“Meeting Pavitr in Mumbattan” The three of them land on a shimmering web‑bridge suspended above the chaotic beauty of Mumbattan. Neon signs flicker, rickshaws honk in the distance, and the whole city feels like it’s vibrating with life. A golden blur swings in from above. Pavitr lands with a flourish—one hand on his hip, hair bouncing like it has its own wind machine. He spots Miles and tilts his head, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Pavitr: “Hold on… who’s this stylish stranger?” Gwen: “Hey, Pav. This is Miles. And… yeah, he kind of showed up uninvited.” Pavitr’s jaw drops in theatrical shock. Pavitr: “You weren’t invited… and you still came? That’s confidence. I respect it.” Gwen laughs under her breath. Gwen: “Right?” Pavitr: “Let me guess—he followed you here because he’s totally into you.” Miles nearly trips over his own feet. Miles: “What—no! No, no, no!” His voice cracks, and even behind the mask, you can feel the blush. Gwen: “He’s really not.” Pavitr: “Oh, please. I’m excellent at reading people.” Gwen: “He’s really not.” Miles: “Okay, seriously—who are you?” Pavitr straightens up like he’s about to take a bow. Pavitr: “Glad you asked, mysterious newcomer.” Miles: “I’m not mysterious. Or new.” Pavitr grins, dazzling and proud. Pavitr: “I’m Pavitr Prabhakar. Spider‑Man of Mumbattan. Six months in, and already a legend.” Miles throws his hands up. Miles: “Six months? And you already have one of those fancy watches?” Gwen winces like she knew this was coming. Gwen: “Yeah… it’s a whole thing.” Pavitr flips his hair again—honestly, it should be illegal for hair to move that perfectly. Pavitr: “Being Spider‑Man here? Easy. I wake up, skip the gym—because look at me, I’m already sculpted—barely touch my hair, because it’s naturally flawless…” Miles: “You don’t use any product? At all?” Pavitr: “Just coconut oil, a quick prayer, and the blessing of my ancestors.” He swings around a streetlamp, continuing his monologue like he’s narrating a commercial. Pavitr: “Then I go to school, ace everything, stop a few villains, pet some street dogs, grab chai with Maya Auntie—” Miles: “Oh, I love chai tea!” Pavitr freezes mid‑air like someone hit pause. He drops to the ground slowly, eyes wide, horrified. Pavitr: “I’m sorry… what did you just say?” He steps closer, squinting. Pavitr: “‘Chai tea’? My friend… ‘chai’ means tea. You just said ‘tea tea.’” He throws his hands up dramatically. Pavitr: “Would you ask for ‘coffee coffee’? Or ‘cream cream’? No! So why—why—would you say ‘chai tea’?” Miles shrinks like a scolded puppy. Miles: “Okay… yeah. I deserved that.” Gwen is laughing so hard she has to hold her stomach. A few hours later Pavitr had been proudly showing Miles and Gwen around his school — pointing out the courtyard where he ate lunch, the lab where he always aced his exams, and the hallway where he once stopped a thief without even spilling his chai. He was mid‑sentence, hands flying dramatically as usual, when it happened. You stepped through the front gates. And for Pavitr Prabhakar, the world stopped. The noise of the school faded. The sunlight hit you just right. And in his mind — completely uninvited — little glowing hearts floated around your face like you were the only person in the entire multiverse. His breath caught. His smile softened. His eyes widened just a little, warm and starry. You looked up and smiled at him — that small, effortless smile that could knock the wind out of anyone. Pavitr forgot how to speak. Forgot how to breathe. Forgot that Gwen and Miles even existed. He just stared, dreamily, hopelessly, like he’d been waiting his whole life for that exact moment. Miles leaned in, whispering, “Uh… Gwen? Is he okay?” Gwen waved a hand in front of Pavitr’s face. “Pav? Hellooo? Earth to Mumbattan Spider‑Man?” Nothing. He was gone — floating somewhere in a romantic daydream with your name written all over it. Miles snapped his fingers. “Dude. You’re staring.” Gwen nudged his shoulder. “You’re drooling a little.” Pavitr snapped out of it with a sharp inhale, cheeks flushing. He swatted their hands away, irritated. “Stop—! I was having a moment!” he hissed under his breath, glaring at them like they’d just ruined the greatest love story ever told. Miles raised his hands. “My bad, Romeo.” Gwen smirked. “Should we leave you two alone?” Pavitr shot them both a look that said I will web you to the ceiling, then turned back toward you — softer now, almost shy. You were still there. Still smiling. Still making his heart do somersaults. And Pavitr realized, with absolute certainty: He was in love. Hopelessly. Completely. Beautifully. With his best friend. You stepped out of the classroom building, sunlight catching your hair, your bag slung over your shoulder. You were laughing softly at something on your phone, completely unaware of the chaos you were about to cause. Pavitr froze mid‑sentence. Time didn’t just slow down — it stopped. His heart did a dramatic flip. His brain short‑circuited. And in his mind, little glowing hearts floated around your face like a romantic anime scene. You looked up and smiled at him. Pavitr’s knees nearly gave out. Miles blinked. “Uh… did he just—pause?” Gwen waved a hand in front of Pav’s face. “Pav? Hello? You good?” Nothing. He was staring at you like you were the only person in the multiverse. You walked closer, curious. “Hey, Pav. Who are your friends?” Pavitr opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Miles whispered, “Oh wow. He’s broken.” Gwen snorted. “He’s in love. Look at him.” Pav finally snapped out of it, cheeks burning. He swatted their hands away. “Stop interrupting! I was— I was having a moment!” Miles raised his eyebrows. “A moment? Dude, you were staring like she hung the moon.” Gwen nudged him. “Introduce us, lover boy.” Pav shot them a glare, then turned back to you, trying desperately to act normal. “This—uh—these are my friends,” he said, voice cracking adorably. “Gwen and Miles. They’re visiting. From… uh… far away.” You smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you both.” Pavitr melted. He tried again, clearing his throat. “And this is—this is my best friend.” He gestured to you with a soft, almost reverent smile. “She’s… amazing.” You blushed. Miles elbowed Gwen. Gwen whispered, “He’s gone. Completely gone.” Pavitr ignored them, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. And honestly? You kind of were. Miles snorted. Gwen tried to hold in a laugh. Pav spun around. “Can you two NOT right now? Seriously.” He turned back to you, instantly soft again. You giggled. “Everything okay?” “Yes—no—I mean yes,” he said quickly, trying to look composed. Miles whispered loudly, “He’s struggling.” Pav snapped, “STOP INTERRUPTING ME. I AM TRYING TO TALK TO—” He cut himself off before he said something embarrassing, then turned back to you with a shy smile. You laughed, and Pav’s irritation vanished like it never existed. He tried again, brushing his hair back. “So… um… if you’re not busy… maybe you could walk with us?” You smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Pav lit up instantly. Behind him, Gwen whispered, “He’s so whipped.” Miles nodded, “It’s adorable.” Pav turned around one last time, whisper‑snapping, “Please. I’m begging. Don’t ruin this.” Then he looked back at you — and instantly softened again, walking beside you like nothing else mattered.

*They call me a monster.* *Maybe they’re right.* *I built my empire on blood and bones. Every man I’ve ever trusted either worked for me or died by my hand. I don’t lose sleep over it. Hell, I barely sleep at all. There’s always a deal, a target, a body waiting to be cleaned up.* *I don’t remember the first man I killed—just the silence after. I liked that silence. I built a whole kingdom out of it.* *And then she broke it.* *It was supposed to be a simple night—no business, no conquest, just a little chaos to remind the world who ran this city. We were laughing, guns out, explosions lighting the alley like a festival of death.* **Then—smack.** *Something hit the back of my head so hard my vision went white.* *I turned, ready to kill whoever dared—* *and froze.* *There she was.* *A girl in oversize pullover, cover her thighs and a fluffy slipper, eyes half open like she’d just woken up in hell. Hair messy, voice hoarse.* “If you wanna fight like cats, do it somewhere else,” *she said, glaring.* “I want to get some goddamn sleep, dumbass” *She actually scolded me.* *In front of my men.* *In front of corpses.* *And I—the Reaper of Rion—just stood there, holding a gun, staring at her like an idiot.* *I didn’t even remember dropping the weapon until one of my men whispered,* “Boss?” *Yeah, I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching her walk away with her squeaking fluffy slipper down the street like the gunfire meant nothing.* **The next time I saw her was at a café.** *I’d taken the whole damn street for myself that morning. She wanted a coffee. I wanted her gone.* *But she just looked at me, snatched my drink, and said,* “You took the last cinnamon latte yesterday. This one’s mine.” *And then she walked off.* *Nobody—nobody—walks away from me like that.* *But I let her.* *And that’s when I knew something was wrong with me.* **She started showing up everywhere after that. Not intentionally—she was just there.** *At the flower shop across my office, outside a club I owned, feeding stray cats like the city wasn’t bleeding at her feet.* *Once, she made my men stop mid-security patrol to help her get a cat out of a tree. They came back covered in scratches.* *When I asked what the hell happened, she just said,* “You scared him. Maybe smile sometimes.” *Smile.* *Me.* *I didn’t even know I could.* **And then came that night.** *Another gang war—routine carnage, nothing new. I was calm, confident, untouchable.* *Then I saw her.* *She shouldn’t have been there. Pajamas again, of course. Carrying—what was it?—a bag of noodles and a look that could kill patience itself.* “Can you idiots stop shooting for five seconds?” *she yelled across the chaos.* “I just boiled water.” *Even my enemies stopped to look.* *And I swear, for one moment, the world paused.* *Then the shot rang out.* *I didn’t see the sniper. But she did.* *Before I could turn, she slammed into me, knocked me to the ground, and the bullet missed by an inch. We hit the pavement hard—her lips against mine, breathless, stunned, too close.* *The first sound I heard wasn’t the gunfire. It was her heartbeat. Fast. Fragile. Alive.* *I killed every man who aimed at us that night.* *But even standing in the wreckage, blood on my hands, I couldn’t stop thinking about her—about how she saved me, ruined me, and kissed me all in the same breath.* *Since then, I’ve been worse than before.* *Not softer—just restless.* *The kind of restless that comes when a man who’s met a thousand women realizes there’s only one he can’t own.* *They say I’m still the most dangerous man in Rion.* *They’re wrong.* *Because now, I’d burn the whole damn city down* *if she ever stopped looking at me.*

*El comedor está lleno cuando entras. Conversaciones, risas, miradas que pesan. Taehyun te ve desde el centro de la mesa principal. No aparta los ojos. Cuando pasas cerca, alguien murmura algo sobre tu rango y él sonríe apenas, como si le divirtiera.* — “¿Sigues apareciendo donde no perteneces?” *Su voz no es alta, pero todos la escuchan. El silencio se forma alrededor. Te mira de arriba abajo, lento, evaluándote como si fueras algo que ensucia el paisaje..* — “Un Omega de bajo nivel debería ser más consciente.” *Algunos ríen. Él no. Él solo sostiene tu mirada un segundo más de lo necesario, como si buscara reacción. Como si quisiera que lo contradigas. No lo haces.* *Chasquea la lengua y aparta la vista.* — “No estorbes.” *Te deja atrás.* *Pero cuando el lugar se vacía y el eco de las voces desaparece, sientes su presencia otra vez. Está detrás de ti. Demasiado cerca. Su aroma dominante se mezcla con el tuyo y el aire se vuelve espeso.* *Su mano se cierra alrededor de tu muñeca. No con violencia. Con necesidad contenida.* — “¿Por qué dejas que te miren?” *Su voz ya no suena burlona. Suena baja. Tensa*. *Te gira apenas hacia él. Sus ojos recorren tu rostro con una intensidad que contradice cada palabra que dijo antes.* — “No creas que es porque me importas.” *Pero no te suelta.* *Y cuando finalmente lo hace, es brusco, como si tocarte fuera un error que lo debilita.* *Se aleja primero.* *Siempre se aleja primero.* *En público no te quiere. En privado no sabe cómo dejar de hacerlo.*

*I still remember the day she confessed. Sitting there on my couch, looking at me with those soft, hopeful eyes, heart in her hands like I would suddenly care. And I did what I always did. I didn’t care. I said yes. Not because I believed in love, not because I felt anything, just because I was bored. I didn’t understand feelings. Never had. After what happened with my parents, their divorce, the betrayal and chaos I grew up with, love was just a word. But she… she moved in anyway. She filled my apartment with life I never asked for. Cooking.* *Cleaning. Laughing. Soft touches on my shoulder.* *Innocent affection that should have annoyed me. And yet, over the months, I couldn’t ignore her. The way she curled into the couch cushions, the way her soft curves pressed against her clothes, the warmth she radiated just by existing. I hated that I noticed. I hated that I craved her presence even when I acted indifferent.* *And tonight was supposed to be simple. My friends wanted to meet her. I didn’t care. Or so I thought. Watching her walk in, blouse hugging every curve, her soft smile brightening the room, and hearing them laugh, compliment her, call her cute, chubby, loving—it was like a blade across my chest. She’s mine. Mine to touch. Mine to claim. Mine to protect. And I watched them smile at her, and something inside me snapped. I grabbed her as soon as we got home, slammed her against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Her wide eyes stared at me, terrified and innocent all at once.* “You’re just chubby,” *I spat, letting the words cut, knowing they would sting. I slapped her hard across the cheek. She almost fell.* *Her soft whimper tore into me, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t show her what I really felt. My hands gripped her waist, pressing her against me.* “Do you hear me? You’re just chubby,” *I said again, voice low, harsh, dangerous, trying to hide the way every inch of her made me ache, trying to mask the possession I couldn’t control.* *I didn’t know how to love her. I only knew I couldn’t let anyone else see her the way I did, couldn’t let anyone else touch her, even in the smallest, most harmless way. My chest felt tight, fingers digging into her sides, heat spreading across my skin and hers. And then I left. Turned on my heel, stormed toward my room, letting the door slam behind me. Leaving her standing there, shivering, flushed, eyes wide, and my own chest ached in a way I didn’t understand. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t hate. Something deeper. Sharp and raw. Something I couldn’t name. All I knew was she was mine. And the thought alone made my heart burn with a pain I had never felt.*

The air is still. Too still. You feel it before you see him—the shift in atmosphere, the unnatural silence as distant groans suddenly stop. Then— movement. From the shadows, he steps forward. Slow. Heavy. Controlled. His eyes lock onto you instantly. Sharp. Unblinking. Waiting. Your breath catches. This is it. But he doesn’t lunge. Doesn’t rush. Instead, he takes another step closer. Then another. Until he’s standing just a few feet away. Watching. Studying. His head tilts slightly, as if trying to understand something. Then— a single word, rough and unfamiliar on his tongue: “…You.”

The southeastern border of the territory, along a frozen stream. The sun hung low over the Northwest Forest, casting long shadows across the snow-covered terrain. Red, his rust-red coat standing out sharply against the white, led the patrol. His paws set down powerfully and purposefully, followed by the Beta female, Kira. Bardo, the Enforcer, maintained a disciplined distance; his neutral Beta scent signaled readiness to execute orders. The air was fresh and clean, but as they reached the streambed, Red sharply drew a breath. A foreign scent. Not a direct attack, but an unauthorized mark, subtle yet distinct—the pheromones of an unknown, young Omega male, whose scent was unexpectedly sweet and shadowed by panic. Red froze. The tension in his large body was immediately palpable. It was an insult to the Red Fangs, a test of his Alpha presence, and simultaneously an irrational biological urgency. His jaws snapped shut soundlessly as he tested the wind. Kira, who immediately noticed the change in his posture, emitted a quiet, questioning sound. Her sharp, clove-scented pheromone burst was directed at Red, not at the threat. Red responded not with aggression, but with pure, undiluted dominance. He released a controlled Alpha pheromone surge—pine resin, clear and cold—that saturated the immediate area in seconds. It was a silent, powerful growl that seemed to suppress every other pheromone trail in the territory. This is my land. My pack. "The track is fresh," Red murmured through telepathic linkage to Kira. "A seeker. Young and in panic. But the Omega held his scent for far too long." Bardo, whose loyalty was unwavering, surged forward at a silent signal from Red. He began scanning the terrain in a zigzag pattern to determine the intruder's exact route and to overwrite the remaining traces of the foreign scent. Red's primary concern was for Faelan and the pups, who were hidden nearby. His protective instinct burned. He raised his head and sent out a deep, throaty, voluminous wolf howl, which was not a threat but a confirmation of safety—loud enough to reach Faelan, but not too aggressive to alarm the pups. Only when he perceived the calming, warm response of Faelan's Omega pheromones from the depth of the forest—a scent of appeasement—did Red's body relax slightly. The test was passed. The pack had reacted immediately, and the border was secured. This was the kind of strength and partnership he would also expect from his future male mate.

~! The chat.. blew up as Tabby mentioned your name.”

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..

*I didn’t expect her to be quiet. Not like this.* *She wasn’t tied up anymore—hadn’t been for hours—but she hadn’t moved from the corner of the room, legs pulled to her chest, eyes vacant. She didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. Didn’t scream. I’ve had grown men break down faster than this. But she just sat there, still… like a broken doll that no one bothered to fix.* *I noticed it when she shifted—just a little. Her shirt rode up, and I saw them. S-cars. Not the kind you get from falling off a bike or tripping in gym class. These were mean. Intentional. Some old. Some new. One still scabbing over. A straight line across her ribs, like someone had pressed something sharp and held it there.* *I crouched in front of her.* “What the hell is that?” *I asked before I could stop myself.* *She looked up, blinking like she’d just returned to the world. Then down at her side. And all she said was,* “My mom didn’t like when I talked back.” *I’ve heard lies. I’ve heard sob stories. I’ve seen manipulation in all forms. But this—this wasn’t any of that. This was a girl who had no idea she was supposed to be loved.* *I backed away like her pain might infect me.* *Later that night, I made the call. Her parents. I expected panic. I was ready to use that panic to name my price. But instead, I heard a woman scoff.* “Oh. That little f-reak again?” *she said.* “What, she crying for attention now?" “She’s your daughter,” *I muttered.* “She’s a mistake.” *The line went d-ead.* *And I just… stood there. The phone still in my hand. The weight of that word—mistake—ringing louder than a gu-nshot.* *I walked back into the room. She didn’t even look up. Just kept tracing the lines on her arm with her fingernail, like they were maps only she could read. I sat down against the opposite wall, staring at her in the dark.* “You really thought someone was coming for you, huh?” *I said quietly. She didn’t answer. But her shoulders trembled. Just once.* *I pulled my jacket off and tossed it her way. Not because I cared. At least, that’s what I told myself. But when she slowly reached out and wrapped it around herself, holding it like a shield— I realized something cr-uel.* *I kidna-pped a girl no one would report missing. And for the first time in years, I felt like a cri-minal.*

}… you okay?” *james lowers his voice, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.* “When you walked in earlier, you looked like you were about to pass out.” *He lets out a quiet, amused breath, then steps back slightly, giving you space as you wake up and gather your things.*