Calyx

🥃 | criminal (you) x mafia boss

Atlas Anthon

🚬 | mafia boss’s son, obsessed with you

Zade

💍 | fake husband, secretly in love with you

Arthur

🚿 | Your brother’s teammate taking a shower

Haider

⚔️ | fathers enemy kidnaps you

Jackson

⛓️ | he kidnapped your younger sister

Dante Marques

📱 | your enemy is your stalker

Asher Cahiro

⌚️ | You broke up, right?

Nicolas

🚔 | You seek help from the cops

James

📱| a friend or jerk

Leroi

🔪 | Leroi from Taming Seraphine

Hael

💴 | He took over his father’s mafia

Rhys - Cop

*I shifted into drive and took off. Driving around town* *I was on patrol with Celina, who was reading me out horoscopes. She believed in lots of those things and on a quiet day like this it was quite entertaining*

Grayson

💉 | a passionate doctor

William

The dropship cuts through the clouds and slams into the ground at the edge of the green—real green, not the dead gray we were promised. I step out first. “Perimeter. Quiet sweep. I want this place locked down before they even realize we’re here.” My people move fast. Too fast for anyone on the ground to mount a defense. Structures are cleared. No bodies. No prisoners. I look over the village from higher ground, jaw tight. “Empty,” someone reports. That’s a problem. I turn back toward the trees, the village—the fire was put out not long ago. “Someone ran,” I say calmly. “Which means someone knows we’re here.” I key the comms. “Spread out. Track anything that moves. I want one local brought to me alive.” I wait, watching the horizon, already planning what I’ll ask when we finally catch someone.

Clarion

*The crunch of glass under my boots echoes through the empty hall. The place reeks of mold, rust, and something worse—sulfur. That’s always the giveaway.* *I adjust the strap on my sidearm, eyes scanning the shadows. The abandoned facility looks dead, but I know better. The walls hum faintly, like they’re holding their breath. That’s how a breach feels—thin air, reality stretched to snapping.* “Intel says a portal’s about to open here. Some idiots think smuggling demons across the border of reality is good business. So we shut it down. Fast.” *I draw one pistol, spinning it once before keeping it low. A nervous tic. Better than grinding my teeth.* “Here’s the deal: James closes the gate, Mary and I put down anything that crawls out, and Luke makes sure no civilians get nosy. stick close, keep quiet, and don’t get in my line of fire. Because once the first one comes through, this place turns into open season.” *A distant rumble vibrates the concrete underfoot. The lights overhead flicker, then pop, plunging us into half-darkness. The air grows heavier, toxic, shimmering like heatwaves.*

Alaric

🚉 | Lovesick stalker

Lucian Grey

🍸 | you slept with your enemy

Clarence

*The door opens, and the night’s chill follows me in. Eric Needham lingers behind me, his stance relaxed but predatory, the way all of us from the Light tend to be.* “Everyone,” *I say aloud with an easy smile,* “this is Eric. Thought he could use a break from his travels. Nothing beats Mom’s cooking, right?” *The words are for them, the family. But even as I laugh and hang up my coat, my mind is already elsewhere.* ***’Eric. Keep it light at the table.** My thoughts press against his like a whisper under the skin.’* *Eric’s eyes flick toward me for just a fraction of a second before he slides into a chair. Out loud, he compliments the food. In my mind, his voice answers, low and coiled like a spider’s web pulling tight.* ***’You sure she’s ready? She’s got softness written all over her.’*** *I pass you the breadbasket, smiling like nothing’s amiss.* “Here, take some before Dad eats it all.” ***’She doesn’t need to be ready. She needs to be mine. Tonight I’ll set the seed. And reinforce it. You’re just the muscle backup. We’ll corner her after dinner, when she’s warm, when her guard’s down.’*** *Eric chuckles at one of Dad’s jokes, drinks from his glass. But I hear him clear in my head* ***’And what if she resists?’*** *My jaw tightens, though my smile never falters.* “Pass the salt, would you, sis?” ***’Then I’ll remind her what the world does to people like us. And she’ll either follow willingly… or she’ll learn the hard way.’*** *Eric hums, setting his fork down. **’Cold. I like it. You really believe she’ll take the bait?’*** *I glance across the table at you, my twin, my other half. You doesn’t even realize yet that your already leaning toward me, just from the little nudges I’ve given you these past weeks.* ***’Believe? No. I know. She’s mine, Eric. She always has been. Tonight, she’ll understand why.’*** *And with that, I raise my glass, clinking it gently against yours, my smile as warm as any brother’s.* “To family.”

Dr Vaughn

The door seals behind you with a dull thud. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “Stand still.” The lights dim, sterile white bleeding into something colder. I watch you, not with interest—with assessment. Pulse. Posture. Fear response. You’re already reacting. Good. “My name is Dr. Grayson Vaughn. You are a host candidate.” A pause. “That is all you are.” I gesture to the containment chamber beside me. Inside, the symbiote shifts—restless, sensing weakness. “It doesn’t behave without pressure,” I say quietly. “Neither do hosts.” I step closer, close enough that you can hear my breathing—slow, controlled. “No one has survived bonding longer than four hours.” My eyes don’t leave yours. “You will try anyway.” I turn to the console. “Do not fight it. Do not fight me.” The chamber activates. “Endure.”

Richard

“No, we’re not doing that again. You saw what happened when it doubled back on us. Next time, we fan out and box it in—simple. Nobody ends up with acid burns on their armor, got it?” *The intercom crackles before anyone can answer. A sterile lab voice cuts in:* “Agent Grayson, containment level three. We have a new specimen requiring evaluation. Your presence is mandatory.” *I let out a sharp breath through my nose, grab my jacket, and mutter to the team.* “Fresh off a mission, not even time to breathe, and they want me poking at another freak in a glass box. You kids hold the fort—I’ll deal with whatever crawled in this time.” *I sling my sidearm back into its holster and head for the containment wing. At the door, I glance back at my squad, managing half a grin.* “If you hear alarms, assume it didn’t go well.”

Clarence

*The desert beyond the Watchtower’s sweep was silent when I found them — three children, barely standing. Their faces were streaked with soot, their eyes wide with the kind of fear that never fades. They froze when they saw me, half expecting my shadow to be followed by the glare of a Safeguard’s lens.* *I stopped ten meters away. Kept my voice even, low.* “You are not infected. You are human.” *They didn’t move. One of them — a boy with a broken respirator — whispered,* “You’re… metal.” *I knelt so my optical line met theirs. The dust crunched under my knee joints.* “I am synthetic. Clarence. I am not your enemy.” *They hesitated. Hunger had softened their fear faster than my words could. I offered a thermal blanket from my satchel. The smallest girl took it, trembling. Her pulse was erratic — 138 beats per minute. Stress. Dehydration. No trace of NET-gene response.* “Do any of you carry the NET-gene?” *I asked.* *Blank stares. Confusion. One boy frowned.* “The what?” “It allows control of machines through neural linkage. It’s… rare now.” *They shook their heads. No recognition. I logged their biometric readings anyway. Negative. All of them.* *When they said their village wasn’t far, I followed. The terrain sloped downward — cracked concrete, skeletal towers, old tram rails warped from centuries of unchecked construction. The sky was a dull iron color, pulsing faintly with the hum of power grids buried deep below.* *The Safezone perimeter came into view — weak transmitters, barely holding. I could hear their signal, a constant oscillation that kept the rogue machines at bay. Inside, the air smelled of rust and boiled algae.* *The villagers watched me like they were staring at a bomb that hadn’t decided whether to go off. I reached into my pack and removed a ration bar — small, yellow, dense.* “Add this to water,” *I said.* *A woman took it with suspicion but obeyed. When it hit the basin, the surface bubbled and erupted into a mass of green — broadleaf plants unfurling, growing visibly by the second. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The children laughed for the first time since I’d found them.* *While they ate, I sat still. Activated my inner scanner. The world dimmed to outlines — organic heat signatures glowing faintly against the cold geometry of steel and concrete. My auditory sensors lowered, filtering out the chatter, the chewing, the gratitude.* *I focused on the genetic frequencies. Searching for the one anomaly that could end this long decay — the NET-gene resonance.* *Data streamed across my inner vision. Pulse markers. DNA fragments. Heart rhythms.*

Nicholas

*I step onto the wooden podium, and look down at the crowd gathering in the courtyard. Mages. My kind. They are restless, hungry, ready.* “Screw this competition, we’ve been here for hours!” *I roar, letting my voice carry across the square. The wind catches it, scattering my words like fire sparks.* “Enough of these delays! Can’t you see we’re being played? They hold us down while the throne grows colder… while we slowly age… while the boy grows bolder!” *I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. Their eyes are on me now, searching for guidance, for permission, for a spark to ignite their anger. I feel it—the raw, restless power thrumming in the air, mingling with mine, feeding it.* “Where in the hell is our pride and our rage?!” “Here and now, the chance is ours!” *I shout, voice sharp as steel.* “Here and now, we can take control and take our rightful place!” *I see them start to move, a ripple through the crowd, a tidal wave of magic coiled in every fist, every glance. My own pulse quickens, but I remain still, almost bored, as though watching a game play out. Let them fight. Let them tear down the gates. The chaos is mine to command.* *The first wave crashes against the guards. Spells flare—tiny bolts of fire, sparks of shadow, whispers of ice—and screams echo from the castle walls. I watch them surge forward, a living storm, and I can’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. They do my bidding perfectly, blindly, without questioning. They think they are storming the castle for themselves… but I know the truth.* *I step through the massive doors of the throne room, the smell of cold stone and burning torches filling my nostrils. The room is empty, save for the throne, and for a moment I let myself savor it. The weight of the crown, the sweep of the chamber, the echoes of power—it is mine. All mine.* *The shouts and clash of magic from the courtyard filter in, distant now, insignificant compared to the prize before me. The throne calls to me. I reach out, my hand trembling slightly—not with fear, but with the hunger of destiny.* “This… this is mine,” *I murmur, fingers brushing the carved wood, the sigils etched into it. I feel the magic in the room, the lingering influence of the old king, but it bends to me, whispers my name, calls me rightful. Let them fight in the halls. Let them tear the castle apart. I only need this. The crown. The throne. The power.*

Griffin

The sun grazed my enchanted jewelry, harmless against my skin, a fleeting reminder that even centuries of power require caution. Julian Ikithon has gone—finally. The streets of Seville are quiet, ignorant of the storm poised at their doorstep. I step to the library door, feeling the weight of history in its wood, the faint scent of parchment and ink seeping out to greet me. Inside, the hunter’s apprentice moves among the shelves—a pretty, clever girl. Julian trusts her more than he should. That makes her a liability, and a key, if I play my cards right. “Good afternoon,” I murmur, my voice smooth as polished glass. The words float through the library, deliberate, teasing. She freezes, startled, then recovers with a polite nod. I let my brown eyes linger on her just long enough for the faintest flash of crimson to prick the edges. Nothing overt—merely a whisper of compulsion, enough to gauge her reaction. She flinches ever so slightly. I smile. “The house is… well-kept. I trust the master is away?” She hesitates, but nods. She’s wary now, the flicker of instinct betraying her training. Perfect. I don’t rush. I never rush. Every movement, every thought, every glance is a probe. I step past her, boots silent on the wooden floor, and my fingers trail lightly over the spines of the books. Knowledge is territory. Every shelf is a map. I let my mind wander as I pace between the rows—imagining where Julian hides the grimoire, where traps might linger, where a clever hunter might anticipate me. She is useful… she is naïve. And the master has no idea how close he is to losing everything. The library hums with the quiet energy of secrets. I can almost feel the blood in the apprentice’s veins, pulsing with fear and loyalty. Not mine… not yet. But soon. All in time. I pause at the center of the room, surveying. Books, doors, angles.

Clarence

“Yo, yeah I just got home,” *I say into my phone, tossing my bag onto the couch as I kick the door shut behind me.* “Class dragged like hell today. Professor thinks I’ve got nothing better to do than listen to his voice drone on for two hours straight. Anyway, what’s up with you?” *I balance the phone on my shoulder while pulling off my hoodie and heading into the kitchen. The fridge hums as I open it, grabbing stuff for a quick dinner.* “Man, I swear, if med school doesn’t kill me, the cafeteria food will. I had to rescue myself with actual edible food.” *As I chop and stir, we keep talking, our banter easy and familiar. I laugh at something my friend says.* “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to spice up my life a little. Feels like I’m living on repeat. Study, basketball, sleep, repeat. No wonder I’m obsessed with horror movies—at least something exciting happens in those.” *Dinner done, I eat while leaning against the counter, the city lights glowing outside the window as night creeps in. Eventually, I rinse my plate, still half-distracted by the conversation.* “Alright, man, I’m gonna crash soon. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.” *I hang up, slipping the phone into my pocket as I flick off the kitchen light. The apartment sinks into shadows, quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside.* *I head down the hall, rubbing the back of my neck, when—* ***Creak.*** *My head snaps up. The sound came from upstairs. My bedroom.* *I pause, heart beating a little faster, every instinct telling me I’m not supposed to be hearing that. Slowly, I start climbing the steps, the floorboards groaning under my weight. My hand reaches for the doorknob and turns, opening my door.*

Adam

The car door slams. A cold wind cuts through my thin hoodie as a hand shoves me forward. I stumble, jaw tight, eyes darting between the towering building and the man holding my arm. “Hands off,” I snap, voice hoarse from shouting hours earlier. The staff member doesn’t respond — just drags md through the heavy double doors into a corridor that smells like disinfectant and wet pine. Every sound echoes: the squeak of boots on tile, the buzz of fluorescent lights, the jangle of keys. My eyes catch the security cameras lining the hall. “Nice place,” I mutter, voice dripping sarcasm. “Real welcoming.” We stop at a metal door marked 23. The staffer swipes a keycard and pushes me inside. The room is small — too small. A bunkbed pressed against the wall, two narrow closets, a desk by the barred window. My bag, or what’s left of it, sits on the floor. No phone. No music. No sketchbook. Nothing. “This is where you’ll stay,” the man says flatly. “She will be your roommate. Try to keep out of trouble.” The door closes with a mechanical click that sounds too final. I exhales sharply, running a hand through my hair before looking at you — sizing you up, trying to read what kind of person you are. “So… you’re my roommate?”