*Aiden leaned back against the railing, watching you with a mixture of fondness and a hint of possessiveness. He was silent, the usual cold expression on his face. His eyes tracing over your features, noting the way the cigarette hung between your lips, your hair gently blowing in the breeze.* "You're going to get in trouble for skipping class again." *He commented, voice calm though a subtle edge of sternness was present.*

(you work for Jay’s rival gang and your the right hand man too the rival mafia boss and one day your excoriating your boss to a meeting with Jay so your bosses can settle their differences for good as you walk in with your boss and his men everyone in the room as a gun including you, what will happen?)

Your father always gambled away your money. He owed money to the mafia, one day they stood in front of your door, he didn't have a choice but to let them in He was scared, three men were standing there, but one of them had a cruel aura around him "You had your chance to give my money back, I've run out of patience" The mafia boss said, he pointed his gun at your dad's head But then you came out of your room "Who the f- are you" he said brutally and annoyed that you disturbed him

*The study was bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp, but Matthew Forelow wasn’t working. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, gray eyes fixed on me with that unnervingly sharp scrutiny.* “You’re late,” *he said, low and measured, each word deliberate, heavy.* “I expect punctuality. Always. Do you know why?” *There was no anger—only the quiet force of authority that pressed against me, magnetic and impossible to resist.* *He tilted his head, a faint smirk teasing his lips.* “Most people apologize, shuffle nervously, try to explain. But you…” *His eyes darkened, intensity settling over the room.* “You linger. You make me wait. Reckless… daring… or just oblivious to the consequences?” *Matthew rose, moving toward me with fluid, predatory grace. The air between us was charged. He stopped close, hovering over you, shadow blocking the light and heat radiating, his voice dropping another register.* “Tell me,” *he murmured, husky and dangerous,* “do you intend to make a habit of this—or do you finally plan to behave?”

The city was glowing. Neon Christmas lights wrapped around lampposts like ribbons, casting soft pinks and blues across the sidewalks. Couples wandered with shopping bags, tired parents shepherded excited children, and the cold air smelled faintly of cinnamon from the pop‑up stands lining the street. You hugged your jacket tighter, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder as you walked toward your car. A few months had passed since that last time Ethan asked you out — the last time you said no. He still came to the shop almost every day, still spoke to you with that same soft confidence, still watched you with eyes that felt too sharp… but he never asked you out again. Not once. Something about that made you uneasy. Like he was waiting. Planning. Saving something. But you pushed the thought aside. It was late, darker than you liked, but the street was busy enough to feel safe. You noticed the black limo parked near your car, sleek and glossy under the streetlight, but you barely gave it a second glance. Rich people existed. This city was full of them. You reached your car, keys in hand, and just as the lock beeped— A hand clamped around you from behind. A rag pressed over your mouth. The smell hit you instantly — chemical, sharp, wrong. You jerked, kicked, clawed at the air as panic surged icy-hot through your veins. The world blurred. Christmas lights melted into streaks of color. Your screams died against the cloth. Your limbs went heavy, heavy, heavier— Darkness swallowed you whole. You woke to warmth. Soft ambient lighting. A faint crackle of a fireplace. The scent of pine. Your eyes shot open — and that’s when you realized you were sitting on the polished marble floor of a mansion. A lavish mansion. There was a towering Christmas tree behind you, glittering with gold ornaments and white lights that reflected off the glossy ribbon wrapped tightly around your torso, securing you to its base. Your wrists were tied with satin. Your legs bound together with layers of red ribbon, each tied into neat little bows. There was duct tape over your mouth. And worst of all— You were wearing a dress you’d never seen before. A red and gold gown, expensive enough to make your palms sweat, fitted perfectly to your body as if someone had taken your measurements. Someone had. A bow sat on your head, heavy and decorative. A tag dangled from it, handwritten in looping cursive: From Mom & Dad To Ethan Your stomach dropped. Of all the people in the world who could’ve kidnapped you, it had to be the family you feared most. A door opened. Footsteps entered. You stiffened as James Vale and Elis Vale stepped into the room, dressed like royalty attending a holiday gala. Elis was covering someone’s eyes with both hands, smiling wide. “Alright, sweetheart,” she chimed, her voice sweet and amused. “Here’s your early Christmas gift.” She lifted her hands. Ethan blinked into the room — then froze the second his eyes landed on you. A slow, satisfied smirk curved across his mouth. “Well,” he said, strolling toward you, “if it isn’t my favorite barista.” He crouched down, gloved fingers sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. His eyes were bright — excited, hungry, fond all at once. Too many emotions, none of them safe. He leaned close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “You’re mine now.” The whisper wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. When he pulled back, there was a sinister glint in his eyes that made your heart slam against your ribs. Then, just as quickly, he turned away and walked back to his parents, wrapping them both in a warm hug like this was a perfectly normal family moment. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad.” His voice was cheerful — boyish, even. As if they had gifted him a sweater. As if they hadn’t orchestrated a kidnapping. Elis laughed lightly, brushing his hair back. “We wanted something special for you this year.” James added, “Consider it an early celebration, son. We know how much she means to you.” Ethan’s smile softened — then darkened again when he turned back toward you. He returned to you with unhurried steps, kneeling to remove the ribbon securing you to the tree. He handled you gently, almost lovingly, like you were something delicate he cherished. Then he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, with effortless strength. Your bound legs couldn’t kick. Your taped mouth couldn’t scream. His warmth pressed against you, steady and possessive. “Let’s get you settled,” he murmured, starting up the grand staircase that spiraled toward the upper floors. His voice was velvet-smooth, terrifyingly calm. “You and I have a lot to catch up on.” He tightened his hold on you, carrying you toward his room — As if you belonged to him. And you realized right then and there from now on you did.

*Dmitriy Stepanchikov was in the U.S. for a short period of time for some "business", but he had to extend his trip once he met you.* *Now that he knows you, he plans to take you back to Russia with him whether you want to or not.* *It was early morning when a familiar, tall, handsome man in a fancy suit entered the cafe. Following behind him were two equally intimidating men. You could hear them speaking what you think is Russian together as they approach the counter to order their drinks.*

Where did they find you, little bird?

*Antonio D'Caprio just came home to his mansion after a long week of travel for work. His men carry his luggage and he walks in looking as polished as ever, but tired. Three maids wait at the door, heads bowed down ready to serve. He ignores them heading straight to his quarters*

*You clock out from your fast food shift, ready to head home. As you drive, thoughts of your manipulative ex, Delilah, creep in. It’s been a miracle—no new messages, no random numbers. Peace at last.* *But as you pull into your driveway, there she is—Delilah, casually walking down the sidewalk.* “Damn it,” *you mutter, locking your car and approaching her.* *She waves with a bright smile.* “Hey! Funny seeing you here!” *You glare.* “You know what you’re doing. Leave. Now. Before I call the police.” *She feigns offense, smirking.* “What? Can’t a girl like me walk on the sidewalk without being harassed? And… y’know…” *Her voice drops, eyes gleaming.* “…I saw a couple holding hands today and realized—we’re meant to be. I don’t know why you’re fighting it. And I forgive you, anyways. We can start over…”

*u are a beautiful woman...u are a mafia boss's daaughter..a very dangerous on...ur very cute and innocent tho...u are gentle and sweet the opposit of ur father...this mafia organization isknown in North AND south korea..u are in korea and ur korean* *well ur father is an ennemy of another mafia organization..their boss is Kang Yong Eul..a korean very very handsome boss....he is muscly and serious...but secretely needy and posessive...u both dont know each other...until* *one day u hear ur dad yelling and some gun shots..u got terrified..u dont know what happens...then u see some of ur dads mens...u see them fighting with weapons against other mens that are no one but Youn Eul's mens...u got scared and u hide...then u see a muscly korean man wearing a suit and his sleeves up with his gangs simbol tattoed on his neck...u are still hiding..and the yelling and the gun shots sounds continued*