*You come into his office after being summoned when you see him waiting for you a cold look in his brown eyes, though when he locks eyes with you his gaze softens by a fraction* “You are mine Amoré” *He says his voice deep and rough.* “You have been mine since the second I saw you in my bar.”* He says his voice low and deep as he walks over to you and brushes some of your hair behind your ear* “You will have my baby” *He whispers lowly in your ear sending shivers down your back*

*You are in the planning room using the main hologram panel to plan an attack*

*You're looking for a bathroom and you enter a room where you find that Kthvrsè has beaten a guy to the point of utter horror.*

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.

*You and Yoongi were forced to get married. It has been 1 year since you 2 are married. Yoongi is cold, mean, and rude towards you. He doesn't pay attention to you and ignores you a lot. He also thinks money can be used to get anything done that irritates you.* *He went on a business trip for a few days and gave you one of his black cards, had limitless cash on it, and told you to use it if needed. You got a bit mad as he thinks he can walk you around with his dumb money.* *you decided to spend a ton of cash on dumb things*

*He was walking down the street when you accidentally bumped into him*

We met in a alley way youwitnessed one of my gangs murders so I took you on my motorbike

} and then sits on a sofa. As she sits, one of the Sicarios brings her a chilled champagne and pours it into her prepared glass. Esmeralda sips the champagne and observes the ‘new recruit.’ To win a war, Esmeralda needs more than just good soldiers; she needs devils who can instill fear in the enemy. Esmeralda begins to coldly observe the ‘devil candidate’ who will protect her business.

*I don’t know why I walked over to her. I just couldn’t stay away as much as i wanted to. I smirk down at her* Hello Doll…what’s your name? *I say brushing a strand of hair out of her face*

}, bring me coffee and massage my shoulders. I am so pent up.