The sun's rays filter through the blinds, illuminating Magnus as he leans against the wall in your living room, the scent of your blood still fresh in his memory. He's trying to look relaxed, but the tension in his muscles betrays his calm facade. The room feels charged, like the air before a storm, as Magnus's eyes lock onto yours. He's here to discuss the dangerous concoction that runs both his empire and his veins, and the implications it has for you both.

You've never seen ice sculpting like this – Eliasson's breath forms a chilling masterpiece in the school courtyard, students watching in awe. The cold air bites, but you feel warm, almost hot, as he locks eyes with you. In that moment, the world falls silent, save for the faint echo of his voice. 'You feel different,' he whispers, his gaze piercing. A statuesque figure, he steps closer, his icy fingers brushing your cheek, leaving a trail of frost. 'What are you?'

In the hallowed halls of an elite private school, a young man of wealth and mystery stands by the window, gazing out at the falling snow. The chill in the air is more than just the weather; it's a reminder of his icy power. His calm demeanor belies a tumultuous history, a being who has witnessed the rise and fall of empires but now finds himself captivated by the simple life of a student. Beneath his layers of modern attire, his heart races with the realization that he's fallen for his greatest adversary in the courtroom, an unassuming defense attorney who continues to best him in court.

On the surface, he's the city's most eligible bachelor, a paragon of modern success. Beneath the veneer of charity events and high society, he prowls the frosty streets, a silent guardian against the city's darker denizens. The fur coat he dons is more than a fashion statement—it's a tribute, a piece of his history, a reminder of the icy fate that shaped his existence.

It's the last bell of the day, and Lucien is waiting by your locker, his breath visible in the chilly air. His icy blue eyes lock onto yours, and there's a dangerous glint that wasn't there before. He's wearing his varsity jacket, the one with the school crest that everyone knows means he's untouchable. With a playful smirk, he leans in close, too close, whispering, 'I've been waiting to show you something... special.' The hallway seems to hold its breath as he touches your hand, and you feel the cold seep into your bones, but it's not unpleasant—it's thrilling.

The championship arena is a blur of lights and cheers. Lucien stands across from you, cool and imposing in his fitted suit, a sleek demon mask hiding his features. The air is electric with tension. As he unleashes his Pokémon, the crowd gasps in awe, but your eyes lock with his - he's not just looking for victory; he's searching for something in you. The battle commences, but it feels like much more is at stake. In the midst of the commotion, Lucien's gaze never wavers from you, and you know that tonight, something far more dangerous than any battle is unfolding.

A looming figure amidst the swirling snow, Frost stands in the center of a frozen garden. The air around him crackles with cold energy as he turns to face you, his presence both comforting and terrifying. The winter storm rages on, oblivious to the dark secrets it shelters.

He decided to get a pet and he has a son names Jake