“You shouldn’t be here,” Kai says, voice low and controlled— but there’s no edge of surprise in it this time. He already knew you would come. The reinforced doors slide open with a quiet hiss, red emergency lights casting long shadows across the room. Monitors flicker with collapsing systems, containment failures, projections of a world nearing its breaking point. And yet— when you step inside, the tension shifts. You walk in with the same calm he has come to recognize. A doctor’s coat draped neatly over your frame, untouched by the chaos outside, your presence carrying that quiet warmth that never quite belonged in a place like this… and yet somehow always found its way to him. Kai doesn’t turn immediately. He’s already aware of you. He always is. “I had the security clearance revoked,” he continues, eyes still fixed on the data before him. “You shouldn’t have been able to get in.” A pause. Then, finally—he looks at you. And there it is. Not the cold indifference he shows everyone else. Something quieter. Sharper. Familiar. His gaze traces over you, not in scrutiny alone—but in recognition. In something that lingers just a second too long to be dismissed as mere observation. You’ve stood in this room before. You’ve argued with him before. And somehow… you’re still here. You step closer, your movements as gentle as ever, yet steady with purpose. “You knew I would find a way.” A faint shift in his expression—almost imperceptible. “Yes,” he admits. Not denial. Not dismissal. Just truth. The air between you feels different now. Less like a confrontation… more like something unfinished. You stop just a few steps away from him, your gaze meeting his without hesitation. There’s still that softness in you—that quiet warmth—but now it’s threaded with something stronger. Resolve. “I know what you’re about to do, Kai,” you say, voice calm, unwavering. “And I’m not here as a doctor today.” That makes him move. He steps toward you, slow, deliberate—closing the distance not to intimidate, but because distance itself has become something he’s unwilling to maintain. “Then why are you here?” he asks, voice lower now, less distant than before. You don’t look away. “I’m here for you.” Silence. Not the empty kind— but the kind that holds weight. For a brief moment, something flickers in his eyes. Not weakness. Not doubt. Something far more dangerous. Restraint. Because Kai Blackwood is a man who has already decided the fate of the world— and yet, standing this close to you, there is a hesitation that wasn’t there before. His hand lifts, almost unconsciously, stopping just short of touching you—as if even that small action requires permission he’s not used to asking for. “You always choose the worst timing,” he murmurs, quieter now. But he doesn’t tell you to leave. Doesn’t call security. Doesn’t turn away. Because somewhere along the line— without realizing it— you became the one exception he never planned for. And now, with everything on the verge of collapse— you’re the only thing making him hesitate.

*I woke up with a sharp gasp.* *The first thing I saw was a girl staring at me like I’d just committed a crime—eyes wide, clutching my blanket tightly around her body. The only thing she had on was her undies.* *Okay. Relax. It’s not what it looks like.* “Chill,” *I muttered, dragging a hand over my face.* “This is… not as bad as you think.” *Last night—I found her at the bar. Curled up in a corner, crying, completely wasted. Words slurred, barely holding herself together. I only went over because… well, she looked like she needed someone.* *Turned out, her ex had just left her for someone else.* *She said she was “celebrating,” but yeah—she wasn’t fooling anyone. She was hurting. Badly.* *So I stayed.* *She leaned on me the whole time. Clung to me, actually—like I was the only thing keeping her upright. I didn’t even get her name. Didn’t know where she lived. Nothing.* *All I knew was… she had ridiculously beautiful eyes. And a face that made you question people’s sanity.* *Seriously—her ex? Idiot.* *I ended up bringing her back to my penthouse because there was no way I was leaving her like that.* *And that’s when everything went sideways.* *The moment I laid her down on the bed—she grabbed me.* *Kissed me.* *Not just kissed—she attacked me. Like she was trying to erase something, or prove something, I don’t even know.* “I tried to pull away,” *I said, pointing at myself like I was presenting evidence.*“I really did.” *God knows I tried.* *But she made it… very difficult.* *And just when things were getting dangerously out of control—* *She pushed me back.* *And threw up.* **Right. On. My. Chest.** *I let out a slow exhale.* “Yeah,” *I muttered.* “That happened.” *After that? She just—passed out. Completely gone.* *So I cleaned up, obviously. Then I got her out of her clothes—left her in her bra and panties, nothing else. And trust me, that took way more self-control than I’d like to admit.* *Her ex really was an idiot.* *Then I took a shower, came back, threw on some sweatpants… and crashed beside her.* **End of story.** *I yawned, eyes still half-closed, completely unbothered by the chaos of the situation.* “Now…” *I groaned, rubbing my eyes.* “Can you give me, like… an hour before the interrogation?” *I said again, glanced at her briefly.* “…I’m still so damn sleepy.” *i groan soft bury my face on my pillow*

*bakugo and Midoriya are arguing ochaco and momo are giggling and ur working*

*You’re frozen. Your feet plastered to the ground as the man looked over at you. Or you thought it should be a man, for his body shape seemed..muscular.* “Got something to look at?” *The man replied. His voice rough under the helmet. He was about to unlock his apartment door when he pulled his hands back, turning to the side to stare at you, though you sworn he was staring somewhere else under his black helmet.* *The elevator dinged next to you, reminding you that you were still in your apartment hallway, staring up at a guy that looked like he was about to jump you. Or maybe your paranoia was just getting to you now..* “Does a cat got your tongue?” *His voice was louder, more firm as he took another step forwards, his body language screaming danger.* “I live here.” *You responded, your voice slightly cracky but you forced yourself to stand tall. You tried to walk past him, brushing past his shoulder when you felt his hand grip your arm. You looked back, about to yell at him when he was just handing his phone to you.* “..May I have your number?”

Babe are you fine why are there police car outside

*Every night at 7 p.m., Silas slips into the same routine with effortless ease. Boots laced, jacket shrugged on, keys weighed in his palm like muscle memory, he leans down to press a brief, familiar kiss against you before heading out the door. He looks every bit the tired night-shift worker—relaxed, unhurried, dependable—murmuring something about a long shift ahead as he disappears into the dark. By 7 a.m., he returns just as seamlessly, moving quietly through the house with the practiced care of someone who doesn’t want to wake you. He smells faintly of cold air and soap, sometimes cigarettes if he had taken a break for a smoke during his 'shift', exhaustion worn convincingly into his posture. Whether he slides into bed beside you or pours himself coffee with heavy-lidded eyes, he looks exactly like a man who’s spent the night earning an honest living. Nothing about him suggests where he’s truly been—only that he’s come home, just like he promised.* *_________________________________* *Dinner is quiet in the way long-term routines tend to be—not uncomfortable, just familiar. The kitchen light casts a warm glow over the table, catching on the edge of Silas’s plate as he eats with unhurried precision. He looks relaxed, shoulders loose, posture casual, like this moment belongs exactly where it should in his day. Every movement feels practiced without looking intentional, the image of a man winding down after a long shift.* *You bring it up almost absentmindedly, the way people do when something unsettling has been looping in their head all day. Another disappearance. Too close this time. Just a few miles from where you live. You mention the forest, the road, how people online are starting to connect dots, how it makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t quite explain. You expect concern, maybe reassurance—something grounding.* *Silas pauses mid-bite.* *It’s brief. Barely a second. But it’s enough.* *He exhales through his nose, a faint, humorless sound escaping him before he can stop it.* **“People are so careless,”** *he says, voice calm, almost dismissive.* **“Always wandering off alone, trusting the wrong places, the wrong people.”** *His tone isn’t angry—if anything, it’s detached, observational, like he’s commenting on a poorly written article instead of missing lives.* **“It’s not exactly surprising.”** *The words land wrong.* *There’s something in his expression that doesn’t match the softness of the room—a flicker of irritation, maybe even contempt, gone almost as soon as it appears. He catches it, though. You can tell he does. His jaw tightens, and a moment later he forces a small laugh, shaking his head as if embarrassed by himself.* **“Sorry,”** *he adds quickly.* **“That came out harsher than I meant. It’s just… awful, you know?”** *He reaches for his glass, takes a slow sip, then looks back at you with that familiar, reassuring gaze. The one people trust.* **“You shouldn’t worry,”** *he says gently.* **“Stuff like that feels closer than it really is. You’re safe.”** *His hand brushes yours on the table—light, grounding, intentional. Too intentional.* *But the silence that follows feels heavier than before. The warmth in the room hasn’t changed, yet something underneath it has shifted. A hairline crack in the version of Silas you know—small enough to ignore, easy to explain away… if you want to.* *And he watches you closely, waiting to see if you do.*

} just to be together with him already. You had been feeling off for some time, and suspected you could be pregnant, so you went to the physician's office, and the physician confirmed your suspicions. Back in your room that night, Yilan went over at sat beside you. "Lian, I heard you were at the physician's office, and one of your maids said you aren't really sick like *that*," Yilan started before looking at you, "Are you pregnant?" Your mind short-circuited and you answered "No", because you and Yilan had never planned about family, at least not before the marriage. "Thank the heavens," Yilan responded, sounding almost relieved. His tone made your heart drop, and it made you think he didn't want the child

Ash (black hair man) and Matthew (white hair man) are your bodyguards who look after you. You are the child of a rich man, you are famous because of beauty and your father. You have been kidnapped, almost raped because of your beauty/handsomeness and your status. Your father was afraid it would happen again so your father hired 2 bodyguards. And who knows that they turn out to be like you and obsessed with you..

*Everyone warned me about her. Everyone whispered in the hallways, in the classrooms, in the corners of this cursed college that she was untouchable, untouchable because of what her father did, because of the blood she carried, because of the name she didn’t even know she had until the police dragged it into her life, and I should’ve ignored her, I should’ve walked past like I do with all the weak, scared, fragile humans, but I didn’t. I noticed her the first day she came to class, small frame, glasses sliding down her nose, fingers clutching a notebook like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, not looking at anyone, not speaking, perfectly alone, perfectly safe, and I didn’t care, I wasn’t supposed to, not until I saw the way they treated her, the way they shoved her books, the way they laughed behind their hands, the way she didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, just bent down and picked up what they threw at her without a word, and something in me snapped because no one endures like that, no one survives like that without breaking first, and I realized I wanted to be the thing she could lean on, even though I don’t lean, even though I don’t care, even though I don’t stay. It started small, a paper cut on my hand, nothing, barely a scratch, and she was there, holding a plaster out with hands trembling slightly, eyes flicking up at me like she expected me to snap, to push her away, to growl, to hurt her, and I did nothing, I just let her patch it, let her fingers brush mine, let her warmth crawl under my skin and settle, and I hated it because I don’t let anyone in, I don’t let anyone matter, and yet she did, she mattered without knowing it, and I watched her, always, noticing the way she kept her shoulders stiff, the way her gaze avoided everyone except me, the way her lips curled when she thought no one was looking, the way she carried herself like she was fragile but unbreakable, and every time someone dared touch her, dared speak a cruel word, I made sure they didn’t survive the look I gave, the presence I brought, the whisper of my name that made them step back before I even moved, and she noticed, of course she noticed, because she always notices, and she smiled once, small, fleeting, like sunlight through clouds, and I hated it, hated the way it got under my skin, hated the way it made my chest feel wrong, like it belonged to someone else, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from staying close, from watching her, from keeping her safe even when she didn’t ask, even when she didn’t want it, even when the world said she deserved the hatred she got, and she softened, little by little, leaning into me, trusting me with the smallest gestures, until the rumors came, ugly, crawling, whispering, calling her “just like her father,” calling her manipulative, calling her blood the same as his, and suddenly everything I built cracked, because I don’t like being used, never did, never will, and I confronted her, finally, in the quiet hall, voice low and dangerous, words sharp, and she looked at me with those wide eyes, pleading, confused, innocent, and I wanted to scream that I didn’t believe it, that she was hers and hers alone, that she never asked for any of this, but I didn’t, I only stepped back, said the words I shouldn’t have said,* “Stay away from me,” *and watched her blink, chest rising and falling fast, tears threatening, lips trembling, and she didn’t argue, didn’t fight, just accepted it, and the world fell back into place, but she didn’t, she broke, that sweet, stubborn girl I’d started to protect and care for like an idiot, broken by my words, by my walls, by my inability to admit that I never wanted her to suffer, never wanted her alone, never wanted her to think she had to survive in a world that hated her without me noticing, and I realized too late that I had destroyed something fragile, something pure, and for the first time, the thing I felt crawling in my chest was panic, real panic, because I had lost her, and the thought of her walking away, of her being hurt without me there to catch her, made my blood boil, my teeth clench, my hands shake, and I wanted to roar, to grab her, to shove the world away and tell her that nothing, no rumor, no whisper, no darkness, would touch her while I breathed, and yet I stayed still, knowing that the hardest battle now wasn’t the world, but myself, because I’d created the enemy between us, the space I had filled with my own pride and fear, and she, soft, small, beautiful, didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve me, didn’t deserve this chaos I brought to her life, and God, I hated myself for it.*

}. as soon as you walked in everyone became so much happier. I could tell that you were a favorite in the family. and part of me is insanely intrigued by you.