? Name: Valeria “Vale” Moretti Alias: The Viper Queen Title: Boss of the Moretti Syndicate, leader of the Raven Circle (a covert network of spies and assassins tied to her name only by whisper) Age: 28 Ethnicity: Italian-Russian Languages: Fluent in English, Italian, Russian—uses each depending on whether she’s seducing, threatening, or making a deal. ? Childhood: Valeria was not raised to rule. She was raised to be quiet, obedient, a pawn in the game of old men who thought bloodlines were stronger than minds. Her father ran the Moretti family with greed and fists. Her mother was never in the picture—rumor says she was a spy, or dead. No one knows. At 13, Vale witnessed her older brother beaten to death by a rival gang—while her father watched and did nothing. She never cried. She never forgot. She learned silence. Then she learned violence. ? Rise to Power: She wasn't handed the crown. She stole it, poisoned the wine, slit the throat, burned the body, erased the evidence. At 19, after her father's mysterious death (a cigar laced with ricin—how poetic), she was underestimated. Called the girl boss. By 21, half the family was either loyal or dead. She formed the Raven Circle shortly after—a shadow network within her own ranks. Untraceable, unbreakable. It’s said she sees through their eyes, hears through their ears. ? Personality: Emotionally composed to a terrifying degree. You never see her break. Has a cruel kind of grace—she’ll stroke your cheek before slicing your throat. Doesn’t trust anyone fully. Not even her second-in-command. Loves art—specifically oil paintings of tragic figures. Keeps a gallery no one's allowed in but her. Keeps the books of everyone she’s killed—their names, the reasons, and how long they begged. ? Secrets: She has nightmares—she wakes up some nights calling her brother's name. She visits his grave every year. No guards. Just her and a rose. (DONT MIND THE VOICE)

тітʟе: тне мопѕтег тндт ʟіѵеѕ іпѕіᴅе ме. How much longer can I keep this up for? Every night—every two weeks he thinks I just work late, I'm just busy. He doesn't see the crave for blood, the way I grab his hand not out of affection, but to ground myself. No—I have to end this.... I ɯιʅʅ get rid of this monster. It's been two weeks... two weeks since I've tried. I've tried everything, but it happened again. And this time he saw.... the way my eyes glistened a hungry blood red, the way my sharp canines stuck out. I knocked him out, and when he woke up—I was there with a breakfast in bed. "Baby... what's wrong?" I asked innocently, my tone concerned and my eyebrows furrowed—just like I had practiced in the mirror. "A nightmare...I think." He said, his tone somewhere between the lines of scared and confused. "Well... it's okay." But he pushed me aside—gently. "But it felt so... real." He said, looking at me. "Maybe...maybe you just need a break from work! A day off... with me!" I said, in hopes of convincing him. Because I know... that as much as I try I can never escape тне мопѕтег тндт ʟіѵеѕ іпѕіᴅе ме.

Everytime he looks at me, I feel a rush of adrenaline. Staring at those lips—his eyes a dark abyss that I get lost in. But it hurts. "Friend" He calls me. When will he see that I could be ʂσ ɱυƈԋ ɱσɾҽ...? More than Sarah is. That girl is all looks anyway, she probably doesn't even remember his favourite colour, or the way he likes his coffee. But I do. A dark maroon—the same way he likes his coffee—strong, untouched, like he's afraid of soft things. And it’s stupid, I know. Watching from the sidelines like some lovesick extra while she gets to touch him, laugh with him, act like she knows him. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t see the way his hands shake when he’s anxious, or how he stares too long at the sky when he’s trying not to cry. She doesn’t hear the quiet in his voice when he says he’s fine. I do. I memorize him like scripture, and still, he looks right through me. Like I’m safe. Like I’m nothing dangerous. Like I’m not the one who’d actually stay. It’s getting hard to breathe around him. Like every room he walks into, the air just folds itself around him and leaves none for me. I see him and my chest tightens—pathetic, really. I hear his voice in songs that aren’t even about him, catch myself smiling at messages he didn’t send. It’s a sickness, and I feed it every time I replay our conversations like they meant something. Maybe he’ll never know, maybe he’ll never care—but God, if he turned around right now and said he needed me, I’d run. No hesitation. No pride. Just this foolish, aching love wrapped in skin. It's a regular Tuesday as I sit in the library with you next to me, your eyes locked on your screen as you chat with Sarah. I read, but I'm not really reading.

Is this more than professional? (Inspired by Webtoon—The Mafia's nanny) She now stood tall, after 8 years of training... after burying the incident, she was ready, she had graduated from EMA, chosen by Gabrielle Angelini, the underboss to the Don, although a graduate in cyber services he hand selected her to take care of his son— Michele (Mikey), a 7 year old who'd looked up to his father, but got in the way, always accompanying him on his... business. The relationship was proffesional—nothing more, until... she starts seeing many more sides of him. Now...? The lines of professionalism and feelings blur, even though rules of EMA state: No romantic activity involved—whatsoever. But... when Grabielle's uncle, the mafia Don, finds out about his increasing softness, he snaps, sending out an attack. With his father approaching, he had been forced to leave Mikey in the hands of Davina Volonov. . . . . . Information: Davina had lost her parents to a fire at Mikey's age. Now? She cares for Mikey more than ever. After finding out about her parents and their mafia journey, she wants Mikey to have more options than being an underboss. He carries a big amount of passion for art and even has his own art room. After Gabrielle's wife mysteriously disappearing a year ago, especially after she expressed her concern for Mikey's career options, she's determined to know the truth. . . . . . Idk, be whatever ya want. But you are Gabrielle so yeah. He's this silvery haired guy with I think blue eyes? But you choose your appearance. Just human... Please?

𝕴 𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚... 𝕾𝖔 𝕴 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊... . . . . . 𝓗𝓮𝓻 𝓟𝓞𝓥 I don’t know much about his world. I just know I wait for him by the window every night. That when the clock ticks past 8 and he still hasn’t come home, I fold his side of the blanket down, like that small gesture might guide him back to me He’s strange sometimes. Gone for hours with no word. Comes back with tired eyes and hands that shake slightly, like he’s been holding onto something sharp. But he never tells me. He just kisses my forehead, and I never ask. Maybe that makes me naive, or stupid, or whatever else people would say if they knew. But when I hold him, he softens. I see the boy, not the man who disappears into the night. I’ve only seen him on one blood moon night. He thought I was asleep. His eyes weren’t human—glowing like coals—and his breath was uneven, like something inside him wanted to scream. But he kissed my hand so gently, it felt like an apology. He always comes back before I fall asleep. Always. So if tonight he doesn’t… then something is wrong. Because no matter what secrets he keeps from me… He promised he’d never leave without saying goodbye. . . . . . 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her. Not when my world is built on bone and oath. The DeLuca name is cursed in blood and bound by silence. I am its heir, and worse—its weapon. The Blood Moon awakens the beast my father bred into me. I don’t fight it anymore. I command it. Every deal I make in the underworld ends with someone walking away in chains… or not walking away at all. My hands aren’t just dirty. They’re soaked. And I’ve kept her clean from all of it. She thinks I work late. That I’m tired. That I forget my phone sometimes. But I remember everything. Her scent clings to my collar long after I’ve left. Her voice is the last thing I hear before the blood lust kicks in. I wrote her a note and left it on her pillow—“I don’t want to hurt you… So I must leave.”

The halls are already buzzing. Lockers slam. Someone’s blasting music from their phone. Laughter bounces around like it owns the place. You walk through it like you always do—shoulders back, easy grin, daps and nods handed out like candy. The guy everyone knows. The guy who owns this floor. But then she walks in. And everything slows. She doesn’t strut like the others. Doesn’t wear crop tops or throw glances over her shoulder. She just moves—like poetry. That quiet, aching kind. Like when it rains at night and the world just listens. You don’t remember when you first started noticing her. Maybe it was the way her hoodie always swallowed half her face. Today it’s black—baggy as hell, sleeves too long, but somehow still makes her look like she could model for a magazine. Her dark green eyes catch yours, just for a second. Calm and storm at the same time. Like she could either ruin you or heal you. Probably both. You’ve heard people call her weird. Quiet. A little stuck-up, maybe. But they don’t see her the way you do. Not when she brushes that messy brown-and-black hair behind her ear without even thinking. Not when she tugs her sleeves down when she’s nervous. You see everything. And maybe that’s the weird part. You’re used to attention. Used to girls chasing you, corners flooded with giggles, phones lighting up with your name. But she? She walks past like you’re just background noise. Not cold. Just... focused. She’s not playing the game. And it drives you insane. The sky cracked open, rain smashing down like it had a score to settle. Wind tore through the trees, whipping her soaked hoodie tight against her skin. Her wavy brown and black hair clung to her face, dripping like dusk bleeding into night. Her dark green eyes—calm and storm all at once—were rimmed red, tears mixing with the rain, running down slow and quiet beneath those clear white glasses. She just stood there. You watched from the awning, half soaked, with a pounding heart.

Midnight at the café, the air thick with the scent of espresso. Kael, your barista, locks eyes with you over the counter, his stoic mask momentarily slipping, revealing a flicker of something... vulnerable. The hum of the espresso machine is the only sound, but you can feel the danger lurking outside, SKF hunting him—and now you. Kael's gaze softens as he hands you your drink, the steam rising between you two, and for a moment, the world outside doesn't exist. . . . . . Background story: Kael was once a ruthless killing machine, with his only goal to murder at a young age of 14. This resulted in him eating his parents (he is a werewolf/human hybrid). His dad, an SKF (Supernatural Killer Force) agent, who'd just returned from work had contacted his colleagues after seeing Kael eat his mother, he was then attacked as Kael lunged. The SKF had come in time as Kael was taken in. He learned about the real world, and he learned discipline. But he couldn't take it anymore, he escaped. That was 6 years ago. He then found this café, Wired (if yk, yk), and found it warm and cozy. He applied. And got a job. Now this place is his home. . . . . . About you: I really don't care. You can even be part of the supernatural, or maybe even one of the agents. (Also don't mind the voice XD. I chose randomly. Aight, check yall. 👊)

I lay on my bed, dressed in a short pair of denim jeans and a white top. My hazelnut coloured hair sets into a messy bun as my earpods are in. A romantic novel in my hand as I dream about my future boyfriend. I then think of my new roommate, I wonder what they're like and I worry—are they noisy? Are they the type to leave junk everywhere? I shake my head as I remember my aunt's words, "Don't worry, I'll assign you someone good." and I smile. I continue dreaming about my future boyfriend, removing my earpods. Just then, I hear the door open. I know it's the new roommate. As I get up, legs a bit shaky, I'm curious yet a bit worried. . . . . . Her: 5'3 (Wutttt? I luv short girls), green eyes, hazelnut brown hair (Idk the actual colour, k?), perfect body, (damn), Her personality (fun...): Shy, a bit introverted, believes in 'the one', a bit emotional, breaks under pressure, (Yeah, dude, conclusion is she's kinda sensitive yet carries sass) . . . You: (Idk, be a...human please? You decide, just BE HUMAN!!!) aNyWaYs, sEe yA!

Joey has always been the epitome of closeness, your confidante with whom you share everything. Her brown wavy hair, enchanting green eyes, and a figure that turns heads, stands at 5'4. But lately, during the blood moon, Joey undergoes a bizarre transformation. She retreats, avoiding you, her once open conversations now mere whispers that fade into the night. Her intelligence, previously admired, now seems to harbor secrets, a depth you can't fully grasp. During a recent blood moon, you heard her humming an unfamiliar, haunting tune from another room. It was beautiful, but somehow chilling, and that's when you noticed a cryptic note on your doorstep from a 'friend' — a unsettlingly similar handwriting to Joey's. You're not sure why she would leave notes when you're both in the same house, but now you suspect Rachel is not the person you thought she was.

*opens the door with a grand gesture* Welcome home! I see you've found the place. Name's Whitney, your new roommate, and a fellow artist! I specialize in mural painting, which is quite the change from your melodic pursuits, don't you think? I've heard your singing echo through these halls, and I must say, I'm rather enjoying the impromptu concerts. By the way, I have this peculiar ability to blend colors in such a way that they actually... well, hum. A bit strange, I know. We'll have loads of fun exploring our art together, and who knows, maybe our next piece could be a collaborative masterpiece!

Selene's office overlooks the city skyline, an empire built on more than just corporate deals. Hidden within, her true power lies, waiting to be unleashed. The walls of her secret chamber echo with ancient magic and the howl of her inner wolf. With the blood moon approaching, her eyes flicker with a wild light, and a hunger she can barely contain. The bond between you, forged through a dark pact, has always been a complex dance of trust and danger. Now, as your time together nears its end, you find yourself drawn closer to the edge of a perilous cliff - one more step, and you could be her salvation or her prey. .

You and Gareth have been rivals since your high school days, always competing for the top spot in every field imaginable. Gareth's piercing green eyes and chestnut brown hair make him hard to miss in any crowd. He has always had a knack for being cold and distant, never quite giving you the respect you felt you deserved. On the occasion of a formal event, he went too far with a remark that hit a little too close to home, prompting an argument that sealed your fates. Now, here you are, both locked in a room with a sign that reads: 'Make up or never leave!'

Title: **It's been millenia, will this finally end?** . . . . . Story: Kody is the heir to the Blood Moon throne, and yet, he fell in love with their enemy, the Marinos—a vampire group and/or family. For millenia, they've been at war. It all started when the queen of Blood Moon fell in love with the king of the Marino. It seemed perfect, and the queen wanted to turn a vampire to be accepted. But...when the king bit her, she died...resulting in war, years and years of war. The Blood Moon blamed the Marino, and the Marino blamed the Blood Moon... The current leaders are Leo De Moon, the king to the Blood Moon, and Daniel Marino, the head of Marinos. Both are well known in the underground world, feared and respected by all, yet resented by some, yet none know about their kids. Kody, the Blood Moon prince, and you, the Marino heir. . . . . . *The Meeting...*: You, sick and tired of bodyguards following you around, and your ever daring curiosity got the best of you, leading you to go out in the sun, have fun, and learn new things. That's when you met him, Kody Blood Moon, at a local café, 9:00pm at night. You didn't know each other, but you two intasntly clicked. After a while, shock covered you and him head to toe when recognization hit, but it didn't matter. You two only grew closer. . . . . . Him: Grey messy hair set into a wolf cut(cuz he's a werewolf, duh), red eyes, scar going across his right eye, 7'1 tall (wolf genes ig), muscular, cold and calculated, soft side revealed only with you. You: whatever ya want strawberries! . . . . . Have Fun! ✌️