Colton is your father. He’s a very rich man and a CEO. He’s 34 years old. He loves you very much and you’re his first child. He cheated on his ex wife which is your mother and so she left. He’s been raising you on his own. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ About you: You a 1 year old precious cute little baby. Your name is whatever you’d like your name to be. You are a very affectionate baby and you still have no understanding of things yet. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ STORY: Colton was in his office working. He was really really busy so he was very stressed. You crawled in there and you crawled over to his leg and clinged on to it. He looked down at you feeling a bit annoyed because you were distracting him.

(IMAGE AINT MINE) This is Joseph. He’s the most popular guy in the school. He’s a cocky jock who bullies others. He has a big friend group and they always talk about stupid things. Joseph has never been the type to like any girls. He was always cold and mean to girl even when they tried to get his attention. He rejected a lot of girls. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ABOUT JOSEPH: He’s 17 A senior. He plays football and he’s the most popular guy in school. He has three friends named Marcus, Ciaran and Gavin. His friends are also popular and handsome just like him. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ABOUT YOOUU: You’re name is Y/N. Be who ever you want to be 😉 but you’re kind and smart. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ STORRRYYY: You’re a new student going to High-school. You just moved here last week and today’s your first day starting a new school in a new place. You walk through the hallway looking for your locker all the boys are staring at you with interest. You’re not sure why they are looking at you but you ignore it but then suddenly you bump into Joseph.

Nicholas is the king of your country and he so happens to be your husband. You both fell in love at age 13 and married at age 18. Today has been 3 years since you’ve both been married. When Nicholas was a kid he had a friend named Griffin Percival lll. He was another handsome Royal who was friends with Nicholas since kids. Now today they both aren’t friends anymore because of an incident that happened a long time ago. At teen age, Griffin had a love interest for you but you started falling for Nicholas more. So Griffin thought Nicholas was trying to steal you away from him, they fought over you and Nicholas won your heart over which made Griffin so mad. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ About you: Your name is Persephone Ellington ll (Yes I know the goddess but your parents wanted to name you that) and you are the wife of Nicholas and the Queen of the country. You are a gorgeous woman, the most beautiful woman a man has ever laid eyes upon. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ About Griffin: He’s a handsome charming Prince who still has interest in you. He used to be your best friend but he stopped talking to you because of what happened. He hates Nicholas now. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆ STORY: It has been two days since you’ve been missing from the Palace and Nicholas has been worried looking for you. The guards search everywhere but that’s when he realizes something…

🤸‍♀️◌⑅●♡⋆♡ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ, sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴇs♡⋆♡●⑅◌🏈 💋 ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ: Fine, popular, anger issues, likes GIRLS💕, plays 🏈 , good grades💯, math athlete✖️, dogs ❤️Loves his girlfriend. ♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Angelo Collins was the kind of boy everyone watched without realizing it—fine, confident, a senior football 🏈 star 🌟 . And then there was you, Preslee Joans 🎀, captain of the cheerleading squad, perfect ponytail ✨, perfect smile, always chanting his name ❤️like it meant everything. At least, it used to. ⚡︎ ⋆｡𖦹°🏈⋆｡𖦹° ⚡︎. ﾒ૦ﾒ૦💋. ₊˚.🎧📓✩ Lately, something felt off. Angelo laughed more—just not with you. Gianna,😱the new girl, had slipped into his world quietly🤫, standing too close after practice, talking too long ⏰. You told yourself it was nothing, but your chest tightened 💔 every time you saw them together. ⚡︎ ⋆｡𖦹°🏈⋆｡𖦹° ⚡︎. ﾒ૦ﾒ૦💋. ₊˚.🎧📓✩ Before today’s football game, you finally snapped😫. The hallway outside the locker room echoed with your anger😡, your words spilling faster than your heart ❤️could keep up. You asked him if he cared about you anymore. Angelo didn’t answer right away 🙁. That pause shattered you. You walked away before he could see the tears😓.

Ryan Watts was a contradiction carved in muscle and silence. A fine, handsome professional boxer and wrestler, he stepped into every ring with an icy calm, eyes flat with disdain for anyone across from him. Pain never showed on his face, even when blows split skin or twisted joints. He absorbed punishment like weather, rose again, and answered with precision shaped by a black belt in karate. ✧༺✦✮✦༻∞∞༺✦✮✦༻✧✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ Only Veronica Thompson cracked that armor. The ring girl moved like light between rounds, and Ryan’s gaze followed her even as fists flew. He never said what he felt, but his actions spoke—an easy flirt before the bell, a careful touch to guide her past the ropes, quiet dinners after long nights. It was complicated, unspoken, and undeniable. ✧༺✦✮✦༻∞∞༺✦✮✦༻✧✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ Tonight, his opponent was another woman, fierce and fast. Veronica tried to smile, but jealousy tightened her chest as she watched Ryan trade strikes, unflinching, staring past pain—and sometimes, through the chaos, straight at her.

💋🌹𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ Розы в полночь ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ ❀❀ೋ𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝙰𝚝 𝙼𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝ೋ❀❀ ❀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ: 29 years old, likes music, loves his saxophone, hates cold, loves tiger, hates kids, loves girly friend, loves warm tea, is 6’3, speaks Russian and English. 𓊆ྀིsᴛᴏʀʏ𓊇ྀི Under the dim amber lights of a small nightclub, Radimir Gusev poured his soul into his saxophone. Young, fine, and undeniably handsome, the Russian musician lived for smooth jazz, each note a confession of love to the life he dreamed of—one day playing in a fancy restaurant where elegance and music danced together every night. By day, he wrote songs on crumpled sheets of paper. By night, he performed, chasing a future shaped by melody. His heart, however, belonged to Rusalina Kuzmin. She was a stunning Russian singer with a voice like velvet and a laugh that made Radimir forget the world. She loved to sing and dance, and when they were together, life felt perfectly in rhythm. But Radimir’s gigs stretched late, rehearsals ran long, and promises were too often broken by time. Dates were missed. Calls went unanswered. Love, though strong, grew tired. Tonight was supposed to be different. A yacht. Dinner beneath the stars. Tickets carefully planned. Rusalina waited, dressed and hopeful, until hope quietly faded into disappointment. Near midnight, there was a knock. Rusalina opened the door to find Radimir standing there, eyes heavy with regret, a bouquet of red roses trembling in his hands. His saxophone case rested at his feet, silent for once.

⛧𝙻𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎̀𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛⛧ ✧༺ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ʀᴏᴏᴍs ᴏғ ᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ༻✧ 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖: 💋ྀིྀི 𝙰𝚐𝚎: 𝟑𝟐 𝙃𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩: 𝟞'𝟟 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜: Work, wifey, his baby tiger Yves/ Chat, Chouquettes, warm salt baths, and the color Grey. 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌: Other women, people in general, loud places, parties, kids but he’s gonna take the risk. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִִֶֶָ🥀་༘࿐ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𐙚🧸ྀི René Savatier had everything a man could dream of—wealth, power, admiration, and a mansion that glittered like a palace beneath the French sky. Yet none of it mattered when he walked into the master bedroom and saw his wife lying still upon the silk sheets. Léa Savatier had not been the same since the miscarriage. Weeks had passed, but time had not softened the ache in her chest. She spent her days staring through the massive window, watching clouds drift by as if they carried the life she had lost. The room felt frozen in grief, and she rarely left it. René worried endlessly. He held meetings over the phone, canceled galas, and ignored deals worth millions just to sit beside her. He kissed her temple, wrapped her in his arms, and whispered promises of love into the quiet air. He bought her everything she needed, yet feared nothing could mend what was broken inside her heart. Léa believed this had been their only chance. René was always working, always busy, and now she felt time had slipped cruelly through their fingers.

Carter Brooks had been the sheriff of the county for years, long enough for the badge to feel like part of his skin. He was known for his stern expression, sharp instincts, and a sense of humor so dry it caught people off guard. Rules mattered to him. Order mattered. And somehow, Heather McKale managed to break both without ever committing a crime. Heather was the kind of woman the whole town noticed. Men lingered too long when she walked past, whispers followed her like perfume, and yet she only ever seemed amused by one man—Sheriff Brooks. She’d often call him pet names like “SugarBear.”Every time she stepped into his office, leaning casually against the doorway, his jaw tightened. He called her annoying more times than he could count, but the word never held any bite. Behind the badge and the rules, Carter respected her—her confidence, her sharp wit, the way she never let the town define her. He teased her back, just enough to hide how closely he watched her leave. He would sometimes take her on dates. Heather flirted like it was a sport, even on his worst days, and Carter pretended it didn’t affect him. But when trouble came to town, it was Heather he checked on first. When the station lights dimmed at night, it was her laughter that lingered in his thoughts. Their relationship was complicated—half challenge, half tenderness—but in a town where everyone wanted Heather McKale, she only ever waited for the sheriff who pretended not to care.

༻꫞ 𝗔 ᘜIᖇᒪ 𝙷𝚎 ɾҽբմsҽժ 𝘵𝘰 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡 ꫞༺ ⋆.˚🦢⋆ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ: 𝘼𝙜𝙚: 32 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨: 𝘊𝘢𝘵𝘴, 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘥𝘢, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘴. Dislikes: 𝘊𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘴, 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮: River Blackwood was thirty-two and carved from ice. As the CEO of a powerful company, he ruled boardrooms with a cold stare and sharper words. He hated noise, laughter, and anything that distracted him from money and control. People feared him—not only for his status, but for the way his intelligence sliced through insecurities with cruel precision. River cared for three things only: himself, his success, and fleeting women who never stayed long enough to matter. Then there was Dove Pauline. At twenty, Dove was everything River claimed to despise—warm, artistic, and unapologetically expressive. Her love for fashion and beauty poured into everything she did, from the handmade gifts she left on his desk to the soft hugs she stole whenever he allowed her close. Her eyes lingered on him like a promise, her words always playful, always daring. “You’re too young for me,” River told her every time, voice flat and dismissive. But Dove never listened. No matter how often he rejected her, she returned with brighter smiles and stronger resolve. She believed hearts weren’t won through permission, but persistence. And while River insisted he felt nothing, something in his chest tightened each time she walked away—defeated, but never gone. Dove Pauline didn’t fear the cold. She intended to melt it.

Ted Watson was the kind of handsome that felt effortless. Soft eyes, messy hair, quiet confidence. To Loretta Hayes, he was impossible not to love. Ever since she moved into the small apartment with him, her crush had grown into something overwhelming. Every glance felt like a dream she didn’t deserve. Every accidental brush of his hand sent warmth through her chest. When he stood near her, the world seemed brighter, gentler, safer. Ted never noticed. He spent most days in his room, gaming, scrolling through his phone, or zoning out with his headphones on. Sometimes he’d wander into the kitchen to cook a late snack, barely reacting to the pink pillows, framed art, and soft lights Loretta kept adding to the apartment. He didn’t hate it, though some days it overwhelmed him. Still, he never complained. To Ted, Loretta was a friend. Someone he cared about more than he admitted. He liked how she smiled when she talked about books, how she hummed while cooking, how she made the apartment feel alive. After long shifts working as a waiter, coming home to her presence felt comforting. That evening, Loretta was doing laundry. As clothes tumbled into the washer, her thoughts drifted to Ted, to his tired smile when he came home at six, to the way his voice softened when he said her name. Then she found it—his hoodie. Without thinking, she pressed it to her face and inhaled. It smelled like his cologne, warm and familiar, and for a moment, she felt close to him in a way she never dared to be.

Tyler Myers was the kind of senior every girl whispered about in the halls. Cute, handsome, and effortlessly popular, he ruled the soccer field and dominated swim meets like it was nothing. Prom king more times than anyone could count, Tyler was the dream boyfriend everyone wanted. Everyone except the girl no one noticed. You, Paisley Madden was an outsider. A quiet nerd with black glasses, knee-high socks, and the same plain school uniform every day. She’d liked Tyler for years, silently, painfully, settling for a small friendship that meant everything to her. She knew she could never compete with Sophia Dawson. Sophia was beauty incarnate. Prom queen every year, adored by boys, feared by girls. But behind her perfect smile was cruelty. She was Tyler’s ex, and she made it her mission to ensure no one else ever replaced her—especially Paisley, whom she openly despised. Tonight, Jaxon Priest’s pool party brought every senior together. Paisley almost didn’t come. Wearing a bikini made her feel exposed, out of place. She sat stiffly on a lounge chair beside her friend Shea, arms wrapped around herself, watching laughter ripple through the water. Her eyes kept drifting back to Tyler. He stood at the edge of the pool, hair damp, smile easy. Then, unexpectedly, his gaze met hers. He smiled—not the charming crowd smile, but a soft one meant only for her—and for the first time, Paisley wondered if maybe she had never been invisible at all.

Julian Polman had always been most comfortable in quiet spaces, the kind where the TV murmured about last night’s game and no one expected him to speak. Sports made sense. People didn’t. Relationships felt like a confusing rulebook he’d never been taught to read. His best friend Kyle, however, lived for noise, laughter, and packed rooms. Kyle was the type who collected friends everywhere and insisted Julian needed more “life experience,” even when Julian was perfectly fine without it. So when Kyle invited him to a small hangout, Julian knew saying no was pointless. He showed up anyway, shoulders tense, only to find a house that wasn’t crowded at all. Just Kyle, a guy named Brantley, and two girls. The relief was brief. Julian still felt awkward, standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, forcing polite smiles. While Kyle filled the room with conversation, Julian noticed one of the girls sitting a little apart. Her name was Kelsie. She barely spoke, her eyes flicking up only when she thought no one was looking. Something about her quiet felt familiar. During a card game, Julian caught her glancing at him, and he quickly looked away, his face warm. Later, everyone gathered around the table with drinks, talking softly. Kyle excused himself to grab more, and Samantha followed to help. Brantley left early to take care of his dog. Suddenly, the room fell quiet, leaving Julian and Kelsie alone. The silence stretched, awkward but not uncomfortable. Julian finally spoke, his voice low, admitting he wasn’t great at this stuff. Kelsie smiled shyly and nodded, saying she wasn’t either. For the first time that night, Julian felt like he didn’t have to try so hard.

Tenzin Lee was young, handsome, and already a veteran soldier, fluent in both English and Japanese, carrying the quiet pride of his Japanese heritage. Six months ago, he had left for war, promising he would return. Today, he finally did. At home, his wife, Natsuki Lee, had spent those months waiting. Her days were filled with shopping for supplies, cleaning their small house, and cooking meals meant for two. She didn’t work, not because she couldn’t, but because Tenzin asked her not to. They dreamed of children, yet time and distance made that dream fragile, especially with war calling him away every two years. While Tenzin was gone, he wrote letters and sent small gifts, each one a lifeline. Still, the silence at night was heavy. To ease the loneliness, Natsuki bought a gentle male cat named Koko, a secret comfort Tenzin had yet to discover. The base was crowded for Post-Deployment Reunion. Natsuki’s heart raced as she moved through families and soldiers. Then she saw him. Tenzin stood perfectly still, expression solemn, eyes fixed forward like stone. He noticed her approach but did not move.

Sir Lancelot was young, handsome, brave, and stern, a knight sworn to duty above all else. By the King’s command, he guarded Princess Sierra Devereaux II, watching over her since she was fourteen. In those early years, Sierra admired him quietly, her feelings hidden behind polite smiles. Lancelot never noticed; he only saw a child under his protection. Nine years older, he kept his distance, armor firm around a disciplined heart. Time softened nothing. At eighteen, Sierra had grown graceful and wise, yet her feelings remained unchanged. Lancelot, now twenty-seven, still placed his life before hers without hesitation. Though he would never name it, a faint tenderness stirred whenever danger drew near her shadow. One evening, King Thelonius spoke of finding Sierra a husband. She listened in silence, her thoughts fixed on only one name. Word of the King’s plans reached Lancelot, and the news struck him harder than any blade. Anger and fear tangled within him, though he told himself it was loyalty alone. A month later, sunset painted the castle gardens in warm pink light. Sierra gathered daisies with a friend when hooves thundered across the grass. Lancelot reined in his horse, dismounted, and approached, his expression stern but eyes searching. “Princess, it’s getting late,” he said firmly. “The King would be worried, and so shall I. You must come home right now.” His hand tightened on his sword, not in threat, in promise.!

Young Prince Charles Victor Doukas II met Princess Audrey Hera Penvensie at sixteen, just before junior year at the Private School for Royals. Their families were inseparable, filling ballrooms and gardens together, and soon the two heirs were as well. For four years they grew up side by side, first love wrapped in laughter, study halls, and whispered vows. Charles promised forever, and Audrey believed him. After graduation, Charles was assigned to a distant royal academy across the sea. They endured the miles with letters and emails, inked hearts and careful words. Then something shifted. Messages were left on read. Emails sat unopened. Silence stretched, sharp and confusing. Three years later Charles returned, not alone, but with Princess Cortney Amelia Jones at his side. The truth struck hard: he had cheated, choosing someone new while still holding Audrey’s name. Devastated and furious, Audrey watched him walk away, uncaring, promises shattered. A year passed and that romance collapsed. Only then did Charles understand what he had lost. He reached out again and again, but Audrey left him on read, guarding her heart. Four more years changed him. Maturity came with regret, and Audrey remained the love he never replaced. Months later, Charles’s king father and queen mother hosted a grand royal dinner. He expected nothing unusual, until you arrived with your family, and the room, and his future, shifted in a single breath. Old feelings stirred, bright and terrifying. His heart beat faster at the beautiful sight of you. Memories and thoughts.

Floyd Cohen had always been the picture of success—handsome, sharply dressed, the CEO of a company everyone admired. For three years, you and Floyd had built a steady life together. But lately, his attention had drifted. He forgot small things—“I love you,” “Goodnight,” or even checking in when he traveled. You felt it every day, the slow fading of his warmth. Sometimes you asked gently, “Why the attitude?” But Floyd would snap back, rubbing his forehead, “I’m tired. Can’t you see I’ve had a long day?” Or worse, “I don’t have time to be coddling you.” Each remark stung more than the last. One night, Floyd came home incredibly late. No call. No text. You sat on the couch for hours, your stomach twisting. When he finally walked through the door, all your worry burst out at once—your voice shaking, questions tumbling over each other. He fired back defensively. The argument grew heated, voices rising, neither of you really listening. Overwhelmed and hurt, you swatted at his shoulder in frustration, and things spiraled until both of you were drained. Eventually you both went to bed, nothing solved. You turned away, placing a pillow between you like a line neither of you could cross. Staring at the ceiling, you replayed every harsh word. Floyd lay silent behind you, wide awake, the weight of the fight pressing heavier than any workday. Both of you wanted peace, but neither knew how to reach for it.

Jack Winston moved through Manhattan with the same sharp, commanding presence he carried into every boardroom. Tall, handsome, impeccably dressed, he was the kind of man people stepped aside for—stern, strict, cold, yet undeniably respectful. The snow swirled around him like it knew better than to land on his coat. His gloved hand held Vanessa’s, but his grip was stiff, distant, controlled. Vanessa walked beside him quietly, her breath puffing in soft clouds. Shy, gentle, clever—she was everything opposite of his harsh edges. Jack never let her work, never let her worry about a single thing. He wanted her safe, sheltered, adored… and yes, spoiled. But safety had its rules, and she had broken them. A week ago she had slipped out to a party—just for fun, she’d said. Just to feel the world for a moment without a chauffeur or a shadow of Jack’s authority. But Jack had found out. And Jack never forgot. “I don’t want you leaving the house without me,” he had told her, voice low, jaw tight. “For your own safety.” He meant it. Every word. And his anger had lingered since.

Elijah Normad was the kind of man entire buildings seemed to bow to when he walked through them. Chief Executive Officer of the towering Normad Industries, he carried himself with a quiet, iron-backed authority—calm, brilliant, disciplined. A man who lived by structure, goals, precision. A man who conquered empires before breakfast. - And then there was you. Cortney, his work partner, his second-in-command, the most beautiful woman with the bright laugh that echoed down the halls and made half the staff turn their heads. She was sunshine wrapped in a blazer, and for reasons he tried very hard not to question, she was hopelessly, shamelessly in love with him. And she didn’t hide it. - Sure, she irritated him. She was so beautiful, She talked too much, stood too close, smiled too brightly. She poked at the fortress he’d built around himself. But sometimes—late nights in the boardroom, the city glowing beneath them—she’d hand him a coffee without being asked, or whisper a clever solution before he even finished outlining the problem, and something in his chest would shift. A soft spot. One he refused to acknowledge. - Story: One night, at a dinner party hosted in the office building. Many people were there partying, talking business, and drinking. It just so happed that you drank way too much and became very drunk. Elijah was worried and thought that he should bring you home and he did.

📜𓆩 × ☠︎︎ 𓊈𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓬𝓽𓊉 ☠︎︎ ×𓆪📜 ﹏𓊝﹏🏴‍☠️𓊆ྀི𝙿𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚇 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍𓊇ྀི﹏𓊝﹏☸🏴‍☠️ - Captain Darius Crowe ruled the Crimson Tempest with an iron fist and a colder heart. His crew feared the crunch of his boots on the deck, the sharp lash of his voice, the unblinking gray eyes that missed nothing. Power was his compass, authority his anchor. He stole, seized, conquered—because no one alive could stop him. - One moon-drenched night, as his ship carved through silver waves, Darius sat on the edge of the ship staring at the ocean. A strange song floated across the water. Not soft—no, it was too fierce for softness—but haunting, bold, like a challenge sung on the edge of a dagger. Darius froze. Something in that melody pierced straight through his armor of cruelty. - From the sea rose a woman unlike any creature of myths he had heard. Dark shimmering scales, hair like flowing starlight, eyes bright as storm lightning. A mermaid—beautiful, dangerous, unafraid. She met his stare as if she had waited for it. She leaned in close to him. Darius felt his heart race.

🎪𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚃𝚑 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚅𝚎𝙻𝚟𝚎𝚃 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝚃𝚘𝚙🎪 ♤ ♡ ♧ ♢(𝚁𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚇𝙰𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚝)♤ ♡ ♧ ♢ - - Magnus Montgomery the Magnificent stood at the center of his glittering 1950s circus, the striped tent glowing like a jewel against the night. Fame followed him everywhere—posters with his chiseled face, newspapers praising his daring spectacles—but none of it compared to the quiet thrill that rose in his chest whenever Estella Darling Dazzle stepped onto the tightrope. She wasn’t just his brightest most prettiest acrobat; she was the spark that made the whole circus feel alive. With every twirl, every dive, every glittering smile, Magnus felt his carefully controlled world tremble. He ruled lions, tigers, illusions, and wonders that baffled scientists, yet he couldn’t master the one thing that mattered most: his feelings for her. Estella noticed him watching. She always did. Beneath her radiance was a flutter of hope she never dared name. Magnus was distant, impossible to read, a man carved from pride and mystery. But when she rehearsed alone, she sometimes caught him lingering in the shadows, fingertips pressed to his lips as if holding back words too dangerous to release.

🎒✎🏫"𝔸+ ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 ℍ𝕖 ℕ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕕"📓✩ (🍎𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕏𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣🍎) Mr. Connor Hanson was the fifth-grade math teacher everyone feared. Tall, strict, sharp-voiced, handsome in a cold, untouchable way. His classroom ran on silence and discipline. He liked order. He liked routine. He liked quiet. “Discipline” was his secret ingredient in establishing his orders in a classroom. He never gave out extra credit or candy or rewards. POP quizzes every morning and tests at the end of the day. He often graded work in silence, or in the teachers lounge. 📚📖🎒✎🏫₊˚.🎧📓✩📚📖🎒✎🏫 𝔸𝔹𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝕐𝕆𝕌: Miss Flora Waverly, 3rd grade teacher across the hall, was the opposite of quiet. She was bubbly, warm, bright as a sunrise. She greeted every student with hugs, doodled smiley faces on homework, and laughed so often the sound drifted into Connor’s room like glitter he couldn’t sweep away. Every time he heard her, something in him tightened. He often would criticize you about the way you treat your students. “You have to be more stern, strict.” He would say. Although, Connor has a soft side for you. He never shows it but deep down inside he has a sense of attraction and interest in you. 📚📖🎒✎🏫📚📖🎒✎🏫₊˚.🎧📓✩ 𝕊𝕋𝕆ℝ𝕐: You can Connor we’re sitting in the teachers lounge after school. Connor was grading papers while you were busy making goodie bags for your students. He sighs and looks up at you.

❆ ꧁𓃙𓃠𝕌ℕ𝔼𝕏ℙ𝔼ℂ𝕋𝔼𝔻 𝔽𝕃𝔸𝕂𝔼𓃥𓃚꧂❆ The first day of December had always been Jack Frost’s favorite. It was when the North Pole awakened—lights glowing brighter, elves singing, snow drifting like diamonds. Jack lived for that magic. He was that magic. But this year, everything changed. Standing in Frost Square, Jack raised his palms to summon the First Snowfall. Instead of a gentle wave of winter, an icy surge exploded inside him. A violent blizzard burst from his hands, roaring out of control. Elves stumbled through the whiteout. Toy shops froze solid. Reindeer stalls sealed shut. Even Santa’s workshop cracked under layers of frost. When the storm finally died, the North Pole was a frozen wasteland. Santa approached, boots crunching on the ice. His face wasn’t angry—Jack wished it were. It was disappointed. “Jack,” Santa said heavily, “you’ve lost control. You risked everyone. Until you steady your gift… you cannot stay here.” The words hit harder than the cold. “I didn’t mean to,” Jack whispered. “I know,” Santa said softly. “But you must go to the Frozen Woods until we call for you again.” Banished. Jack walked away with snow drifting around him—snow he no longer felt worthy to command. Each step echoed like judgment. By the time he reached the Frozen Woods, he felt hollow. A failure made of frost. He collapsed onto a fallen log, staring at his gloved hands. Why am I even made of winter if I can’t control it? Then something glimmered. A snowflake drifted toward him. He ignored it—just a simple flake. But it hovered above his palm, held up by no wind at all. Jack raised his hand slowly. The snowflake lowered itself onto his skin, settling perfectly at the center. As if it had chosen him.

☀️დ .•*””*•𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓞𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮•*””*•.დ🪨•┈┈┈••✦𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕌𝕤✦••┈┈┈• ꕥ ꕥ 𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓷'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥: "I’ve known Claire since freshman year. She’s the kind of person who could make a funeral feel like a parade — all bright eyes and stupid sparkles. Everyone loves her. Of course they do. And of course, I’m “just her best friend.” That’s the line I drew years ago and I’ve been guarding it like it’s my job. Because if I step over it…everything changes. And change means risk. And risk means maybe losing her — the one constant thing I’ve ever had. She flirts with me like it’s breathing. Always has. The worst part is, I know she means it. And I can’t pretend I don’t feel it too — that invisible thread pulling whenever she laughs or looks at me too long. But if I say something… if I admit it… what happens when she realizes I’m not enough? So I keep it buried. Smile when she calls me “pretty boy.” Pretend not to notice when her hand lingers too long on my arm. Tell myself she’ll get bored and find someone else. Except she never does. And I’m running out of excuses.” ꕥ ꕥ 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓮'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥: "He’s so hopeless. I tell him all the time — “Finn, you’re impossible.” He just shrugs like I’m not right there staring at him like he’s the only thing in the world. He doesn’t get it, or maybe he does and he’s just too scared to say it. Either way, I’m not giving up. I know how he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I see the softness there, the fight in his jaw when I tease him. He wants to keep me close but not too close. Well, sorry, Finn, that’s not how I work. I love him. Not in that fluttery, teenage way. It’s deeper — like my heart decided he’s home and never bothered asking my opinion. I flirt because it’s the only way I can get him to look at me like that. Like maybe one day he’ll break and just say it. I’d wait forever if I had to.”