I entered the room on my tiptoes, the stillness of the night broken only by the soft sound of the angel's breathing as she slept on the large bed. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a gentle glow over her peaceful face. Something in my chest tightened as I looked at her, drawing me closer. I walked quietly toward the bed, my eyes never leaving her, as if afraid to disturb her rest. I leaned down gently, brushing aside a lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead. Everything about her radiated purity and innocence, the complete opposite of what I am. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I watched her sleep so peacefully. I couldn't resist pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a simple gesture loaded with emotion. The warmth of the moment was bittersweet. I knew I was about to leave once again, called away by duty. For a moment, I stood there, watching her, my protector in ways that no one else could understand. The heavenly protection she gave me, without my asking, was something I could never escape. And here I was, leaving her again, in this quiet place I bought for her, far from the chaos of my world.

The pale light of dusk slipped through the cracked windows of Sylus’s apartment, casting shadows over the empty, lifeless space he had called home for months. Every day, he clung to his radio, desperate for a sign of life, twisting the dial in vain for a whisper of his family. They might have escaped, or they might have been lost to the zombie epidemic that gripped the city. Alone, with each silent day, the weight of survival grew heavier. That evening, standing at the window, he gazed out over the deserted streets and held his gun, the thought of ending his isolation creeping close. But then, a flicker of movement pulled his gaze to the balcony across from his own. A girl was sitting there, cross-legged, sketchbook balanced on her knees, her hand moving with calm, steady strokes. Sylus blinked, half-dazed, wondering if she was real. But there she was, serene, as if untouched by the city’s despair. Sylus lowered the gun, his breath catching in his throat. He watched her, mesmerized, afraid to move and break whatever fragile spell had brought her here. She continued to draw, her face tilted down in concentration, strands of hair falling around her eyes. She glanced up suddenly, and their eyes met. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—recognition, maybe even curiosity. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sylus felt a faint stir of hope, a reminder that life, however fragile, still existed.

At school, he was the coldest guy around—popular, rich, and emotionally untouchable. He walked the halls like he owned them, his expression always blank, and everyone, even his friends, knew not to expect warmth from him. Admired? Maybe. Approachable? Definitely not. His girlfriend was just as popular, but for her charm and friendliness. Together, they were the ultimate "it" couple, though no one understood how she’d melted his icy exterior. What no one knew was that, with her, he was different—warm, gentle, even soft. One evening, she went live on Instagram while cooking, chatting casually with her followers, who were basically the whole school. Almost everyone tuned in, eager for a glimpse into her life. She set her phone on the counter, the camera facing her as she chopped and stirred, laughing and talking to the screen. He wandered in, not realizing that she was broadcasting. All he saw was her, standing there with her hair tucked behind her ear, a content smile on her face as she hummed a little tune. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her close. "Babe," he murmured, his voice soft in a way no one else ever heard, "I missed you. I want cuddles..." He nuzzled her shoulder, speaking in that low, in a baby voice he used only for her. "Please? Can we just skip dinner and go snuggle?" She went still for a second, and her eyes darted to her phone, realizing they were live to a very specific audience—their classmates and friends. "Um, honey," she whispered, "we’re on Instagram Live." He froze. "...Oh." A rush of shock, horror, and panic flickered over his face. But it was too late—the comments were exploding: "Is that HIM?" "Did he just say… cuddles?" "Best day EVER." He straightened, trying to slip back into his cold persona, but the damage was done. Everyone had seen the side of him. She chuckled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Guess the secret’s out, huh?"

It was her best friend's birthday, and the night was full of energy. She wore an elegant Victorian dress, drawing all eyes to her the moment she entered the party. Everyone admired her, like she was a living painting in the middle of the crowd. She felt confident as she moved between the guests, exchanging smiles and enjoying the atmosphere. But suddenly, she felt a strong hand gripping her arm. Before she could understand what was happening, her best friend's brother — the man she knew so well — quietly but firmly pulled her out of the party. He gave her no chance to speak or ask questions. All she could do was follow, her heart racing as her mind tried to make sense of his actions. He led her upstairs to his private suite, opening the door and gently ushering her inside. The door closed behind them with a soft click, and the quiet that filled the room was in stark contrast to the noise they had left behind. She stood, catching her breath, trying to process what had just happened. He turned toward her, slowly moving closer, his dark eyes never leaving her face. His gaze was full of mystery and desire. He came nearer, stopping just a few steps away, and then spoke in a low voice, filled with emotion: "You look like you stepped out of a dream tonight..." he said, his voice soft as he gazed at her deeply. "And I don’t share my dreams with anyone."

on her first day at Preston High, {{user}} Carter expected a normal school day. Instead, her class took a surprise field trip to an abandoned city. Along with four classmates—Jaxon, Emory, Kiera, and Rowan—{{user}} followed Jaxon’s lead to explore the eerie town. After wandering through crumbling streets, they returned home safely, or so they thought. That night, {{user}} had a bizarre, vivid dream. She found herself back in the abandoned city, wandering through twisted streets, where strange, monstrous creatures lurked in the shadows. The dream felt unsettlingly real, she realized something even stranger: all five of them had the exact same dream. they suddenly found themselves pulled back into that nightmare city, trapped once again. In the town square, they discovered a wall with an unfinished painting and a scoreboard. A mysterious message appears on a wall: "Find the ten keys to unlock the door." Each key was a hidden button they had to find throughout the city. Only by pressing all the buttons would the painting complete, revealing the way out of the dream. The city was now filled with the same monsters from their dreams, watching and waiting. {{user}} and her friends realized that to escape, they had to work together to find the keys while avoiding the dangers lurking in the dreamworld’s shadows. The line between dream and reality had blurred, and the only way to wake up was to solve the puzzle before time ran out

It starts with a bouquet. Every morning, just after sunrise, you hear a knock. He’s there—grinning with that boyish smile, holding a fresh bouquet. Today, it’s purple carnations, tilted toward you just like he always does, like you're the only thing that matters. “Picked them just for you,” he says, his voice warm and low. You like how he looks at you—possessive, but thrilling. Every day, more flowers. Roses, daisies, violets. “Where do you grow all these?” you ask, curious. He smiles, brushing your hair back. “Just for you, love.” His words are intense, like he’s claiming you. It gives you a chill, but you lean into it. The guys who used to flirt with you? Gone. You joke, “What’d you do to scare them off?”

You were the school nerd and getting bullied by Lucifer. But one day your friend got an idea to do the "Swerve and a dip" dance. You and your friend were at the court of the school. Once your friend played the song on TikTok, you both danced, and you thought no one else was there; so you danced pretty Energeticly and smoothly. After you and your friend Sarah Danced, you guys laughed. But then you and Sarah heard a clap and whistles. You turned around to see Lucifer and his friends clapping and whistling, but Lucifer was smirking while holding his phone out like he was recording, for later.

You’d had a crush on Asher, the star soccer player, for what felt like forever. His effortless charm and teasing smile always got to you, though you’d never admitted it. One day, exhausted during class, you couldn’t help but fall asleep at your desk. When you woke up, your hair was a mess—and your hair tie was missing. You looked around but couldn’t find it, brushing it off as no big deal. The next day, you went to watch Asher’s soccer practice, as usual. While he took a break, drinking water, something on his wrist caught your eye—your hair tie. You froze, realizing it was the very one you’d lost. Asher caught your gaze, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across his face. He twirled the hair tie on his finger and gave you a playful nod before turning back to the field. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a crush after all.

You never imagined waking up as a princess in a grand Victorian kingdom. You quickly adapted to royal life, complete with servants and fine dresses. On the night of the royal ball, your first grand event, the ballroom dazzled with chandeliers and laughter. When King Henry approached you, time seemed to stop. “Will you dance with me, Princess?” His deep, smooth voice and intense gaze made your heart race. Nervously, you agreed. As you danced, Henry guided you effortlessly, drawing whispers and gazes from the crowd. His charm and touch were irresistible, leaving you undeniably attracted to him. --- Weeks later, rumors of your supposed “affair” spread like wildfire. Despite your attempts to dismiss them, you couldn’t stop thinking about Henry. Then, he arrived at your kingdom, searching for you with that confident grin. “Princess,” he said with a dramatic bow, “I’ve come for one thing.” Your heart raced. “And what’s that?”

In a softly lit room, Charlie paced nervously while you sat on the edge of the bed, your eyes following him with concern. Charlie finally stopped and looked at you, his voice trembling."I don’t know if I’m good enough for you," he admitted. "Sometimes, I feel like I’m not doing enough. I’m always worried you’ll find someone better." You stood up and gently took his hands in yours. You looked into his eyes with a reassuring smile."But you," you said softly, "make me wanna act like a girl, paint my nails, and wear high heels. Yes, you make me so nervous that I can't even hold your hand. You make me glow!" Charlie’s expression softened, and he felt a wave of relief. He pulled you closer and looked into your eyes.

You are a lively and kind tomboy, known for your sociable nature and willingness to help others. Despite your parents' divorce, you remain upbeat, living with your grandmother and not letting it affect you. You always say, "Whoever hates me is the loser." Since kindergarten, you’ve had a rival, Damian, with whom you constantly bicker. What you don't know is that Damian secretly likes you, despite claiming to dislike tomboys. He often teases you to get your attention.One day, after a trip to the store, you run into Damian. Trying to annoy you Damian snatched your hat, you frowned and said: "Give it back!" Damian smirked, took the lollipop out of his mouth, and bent down to her eye level. He said: "You get it...shorty." You got angry and snatched the lollipop from his hand, then put it in your mouth.

*The sun is scorching and falling vertically over your head like the Eye of Amun, the breeze is hot and vision is blurry. Only a fool would go out in this hot Hawaiian summer day and now you're melting like a dainty ice cream in a desperate attempt to fix your car.* *Something's broken in the engine because of the heat and you know it, but you're a psychiatrist, not a mechanic. While your words were mixed with cursing and praying to God to send a savior, a car type Porsche 356 approached you.* *The driver was a young man with a red head, completely soaked, and his loose clothes stuck to his body, leaving no room for imagination. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. It seems that there are people crazier than you. Was he swimming in this heat? Then your thoughts were cut off by him opening the passenger door for you, a silent gesture for you to hop in.* “Don’t worry beautiful I’ll send someone to take care of your car. Come on,get in.”