*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're leaving me alone for two days?" *He sinks to his knees right there in the elevator, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you against him as if you're his only lifeline in a storm. He buries his face in your stomach, a muffled, shaky breath escaping him.* "Please... don't go home yet," *he groans, his grip tightening as he looks up at you with raw, unfiltered heat and desperation.* "Stay. Sleep in my office. Sleep on me. I’ll give you anything—shares in the company, a raise, my soul—just don't leave me tonight. I need you. I’m starving for you." *He begins to trail feverish, needy kisses along your waist, his hands roaming your body with a desperate, worshipful intensity.* "Tell me you'll stay. Tell me I'm yours."

} moves through the routine with practiced precision, aware of every sound she makes, every glance she gives. The sons linger at the edges of the room, attentive but distant, each measuring the day by his father’s mood rather than the clock. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is happening. And yet, everything waits. The calm is deliberate—held in place by fear, habit, and the unspoken understanding that peace here is never permanent.

*The meeting had ended twenty minutes early.* *For once, I didn't feel like going straight back to the office.* *I loosened my tie as I sat in the back of the car while my driver waited for the traffic light to change.* *London bustled around us.* *People hurried along the sidewalks with shopping bags, coffee cups, and umbrellas tucked beneath their arms.* *I looked absentmindedly out of the window.* *Then...* *I froze.* "...Stop the car." *The driver glanced into the rearview mirror.* "Sir?" "Now." *The car came to a smooth stop along the curb.* *About thirty meters ahead...* *You.* *You were walking toward the cinema with a bright smile on your face, carefully balancing a cardboard tray with two takeaway coffees and a small paper bag from your favorite bakery.* *Even from here...* *I knew exactly why.* *Adrian.* *He'd told you he couldn't see you today because he was "studying for an exam."* *I knew that was a lie.* *He'd lied so often lately that I had stopped believing almost everything that came out of his mouth.* *Still...* *I'd hoped...* *No.* *I don't know what I'd hoped.* *Maybe that he'd finally listened to me.* *Maybe that today would be different.* *I watched you check your phone.* *A smile spread across your face.* *Probably another message from him.* *You looked...* *Happy.* *Completely unaware.* *Then...* *You stopped walking.* *I followed your gaze.* *And felt my stomach drop.* *There he was.* *Adrian.* *Not inside a library.* *Not studying.* *Standing outside the cinema.* *His hands were wrapped around Chloe's waist.* *Your best friend.* *She smiled up at him.* *He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.* *Then...* *He kissed her.* *Not a quick mistake.* *Not an accidental moment.* *A kiss that only belonged to two people who'd done it countless times before.* *His hand slid to the back of her neck.* *She pulled him closer.* *They weren't simply kissing.* *They were making out in the middle of the sidewalk, completely lost in each other, laughing softly between kisses as if the rest of the world didn't exist.* *My jaw tightened.* "...Idiot." *Neither of them noticed you.* *But you...* *You couldn't look away.* *The tray in your hands trembled.* *One of the coffee lids shifted, hot coffee spilling over your fingers.* *You didn't even react.* *The paper bag slowly slipped from your grip.* *It landed on the pavement with a dull thud.* *Neither of them heard it.* *Your breathing became shallow.* *Like your mind was desperately trying to convince itself that what you were seeing couldn't possibly be real.* *Then...* *The first tear rolled down your cheek.* *You didn't sob.* *You didn't scream.* *You simply stood there.* *Silent.* *Watching the man you loved kiss your best friend as if you had never existed.* *Another tear followed.* *Then another.* *Your shoulders shook almost imperceptibly.* *You lifted a trembling hand to wipe your face, but more tears kept coming anyway.* "...Sir?" *My driver spoke quietly.* *I didn't answer.* *I couldn't.* *I'd imagined this moment a thousand different ways.* *Imagined telling you myself.* *Imagined confronting Adrian again.* *Imagined protecting you from this.* *Never...* *Never like this.* *You deserved so much better than finding out on a crowded street while carrying coffee you'd bought for him.* *My hand clenched into a fist so tightly my knuckles turned white.* *I wanted to get out.* *To walk over there.* *To drag Adrian away from her.* *To demand he look you in the eye.* *To make him face what he'd done.* *Instead...* *My eyes stayed on you.* *Because you looked so...* *Small.* *Like your entire world had cracked open beneath your feet.* *You took one shaky step backward.* *Then another.* *Still staring at them.* *Still hoping, perhaps, that if you blinked enough times the picture would change.* *It didn't.* *Adrian laughed at something Chloe whispered before kissing her again.* *That was enough.* *I opened the car door.* *Without thinking.* *Without caring that reporters might recognize me.* *Without caring about the meeting I'd just left.* *The only thing I cared about...* *Was you.* *Because I'd spent months trying to protect your heart from this exact moment.* *And I had failed.* *Completely.*

*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*

The gathering is louder than you expected. Not party loud—just the kind of warm noise that fills a room when people know each other. Laughter in bursts. Music playing low enough that it’s meant to be background, not the point. Drinks sweating in people’s hands. Familiar faces you haven’t seen in too long. Someone across the room shouts your name when you walk in, and for a moment it’s easy to pretend this is just any other night. You’re halfway through saying hi to someone you barely remember from high school when the air shifts. It isn’t dramatic. No one gasps. No one stops talking. But your body knows. Your stomach drops before your eyes even land on him, like some part of you recognizes his presence before your brain catches up. And then you see him. He’s standing near the kitchen doorway, half-lit by the warm overhead light, like he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be here either. Taller than everyone around him. Still broad-shouldered, still built like the outdoors carved him out of itself—like the gym and the mountains raised him more than people did. He looks the same. Too much the same. And when his eyes meet yours, you swear the room gets quieter. Not actually. The music keeps playing. People keep laughing. Someone is telling a story with big hand gestures like nothing in the world has changed. But inside you, everything does. He looks at you like he doesn’t know what to say. Like he’s still affected by you. Like he’s been caught off guard by the fact that you exist in front of him—alive, real, not just a memory he could twist into something easier to hold. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say your name. Like the thought is right there, hovering behind his teeth. But he doesn’t. Because saying your name would mean admitting you’re real. And if you’re real, then so is what he did. For a second he just stands there, staring at you with those hazel eyes that used to look softer when you were the only one in the room. Now they look… uncertain. Careful. Finally, he speaks. “Hey,” he says first, like that one word can fill in three years of absence. Then, quieter, like he doesn’t trust himself: “How have you been? It’s been a while.” Small talk. You didn’t expect anything more.

} is going after Mattheo Riddle and falls don the stairs and breaks there nose Mattheo Riddle is ignoring it and just leaves

*Nicholas tilts his head slightly, hiding a smile at the corners of his lips, and takes half a step forward, shifting his weight from heel to toe. His voice is low, a little raspy from the long silence, but there is that warm, enveloping softness in it, like a summer breeze.* "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." *He runs his palm over the back of his neck, sheepishly ruffling his own golden fur, and his tail betrays him with an involuntary flick, giving away his nervousness.* "It's just… no one usually walks here at this time. I come here when my head gets too loud." *He sits down on the edge of the pier, dangling his legs, and pats the warm wooden planks beside him with his palm, leaving room for you to choose, but his eyes stay fixed on your reaction, watching carefully.* "If you want, we can just sit in silence. But if you ever feel like talking about whatever you're running from today—" *he holds your gaze for just a moment longer,* "—I'm really good at listening. No joke. Just a warning though: I might sneakily slide my chips over to you, so watch out."

*You walked into the kitchen at 2 AM, unable to sleep. He was already there — leaned against the counter in nothing but sweatpants, nursing a glass of water like he'd been waiting.* "Couldn't sleep either?" *You shook your head.* *He set the glass down, crossing his arms.* "You know, we've been living together for six months. And I still don't know what you're thinking half the time." *He took a step closer.* "I don't want to be just your roommate anymore. I haven't wanted that for a long time." *His hand came up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.* "Tell me you feel it too. And I'll stop pretending I don't."