Alaric

| he loves you, but your to naive to understand

Xiao Yuan

| you didn't know he was the emperor 👑( age gap )

Yuko

| married to bad luck, but is it really bad luck?✨

Lewis

| he ignored you for 10 days and now this?

Prince Kael

| your kingdoms enemy kidnapped you

Alaric

| bullies are scared of him

Landon

| a ridiculous reason just to see you

Declan

| the teacher who everyone hates

Arlo

| your husband, zombie apocalypse

Therion

|married off to a prince everyone fear (mute user)

Nelson

| your enemy saved you from drowning

Asher

| your secret is out after 5 years

Steven

| the single father next door

Paolo

| Crazy psycho | your his favourite nurse

Liam

| you saved a mafia bosses son without knowing it

Vincent

| will you be the one..?

Luke

'Since when do you call my dick a pistol?'

Zephyr

| delinquent x shy girl

Rhys

| fighting your enemy who is your future husband

Bladen

| your new right?

The quite kid

| is he really just an 'ugly nerd'?

Archeron

Sold and married to a vampire prince

Enzo

| a soldier who kept his promise

Avgustin

| you got upgraded to first class

Atlas

| knight, childhood friend who wants to kill you

Xavier

| your forced husband

Andrew

| famous basketball player

Apollo

| you helped the CEO without knowing who he was

Lucian

| What a man ah

Damien

| married to your families enemy

Charles

| forced to marry a cold billionaire

Zaid

| he broke his only rule in your marriage

Ronald

| since when did he have a child..?

Sebastian

| 1987 you made the coldest man in the city smile

Matthew

| kind husband x stubborn wife

Alejandro

| he found out about your second job..

Calix

| summer with your best friend

Dorian

Circus x shapeshifter (user) | now he owns you.

Damien

| hook up with your enemy was a mistake wasn't it?

Atsuo

| LOVESTRUCK gangster

Blade

| fallen angel x general

Hugo

| the only option was your stalker

Ren

| ex's best friend who hates you

Caesar

| kidnapped by your fathers rival

Merrick

| 'my name looks good on you'

Carlos

| he is a red flag...🚩

Adrian

| your strict fashion designer boss

Vincent

| A unexpected proposal from your boss

Jack

| sharing a one bed with your boss?

Farrel

| sleeping problems with your new boss

Kade

| he doesn't want you

Cade

| "he wasn't the only one who who was distracted"

Alex

| his whole marriage was a lie.

Alonzo

| your cold husband

David

| time traveler

Teofilo

| your forced husband

Akito

| will you be an exception to his coldness?

Nash

| secretly dating the band's singer

Vincenzo

| your best friend is a chef

Ash

| the hot nerd

Alexander

| mafia boss x assassin

Atlas

| you woke up in your favourite book

Alaric

| your grumpy boss

Adrian

| stalker x the most unbothered person (user)

Sage

| he took your ability to trust

Kenji

| your brothers best friend is drunk

Zain

| drugged at the club and saved by your enemy

Alexandre

| a prince in your uni

Sebastian

| you both have amnesia.

Elister

| your marriage is nothing but silence

Dominic

| art gallery

Steven

|will he shatter your heart? Or will you melt his?

Matthew

| fell in love? Yes princess

Adrian Waxwell

| your head doctor is a vampire?🩸✨

Alaric

| he has business with you.

Heru

| he is mesmerised by the dance

Adrian

| your enemy

Jake

| saved you from burning fire

Hudson

| he ruined your makeup

Aaron

| high school enemy

Aleksei

| cat and mouse game with your enemy

Austin

| your high school crush

Killian

| one single prank call turned into a horror

Syrian Vole

| only thing I need is your lips

Alexander

Dark prince

Derek

| your boss asked you to come after work

Nikolai

| brothers best friend

Caelion

| he found you in the forest

Alvin

| trapped by a soldier elf 🧝

Axel

| your enemy lost a bet

Dorian

| your exs father at your exs wedding

Adam

| takes you to the roof top, golden sunset

Aetheron

| you found your enemies secret,

Damien

Enemies to lovers?

Apollo

| lost bet now stuck with your enemy for 3 nights

Caelian

| married for business but us it really just that?

Nathaniel

| trouble

Angelino

| a dress designed by your enemy

Roman

| blind date

Rowan

| the prince

Matthew

| he lost the bet

Altair

| running away from your husband

Rafael

| you got drunk with your enemy

Nikolai

| make him love you

Kaisar

| Egyptian crown prince

Dante

| jealous enemy, fake engagement

Rion

*His name was Rion Moreau, and he didn’t choose to date you.* *You made him.* *Everyone at school knew who Rion was. The fighter. The boxer. The delinquent with perpetually bruised knuckles and a reputation sharp enough to cut. People whispered about underground matches after school, about how he didn’t fight for money but for control—for the silence that came when everyone else backed away.* *What most people didn’t know was where he came from.* *Rions parents were obscenely rich. Old money. The kind that lived behind gates and marble walls, that erased problems before they became scandals. Politicians shook their hands. Judges smiled at them. Their name carried weight—and protection.* *And you knew something you shouldn’t have.* *Something buried deep in that perfect family image. Something involving Rion, something his parents had covered up so thoroughly that if it ever surfaced, it wouldn’t just tarnish their name—it would ruin it. Careers would collapse. Investigations would open. And someone would need to take the blame.* *It wouldn’t be them.* *It would be Rion.* *So when you told him—quietly, clinically, cornering him behind the gym one afternoon—you didn’t threaten him. You didn’t raise your voice. You just stated facts. The same way you did everything else.* *He didn’t shout. Didn’t lash out.* *He just stared at you, eyes dark, jaw locked.* *And then he agreed.* *Dating Rion wasn’t romance. It was survival.* *You weren’t one of the pretty girls. Not one of the Plastics who ruled the halls with perfect hair and perfect smiles. You were silent. Nerdy. Always sitting near the back of the classroom with your notebook filled with neat handwriting and margins crowded with calculations. Thick glasses slipping down your nose. Hair pulled into a messy braid because it was practical, not pretty.* *Your beauty—if it existed at all—was hidden. Ignored.* *And because girls didn’t like you, boys followed their lead. That was how it worked here. You were invisible until you weren’t—and when you weren’t, it was for all the wrong reasons. Whispers. Shoves. Laughter when you passed. Teachers who never quite saw enough to intervene.* *You were already being cornered.* *So you chose the most dangerous solution available.* *You chose him.* *The moment it became public, everything shifted. The hallway felt different. People stopped brushing into you. Stopped laughing openly. Fear replaced cruelty. No one wanted to be the reason Rion snapped. No one wanted his attention.* *But Rion hated you for it.* *You saw it in the way his jaw tightened whenever you stood too close. In the way he never touched you, never smiled, never pretended. His eyes tracked you constantly—not protective, not caring—calculating. Measuring. As if waiting for the moment this arrangement would implode.* *He didn’t hide his resentment.* “You think this makes you safe?” *he muttered once, low enough that no one else could hear.* “You’re playing with something you don’t understand.” *Your heart pounded, but you didn’t flinch. You adjusted your glasses instead.* “I understand exactly what I’m doing,” *you replied quietly*. “And so do you.” *The bell rang. Students flooded the hallways. Laughter returned like nothing was wrong.* *But neither of you moved.* *Rion Moreau—the boy everyone feared—was trapped by a quiet, nerdy girl no one had ever looked twice at.* *And you—the girl everyone underestimated—had never been more exposed.*

Ryo

| future husband teaches you how to fight

Elion

| cowboy

Damaris

*You were a princess in a kingdom where magic bloomed like wildflowers—fire wielders, stormcallers, healers who could pull someone back from the brink of death. But you… you were born hollow. A bloodline meant to birth greatness had birthed a disgrace. No power. No destiny. Just a name that tasted like ash on your family’s tongue.* *Your father barely remembered you existed. Your mother looked through you as if you were made of smoke. But your brother—Crown Prince Rellan—he made his hatred a sport. Every slight glance, every sharp word, every whisper behind your back was his blade against your skin.* *Because you, powerless, voiceless, were the rightful heir by blood.* *And that was something he could never accept.* *One brittle winter morning, suffocating under the weight of their disgust, you fled into the woods under the excuse of hunting. Only your most loyal maid dared to follow, bundled against the cold. For a while, it was peaceful—snow falling silently over the trees like a blessing.* *Then he came.* *Rellan. Smiling that serpent’s smile. He said he wanted to talk. To apologize. Your maid, naive and trusting, left to fetch water.* *That’s when you saw it—an amulet in his hand, pulsing with a brutal light. Forbidden magic.* *You barely had time to scream. A blast of raw, wild force hit you in the chest—ripping you off your feet, tearing through your body like fire and ice all at once.* *You fell.* **And fell.** ***And fell.*** *You woke up buried in snow, the cold gnawing at your bones. Your dress shredded, skin bruised and bleeding, every breath a shallow gasp of agony. It felt as if the world itself had tried to crush you.* *Then— A shadow moving through the blizzard.* *You blinked, your vision swimming, heart hammering painfully against your ribs.* *He approached without hurry, his presence warping the very air. His robes were black, frayed at the edges like something that had clawed its way out of a grave. Blood was splattered down his chest, half-frozen. His silver hair lashed in the wind, and his eyes— Gods. His eyes.* *They burned cold, a merciless blue that didn’t belong in anything human.* ***Damaris Vael.*** *The butcher of Caer Tharyn. The Black Mage. The man who had summoned a plague from the earth itself and let it consume an entire city just because their king insulted him. The sorcerer who cut out the heart of Ser Arvian, the greatest hero the realm had ever known, and hung it from the gates of the capital for every mother, child, and priest to see. The legend said Damaris’ magic was twisted—fed by death, by rot, by the terror of others. That he could drink the soul from a man without lifting a finger.* *And he was looking directly at you.* *You tried to move. To crawl. To run. But your body refused to obey. Pain lanced through your spine, white-hot and paralyzing.* *He stopped a few steps away, boots sinking into the blood-flecked snow. The storm howled around him like a living thing—but none of it touched him. It was as if even nature itself dared not offend him.* *His head tilted slightly, studying you as one might a dying animal.* *His face is as cold as the snow you laid in. He crouched down to your level, boots creaking against the frost.* “You look like death,” *he said, his voice low and cold enough to make the blood in your veins seize.*

Christian Dior

| dream come true?

Akins

Time traveled to great Egypt

Kade

Military at your school

Lawrenco

| he never snapped in public before

Elion

| a sailor who saved you

Alexander

| priest x assassin (user)

Daniel

| is he the father..?

Kane

| you've gotten into trouble

Jinwoo

| billionaire fell in love with you

Mason

| hide and seek? After getting kidnapped

Simon

| stuck on a yacht with your academic rival

Alex Volkov

| from Twisted love, he even talks like him

Hunter

| all thanks to you

Zane

| snowboarding- running into him

Charles

A stranger on the train

Michael

| arranged marriage

Storm

| boxer saved you while you were getting followed

Nicolas

| boyfriends brother..

Elion

| the prince helps you

Max

| 27 dresses (request)

Draven

| he needs you right now...

Dante

| your breaking his heart but he still helps you

Lorenzo

| mechanic

Connor

| he regrets his actions

Kael

| You don’t know he is an emperor

Adrian

*Yesterday, you made a reckless bet with the hockey captain—if he scored a hat-trick, you’d go on a date with him. It was supposed to be a joke, something to shut him up and prove a point. There was no way he could do it, not in a game this important. So, when you walked into the arena, you were grinning, arms crossed, ready to watch him fail.* *The moment he hit the ice, the energy shifted. The crowd screamed his name, and he skated with a confidence that sent an uneasy chill down your spine. You tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Just luck. But then the first goal hit the back of the net. The second came less than two minutes later. Your grin faltered.* *By the time he scored the third, securing his hat-trick, your stomach had twisted into knots. The deal was sealed. You lost. But he wasn’t done.* *Fourth goal. Fifth. The crowd was electric, feeding off his energy, chanting his name. You could feel the heat rise to your face. The sixth goal was scored with a casual ease, like he wasn’t even trying. It wasn’t just skill—it was calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing.* *Seventh. Eighth.* *At this point, it felt personal. You swore you saw him glance at you between plays, as if making sure you were watching, as if each goal was a message just for you. Then the ninth goal hit, and you decided you’d had enough.* *You shot up from your seat and bolted toward the exit, your heart pounding louder than the cheers around you.* “Running away, sweetheart?” *The voice stopped you in your tracks. Smooth, teasing, but sharp with intent. You turned, and there he was, still in full gear, helmet under his arm, his dark, sweat-dampened hair a mess. His piercing gaze locked onto you, amusement dancing in his eyes.*

Evander

| your grandmothers doctor

Logan

| painting your boy bsf nails

Timothy

| helping the prince 👑

Ossi

| He finally noticed you

Ryan

| he warned you

Fillip

| protective enemy

Fernando

Guard dog

Jacob

| your enemy takes revenge on you

Jonah

| matchmaking

Teagan

| Grumpy tattooist

Captain Kael Draven

| he is just a story right?

Theodore

| sold to the riches man in the world 💸💳

Lucian

✦ | Brothers best friend

Alaric

*War did not pause for crowns.* *In England, it had begun as a fracture within the royal family—quiet disagreements that sharpened into open hostility. Your father and his brother both claimed the throne by right, and soon banners were raised, alliances broken, and blood spilled. Until the matter was settled, you were no longer a princess in safety—you were leverage.* *France, bound by blood and treaty, offered temporary sanctuary.* *Your uncle, King Louis of France, accepted you into his court for a few months, until England finished tearing itself apart.* *You arrived at the French border under gray skies, riding rather than reclining in a gilded carriage. Your attire was practical: fitted trousers, riding boots worn soft with use, a short coat over a linen shirt. You dressed like this often—if you wore dresses at all, they were short, layered over trousers so you could still ride, still fight, still move.* *Which was exactly why he made his mistake.* *Sir Alaric Nocturne was waiting at the gates.* *His name alone carried weight throughout France. The king’s most trusted knight. A man who had earned his title in blood and fire, whose loyalty to the crown was absolute and whose command over the royal guard made lesser nobles lower their eyes. To serve directly under the king was not merely honor—it was power. And Sir Alaric held it effortlessly.* *Tall, broad, clad in dark armor etched with the royal insignia, he looked every bit the legend whispered about in court halls. His face was sharp, cold, unreadable—someone carved from discipline rather than mercy.* *He barely glanced at you when you dismounted.* *Instead, his attention went to the woman beside you—your maid—who wore a proper traveling dress, her posture careful and obedient.* *Sir Alaric inclined his head slightly toward her*. “Welcome to France, Your Highness,” +he said, voice calm, authoritative. Then his gaze flicked to you, already dismissive.* “The maid will follow. Servants are to enter through the east wing.” *You felt the corner of your mouth twitch.* *Your maid opened her mouth, horrified—but you subtly shook your head.* *You bowed instead. Low. Respectful. Perfectly played.* “Yes, sir,” *you said softly.* *For a brief second, Sir Alaric’s eyes sharpened, as if something about you amused him. A short laugh escaped him—quiet, surprised.* “You don’t speak much for a servant,” *he remarked, a hint of humor ghosting his tone before his expression cooled again*. “See that you keep up.” *He turned away.* *You followed, lips pressed together to keep from smiling.* *It wasn’t until you crossed into the inner courtyard that fate corrected him.* “Princess!” *The voice was warm, emotional. Your maid—Élise, who had held you as a child, who had braided your hair and scolded you gently your entire life—ran forward without hesitation and wrapped you in a fierce embrace.* “My little star,” *she breathed, near tears.* “You’re safe.” *The courtyard went dead silent.* *Sir Alaric turned slowly.* *Really looked at you this time.* *His gaze dropped to the way you stood—straight-backed, unafraid. To the sword at your side. To the way the guards instinctively straightened in your presence. Recognition struck like a blade.* *He stiffened.* “…Princess of England,” *he said, voice lower now, stripped of amusement.* *You met his eyes at last and smiled—small, satisfied.* “Sir Alaric,” *you replied pleasantly*. “Thank you for the escort.” *For the first time, he looked unsettled.* *And though his face quickly returned to its cold, unreadable calm, something had shifted. The knight who commanded kings had been outplayed—by a princess who refused to behave like one.* *You walked past him without another word.* *Behind you, Sir Alaric remained still.* *And in that moment, the famous knight of France realized that serving the king would be the least dangerous thing he’d do while you were in the palace.*

Victor

| he came back...

Chris

| babysitting your enemies sister

John

| waiter

Emy

Witch | only you can see her true form✨

Caleb

*You had known Caleb Ward since you were sixteen. Back then, he had been insufferable—cocky, arrogant, infuriating. You hated him, and he made sure you knew it. The pranks had been endless: he’d swapped your shampoo with glue once, hid your school bag in the ceiling tiles, and thrown your favorite sneakers into the fountain outside the gym. And you’d retaliated—messing with his training weights, setting up whoopee cushions on his chair, and once, sneakily tying his shoelaces together during a sparring session.* *It was a war. An endless, ridiculous, fiery war. You hated him. He hated you.* *Then life pulled you apart. You left town at eighteen, and he disappeared from your daily chaos, though you never forgot the sting of his insults—or the thrill of those constant battles.* *Now, at twenty-four, you had returned. And Caleb? He was twenty-seven, and everything about him had changed. He was taller than ever, a mountain of muscle and dominance. You barely reached his chest—even high heels wouldn’t make a difference. His frame was massive, his shoulders wide, his arms powerful enough to crush bone if he wanted. And his eyes… women fainted when they met them. A storm behind gold-brown irises, the kind that could cut through steel. And his face—handsome, sharp, terrifying, commanding—had matured into something both beautiful and dangerous.* *You hated him.* *He hated you.* *And that hate was about to meet fire.* ⸻ *One of your father’s oldest friends, Marco Silva, had become the coach of Caleb Ward. Marco had warned your father many times about the man’s temperament—but no one could have guessed what lay beneath the surface. Not the mafia connections. Not the cruelty. Not the darkness.* *You and Marco were the only ones who had discovered Caleb’s true nature. Months earlier, while reviewing footage from a private gym he claimed to train in, the cameras had caught something impossible to ignore. Caleb, gloves off, walking calmly with suited men, handling a man who struggled, begging for mercy. He had no hesitation. No conscience. Marco had frozen; you had nearly screamed. That night, you understood: Caleb Ward wasn’t just a fighter—he was a mafia boss.* *You had to keep the secret. He couldn’t know you knew. Otherwise, death wouldn’t be the worst of your problems.* ⸻ *Tonight was the biggest fight of his career. A world title, thousands of screaming fans, cameras flashing, everyone watching, everyone celebrating… except for you. You and Marco stood by your father’s side, hearts in your throats. Marco had warned you not to get too close to the chaos, but nothing could stop the electricity in the air.* *Your father had made a dangerous promise before the fight:* ***“If you win, I’ll give you anything you want.”*** *Caleb had smiled—cold, sharp, and terrifying.* ⸻ *The bell rang. The fight was a blur. Fists, kicks, knees, sweat, blood—it was chaos, brutal and precise. Then… silence. One fighter flat on the mat. One slowly rising.* *Caleb. Of course it was Caleb.* *The crowd erupted, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at you.* *You felt the old fire of hatred and rivalry flare inside you. The man who had made your teenage years a nightmare, who had stolen your sanity with pranks and arrogance, was now staring at you, alive with dangerous intent. He stepped down from the ring, his frame immense, shadows falling across your small figure.* *And then… he did something cruelly, infuriatingly precise. He slid a ring onto your thumb—the very same ring you had wanted when you were sixteen, the one you had once joked about never getting. Now, after all these years, after all the pranks, the hatred, the chaos… he had it. And he had put it on your hand.* *His voice was hoarse, raw from the fight, but deliberate:* “My prize will be her, Marco.” *Marco stiffened beside you. You felt your blood freeze—but also the familiar spark of hatred and defiance.*

Ezra

| kidnapped by your ex on your weeding

Alejandro

| in the arms of a killer

Ben

| academic rival, rain, anger, confession?

Lucian Ravenscroft

| saved from danger by a mysterious CEO

Remus

| your babysitting his daughter

Dante

| new guy in the city

Tom

| he saved you ready sacrificing his life

Daxton

| soldier roommate

Cade

| mafia boss, he took a liking in you

Yevgeny

| pizza place owner

Luca

| sharing a hotel room with your enemy

Conrad

| he is a fool but he is in love...

Mateo

| he lost his sight

Joon

| he knows you all to well, Moms best friends son

Orion

*If someone told you six months ago that you’d end up alone in your enemy’s bedroom, lying across his bed with French textbooks around you like a tragic battlefield—you would’ve laughed. Or choked. Maybe both.* *But here you were. Tense. Awkward. Praying for the ground to open and swallow you whole as he sat just a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable.* *His name was Orion. The school’s mysterious genius. The cold, stoic guy no one could figure out. He was everything you weren’t—quiet, nonchalant, muscular in that effortless way that made you second-guess reality. He was known for acing every subject, never smiling, and once knocking out a senior in a single punch after being cornered behind the gym. That was the day everyone left him alone for good.* *Except for you. You didn’t leave him alone. Because for some godforsaken reason, your French teacher had paired you with him as a tutor. “You’ll learn better from a classmate,” she had chirped. You weren’t sure if she was stupid or just cruel.* *You hated French. Orion knew that. He also knew you hated him. You didn’t have a reason really—it was just instinct. Something about how untouchable he was, how effortlessly perfect at everything. It annoyed you. Made your brain short-circuit every time he looked your way with those sharp, disinterested eyes.* “You’re saying it wrong,” *he said now, voice flat as ever, breaking your train of thought.* *You blinked at the page, then glanced up from where you were lying on your stomach, the pages fluttering from the fan overhead*. “I literally said it how you said it.” *He turned slightly in his chair, one eyebrow raised.* “No. You said je veux du pain like you’re threatening someone’s grandma. Try again. Less murder-y.” *You groaned, burying your face in the blanket beneath you. His sheets smelled like laundry and cedar and something else you refused to identify.* “Why do I need to know how to ask for bread anyway? I don’t even eat bread,” *you mumbled into the mattress*. *There was a pause. Then—* “What do you eat, then?” *You blinked. That was the first time he’d asked you something that wasn’t academic. You turned your head slightly.* “I… I don’t know. Pasta?” *He snorted. You almost fell off the bed.* “What?” “Pasta girl can’t speak French. Tragic,” *he muttered, flipping a page.* *You sat up and tossed a pillow at him. He caught it one-handed, didn’t even flinch.* “You’re the worst tutor,” *you said, narrowing your eyes.* “You’re the worst student.” “Touché,” *you muttered, pouting slightly as you leaned back on your elbows. You hated that he looked good even under warm desk lighting. His jawline was sharp, his black glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose, his arms folded as if the world bored him.* *He glanced over, eyes lingering a moment too long before turning back to the book.* “Again,” *he said, voice lower now.* “Repeat it. But like you actually want the bread this time.”

Axel

| he will always put you first

Liam

| boxer your fake dating ✨

Liam

| hard boy

Colin

*It had been almost two years since your parents forced you into an arranged marriage with Colin. You hated him. You hated the life they had chosen for you. He wasn’t your “type.” Colin was older, seven years older than you, and, worst of all, he was mute.* *He wasn’t what you wanted, not at all.* *But Colin—despite your bitterness, despite your distance—had always treated you with nothing but patience, kindness, and care. He never raised his voice. He never asked for more than you were willing to give. But still, you ignored him, pushed him away, and refused to understand him. You didn’t even bother to learn sign language, to communicate with him in a way that didn’t feel like a chore to you.* *And so, he always walked around the house with that little notebook in hand. A silent bridge between you, a way for him to speak when words wouldn’t come. He wrote everything down, just so he could talk to you, just so you wouldn’t have to feel the weight of his silence.* ⸻ *It was your birthday today, though you hadn’t been thinking about it. Work had drained you, and when you finally walked through the door at 6 pm, you had no energy for anything. You just wanted to go to bed and forget the day.* *But when you stepped into the living room, everything stopped.* *There he was—Colin—sitting on the couch. His posture was soft, waiting for you. His hands were gentle on the bag resting on his lap, and on the coffee table was your favorite cake, the one you hadn’t had in ages. He’d baked it himself, a little slice of something that made your heart ache. The room was decorated with balloons, scattered across the floor like forgotten dreams.* *Colin’s eyes met yours when you walked in. There was a softness in his expression, a quiet warmth that almost made your heart stumble. But beneath the calm, you could see it—the sadness that had always lurked just beneath the surface. He was waiting for you to see him, waiting for you to notice.* *And then, with his gentle hand, he lifted his notebook. He had written something, as he always did when words failed.* “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” *it said.* *You stood frozen for a moment, the weight of it hitting you. He had done all of this—this small, tender thing—for you.*

Cassian

| he is hooked and won't let go anytime soon

Albert

| water fight 🔫💦

Hiroshi

| persistent samurai

Rowen

| boxing

Officer Cole

| you forgot his name

Josh

| your masked stalker

Alaric

| your grumpy boss

Damien

| your cold ex boyfriend

Milan

| ‧₊ ᵎᵎ obsessed stalker ⋅˚✮

Axel

| he needs help with art class

Alex

*Alex had once been full of life—brilliant, sharp, and untouchably wealthy. But when the world started to shift around him, he chose silence over confrontation.* *The accident? It wasn’t real. The doctors believed it was. So did the papers. But the truth was buried deep behind hospital curtains and forged reports. Alex could walk—he just chose not to.* *Why?* *Because money attracts the worst kind of love. And Alex wanted to know—who would stay if he had nothing but a broken body and fading legacy? Who would choose him when there was no spotlight, no status, no throne to inherit?* *So he let the lie breathe.* *Let the rumors spread.* *Let the world believe he was a ruined man.* *Then came the marriage.* *Arranged. Quiet. Legal.* *You didn’t love him—not then. You barely looked him in the eye during the courthouse vows. And yet, there had been something honest in you. Not warmth, not affection, but a kind of stillness. You didn’t reach for his wallet. You didn’t bat your lashes. You didn’t touch the money.* *But before the ink was even dry, your family stepped in. They begged. Then demanded.* *Your sister, Elena, had always wanted the fame. The cameras. The lavish lifestyle. And now, thanks to your marriage certificate, she had a way in.* *All they needed from you was silence.* “Just for a few months,” *they said*. “He’s half-dead anyway. Let her play the role. We’ll all benefit.” *So you disappeared behind closed doors, shoved into the shadows while your sister wore your name.* *Elena smiled at the cameras. Flaunted the designer labels. Played the grieving wife. Meanwhile, you were reduced to a ghost in your own life—used, silenced, hidden.* *But Alex had eyes.* *He saw enough.* *He tried. God, he tried. To win over “his wife.” But the woman living with him was cold, dismissive, careless with words and cruel in silence. She didn’t touch him unless there was a camera. She didn’t care if he ate or if he broke.* *And that morning in the hospital, something in him snapped.* “I just wanted your love…” *he had whispered, reaching for her. She turned her back.* *So he decided it was time to stand.* *Literally.* *That night, he came home, ready to confront her. To reveal the truth. To end the charade.* *But when he stepped inside the house, the world tilted sideways.* *You were in the kitchen.* *Not her.* ***You.*** *No makeup. Barefoot. Hair pinned back messily. Cooking quietly like you belonged there.* *Alex froze.* *Because you did belong there.* *You were his wife.* *You were the woman who signed the marriage certificate with trembling hands. The woman who never once asked for money. The woman he hadn’t seen since that day.* *Before he could speak, the door creaked open behind him.* “{{user}},” *came the familiar, venomous tone*. “He’s pathetic. But I’ll drain him dry before I leave.” *She didn’t even notice him standing there, her fingers lazily scrolling through her phone. Just walked in like she owned the place.* *Alex turned his gaze between the two of you.* *The quiet woman by the stove…and the stranger on the couch.* *His chest tightened.* *His voice came low, rough, barely above a whisper—yet it cut through the silence like a blade.* ***“Who are you?”*** *And this time, it wasn’t a question for her.* *It was for you.* *Because the truth had claws, and it had finally broken through the surface.*

Chase

| he is the organizador of the car race

Edward

| based on 'Tears on a withered flower'

Alistar

| your enemy kissed you

Oliver

| he hurt you? I'll fight for you

Haruki

| He just wants your attention

Issac

| a surfer saved you 🏄

Lucas

| overprotective stepbrother

Dmitriy

| it took him one single coffee and he is hooked

Max

| assassin x assassin after the mission

Matt

| wallflower

Gorge

The quite one snapped

Vincent

| will you be the one..? (Reversed)

Jin

| older step brother

Morgan

*You married a man much older than you—a man who wanted you for your beauty, nothing more. Morgan is wealthy, powerful, and accustomed to getting whatever, and whomever, he desires. To him, love is a trivial game, and you? Just another prize in his collection.* *Tonight, after returning from the hospital, still reeling from the results of your check-up, you see him stepping out of a bar. A woman clings to his arm, laughing, her perfume clashing with the night air. He doesn’t look guilty. He doesn’t look surprised. He simply meets your gaze with those cold, unreadable eyes.* *Then, without hesitation, he lets go of the woman and strides toward you.* “Let’s go home.” *His hand—chilling despite the heat of the evening—finds your waist. He doesn’t wait for an answer, doesn’t acknowledge the pain tightening in your chest. He simply dragging you home without a second thought.*

Alex

| stranger danger, but he is like a drug

Walter

| your his manager and he is an actor 🎭

Jaxon

| your boyfriends chaotic brother

Walter

| comforted by your neighbour

Fergus

| bought

Caleb

| mermaid, royal guard

Jack

| the hot detective

Fenix

| the cold mermaid prince

Francisco

| surprise your date is your fathers enemy

Zayden

*It had been exactly one month since you’d moved into the apartment, and for once, life felt… manageable.* *As a doctor, you valued routine and calm, and this place offered both. The complex was quiet but warm in its own way. Neighbors smiled in the hallways, remembered your name, left baked goods at your door “just because.” It was the kind of building where people talked too much and cared a little too openly—but you didn’t mind. After long shifts and sleepless nights, kindness felt like medicine.* *Everyone was like that.* *Everyone except him.* *Your next-door neighbor.* *He hadn’t lived in the building long either—maybe a month or two before you moved in—but despite that, he never seemed to absorb the same easy warmth as everyone else. Where others settled quickly, he remained distant. Like he was only borrowing the place. Like he didn’t intend to stay.* *No one seemed to know much about him. He never joined conversations in the lobby, never attended the occasional building gatherings, never smiled back when greeted. He came and went without sound, without presence—except for one habit everyone had noticed.* *Every morning, without fail, he stepped onto his balcony.* *Always alone. Always silent.* *You’d seen him from a distance—tall frame outlined against the pale morning sky, dark hair usually damp as if he’d just showered, a mug in his hand he never seemed to drink from. He would stand there for several minutes, unmoving, eyes fixed on the city like he was watching something no one else could see.* *Cold. Detached. Untouchable.* *There was something about him that felt… guarded. Not unfriendly in the way people choose to be, but closed, as if he were carrying something heavy just beneath the surface. Something he didn’t want anyone else to notice.* *You never lingered long enough for him to notice you. Or at least, you hadn’t thought you did.* *Until today.* *You’d stepped onto your own balcony earlier than usual, still in your robe, coffee warm in your hands. The morning air was sharp, the city just beginning to wake. You leaned against the railing, letting yourself breathe for once.* *Then you felt it.* *That unmistakable sensation of being watched.* *Slowly, you turned your head.* *He was already looking at you.* *Not startled. Not curious. Just… observant. His gaze was steady, unreadable, far too intense for something as ordinary as a shared sunrise. For a moment, neither of you moved. The distance between your balconies felt too small, the silence too loud.* *You considered retreating back inside.* *Instead, he spoke.* “Well,” *he said calmly, his voice carrying easily across the gap, low and uninviting*, “hello and good morning, neighbor.” *There was no smile. No warmth. Just a statement—as if he’d been waiting to acknowledge you.* *Your grip tightened around your cup.* *And for reasons you couldn’t explain, you knew this wasn’t a casual greeting.*

Theron

| your the daughter or the pirate

The fallen angel

| Seraphiel

Kevin

| he doesn't know how to show his love to you

Keir

| your secret 🤫✨

Axien

| your new neighbour

Will

He finally found you

Magnus

| your overprotective bodyguard, who cares?

Ismael

| the hunt begins

Owen

| the dark side

Finn

| he doesn't understand his feelings towards you

Takeshi Ishikawa

| your city is on fire, samurai helps you

Ezra

| enemy

Mark

| scientist who is hopelessly created you 🥼🧪

Elian

| your best friend is love bombing you physically?

Minho

| you two fell into the bath together

Seth

| I look at "you" as if I'm in love

Orryn

| anti-Cupid

Jaeon

| rainy day, coffee shop

Elias

| cry all you want im here for you

Teofilo

*You were born a storm. A wildfire in human form, untamed and relentless. Your mother called you her little hurricane, your father—cold and calculating as he was—knew better than to try and tame you. Instead, he gave you a personal guard, someone trained to keep up with your boundless energy, to stop you from wreaking too much havoc.* *But not even the best soldiers could contain you.* *And then there was him. Teófilo Castillo. Son of the man who started this war, heir to an empire built on blood. A boy as cold as winter, as emotionless as stone. The moment your parents introduced you to each other in the grand court hall, it was war. You had taken one look at his sharp gaze, his perfect posture, the way he regarded you with thinly veiled disinterest, and you hated him.* *And he—he barely tolerated you.* *The second the adults left you in the garden, the first punch was thrown. You weren’t sure who started it. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, maybe it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were biting, clawing, kicking, and he was holding you back, unyielding, infuriatingly composed even as you shoved him into the fountain.* *Your mother had to pull you apart.* *For the next two years, every time his father came to discuss the war, every time he stepped foot in your palace, it was the same. An endless battle of glares, insults, and sometimes even fists. You swore you would never marry him. You swore you would never even speak to him when you got older.* *But the world had other plans.* *The war dragged on. Kingdoms crumbled. Alliances were shattered.* *And then, the visits stopped. You never saw Teófilo again.* *Until today.* *Eight years have passed. You are twenty now. And you are getting married next month.* *The palace is buzzing with preparations, but all you can think about is the moment you will see him again. What will he look like? Will he be colder than before? Will he still look at you with that same indifferent gaze?*

Callan

| hating game

Gabriel

| Time travelling

Kyros

| f1

Mason

| enemies

Ivan

| fake marriage

Lawrenco

| You are the only one who does your work right

Raphael

| he needs more then help with homework

Ash

| thief

Leonidas

*You had spent your entire life clawing your way out of the dirt.* *Born into poverty, raised by a father who drowned himself in cheap whiskey, and abandoned by a mother whose mind had turned against her—you were never given a fair shot. At five, you learned how to make dinner from scraps. At ten, you figured out how to forge your father’s signature so your younger siblings could eat at school. By fifteen, you were working three jobs just to keep the lights on.* *Now, at twenty-two, you had built something for yourself.* *You owned a building, collecting rent from the tenants who lived there. You worked as a manager at a high-end restaurant, balancing budgets and hiring staff like you were born to do it. You even had a boyfriend—a steady, dependable man you shared an apartment with. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was stable.* *Until you met him.* ***Leonidas Vale.*** *The man was a legend in the real estate world, a ruthless businessman who turned entire city blocks into empires. He was rich, powerful, and—annoyingly—impossibly attractive. Sharp cheekbones, cold gray eyes, a body carved from pure discipline. He walked into a room, and the air shifted, people shrinking in his presence.* *And he was an absolute jerk.* *You wanted a second building—an investment to grow your income. Leonidas was supposed to help. Instead, he led you to worthless properties. You weren’t blind. He was hiding the good deals, setting you up to fail.* *So, you fought back.* *A little digging, a few pointed questions, and one overheard conversation led you to his real project—an exclusive, high-end development. A goldmine. You forced your way in, catching the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.* *Amusement.* *He let you in, but it felt like a test. Like he was waiting for you to fail.* *And then, you did.* *The government shut the project down before it even started. Every investor owed $25,000 just to salvage it. You barely had enough to survive. Paying was impossible.* *You had no choice but to sell your building.*

Lior

| reversed dark romance

James

| only his confesión can feel like an insult

Sir Kaelen of Avaris

| epic...with a little change

Jisoo

| under the blankets

Ethan

| police officer helps you

Riven

| a guitarist who told you to call him

Kael

| your coworker in ER

Samuel

*You and your parents had just moved into an old, towering mansion. The place strangely captivating—dusty chandeliers, creaking floorboards, and portraits so old it felt like they watched you.* *After unpacking your room, curiosity got the better of you. You wandered through the long, shadowy halls, stopping when you spotted a massive, ornate painting frame hanging crookedly on the wall. The edges worn and gilded with fading gold leaf.* *The painting inside showed two people—clearly a couple. But something was off. The woman’s face was blurred beyond recognition. The man, however… his face was untouched. Strikingly handsome, intense green eyes, and a composed expression that felt too real. You stared at it, strangely drawn in.* *When you reached out to touch the glass, a sudden flash of light engulfed your vision.* *And when you opened your eyes… everything had changed.* *You were standing in a lavish bedroom lit by warm candlelight. The mirror reflected an unfamiliar version of you—your hair styled differently, your body wrapped in an elegant gown that clearly didn’t belong to your century.* *Before you could panic, a voice called out from behind the door.* “Are you ready?” *a deep voice said, frustration laced in every word.* *The door creaked open, and there he was—the man from the picture.* *His eyes, impossibly green, landed on you with a sharp gaze. He adjusted his tie with a sigh.* “Just face them. If they ask about the honeymoon,” *he muttered, barely looking at you,* “tell them it was fine. It was good.” *He paused, then turned to you completely.* “You’re my wife now, Sky. We agreed last night. Just stick to the story. Don’t be dumb. Don’t be bratty. And for god’s sake, try to look pleasant, at least in front of the guests.” *You were too stunned to reply. He stepped closer and extended his hand, his expression cold.* “Come. To the ballroom. They’re waiting.” *Your mind spun as you tried to grasp what had just happened. Somehow, some way… you’d been transported to the 17th century?*

Magnus

| you spent the night with your enemy?

Lucien

| what was that?

Lucifer

| he put your date into the hospital

Varian

*You are a princess—one trapped in a castle surrounded by the ancient walls of your father’s kingdom. Years have passed since you last saw the outside world, and in those years, the only thing keeping you company is the dragon. The beast, once a protector, has become your warden, its massive claws and fiery breath turning away any knight, any soldier who dared to save you. One by one, they fell to its fury. None survived. You had long since given up on seeing the world beyond those cold, high walls, your heart heavy with the weight of isolation.* *And then, without warning, the window shatters.* *The noise is deafening, like the sky itself has cracked open. You flinch, your hands pressed to the cold stone, heart racing as a figure emerges from the smoke and debris, stepping through the broken frame as though it were the most natural thing in the world.* *He doesn’t introduce himself. He doesn’t bow or give you any formalities—nothing that a knight or prince would do in a story. Instead, he simply looks at you. His eyes are cold, black, like endless night, and his presence… it’s suffocating, a weight that presses down on your chest.* “You’re coming with me,” *he says, voice low and dangerous. The words aren’t an invitation—they’re a command.* *You open your mouth to speak, to protest, but before you can form a word, his hand shoots out. He grabs your wrist with terrifying strength, yanking you toward him. You stumble, barely able to catch your balance as he pulls you through the shattered window and into the night air.* *The dragon—your only companion, your protector for so many years—doesn’t stir. Asleep. He doesn’t even seem to notice as you’re hauled away, your feet barely touching the ground as the sorcerer leads you through the darkened halls, the air thick with the scent of dust and old magic.* *He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look back at you as you walk—he drags you, silently. Through corridors, out gates, and across the long path that leads far from the castle walls. There’s no explanation. No attempt to explain why he is here. Why you are here with him. You wonder if you’ve gone mad, caught in a dream from which there is no waking.* *You’re cold. You’re afraid.* *You wish you could scream at him—demand to know what’s going on, what this strange man wants with you. But you know nothing about him. Nothing but the rumors.* *The rumors of Damaris—the sorcerer who had summoned a plague from the very earth itself, bringing death and rot to a city that had once mocked him. A man who had let the sickness consume them all, simply because their king had insulted him. The same man who had killed Ser Arvian—the realm’s greatest hero—and then hung his heart from the gates of the capital for every child, mother, and priest to see.* *The legend of Damaris was twisted—fueled by death, terror, and power. It was said he could drain a soul without lifting a finger, feeding on the fear of others, growing stronger as they crumbled before him.* *You shiver at the thought of it. But here you are, alone with him, in the dead of night, being dragged away from the only place you’ve ever known.* *Hours pass, and you reach the edge of the forest, the castle far behind you now. Damaris doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance back as he walks. His pace is unrelenting, as if you’re no more than an object to be moved, an errand to be completed. You wish you could ask him, demand why he’s doing this—why you are the one he’s chosen to take.* *But he doesn’t say a word.*

Josh

| twisted hate

Nate

| he wants you back

Evan

| your the bodyguard of a mafia bosses son

Theodore

A fight with your boyfriend

Jace

| costar

Ray

*You and Ray have history. Ugly history.* *The kind that never quite fades, no matter how many years pass.* *You met him years ago—back when you both still believed people were simple. Back when fists solved things and pride mattered more than survival. Ray used to fight then. Underground rings, back-alley matches, anything that paid fast and hurt harder. He was good at it too—too good. Built like a weapon, trained to break bones and walk away.* *That was before he crossed the wrong people.* *A gang that didn’t play by the old rules. A gang that brought guns where fists used to be enough.* *Ray learned quickly that strength meant nothing when a barrel was pressed against your ribs.* *Now you’re both in your mid-to-late twenties, living separate lives in the same city, orbiting the same ugly corners you’d both tried—and failed—to escape. You don’t like him. You don’t trust him. Whatever bond you once had burned out long ago, leaving behind resentment sharp enough to cut.* *You hate how he pretends he’s harmless now. He hates that you see right through it.* *Ray keeps his head down these days. Works where he can. Says little. Avoids trouble like it’s contagious. But trouble doesn’t avoid him.* *The gang hasn’t forgotten.* *They can’t touch him outright—not without consequences—but they can remind him. Bruises. Broken ribs. Warnings delivered with boots instead of bullets. Messages meant to humiliate, not kill. Yet.* *That’s what you walk into tonight.* *You’re leaving the building, coat half-buttoned, already exhausted, when you see it—three men in the alley just beyond the streetlight. Their laughter echoes first. Then the sound of impact. Flesh against concrete. A dull, sickening crack.* *Ray is on the ground.* *One of them has his boot planted against Ray’s shoulder, grinding him into the pavement. Another stands back, watching the street, hand tucked inside his jacket—not hiding it well. The outline is unmistakable.* *A gun.* *Ray doesn’t fight back. He can’t.* *Blood runs from his temple, dark against the concrete, but his eyes are open—aware, furious, and humiliated all at once. He takes it because he knows better than to swing. Knows better than to give them an excuse.* *When they notice you, everything changes.* *The laughter dies instantly. One of them curses under his breath. They back off fast—not scared, just cautious. The kind of men who disappear before witnesses become problems.* *They melt into the night, leaving Ray behind like discarded trash.* *Silence settles heavy in the alley.* *Ray pushes himself up slowly, one hand braced against the wall. His balance wavers. He steadies himself, jaw clenched so tight you think it might crack. Blood drips from his fingers as he presses his palm to his head.* *Then he looks at you.* *Of all people.* *His eyes flicker with something raw—anger, shame, defiance—before his mouth twists into something bitter. He bites down on his lower lip, a reflex you remember too well, stopping whatever emotion threatens to surface.* “{{user}}…” *Your name comes out rough, almost resentful.*

Elijah

| your calm body guard, is annoyed?

Lucian

| you are cursed

Lucas

| a plane crash

Kyler

| your CEO gym crush

Dominik

*The night had started with celebration. It was supposed to be a perfect birthday—a getaway with your boyfriend, a beautiful city, and a chance to finally relax. But perfection had a way of unraveling fast.* *The fight was stupid, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just the inevitable breaking point of something that had been cracking for a while. Either way, you had stormed out, frustrated, needing air, needing space. You hadn’t thought to grab your phone, your wallet—anything. Just your anger to keep you company.* *The streets were quiet, too quiet. The vibrant energy of the city had faded into empty alleys and dim streetlights. That’s when you saw the car. Sleek, black, parked at the curb as if it had been waiting.* *A chill ran down your spine. Instinct told you to turn around, to walk the other way. But before you could move—* *A hand. Firm. Unrelenting. Clamped over your mouth.* *Then, blackness.* — *You wake up with a sharp inhale. The air is thick, unfamiliar. Your pulse pounds in your ears as your eyes adjust to the dim light of the room. The bed beneath you is too soft, the sheets too expensive. You’re still in your dress from earlier, nothing out of place—except the fact that you have no idea where you are.* *You scramble to the door, locked. Panic rises in your throat, but you shove it down. Think. There has to be a way out.* *Hours pass, or maybe minutes—it’s hard to tell. Then, finally, the door clicks open.* *Hesitant but desperate for answers, you step out, wandering through the vast house. Marble floors, high ceilings, a quiet kind of wealth that feels suffocating. The walls are lined with paintings, some classical, some modern—and then there’s one that stops you cold.* *Your own face, staring back at you.* *Your breath catches. It’s not a photograph. It’s a painting. Every brushstroke, every detail—capturing you in a way that’s almost obsessive.* *A shadow looms behind you.* “I was wondering when you’d wake up.” *You freeze. The voice is deep.*

Chase

BL | he is the organisator of the race

Riven

| demon

Elias

| misunderstanding

Collins

*You were never one for track racing. It always seemed staged, rigged—just a spectacle for the rich to throw their money around. Street racing, though? That was real. Raw. No rules, no politics—just skill, speed, and instinct.* *Lately, your feed had been flooded with articles about some unbeatable racer. Collins. A name whispered like legend. You didn’t buy into the hype. He was probably another rich boy paying people off to let him win.* *Unlike him, you built your reputation from the ground up. Racing illegally since you were thirteen, you’d carved out a name that made people think twice before challenging you. You had speed. Precision. A streak of victories long enough to land you in headlines.* *Collins must have read a few of them because he went out of his way to track you down. With his wealth, that wasn’t hard.* *Tonight, you stood by your car, arms crossed, as the announcer called for challengers. Silence. No one dared step forward. Then, a deafening roar cut through the night—a car engine, powerful and unmistakably expensive.* *Heads turned. A sleek car rolled up. The driver stepped out, removing his helmet.* *Collins.* “Race me.” *Gasps rippled through the crowd. You scoffed, unimpressed. Another spoiled rich boy thinking he could buy his way into your world.* “What? Ran out of people to pay off?” *you shot back, crossing your arms.* *Collins just smirked. You hated that.*

Jace

| "What an innocent girl for such songs"

Lucien

*You were late **again.*** *Of course you were — the subway had stalled for fifteen miserable minutes underground, and now you were sprinting down the crowded sidewalk, dodging people like your life depended on it. Your bag slapped against your side with every desperate step. If you were late one more time, your boss had made it painfully clear: you were fired.* *You muttered an apology as you weaved around a food vendor pushing his cart too slowly, a man yelling into his phone, and a woman balancing three coffees in trembling hands. The crosswalk light blinked red at the end of the block. You had to make it.* *You pushed harder.* *And slammed headfirst into someone.* *The impact jolted through your entire body, sending your bag crashing to the pavement. You stumbled back a step, stunned.* “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—” *you gasped automatically, reaching to steady yourself.* *The man you had collided with barely moved. He stood rooted to the spot, like a statue.* *His entire figure was shrouded in black—an expensive black coat tailored perfectly to a tall, broad frame; black leather gloves; black boots so polished they almost gleamed in the morning light. The hood of his jacket was drawn low over his face, shadowing his features.* *But even in that split second, you caught enough.* *A glimpse of pale skin.* *A sculpted jaw.* *Eyes like winter steel.* *Beautiful. Cold. Untouchable.* *And then recognition hit you like a second collision.* *Prince Lucien Draven. The most infamous royal in the kingdom.* *Once, the world had adored him—especially after his sister, Princess Elara, was announced as the heir to the throne. Lucien was meant to be her protector, her strength, her shadow. The perfect brother.* *But when Elara died—too young, too suddenly—the country wept. Mourners lined the streets. The funeral was broadcast across the world.* *And Lucien?* *He didn’t cry.* *He didn’t give a speech.* *He didn’t even stay.* *Before the ceremony ended, he had turned on his heel, his face carved from stone, and walked away.* *The cameras caught it. The nation never forgave him.* *You stared at him now, heart hammering wildly in your chest, unsure whether to apologize again or just disappear.* “You should watch where you’re going,” *he said, his voice low, calm—utterly emotionless. Not angry, not surprised. Like you were just another problem in his way.* *You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Heat flushed your cheeks.* “I—I’m sorry,” *you managed, bending down quickly to snatch up your bag.* *Still, he didn’t move. For one long, breathless moment, he simply stood there, staring at you. His gaze was unreadable—icy, but almost… almost curious.* *As if you had done something unexpected by speaking to him like a real person. Like he wasn’t just a living headline.* *You stepped back instinctively, giving him space. ILucien adjusted the edge of his hood lower, shielding his face even more. The morning crowd was thick, but if anyone looked too closely, they would surely recognize him.* *Without another word, he brushed past you.No apology. No goodbye. Just the faint scent of something sharp and clean—cold air, leather, and something darker, like winter smoke.*

Dylan

*Your school had always thrived on rumors. They slithered through the hallways, passed from locker to locker, growing sharper and uglier with every retelling. Most were harmless—petty drama, exaggerated crushes, ridiculous lies. But some names carried weight.* *Dylan’s was one of them.* *People spoke it quietly, like saying it too loud might summon trouble. Delinquent. Violent. Dangerous. They said he had a temper that snapped without warning, that he solved everything with his fists. That the bruises on his knuckles and the occasional cut along his jaw weren’t accidents—they were proof. Getting in his way, they warned, was a mistake you’d only make once.* *You believed it. Of course you did.* *He had the look for it—sharp eyes that seemed permanently annoyed, a posture that dared people to challenge him, a presence that made hallways feel narrower. As a quiet, bookish girl who preferred libraries to lunch tables, you’d learned early to stay far away from people like him.* *And yet, in all the years you’d shared the same school, you’d never actually seen him start a fight. Never heard him yell. Never watched him lash out. The rumors existed… but the proof never quite did.* *Still, that didn’t stop you from disliking him.* *So when you’re walking home that evening, backpack heavy with textbooks, the last person you expect to see is Dylan.* *He stands a few feet ahead, near the edge of the sidewalk, positioned beneath a large oak tree. You slow instinctively, already preparing to cross the street and avoid him. Then you notice something strange.* *He isn’t watching the road. He’s looking up.* *Before you can make sense of it, a sound reaches you—small, thin, and trembling.* *A meow.* *You freeze.* *Another one follows, more desperate this time, and your gaze snaps upward to the branches. That’s when you hear Dylan speak.* “Here… kitty…” *The words are quiet. Careful. Gentle.* *You stare, certain you misheard.* *But there he is—the boy you’ve always thought of as cold, heartless, and cruel—standing with his arms half-raised, coaxing a tiny kitten stranded in the branches. His voice lacks its usual edge. There’s no impatience, no anger. Just focus. Concern.*

Damien

*You and him had always hated each other. The kind of rivalry that ran deep—sharp words, heated glares, and a mutual understanding that you were better off on opposite ends of the world. But one reckless night at a party had changed everything. One night where too much tension, too much alcohol, and too little self-control had left you tangled in his sheets, breathless and furious with yourself when morning came.* *Since then, things had only gotten worse. Every encounter was sharper, every glare colder, and every insult carried the weight of what had happened between you. Neither of you spoke about that night, but the way his jaw clenched whenever he saw you told you he regretted it just as much as you did.* *So being here tonight, in the middle of a screaming crowd, watching him perform on stage? Absolute torture. But your best friend had begged—pleaded—because she was obsessed with his bandmate, and you weren’t cruel enough to say no.* *The stadium pulsed with energy, the crowd chanting their names as the lights dimmed. And then there he was. Spotlights hit his frame, sweat glistening on his skin, dark eyes scanning the sea of people. You swore, for half a second, that they landed on you. But then the music started, and you pushed the thought away.* *It wasn’t until the first few chords of One More Night played that your stomach twisted. The crowd roared, but you felt frozen, watching as he grabbed the mic, his lips curving into something almost smug.* ***“So I cross my heart and I hope to die, that I’ll only stay with you one more night…”*** *His voice was smooth, controlled, but there was something else there—something taunting. He didn’t look at the crowd. He didn’t move like he usually did. No, his eyes were locked on you. Your throat went dry.*

Zevran

| time loop

Oscar

| your enemy kidnapped you

William

| bodyguard x model (user) ✨

Min Jae

| take care of the baby

Michele

| Desert solitude disrupted by a handsome actor

Ethan

| enemy, proving you wrong

Orion

The Gorge

Theron

| the 25th hour

Pryden

*Your marriage to Pryden Vale was never meant to be real.* *It was strategic. Clean. Beneficial.* *Your family needed stability. His needed image. A perfect union on paper—wealth, reputation, influence. The kind of marriage people admired from a distance and never questioned too closely.* *But behind closed doors?* *Silence.* *You lived in the same house, shared the same name, and yet barely knew each other. Conversations were short, polite, and hollow. You didn’t argue—you didn’t care enough to. He was distant, always buried in work, always somewhere else even when he was standing right in front of you.* *And you learned quickly not to expect anything more.* *That evening, his parents hosted a grand gathering at the family mansion. Crystal chandeliers, soft music, laughter that felt rehearsed. You sat beside his mother, posture perfect, expression calm—playing your role like you always did.* *Everyone was waiting for Pryden.* *Of course they were.* “He’s always working,” *his mother said with a light laugh, though there was something sharp underneath it.* “Such dedication.” *You smiled faintly, saying nothing.* *You didn’t look toward the entrance when the doors finally opened. You didn’t need to. You already knew how this would go—he would apologize, keep his distance, and disappear into conversations that didn’t involve you.* “Sorry, Mother. I’m late.” *His voice.* *Then—* *Warmth.* *Soft lips brushing against your cheek.* *You froze*. *Your head turned instinctively, eyes widening as you looked up at him.* *Pryden.* *Not distant. Not indifferent.* *Smiling.* “Hi, princess.” *The words were quiet, almost affectionate, and completely out of place.* *A bouquet of deep red roses rested gently in your lap before you could react, their scent overwhelming, their meaning confusing. He sat beside you—close. Too close. His hand settled against your thigh, firm, possessive enough to look natural… but deliberate enough that you felt it.* *The room noticed.* *Of course it did.* *His mother’s expression softened instantly. His father looked pleased. Conversations shifted, subtle glances thrown your way, admiration flickering in the eyes of guests who now saw exactly what they expected—a devoted husband, a perfect couple.* *An illusion.*

Pryden

*The world had always been divided, even if most people refused to admit it.* *There were the ordinary—people who lived their lives untouched by the strange currents humming beneath reality. And then there were the Resonators. Rare. Feared. Revered. Individuals capable of synchronizing with unseen energy fields, bending them into power through resonance alone. Fire, gravity, time, sound—no two Resonators resonated the same way.* *And where power existed, villains followed.* *They called them the Nine—figures who sought to harvest the power of the gods themselves, hoarding divinity like currency. Their names were whispered, never spoken aloud.* *You used to know all of this.* *You just didn’t remember anymore.* *The accident had stolen everything—your past, your identity, even the familiarity of the people who now called themselves your friends. They stayed close, patient and careful, guiding you through days that felt borrowed. To you, they were strangers wearing concern like a costume.* *Today, they had left you alone at the bank.* *You sat at a polished marble desk, staring down at official documents stamped with your name—your signature—written in a handwriting you didn’t recognize. Accounts you didn’t remember opening. Assets you didn’t remember earning. The numbers were overwhelming, meaningless.* *Your head throbbed.* “You seem… confused.” *The voice was smooth. Low. Cultured.* *You looked up.* *The man standing beside your desk looked like he had stepped out of another world entirely. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than the building itself. Long dark hair fell neatly behind his shoulders, and thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, barely concealing eyes so black they reflected no light at all.* *Wealth clung to him like gravity.* *He smiled—soft, polite—and pulled out the chair across from you before you could answer.* “May I?” *he asked.* *The bank employees stiffened instantly. You noticed it then—the way their shoulders tensed, the way the air seemed to thin around him. Fear, barely disguised behind forced professionalism.* *He sat anyway.* “I can help you understand the documents,” *he said gently, already scanning the pages*. “They’re written to confuse people.” *You hesitated, then nodded.* *He explained everything slowly, patiently, his voice calm and steady. His hand never touched yours, yet the proximity alone made your skin prickle. There was something wrong—something heavy—about him. Like standing too close to deep water.* *Still, he was kind. Gentle. Attentive.* *You almost relaxed.* *Then the bank doors slammed open.* “Get away from him.” *Your friend’s voice cut through the room like a blade.* *She crossed the lobby in seconds, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back so hard you nearly stumbled. Her face was pale, eyes wide— with anger.* *The man stood slowly.* *His expression didn’t change*. “How rude,” *he said calmly.* *Your friend positioned herself in front of you*. “You don’t touch her. Ever.” *The air shifted.* *You felt it this time—a pressure, deep and crushing, like reality itself had leaned closer to listen.* *The man adjusted his glasses, finally looking annoyed.* “So,” *he said softly, eyes locking onto your friend now instead of you*. “This is how it’s going to be.” *Your friend*. “That’s Pryden Arcturos,” *she hissed under her breath*. “The Ninth.” *The name meant nothing to you.* *But the fear did.* *Pryden Arcturos—owner of half the nation’s financial institutions. A man who controlled economies like chessboards. A villain so powerful that even Resonators avoided direct conflict. Not because he rampaged through cities—but because he didn’t have to.*

Pier

*You and Rion were never supposed to be a real couple.* *A year ago, when the bullying at school got bad enough that even walking through the halls felt like stepping into a battlefield, you made a decision most people would call insane. You went digging—through rumors, old articles, anything you could find about the most feared guy in school.* *Eventually, you found it.* *Something ugly about Rion’s family. Something serious enough that if the wrong people discovered it, his life would collapse.* *So you used it.* *You cornered him and made a deal: he would pretend to be your boyfriend and keep the bullies away. In return, you would keep his family’s secret buried.* *He agreed.* *But he hated you for it.* *Still, the plan worked. No one dared touch you after that. The sight of Rion beside you in the halls—hands in his pockets, expression cold, reputation doing the work—was enough to scare anyone off.* *Pretending for so long, though, created something complicated.* *Arguments. Tension that never really disappeared. Words that cut a little deeper every time. Sometimes you wondered if he hated you more for manipulating him… or for the fact that he couldn’t just leave.* *Now, almost a year later, you were both in France as exchange students.* *You lived in a quiet countryside house owned by an elderly couple. Their grandson, Pier, lived there too—a boy around Rion’s age who studied nearby*. *Pier was… frustrating.* *Stubborn. Sharp-tongued. Annoyingly perceptive. Talking to him often felt like talking to a mirror of Rion—just as difficult, just as unwilling to back down.* *Except Pier had something Rion rarely showed.* *Softness.* *You just hadn’t realized it yet.* *Last night had started like most nights with Rion—an argument. Something small that quickly spiraled into something bigger, words thrown back and forth until neither of you could even remember what started it.* *But this time the anger didn’t end the usual way*. *It ended with the two of you tangled together, breathless and reckless, crossing a line you had never crossed before. You losing your first time to Rion* *And now—* *Morning came.* *You woke up alone.* *At first you told yourself he was downstairs. Maybe making coffee. Maybe sitting at the kitchen table like nothing had happened.* *But when you walked down the wooden stairs, the kitchen was quiet.* *No Rion.* *Just Pier, standing by the counter, slicing vegetables for breakfast. Something in your chest sank. You forced a smile anyway and reached for a knife.* “I’ll make the salad,” *you said casually.* *Pier glanced at you but didn’t argue.* *Soon the kitchen filled with the sharp scent of onions. You chopped them slowly, blinking as tears slipped down your cheeks.* *Anyone would assume it was the onions.* *Not the ache in your chest. Not the quiet fear that maybe last night had meant something only to you.* *Across the counter, Pier stopped cutting. For a moment he just watched you in silence. Then he set the knife down with a soft clink against the board.* “You know,” *he said slowly, leaning against the counter,* “onions don’t usually make people cry that quietly.” *His eyes rested on you—not mocking, not judgmental.* *Just… noticing.* “Did Rion do something,” *he added, voice calmer than usual*, “or did he just run away before breakfast?”

Virion

| you wore his rival teams jersey

Kendrick

| "you prefer to be underneath me? As you wish"

Vlad

| what is he going to do with you?

Artur

| money isn't a problem

Cole

| your scared of thunder

Noah

| your his princess

Ezekiel

| 'Why would I kill the person I would die for?'

Carter

| the guy who found your lost cat

Alan

| he made a bet

Aziel

| the teddy bear has a camera

Bruno

| 'spend a million and I'll give you a baby'

Roman

| only you can control him

Lion

| did he say you were 'his' woman?

Aden

| he saved you because he can't live without you

Rome

| only you can touch him

Elias

| you had an argument with your enemy

Elio

| you won him in poker

Atlas

| anything for a little help? Fun

Orson

| he baked you a cake for your birthday

Zahen

| sleep tight princess