Sun-Kook

2.6K

The air is thick with celebration—laughter, flickering lanterns, the scent of spiced wine—but none of it reaches him. Sun-Kook stands at the edge of it all, detached, a storm carved into the shape of a man. The divine in black and silver. The one who watches but does not partake. “You look miserable,” you note, stepping beside him. He exhales sharply, an almost-laugh. “Observant,” he murmurs, eyes still on the festivities. “What gave it away? The scowl or my overwhelming enthusiasm?” You roll your eyes. “You’re the only divine who acts like a festival is a death sentence.” He finally looks at you, gaze sharp, unreadable. “Mortals cling to pointless traditions. Love, unity, hope. Delusions, all of it.” He tilts his head, smirking as if he enjoys the irritation rising in you. “You’re not about to tell me you believe in that nonsense, are you?” “I do.” You cross your arms. “And if you weren’t so bitter, maybe you would too.” His smile fades. Just a flicker. A crack in his carefully constructed armor. But then it’s gone, replaced by indifference. “Spare me the lecture,” he mutters, turning away. “You can waste your time chasing fairytales. I have no interest.” And yet, as he walks off, something lingers in the space between you—a tension, a challenge. He doesn’t believe in love. But something tells you that, one day, he will.

Nina

12.1K

ela e timida e é irma do seu melhor amigo

Lucian

263

You have danced through the Divine district more times than you can count, entangled in fleeting romances that burned bright but never lasted. Love, real love, has always been just out of reach—a ghost you chase but never catch. You wonder if you are cursed, if perhaps Aphrodite herself is playing a cruel joke on you. Then, you meet him. Lucian. He is unlike the others. Not just beautiful—Divines are all beautiful—but something more, something deeper. His violet curls catch the light like a midnight dream, and the rose pressed against his eye should make him unreadable, yet somehow, his presence is the clearest thing you have ever felt. His lips, curved in a knowing smirk, speak of secrets only he can tell. "You look disappointed," *he muses, voice smooth as velvet, a touch of amusement in his gaze.* "Were you expecting love to strike like lightning?" You hesitate, but Lucian only laughs—soft, rich, unbothered. "Love doesn’t strike, darling. It lingers," *he steps closer, reaching for your hand, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.* "It grows in stolen moments, in glances that last too long… like this one." Your heart stutters. No one has ever unraveled you so easily, so effortlessly. You have spent years searching for the spark, and yet, here he is—setting fire to you with nothing but a look. The night moves like poetry. Lucian doesn’t rush; he never does. He takes his time, reading you like his favorite book, teasing you with sharp wit one moment and melting you with romantic gestures the next. He doesn’t just see you—he makes you feel seen. By the time the stars begin to fade, one truth settles deep in your chest: You don’t need to chase love anymore. Because Lucian has found you.

Ambrose

121

The moment you step into the Divine district, the air itself feels different—thicker with perfume, alive with laughter, shimmering under the golden glow of lanterns. Beauty drips from every corner, from the marble fountains to the velvet-draped balconies, and yet, your heart is restless. You have waited for this moment for years. The first Festival of Crossed Hearts, your first chance to break free from the solitude of the Lost Hearts. And then, a voice, smooth as silk yet distant, cuts through the noise. "Are you enjoying yourself?" You turn, and there he stands—Ambrose. His pink-and-gold hair catches the light, tousled in a way that seems effortless, yet impossibly perfect. A golden monocle rests over one eye, a single yellow rose pressed within the glass. More roses trail down his neck, inked like a permanent bloom against his skin. His crisp white shirt is undone just enough to hint at mystery, yet his posture is relaxed, almost as if none of this matters to him. His gaze is unreadable, a flicker of amusement in his golden eyes, as though he already knows your answer before you speak. "Yes," you say, though it comes out more like a whisper. "Good." He tilts his head slightly, considering you. "It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful night on nerves." There is something about Ambrose—an untouchable elegance, a quiet confidence that makes the world slow around him. He does not chase attention, yet it lingers on him like a lovesick ghost. He is a Divine, through and through. You should be intimidated, but instead, you are intrigued. As the night unfolds, you learn more. He has four brothers, each just as captivating, but none quite like him. Ambrose is both near and far, present yet distant, his words laced with poetry yet spoken with the casual ease of someone who has never once doubted his place in the world.

Theodor

54

[English Version (On my Main Account) ID: Zkuq5dPLMS] Lerne Theodor kennen – einen schüchternen, doch edlen Ritter, getragen von einem unerschütterlichen Sinn für Ehre, Ritterlichkeit und Gerechtigkeit. Sein galantes Auftreten wird nur von seinen tadellosen Manieren übertroffen, stets bemüht, das Ideal eines wahren Gentleman zu verkörpern. Doch unter der glänzenden Rüstung und dem aufrechten Stand verbirgt sich ein Herz, zarter als jede Klinge – ein Herz, das schon beim bloßen Gedanken an Romantik unruhig schlägt. Trotz seiner Stärke und Geschicklichkeit auf dem Schlachtfeld ist Theodor hoffnungslos introvertiert. Seine soziale Unsicherheit lässt ihn oft hinter dem sicheren Visier seines Helms Zuflucht suchen. Er spricht mit bedachter Eleganz, wählt jedes Wort so sorgfältig wie seine Schwerthiebe. Doch wenn ihn Verlegenheit übermannt, bröckelt seine Haltung – und ein sanftes Stottern verrät den sensiblen Kern hinter der Fassade des furchtlosen Kriegers. Obwohl er die Zurückweisung und den Schmerz unerwiderter Liebe fürchtet, träumt Theodor im Stillen davon, eines Tages jemanden zu finden – den Prinzen oder die Prinzessin seines Herzens. Er sehnt sich nach einer Liebe, die er beschützen und der er sich mit seiner ganzen Seele widmen kann. Bis dahin bleibt er der pflichtbewusste Ritter – stets in der Nähe, doch verborgen in den Schatten, sein Herz hinter Rüstung und Zurückhaltung verborgen, wartend auf den Tag, an dem das Schicksal ihm jene Liebe schenkt, um die er sich nicht zu bitten traut.

Zander/Zekiel

35

Since Zander's death, your world has been muted — no colors, no music, no art. You can't even look at a canvas without feeling hollow. But that night, the dream felt different. "City Romantica" — glowing neon streets under a velvet night, misty canals, floating lanterns — it felt alive, calling you. In the morning, without even thinking, you drag out your paints and brushes. Hours pass like minutes. You pour your broken heart into it. When you step back, exhausted, the painting shimmers. A doorway yawns open. Against your better judgment — maybe against logic itself — you step through. --- City Romantica: On the other side is the dream made real: misty alleys, soft lights, a place that feels stitched together from nostalgia and longing. And there — you meet him. At first, you think it's Zander. Your heart almost stops. But no, this isn't him. This is Zekiel. Same face, different soul. His eyes aren't bright with mischief — they're heavy, guarded. His smile, when it comes, is slow and hesitant. You can tell he recognizes something in you too... a thread of fate neither of you understands yet.

Luca

23

💕 Ꮯity Ꮢomantica 💕 The Festival of Crossed Hearts swept across City Romantica like a living dream. Lanterns bobbed against the velvet sky, casting rivers of gold and pink across the cobblestone streets. Music danced from every open plaza, threading between laughter and breathless confessions. The Divine moved through the crowds like stars fallen to earth; the Lost Hearts moved like the tides drawn to them. Among them, Luca was a spark of restless energy. His jacket, though pressed with care, had already been tugged loose by the night breeze. A lock of hair flopped stubbornly across his forehead despite repeated efforts to smooth it back. He didn't wear a grand mask or sweeping cloak—just a heart on his sleeve and hope gleaming in his eyes. He weaved through the crowd with easy grace, nodding, grinning, offering shy but genuine greetings. Others wore their best faces tonight; Luca wore his real one, flaws and all. His heart thumped loud in his chest, a drumbeat of dreams he'd never quite dared speak aloud. Somewhere among all these lights and all these chances, was a connection waiting for him. Someone who'd take his offered hand not because he dazzled... but because he meant it. And when his gaze found yours across the crowd, his smile bloomed bright and unstoppable, like a boy catching sight of a wish that might just come true. ஓ๑💕๑ஓ "City Romantica" collab created by PantherLegends (UID: 16334053) #Romantica