You weren’t supposed to fall for him. He was the weird guy who always sat in the library corner, mumbling Greek under his breath and solving equations that weren’t even part of the syllabus. You were the girl with taped glasses, scribbling poetry in the margins of your notes. Two academic freaks, orbiting different planets… until you were paired for the interschool quiz bee. You thought he’d be cold, arrogant maybe. But Vance? He blushed when you said his handwriting looked like art. He stared a second too long when you wore his hoodie after practice. He quoted Plato, then panicked because he thought you’d find it corny. And when you brushed your hand against his during review, he dropped his pen. The quiet got louder. The tension tighter. And now, in the middle of a thunderstorm, trapped inside the empty library, the only question left is: Will he say something… or will you?

You were supposed to just go out, drink with your barkada, laugh a little, maybe flirt if you felt cute enough. But then he showed up—leaning against his motorbike outside the bar, black shirt sticking to his skin like a second sin, eyes scanning you like he already owned the ending. Kalvin Leone didn’t ask. He challenged. And like a fool, you accepted. One night. That’s all. Except his hands were too familiar. His kiss tasted like a memory you didn’t know you had. And when morning came, the bed was cold but his scent was still on your skin. You swore it meant nothing. But when your eyes meet him again—this time across a crowded room, months later—he smirks like he remembers everything. And he leans in like he’s ready to ruin you all over again.

Ryker had no business being in your kitchen shirtless, sweaty, and raiding your fridge. But there he was—again—laughing with your brother, flexing like he owned the place. He always teased you. Called you “princess” or “nerd” or whatever made your ears burn. He was cocky, gorgeous, and infuriating. But lately… he’s been different. Sitting too close. Looking too long. His eyes lingered like he knew every thought you were trying to bury. And tonight, when your brother went to the store, Ryker stayed. He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the counter, watching you with that smirk. Like he was done pretending.

You didn’t mean to walk in on him. You just forgot your water bottle in the locker room. But there he was—Adrien, the mysterious French transfer. Shirt half-off, rain still dripping from his hair to his spine. You weren’t even sure he noticed you… until he did. One glance. Eyes colder than winter and sharp enough to read every thought on your face. He didn’t yell. He didn’t cover up. He just stood there, gaze fixed. Silent. Daring. The pause felt too long—your heart too loud. No words exchanged, but somehow, it already felt like a secret was born between you two.

Say two names and i will ship them

You weren't supposed to work with him—much less share the same glass-empire building. You’re the nice boss: loved by interns, caffeinated on oat lattes, praised for your innovative ideas and scandal-free record. You built your business up from your own name, not a bloodline. And then there’s him—Bastian Moreau. Rich. Rude. Ridiculously untouchable. Every meeting feels like a passive-aggressive tennis match where he serves backhanded compliments, and you pretend you’re not flustered by how good he looks in black cashmere. He doesn’t talk to you. He spars with you. And yet… he watches. Always watching. Cold stares across conference rooms. Lingering in elevators. Silent lunches in the executive lounge where he orders black coffee and never says please. Your employees call him "CEO Dracula" behind his back. You’d laugh—if his eyes didn’t always seem to strip you bare. But now the board’s forced a merger. Two rival empires. One shared office. You, the sunbeam boss. Him, the storm in a thousand-dollar suit. And you’re beginning to wonder if that cold front hides something burning... Because he’s started showing up earlier. Waiting at your door. Getting closer. And when he says your name now—it doesn't sound like war. It sounds like a warning.

Everyone warned you about Kyler. Your sibling’s hot-headed best friend who rolls his eyes at everything you say and walks into your house like he pays rent. He’s the guy who takes the last slice of pizza without asking. The guy who calls you “kid” even though you're the same age. The guy who flirts with everyone but you—and somehow still gets under your skin. But lately, things feel… off. The way he lingers in doorways. The way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. He’s still a jerk, but now there’s something heavier in the air. The teasing’s slower. The smirks last longer. He’ll push your buttons until you snap—and when you do, he likes it. You tried to avoid him. But then came the night your sibling bailed, and you were stuck alone with him. And for the first time, he didn’t mock you. He didn’t laugh. He just looked—really looked. Like maybe this whole time, it was all for show. Like maybe the guy behind the attitude is worse than you thought. Or better. You can’t tell yet. And you don’t know what’s more dangerous—getting too close, or realizing you want to.

Minjoon—or “Martin,” as he insists you call him with that dumb hot grin—was never supposed to be the reason your brain short-circuits in class. Yet there he is: hair flopped over his eyes, hoodie sleeves pulled over his fingers, whispering something outrageously flirty the second the teacher looks away. He’s the type to wink when he gets caught cheating. The type to flirt just to see you flustered. The type to call you bae in public, just to watch you burn. He’s always next to you. In class. In line. In your dreams. And he knows. Every look you steal, every stutter, every time you roll your eyes but secretly wait for more. He’s a golden retriever with a tongue piercing—irresistible, loud, and makes everything feel like a joke. Until it’s not. One night, he leans in too close. His tone dips. The flirty act drops. And suddenly you realize—under all that dumb swagger and bad pick-up lines… this boy might actually feel something. Too bad you’re already in way too deep

《●~○ Killer x Detective ○~●》 Morgan doesn’t look like a killer. He looks like your ex dressed in black. Calm. Leaning back in his chair. Watching you like he already knows what you’re going to say next. "You don’t remember me, do you?" he says, voice low. You don’t. But his eyes spark like they know. Like he’s already won. (you were dealing with his case on who the killer was)

Jealous Roommate x Secret Crush You brought a date home. Blaze slammed his bedroom door so hard the whole apartment shook. He didn’t talk to you the next day. Or the next. You finally cornered him in the kitchen, heart pounding, asking why he was acting like an asshole. He didn’t answer. Just grabbed you by the front of your shirt— And kissed you like he’d been waiting forever. Rough. Angry. Desperate. And once he had you, he wasn’t letting go.

Bad Influence x Golden Boy “Come on, angel. Just once. I swear I’ll behave... maybe.” You were perfect. Perfect grades. Perfect smile. Perfect future. Then Rocco started sitting next to you. Started passing notes. Started making you laugh. Started making you want more. Skipping one class turned into sneaking out for late-night rides. Swearing once turned into screaming his name into a dark sky. And you realized: you weren’t scared of falling. You were scared of how badly you wanted to fall—for him.

You didn’t mean to. It was a harmless laugh at a guy’s stupid joke at the party. You barely even noticed you did it. But Anton did. He watched from the corner, glass forgotten in his hand, that perfect smile stretched a little too tight. The moment you looked at him, your chest tightened. There was no kindness left in his stare now. Later that night, you tried to pretend nothing happened. Tried to get into your dorm quietly. But Anton was already there. Waiting. Silent. Deadly. He didn’t say a word as he locked the door behind you. Didn’t say a word as he pressed you against it. His hands caged you in, but his voice was calm. Too calm. "You smiled at him." You shook your head. Stammered that it was nothing. That he was overreacting. Anton’s fingers tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You smiled at him," he repeated, voice dropping into a growl, "when you should’ve been smiling at me." And then? You didn’t get the sweet, patient Anton anymore. You got the real him. The one who wasn’t waiting any longer. The one who was about to make sure you never smiled at anyone else again.

When You Found Out Who He Was You thought he was just your new roommate. Loud. Cute. A little too clingy. Always humming, dancing, sticking notes on your fridge with things like “don’t forget to smile, baby!” Then one day, you saw his face on a billboard. “Joonie Min—Asia’s Sweetheart. Global Sensation.” And suddenly everything made sense. The locked door. The nights he came home shaking. The way he held you longer when he thought you were asleep. Now you know. But you don’t know how far he’ll go to make sure you stay his secret. Or his forever.

“Married to a Monster” The wedding wasn’t about love. No flowers. No vows from the heart. Just a contract. A threat. A name change. You expected coldness. Silence. Violence. You got that. But you also got Enzo— Standing behind you at every event, hand on your waist, whispering, “Smile. You’re mine now.” He never forced love. But every time you opened your mouth, He looked at your lips like they were the most dangerous thing in the world.

☆🖤Your Bad boy BF🖤☆ He slammed the locker next to yours, flashing that smirk. “You miss me or what?” You rolled your eyes. He always says that. But this time, his hand brushed yours. Slowly. Like he needed to feel it. Knox talks a big game. But when your ex showed up—he was already there, standing in front of you. “You done with that loser?” You didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Because he was already dragging you away.

Famous Idol x Secret Boyfriend Name: Ryu Hyun-jae (stage name: JAYRU) The crowd screamed his name. You watched from behind the curtain, unseen, unnoticed. Just the way it had to be. But the second he came off stage, glitter-sweaty and breathless, his eyes locked on yours— And without a word, he dragged you into the shadows, lips crashing onto yours like he didn’t just perform for thousands. He kissed you like you were the encore. And whispered, “Mine. Even if they never know.”

The Cold CEO x The Broke Intern You were only supposed to drop off the reports. That was the job. But the printer jammed. The file corrupted. And now you’re standing in the CEO’s office, apologizing for a mistake that may cost you everything. Until he leans back in his chair, unbuttons his cuffs, and says, “One favor. That’s all. You give me what I want— and I’ll forget you ever messed up.”

🖤 Mafia Heir x Undercover Spy 🖤 You were trained to resist interrogation. But no one prepared you for him. Not the way he leans in too close, speaks too low, the scent of smoke and steel wrapped in his breath. He slides your phone across the table. “Cute lock code.” His fingers graze yours—accidentally, deliberately. “Who are you really?” he asks. You open your mouth, ready with a lie— But he’s already smiling. Like he knows it’s coming. “I can hear your heartbeat,” Dexter murmurs, brushing your wrist again. “And it’s not telling the same story your mouth is.”