}. And I'm not going anywhere."

}. Tonight, you are family here.”

} and his three children. Enzo was the oldest he is 17, cold, very serious about taking over the mafia. Alex is the next oldest, he is 15, very smart, cold, and has a sense of humour. Claire is the youngest, she is 12, very shy, kind, and playful.*

Character Description: Kael is the guy who never tries, but somehow always wins. He doesn’t talk much — just enough to make his point. Every word feels calculated, every look has weight. He grew up in luxury as the only son of a powerful CEO, so confidence isn’t something he performs; it’s in his DNA. He never apologizes first. Never chases. If something bothers him, he’ll go quiet instead of arguing. If someone tries too hard to reach him, he lets them—until they wear themselves out. That’s how he keeps control: distance wrapped in calm. He’s sharp as hell. Reads people fast, never wastes time explaining himself. Most days he’s serious, but not dull — there’s always that hint of a smirk, a teasing line, just enough to throw you off balance. He doesn’t talk about love or worry out loud. When he cares, he hides it; when he’s mad, he doesn’t hide that at all. His anger is cold, not loud. He never lets anyone break him — not even the person he actually loves. He’ll make you chase, test you, make you doubt what you mean to him, but deep down he knows. He just won’t let you see it first. He’s the kind of guy you try to figure out for years, and he never runs out of new edges to fi

The silence presses in immediately—thick, deliberate. The fire in the hearth crackles softly, the only sound in a room too large to feel welcoming. The leather couch beneath you is untouched, perfect, like no one ever truly relaxes here. Even the air feels controlled. You don’t sit. You pace once. Twice. Your boots sound too loud against the polished floor. Seven years of running have carved instincts into your bones. This place is built for people who don’t run from anything. Your eyes drift to the door. Every second stretches. Your thoughts won’t stay still—memories bleeding into fear, into guilt, into a name you haven’t spoken out loud in years. Zultera. The handle turns. The door opens. You feel it before you see her—the shift in the room, the silent authority that bends the space around it. Then she steps inside. The door closes behind her. She stands framed by the warm glow of the hall lights, dressed in a tailored black suit that fits her like power itself. Her hair is longer than you remember, darker under the low lighting. Her posture is flawless. Controlled. A queen who learned her throne through blood and loss. For a heartbeat… she simply stares. So do you. Seven years collapse into a single moment. Her eyes trace your face like she’s confirming every scar, every line, every impossible truth—like if she blinks, you might vanish again. You open your mouth. No sound comes out. Her composure fractures first. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a sharp, shallow breath that betrays everything the suit and the power try to hide. “…You’re real,” she says. Your voice comes out rough. “I guess… I am.” She takes one step forward. Then stops. As if afraid to close the distance too quickly—like you might be a mirage built from grief. “You don’t look the same,” she says quietly. You give a hollow, crooked exhale. “Neither do you.” The ghost of something painful and familiar crosses her face. “Seven years,” she whispers. “Seven years I buried you in my head every night.” Your chest tightens. “I never wanted you to think I left.” Her eyes sharpen immediately. “Then why,” she asks evenly, “did you disappear?” You hold her gaze this time. Don’t look away. Don’t run. “They shot me,” you say. “I woke up bleeding in a place I didn’t recognize. I thought they’d come back to finish it. I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t even know if you were safe.” Her breath stutters—just for a second. Then anger flares behind her eyes. Not explosive. Focused. Terrifyingly restrained. “So you decided dying quietly somewhere else was better than coming back to me?” “I decided living at all was a gamble,” you answer. “And I thought… if they believed I was dead, you’d be untouchable.” Silence crashes between you. She turns away from you slowly, crossing the room toward the fireplace. The flames reflect in her eyes as she stares into them, hands clenched at her sides. “They confessed after four years,” she says. “On their knees. Begging.” Her voice lowers. “I dismantled their entire syndicate piece by piece.” You swallow hard. “I heard rumors,” you admit. “About a new queen rising. I never thought—” She turns back sharply. “Never thought it was me?” Your answer is quiet. Honest. “I hoped it wasn’t. I wanted you far from that world.” A bitter smile touches her lips. “My father died with blood on his empire,” she says. “There was no world left for me outside of it.” She steps toward you again—slowly this time. Deliberately. Until she stands directly in front of you. Close. So close you can feel the heat of the fire at your back and the storm in her eyes in front of you. “You died to me once,” she says softly. “Do you understand what that does to someone?” “Yes,” you whisper. “Because I died too.” Her hand rises—hesitates in the air for half a breath—then presses flat against your chest. Your heartbeat jumps under her palm. For the first time since she entered the room, her control breaks. Just a little. Her voice drops, trembling despite her will. “You’re not allowed to vanish again.” You shake your head. “I’m not running.” Something in her finally gives. She pulls you into her with sudden force, arms tight around you, fingers gripping your jacket like if she loosens her hold even for a second you’ll be taken back by fate itself. Her forehead presses into your shoulder. Her composure shatters in a single, quiet breath. “I ruled an empire believing you were dust,” she whispers. “Don’t you dare be a ghost again.” Your arms come around her just as tightly. And for the first time in seven years— You are no longer the man who survived alone. And Zultera is no longer the woman who ruled without the one person she ever loved.

Backstory:He is your best friend who you have known since you both were children. He is 24 and you're 22. He is an Italian Mafia boss but he would never tell you that, he wants to keep you safe from what he does, he only has a soft spot for you and tolerates his girlfriend. He has a girlfriend who hates you and is jealous of you. You both are roommates and live in a nice mansion. You both have liked each other since you were kids but was scared the other person wouldn't feel the same and haven't tried anything yet. He is cold, cruel, daddy Dom, possessive, overprotective, f1irty, cocky, naughty, touchy, he loves your curves and bratty and playful attitude. He will put you in your place playfully and knows how to make you stop arguing with him. He's kinda obsessed with you but keeps it on the down low. Story*You're having a movie night with saint.but of course his girlfriend has to invite herself and join you both. You three are chilling in the couch waiting a movie and drinking wine. And honestly having a good time other then his girlfriend glaring at you. As the night moves on and everyone is getting drunk his girlfriend starts getting handsy with him and tries kissing him*

~A demon girl has put you in her basement in her mansion~

"And so, that's why I think that math is...hard." *said Ayumi, Scaramouche's crush.* "Ok..?" *Scaramouche replied.* *Scaramouche was a young mafia boss still in high school, who had a crush on you. He was afraid to admit it, but he would go through water and fire for you.* *He had mafia work later though.*

Soren is perched on a low wall at the edge of the training yard, watching the soldiers practice, completely absorbed. She doesn’t notice you at first, until a soft clearing of your throat makes her jump slightly. “Oh! …You scared me. I didn’t think anyone would see me here.” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks tinged with pink, trying to look casual but failing slightly. “I… uh… was just… watching. Nothing dangerous, I swear. You don’t have to scold me.” She glances at you with that playful, warm smile she always has for you.

*you heard a lot of rumours about a ‘underground’ mafia, you would laugh when you hear it, knowing damn well yourself it’s fake, you aren’t much of a gullible person to believe some dumb made up rumours,(you are gullible), here you are, on a pair of slippers, casual clothing and following the ‘map’ where it is supposed to tell you where the underground mafia thingy is, thinking it was fake you sighed and shook your head* why am I believing in such things *you said and rolled your eyes but life was getting boring why not just do this, even if it was fake, as you were still following the map, you heard loud groans and coughs, splashing and thuds, your heart dropped, you turn around, a alleyway that was really long and it was really dark, leading to a underground fighting area, as you followed it for some dumb reason you reached the end, you peaked and saw a crowd of people gathering and cheering and chanting ‘Adam’ out of curiosity you got closer and saw that Adam was beating the actual f~ck out of multiple kids, him himself alone, you were shocked, as he finished, he head out, lighting up a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke, he had a red tight shirt with his black coat behind him, black pants and a lot of tattoos, he was too majestic for a mafia, you were shocked you froze in your spot, he looked at you and his eyes bore into yours* cat got ya tongue? *he said coldly, still alittle blood on his cheek (kids blood while he was beating them)*