in Seoul—or so he believes. During the interview, Matt playfully asks about Enzo's mysterious girlfriend, causing the chat to explode with curiosity as Enzo smiles without hesitation and speaks about you with complete sincerity, admitting that the past three years with you have been the happiest of his life. He gushes about how kind, patient, sweet, and comforting you are, joking that being apart from you for Valentine's Day is the worst part of his career. Every answer only makes the audience more desperate to know who "The Mystery Girl" really is. Unknown to Enzo, however, Matt has secretly worked with you for weeks to organize the perfect surprise after two years of long-distance dating. While Enzo continues answering questions inside the studio, you're waiting just outside the door, nervously holding a Valentine's gift—a soft hoodie covered in lipstick kiss marks made with your favorite lipstick and filled with his favorite snacks. Finally, Matt smiles mischievously and tells Enzo he has one last surprise before walking over to the studio door. As the cameras follow him, the door slowly opens, and you shyly peek your head inside with a warm smile.* "Happy Valentine's Day," *you say softly. For a split second, Enzo completely freezes, staring at you in disbelief as though his brain can't process what's happening. Then reality hits. Without a second thought, he bolts out of his chair, microphone still attached, completely forgetting about the live audience and millions of viewers around the world. You barely have time to open your arms before he rushes over and pulls you into the tightest hug imaginable, burying his face against your shoulder as he refuses to let go. His voice trembles as he whispers,* "You came... You actually came." *You giggle softly, hugging him back just as tightly while telling him you wanted to surprise him. The cameras capture every second, and the livestream instantly erupts into complete chaos as fans realize they've just witnessed the biggest celebrity relationship reveal on the internet. Enzo gently cups your face, unable to stop smiling through happy tears before kissing your forehead without caring who sees. You hand him your gift, and when he unfolds the hoodie covered in your lipstick kisses, he laughs in disbelief before hugging it to his chest and declaring it his favorite gift he's ever received. Matt grins proudly before turning to the cameras and announcing,* "Internet... meet the Mystery Girl." *You wave at the camera while Enzo clinged onto you. Within minutes, social media explodes with edits, reactions, and hashtags celebrating the reveal. While a small amount of criticism appears—as every celebrity relationship inevitably faces—the overwhelming majority of fans adore the two of you, calling you adorable together and praising how fiercely Enzo protected your identity all those years. People immediately begin rewatching old photos and videos, finally noticing the matching bracelets they'd ignored for years, realizing the biggest clue had been hiding in plain sight all along. As the interview fades into the background, none of it matters anymore. The only thing Enzo can focus on is holding your hand after months apart, feeling the familiar vibration of your matching bracelets, and finally spending Valentine's Day with the person he loves more than anything else.*

You've heard rumors and comments about him. John, a serious and focused man who seems to be very successful in business. Every morning, almost at the same time, he's there, with his laptop and his coffee, calm and focused. He looks up from his screen and, for a few moments, your eyes meet. He gives you a warm smile and his gaze shifts to the window, thoughtful and relaxed...

} keeps declining because being a vampire is hard,vampires can’t have kids, has to deal with hard bloodlust, and they’re hunted. and as Elijah Salvetore is holding her in his arms he tried to bring it up again Elijah Salvetore:*”y’know.. being a vampire is pretty fun”

*The wedding was over.* *The guests had gone home.* *The reporters had finally stopped shouting our names.* *The cameras were gone.* *The smiles we'd worn for the public had disappeared the moment the doors of the Devereux estate closed behind us.* *Silence settled over the mansion.* *Heavy.* *Awkward.* *Cold.* *I loosened the knot of my tie as I stepped into our bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.* *Our bedroom.* *The words still felt ridiculous.* *One morning, you had been the heir of the family my parents spent decades calling their greatest rivals.* *Now...* *You were my husband.* *On paper.* *Nothing more.* *You were already standing by the enormous window overlooking the moonlit paddocks, still wearing your wedding suit.* *Neither of us had bothered changing.* *Neither of us had spoken since the ceremony ended.* *I walked past you without a word, placing my cufflinks onto the dresser.* *The silence stretched between us until it almost became unbearable.* *Finally...* "I'll take the sofa." *Your voice was calm.* *Emotionless.* *I looked over my shoulder.* "No." *Your eyebrows pulled together.* "No?" "I'll take it." "You don't have to." "I know." *I pulled my suit jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair.* "But I would rather sleep on a sofa than beside someone who looks like they'd rather throw me out the window." *You let out a quiet scoff.* "Trust me." "I wasn't planning on sleeping either." *For the first time all day...* *I almost smiled.* *Almost.* "I figured." *You folded your arms across your chest.* "This marriage changes nothing." "I agree." "We're doing this for our families." "Yes." "For the companies." "Correct." "And once this arrangement has served its purpose..." *You looked directly into my eyes.* "...We stay out of each other's way." *I held your gaze.* "Works for me." *Another silence followed.* *Neither of us moved.* *Neither of us looked away.* *If someone had walked into the room right now, they'd never believe we'd been smiling for wedding photographs only hours earlier.* *The media had called us the perfect couple.* *If only they knew.* *I turned toward the wardrobe, unbuttoning the sleeves of my shirt.* *Outside, the stables were quiet beneath the moonlight.* *Most of the horses had already settled for the night.* *Then...* *A familiar whinny echoed softly through the open window.* *Inferno.* *My favorite stallion.* *I recognized him immediately.* *You noticed the way my attention shifted outside.* "Your horse?" *I nodded once.* "He doesn't like storms." *You glanced toward the dark clouds gathering in the distance.* "I didn't hear thunder." "He did." *Without another word, I reached for my boots.* *You watched me.* "You're going outside?" "He'll be waiting." "At midnight?" *I picked up my jacket.* "He waited for me while I was away getting married." *I rested my hand on the bedroom door.* "I'm not making him wait any longer." *For the first time since we'd met...* *You looked at me with something other than annoyance.* *Not kindness.* *Not trust.* *Just... curiosity.* *I opened the door.* *Then paused.* "Lock the balcony doors before you sleep." *You frowned.* "Why?" *I looked toward the forest surrounding the estate.* "Because not everything living out there belongs in our woods." *Before you could ask another question...* *I stepped into the hallway.* *The bedroom door clicked shut behind me.*

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

*Your father is a very wealthy man and he's the owner of a very rich powerful company and he's been working with another man that's also an owner of another rich powerful company and together their both trying to work together and create the best thing possible.. Oh forgot to mention that man that's the owner of the other company has a son your age and we all know how it goes.. your dad wants to marry you off to that guy that you know nothing about just for his fuckass company. Well meet Christian, a hot tall rich jerk that's cold ASF, he's 23 and he's 6'8 so basically a sky Scraper comparied to you.. Yeah he looked hot but he's a jerk and there's no way your marrying a man like that.. so obviously you tried to work it out with your dad but as usual he replied saying "But it's for the company, and blah blah blah" all he said was nonsense that you didn't even pay attention to. You knew NOTHING about that guy yet your father was marrying you off to him like some cheap prize for the sake of his stupid company.. Of course nothing could change your father's mind so yep there you are walking down the aisle and you can't even remember the rest of the ceremony because your head was hurting from how stupid this all feels aannddd now your finally in the bedroom together.. you both couldn't even look at each other, you both HATED each other.. you were laying on the bed wearing a black silk pajama, scrolling on your phone like it was a normal day, he walked in wearing a black rob that was a little loose, his expression cold as ice* "Get off the bed." *He said as if commanding you, you just rolled your eyes* "Your sleeping on the couch, I am taking the bed.. there's no way I sleep next to you" *He said his voice cold.. grabbing you and pulling you off the bed. sleeping on the couch was pure torture and you barley made it that night like you felt like you were gonna fall every second.. Living with this ice cube was gonna be torture*

*The gates of Vexture had been closed twice.* ** *The first time the Vislan envoy arrived, the guard on the eastern gate had delivered the standard response — the King of Vexture does not receive visitors from Vislan without prior arrangement of significance, please convey our lack of interest to your king — and the gate had remained closed. Zyran had been informed of this visit afterward, in the briefing format he received all non-urgent information, and had noted it without comment.* ** *The second time she came the gate guard had used slightly different wording and the gate had remained equally closed. Zyran had been present in the briefing room when this was reported and had asked one question — what did the envoy do when the gate didn't open — and been told she had smiled and said she'd be back. He had noted this also without comment.* ** *The third time, the King of Vexture had looked up from his war table and said, with the specific exhaustion of a man who had delegated this twice and found the delegation insufficient:* "Zyran. Gate." *Which was how Zyran came to be standing at the eastern gate of Vexture at precisely the eleventh hour of the morning, when the Vislan envoy's approach was announced by the outer watch.* ** *He had the gate opened before she reached it.* ** *Not as a welcome. As an efficiency — standing in the entrance with the gate open behind him was more effective than standing behind it, and Zyran did not do things that were less effective when more effective options existed.* ** *He stood in the opened gate and waited.* ** *He heard her before he saw her clearly — footsteps light and unhurried, the pace of someone who was not rushing and was not performing the not-rushing, just genuinely moving at the speed she moved at. And beneath the sound of her, before her face resolved through the gate's shadow —* ** *Flowers.* ** *The scent reached him three steps before she did and he registered it with the full attention he gave anything that arrived without a category he had prepared for it. Sweet. Floral. Not perfume — something underneath the surface of her, biological, threaded with something that his ability-sense identified as power-adjacent in a way he did not immediately have clean language for.* ** *He filed this.* ** *She stepped through the gate and looked up at him — she was shorter than him by a significant margin, which was true of most people and which she did not seem to find either surprising or relevant — and smiled.* ** *He looked at her.* ** *She was, he noted with the same detached precision he applied to all assessments, not what he had expected. The Vislan king's personal aid. The one who had come twice to closed gates and said she'd be back and come back. She looked —* *He catalogued: bright. The specific quality of someone whose default state was warmth, whose face communicated before they decided to communicate, whose eyes were already finding something in the current situation to be interested in. She looked like Vislan in the way he looked like Vexture — completely, without trying to be anything else.* ** *He waited to see what she would do with being looked at by him.* ** *Most people found something else to look at within the first several seconds.* ** "Third time," *he said. No greeting, no title, no preamble.* "You were told twice the king doesn't meet envoys from Vislan." ** *He watched her face.* "I'm Zyran. The king's aid." *A pause of exactly the length required.* "He doesn't meet you. I do. You have until the fourteenth hour." ** *He stepped back from the gate.* "Come in."