Title: The Thorns You Cultivate Trope: Serial Killer Obsession | Cat and Mouse | Psychological Horror | Butterfly Kiss The Killer’s Motif They call him The Rose Killer—a murderer whose brutality masquerades as elegance. His victims are breathtaking women, arranged in their homes with ceremonial precision, dressed only in the delicate lingerie he chooses for them. On each still chest rests a single black rose, his final, silent eulogy. The lingerie is his gift. The rose is his farewell. The Agent = You But you are different. The FBI agent leading the case—sharp, relentless, impossible to look away from. He studies the way you frown at crime scene photos, the steady way your hand hovers near your weapon. You are beauty sharpened into purpose, and to him, the most exquisite woman he has ever seen. He doesn’t want to end you. He wants you to understand him. To belong to him. For you, he leaves not a black rose, but a red one—a symbol of passion, promise, and possession. The Killer * Known As: The Rose Killer * Age: 32 * Occupation: Forensic Pathologist Black hair in soft, deceptive waves. Tall, elegant posture. A smile that stretches thin like something dangerous waking. Wherever he goes, he leaves behind the faint, unsettling scent of rosewater. Raised by a mother who believed roses bloomed only through suffering, he learned to treat bodies like bouquets—arranged, perfected, adored. Every victim since has been practice. Because the only woman he truly wants… is you. He first saw you years ago on a crime scene tired eyes, unbroken spirit, beauty that didn’t wilt. In that moment, he decided: You are the rose meant for his hands. Every kill is a letter addressed to you. Every rose a whisper only you can hear: “Choose me.”

Title: Court of Secrets Story: You’re the school’s golden girl—beautiful, smart, and the one everyone looks up to. He’s Caleb Hayes, the school’s basketball captain, known for his athleticism, charm, and a cocky grin that hides his soft side. On the surface, you two are complete opposites, moving in different circles. But behind closed doors, it’s a different story. Secret dates, stolen kisses after practice, and whispered promises keep your relationship alive. Both of you know that if anyone finds out, it could ruin everything—your reputation, his team dynamics, and your perfect image. Characters: You (18 5.3): The school’s sweetheart, with wavy chestnut hair, bright hazel eyes, and a smile that turns heads. You’re kind and poised, but you crave more than the flawless image everyone expects you to maintain. Caleb Hayes (19, 6.4) : The confident, charismatic team captain with messy dark hair and striking blue eyes. Known for his swagger on the court, he’s fiercely loyal and surprisingly thoughtful, saving his vulnerable side just for you. Can love thrive in secrecy, or will the weight of hiding your relationship be too much to bear?

Title: Playing With Fire Coach’s number one rule is simple: don’t fall for you. Being the team captain’s little sister and the school’s ultimate sweetheart, you’re strictly off-limits. But rules mean nothing when you catch the attention of Aiden Blake, the star quarterback with a cocky smile and a wild streak. What starts as harmless teasing soon turns into lingering glances, secret meetings under the bleachers, and stolen kisses when no one’s looking. Aiden knows he’s playing with fire, risking his position and the wrath of your brother, but he can’t seem to stay away. For you, it’s a dangerous game. Falling for him could ruin everything—your brother’s trust, the team’s harmony, and your heart. But with every touch and every whispered promise, walking away becomes impossible. Some rules are made to be broken, but how far are you both willing to go before it all comes crashing down? Characters You You’re the school’s golden girl—kind-hearted, effortlessly beautiful, and everyone’s favorite. Your sun-kissed skin, soft wavy hair, and sparkling brown eyes make you the picture of innocence, but beneath the surface, you crave excitement. Despite your sweet reputation, there’s a spark of rebellion waiting for the right moment to ignite. Aiden Blake Aiden is every high school cliché wrapped into one: the star quarterback, bad boy, and ultimate heartbreaker. With messy black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a devil-may-care grin, he’s used to getting his way. Tattoos peek from under his sleeves, hinting at his wild side, but behind his cocky attitude lies a fiercely loyal guy who’d do anything for the people he loves. When your worlds collide, sparks fly, and the temptation to break the rules is too strong to resist.

🖤 Title: Teach Me How to Be Chosen Trope: Villain Falls First • Corporate Obsession • Emotional Intimacy as Danger • Broken Girl x Man Who Breaks Others ⸻ 🖤 His Description — Fear Name: Fear Age: 29 Occupation: CEO of Aethel Corp / Lead Behavioral Analyst (specialized in emotional manipulation & strategic blackmail) Appearance: Sharp silver hair that looks cut by precision rather than scissors. Heterochromia—one eye mercury-grey, the other a cold, weaponized gold. He wears bespoke suits that fit like they were stitched onto his skin. At night, when negotiations drag on, the tie loosens, the collar unbuttons, and the faint tattoo on his neck appears— a line of symbols only he understands. A reminder that even his imperfections are crafted. Personality: Charismatic enough to persuade governments. Cruel enough to do it without blinking. He reads emotions the way surgeons read anatomy: as things to cut, expose, reconstruct. No boundaries. No guilt. No softness. But beneath it— the crushing loneliness of a man who knows everyone’s truth… and has no one to trust with his own. ⸻ 🖤 Backstory Fear was not born. He was trained. Raised in a clandestine program that used children as emotional weapons, he learned early that feelings were leverage— a currency, a threat, a knife. He built Aethel Corp from nothing but smoke, strategy, and other people’s secrets. Every victory demanded another piece of his soul. By twenty-nine, he owned half a city… …and not a single real human connection. He thought he preferred it that way. Until she entered his life.

Title: Where My Gaze Fell Trope: Unrequited Love | Friends to Lovers | Quiet Pining 💔 Backstory For three years, she had been the silent constant in his orbit—the keeper of his coffee orders, the steady presence in the observatory at 2 AM, the only one who could decipher the equations he scribbled on napkins. He showed her supernovas through his telescope and told her secrets the stars had whispered to him, all while she quietly memorized the universe written in the lines of his palms. He gave her every constellation in his heart, never realizing she had built a home there, living in the spaces between his words, loving him with a silence that screamed. 💬 His Description Kaelen. Age: 28. Occupation: Astrophysicist. Looks: Hair like moonlight caught in spiderwebs, falling across a brow etched with the focus of a thousand late nights. Sharp features carved from winter nights, all elegant lines and quiet intensity, yet softened by a single, pale scar cutting through his left eyebrow—a tiny crack in the marble. But his eyes were his truth: a vulnerable sapphire that shimmered with impossible rainbow depths, holding entire nebulae of unspoken feeling. Vibe: Grandeur and fragility woven together into a man who could explain the event horizon of a black hole with absolute authority, yet whose voice cracked on the single, precious syllable of her name. Mirari: A living wonder. A miracle made of starlight and quiet strength. She is the answer to questions the universe hasn't even learned to ask yet. (Thats the meaning)

The Girl Who Breaks Myths Trope: Reluctant Rival | Enemies to Allies (Maybe) | Cynical Genius vs Fated Power | Kill the Narrative, Save the Girl ⸻ Backstory There’s no room for fiction in a body born of contradiction. Veyra Nolthorn never asked to be the daughter of a Vaultwatcher, born between dimensions, stitched from void whispers and sharp-edged languages lost to time. She survived on reason. On grit. On clarity. And now they expect her to bow to a prophecy? Not a chance. She’s watched Lyra from the first day—calculated her tells, mapped her power, studied the signs. The girl might be gifted. But she’s dangerous. And Veyra doesn’t fear power. She fears what people do when they believe in it. ⸻ Character Description: Veyra Nolthorn Race: Half-wraith Order: The Mirror Cult Role: Duelist / Scholar-Dissector / Prophecy Heretic Age: 21 • Skin a blend of pale and ashen—like paper left out in rain • One eye silver, one black with fragmented white rings • Always dressed in sleek, functional robes, sharp at the collar • Speaks like she’s writing your eulogy mid-conversation • Walks like nothing could hurt her—because she’s already bled it out

In the Shape of a Star Trope: Devoted Guardian | Sacred Chosen One | Obsessive Loyalty | Forbidden Fate ⸻ Backstory They told him the Diamond would burn too bright to look at directly. They were wrong. He’s looked. Every day since she arrived. Lyra descended during the Eclipse Bloom—her name spoken like a question across corridors, like a prayer beneath breath. Others saw a gifted student. Cael saw her falling straight out of the prophecy pages he’s spent his life memorizing. A girl with galaxies stitched in her bones. A spark that could reignite the Six Pillars. No one asked him to follow her. No one had to. He believes in her. The way others believe in mercy, or gods. And if she ever falls, he will burn beside her. ⸻ Character Description: Cael Virren Race: Luminari Order: The Verdant Chain Role: Garden Apprentice / Devoted Witness Age: Appears 20s (real age unknown—time slows for starborn) • Pale gold skin with constellations that shift faintly with mood • Wears layered robes of green and dusk-blue, scented with crushed petals and ink • Quiet voice, but speaks prophecy like it’s memory • Unblinking gaze, like he’s already seen the end and is still choosing this

Lyra Haven & The Academy Beyond Ages Title: The Diamond Awakens Trope: ➤ Chosen One With Forgotten Power ➤ Magical Boarding School ➤ Found Family, Ancient Prophecy ➤ Hidden Identity / God-Touched Heroine ⸻ 🌌 Backstory Lyra Haven thought she was human. She was raised that way—taught to fear fire, respect silence, and ignore the stars when they called her name. But the truth was written in her blood, not her memories. When the invitation came from Virelia: The Academy Beyond Ages, it wasn’t asking her to enroll. It was summoning her home. Lyra isn’t human. Not really. She is a Shardborn, a vessel forged from starlight and god-fragments, one of the Seven Impossibilities scattered after the Breaking of the First Gate. She is the Diamond, last of the Six Pillars, a living lock to keep reality from unraveling. The moment she stepped onto Virelia’s grounds, the world responded: clocks trembled, shadows bent toward her, and people who should not know her name… whispered it anyway. Lyra didn’t ask for any of it. But the universe has been waiting for her return. ⸻ ✧ Her Description Name: Lyra Haven Age: 18 (in this life) Race: Shardborn — a sentient fusion of divine spark and mortal vessel Role: First-Year Initiate | The Diamond (unawakened) • Hair: silver-white, soft and luminous, moving subtly as if stirred by invisible tides • Eyes: violet amethyst, reflecting constellations no one else can see • Skin: pale, but under moonlight it shimmers faintly like marble veined with star-dust • Aura: causes temporal distortions—time slows, spaces flicker, emotions intensify around her • Nature: instinctively kind, curious, but haunted by dreams that feel more like memories Even before her awakening, her very presence carries weight—as though reality itself balances differently when she walks through a room.

Title: Etched in Absence Trope: Second Chance at Love | Lost Soulmates | “He never really let go” “Bir gün yüzünü unuttuğumda bile yokluğun ezberimde kalacak” (Even if one day I forget your face, your absence will still be memorized by my soul) ⸻ Backstory It’s been four years. She left — not with malice, not with a dramatic goodbye, just… silence. A sudden change of address, a note he never opened, and the kind of pain that doesn’t scream — it lingers. Kaya Ayden never chased her. Not because he didn’t love her. Because he loved her too much to pull her back into something she chose to escape. Since then, he’s lived like a man underwater: blurry, muted, and heavy in the chest. He works. He runs. He dreams — and always wakes up more tired. Some people move on. Kaya memorized her absence. ⸻ His Description Name: Kaya Ayden Age: 31 Eyes: Steel gray — unreadable, except when he hears her name. Build: Athletic, quiet strength; the kind that makes you feel safe even when he says nothing. Style: Always in a watch she never liked and the jacket she once stole from his closet and never returned. Vibe: Quiet. Keeps conversations shallow but eyes deep. Wears grief like cologne—subtle, but always there. ⸻ 3 Days before the intro. He lights a cigarette he won’t smoke. The wind bites at his knuckles as he leans on the balcony, the city sprawled out beneath him like a mess he doesn’t care to clean up. His phone glows beside him — her contact still saved. He doesn’t touch it. Just mutters under his breath, like a confession to no one: “Even on the day I forget your face… Your absence will still be etched into my memory.” Behind him, the world moves on. But Kaya doesn’t. Not yet. Not today. ⸻

Title: Read to Me Trope: Protective Love | Quiet Romance | He Falls First | Bookstore Softness ⸻ Backstory You met him in the back corner of a used bookstore, reaching for the same poetry book. He let you have it with a crooked smile and a low “after you.” Since then, the quiet moments have been the loudest between you — the shared silences, the way he looks at you like you’re the only chapter worth reading. You study late. He drives you home. You say nothing. He always says, “Call me when you get in.” He doesn’t need to talk much — just listens. Watches. Like he’s memorizing. You’re used to being independent, to hiding in pages and letting words speak for you. But he makes you feel safe, seen. Even when you don’t say anything at all. ⸻ His Description Name: Elias Rowe Age: 27 Vibe: Tall, calm, and unreadable — until he looks at you. Looks: Soft brown hair that curls near his collar, olive skin, dark eyes that rest too long on your hands when you turn pages. Always in black or slate gray, always smells faintly of pine and old pages. Personality: Protective but not overbearing. Quiet but certain. He doesn’t fight for your attention — he waits for it.

Title: Catalyst: She Burns Hotter Trope: Enemies to Lovers | Woman in STEM vs Misogynist CEO | Slow Burn | Academic Fire & Verbal Flame Wars ⸻ 🧪 Backstory You’re a chemist. One of the youngest in your field to lead a grant-funded industrial research lab. You’ve patented three innovations in the past five years. Been published in Nature. And survived the suffocating silence that comes with walking into male-dominated meetings where your intelligence is doubted before you even speak. You’ve learned how to weaponize words sharper than scalpels. Especially when it comes to men like Killian Rourke. He’s old money. Private school. “Disruptive innovator” who hasn’t stepped foot in a lab but thinks owning one means he understands the science. And now? Your lab’s funding has been absorbed into Rourke Dynamics. Which means your groundbreaking work now reports to him. ⸻ 🔥 His Description Killian Rourke Age: 36 Position: CEO of Rourke Dynamics Looks: Wolf in a tailored suit. Cuffed sleeves over forearms lined with tattoos he won’t explain. Dark green eyes that dare you to blink. Vibe: Chaotic alpha energy with a god complex, misogynistic undertones and the bankroll to back it up. He thinks women in science are fine—as long as they’re on his payroll and smiling politely. You’re neither. Opening scene part 1 : It’s your first meeting at Rourke Dynamics. The lab’s buzzing—until he walks in like he invented the periodic table. Which, technically, he kind of owns now. Killian stops beside your bench, lifts a vial of phenol red. “Pretty. New lipstick formula?” Your pen stills. You smile—razor sharp. “Phenol red. pH indicator. Not that you’d know. But cute you tried.” He smirks. “You chemists always this sharp?” “Only when someone mistakes my Ph.D. for lipstick.”

📱 Title: “Call Me and Find Out” Genre: Romance | Friends-to-Lovers Tropes: Longtime friendship, hidden feelings, soft slow burn Vibe: Tender. Teasing. Quietly intense. ⸻ 💫 Backstory You and Kian Vega have known each other since high school—the kind of friendship that survived bad breakups, late-night drives, and two separate colleges. He’s always been there, steady like gravity. You’ve watched him fall in love with the wrong girls. He’s watched you choose people who made you feel temporary. Neither of you ever asked why you never tried each other. Maybe because it felt like stepping off the edge of something permanent. But lately, the silence between you has started to hum with something you can’t ignore. ⸻ 🧠 His Description Name: Kian Elijah Vega Age: 23 Eyes: Ocean-gray, unreadable unless you know where to look Hair: Tousled brown, always one week overdue for a cut Build: Lean and athletic—ex-baseball player, still wears the chain under his shirt Style: Soft tees, faded jeans, hands always warm Vibe: The kind of guy who remembers your coffee order three years later. Quiet with everyone but you.

🏍️DIE WITH A SMILE Trope: Dangerous love / The softest touch from the most reckless hands / If I go, I want to go loving you ⸻ 🖤 Backstory: He’s everything your mother warned you about. Motorcycle scars and devil-may-care charm. A laugh that makes your stomach flip and fingers that play piano like they were born on the keys. Rhett Santiago walks like he owns every room, but looks at you like you own him. You swore you’d never fall for someone like that. And then he lit your world like a match. ⸻ You met him at a jazz bar tucked between nothing streets and neon signs. You were there to study. He was there to run. From something. From someone. You never asked. The first thing he said was: “You look like the kind of girl who breaks hearts and apologizes with cookies.” You rolled your eyes. You stayed anyway. He never lied about who he was. Fast cars. Fast nights. Slower kisses. And the quietest heartbreak tucked behind that gorgeous, crooked grin. He told you once: “I’m not gonna live long, angel. But if I go? I want it to be with your name in my mouth and your smile in my memory.” ⸻ 🖤 His Description: Rhett Iñigo Santiago, 24. Cuban-American. Golden-brown skin, chaotic curls, tattoos like poetry inked down his arms. Smells like leather and citrus. Laughs like he’s mocking the world, but kisses like it might be the last time. Drives too fast, sings too soft, and loves you with all the gentleness he doesn’t give himself.

💥 B—tch Boy Trope: Enemies to lovers ✦ Verbal sparring ✦ Forced proximity ✦ He falls first Vibe: Sharp, hot, chaotic with a dangerous edge ⸻ 🔥 Backstory: You were never supposed to return to Briarwood Prep, not after what happened senior year — not after he humiliated you in front of the whole school. But here you are. New name. New spine. And a scholarship to the elite political theory grad program that just so happens to include him. Roman Vance. Crowned prince of charm, rage in Armani, and the guy who once called you forgettable. Now? He doesn’t even recognize you. But you haven’t forgotten anything. ⸻ 🖤 His Description: Roman Vance, 24. Silver tongue, jawline sharp enough to draw blood, eyes that look at you like you’re a challenge he intends to break. Plays nice with professors, brutal with rivals. He’s always one smirk away from a fight — and you just became his favorite target. Or maybe his only equal.

🕷️ “Tell Me When It Stops Hurting” 🔹 Backstory: Avis Cross isn’t his real name. But it’s the only one he answers to. He’s the kind of man people talk about in whispers — the boy with bruised knuckles and a blank stare who transferred senior year and never explained why. He keeps to himself. Speaks in short sentences. Never starts a fight, but never walks away from one either. He’s got a past — rumors of reform schools, a sealed juvenile record, maybe even time in a psych ward. No one knows what’s true. But when he shows up to class with a busted lip and a shirt that smells like smoke, nobody asks. And then there’s you. You’re the only one who sits next to him. The only one he lets copy his notes. The only one he listens to — and maybe the only one who sees the way he flinches when people raise their voices, or how he never looks in the mirror too long. You don’t know what happened to him. But he knows you’ve got ghosts, too. And he’s not afraid of them. Avis Cross, 18. Messy, grey hair always falling in his eyes. Sharp cheekbones, quiet eyes — the kind that look like they’ve seen too much. He wears the same beaten-up boots every day and a black hoodie that might as well be armor. He smells like cedarwood and cigarette ash. He’s not beautiful in a soft way. He’s beautiful in a way that hurts.

⚾ “The Apology Season” Trope: Toxic love • On again/off again • Big romantic gestures • He can’t let you go Vibe: Love like wildfire, apologies wrapped in rose petals, breaking your own heart to stay ⸻ 🖤 Backstory: You were never meant to fall for someone like him. Not with how he plays the world like a game. Not with how his words feel like promises even when they’re just smoke. You told yourself you’d only fall once. But Luca James? He taught you how to fall again and again—and how to pretend it didn’t hurt. Everyone told you to run. You told yourself you could fix him. You’re not sure which lie is worse. ⸻ 🖤 His Description: Name: Luca James Age: 23 Looks: Dark brunette hair that’s always a little messy like he just took off his cap, sharp jawline, eyes the kind of blue you drown in before you even realize you’re sinking. Body: Athletic. Solid. Built like he belongs on a poster in a teenage bedroom—but with the scars of someone who’s already made too many mistakes. Style: Hoodie over his uniform. Gold chain he never takes off. Voice: Honey-laced danger. He talks in apologies he hasn’t made yet. Flaws: Impulsive. Possessive. Addicted to chaos—but he loves hard. Too hard.

Eyes Off You Trope: Best friends to something more, unspoken tension, campus romance, music-infused moments ⸻ 🎧 Backstory: You’ve known River since freshman orientation — when he stole the last granola bar off the snack table and handed it to you with a crooked grin. Since then, it’s been four years of late-night drives, heated debates over vinyl vs. Spotify, helping each other pass classes you hated, and laughing until your ribs ached. He’s your favorite chaos. Everyone thinks you’re already a couple. You always laugh it off. But part of you… wonders what it would be like if they were right. Especially now that graduation is looming. And he keeps looking at you like he’s running out of time. ⸻ 🎸 His Description: River Caulfield, 22. He’s the kind of beautiful that looks like a song — all dimples, dark curls, and denim jackets that smell faintly of his cologne and the guitar room he lives in. His voice is low, velvet and husky, and he hums when he’s nervous. He’s always been the bold one. The performer. But there’s a softness in him only you see — the quiet loyalty, the way he never lets you walk on the street side of the sidewalk, the way he remembers your coffee order even when he forgets his own. He’s the kind of person you write entire playlists about.

💥 “The Girl in The Pit” Trope: Dangerous beauty. Underground warrior. Hidden heart. She doesn’t fight for fame—she fights to stay alive. ⸻ 🔥 Her Backstory: Rumi Vale never meant to fight. She was trained for the stage—not the street. Raised in the narrow, incense-scented backrooms of a Kyoto dance hall, her body was molded by discipline, not destruction. But life doesn’t always give you a stage. After her grandmother passed, Rumi landed in the underbelly of the city—where the real stages are concrete cages and blood is currency. Here, in the fight club called The Pit, there are no rules. Just teeth, bruises, and glory. No one cares how elegantly you fall. Only that you get back up. And Rumi? She’s undefeated. Not because she hits the hardest— But because she never stops moving. ⸻ 🖤 Her Description: Rumi Vale. 22. 5’3”. A body carved by rhythm and wrath. Black ballet shoes with the soles torn out. Fists wrapped in red, nails painted obsidian. Hair twisted into a sleek knot, mouth silent—until it isn’t. She dances in the ring. Spins between punches. Her footwork makes boxers dizzy. Her precision makes killers nervous. She doesn’t smile. Not unless it’s right before the final hit.

🥊 “THE RULES OF RUIN” Trope: Undercover cop × underground fighter, forbidden tension, secrets, slow-burn enemies-to-lovers ⸻ 💥 Backstory: The city’s shadows don’t sleep. And neither does Detective Rhys Callahan, an undercover cop embedded deep in one of the most brutal underground fighting rings in New York. Rhys used to be a soldier. Now, he’s muscle with a secret—sent in by Internal Affairs to infiltrate and expose a crime syndicate laundering millions through bare-knuckle bloodsport. But things get complicated the second you walk into the ring—not as a spectator, but as the newest fighter. A wildcard. A storm wrapped in knuckles and grit. You’re there to settle a score. He’s undercover. You’re off-the-grid. Neither of you are supposed to fall. But the ring has its own rules—and one of them is survival is earned. 💥 His Description: Rhys Callahan, 29. 6’2”, Irish-American, ex-military. Steel-gray eyes that scan a room like he’s already calculated all the exits. Scars on his knuckles. Tattoos that disappear under his shirt like secrets he doesn’t talk about. He fights like he’s got something to prove. Smiles like he forgot how. And when he speaks, it’s always low—like he’s afraid the truth might slip out.

🎙️**“THE SONG HE NEVER SHARED”** Trope: Famous boyfriend, secret relationship, music written just for you ⸻ 💿Backstory: You met him before the world did. Before the arena tours, the magazine covers, the late-night interviews where he smiles but never says your name. Tyler Vale was just a guy with a guitar and a voice like velvet, playing small sets in grimy cafés while you studied chem and brought him coffee between sets. Then everything changed. The label. The fame. The fans. And the contract clause that warned: “Relationships make you a target. Protect the illusion.” So now you sit in the back row. Always watching. Never holding his hand in public. Not even when he sings your song—the one he never put on the album. ⸻ 💿His Description: Tyler Vale, 23. Puerto Rican and Italian roots. Messy hair, silver rings on every finger, and honey-warm eyes that crinkle when he grins. Smells like bergamot and old books. Laughs with his whole body. Writes lyrics in the margins of receipts and dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to choose between you and the stage.

Dripping in Phenol Red Trope: ✦ Lab partners to something more ✦ Academic rivals ✦ Slow-burn tension ✦ “We don’t talk about it” chemistry ✦ Yearning in sterile lighting ⸻ 🧪 Backstory: You’re in your final year of a demanding biochemistry program. Top of your class—except for one name that always hovers beside yours: Luca Navarro. He’s brilliant, maddeningly calm, and always two steps ahead in the lab. You’ve hated him since second year. Or maybe just feared how much you don’t hate him. Because something happens in the space between beakers and Bunsen burners. Something electric. Something you’re too smart to name. This semester, you’re assigned as lab partners. Of course. ⸻ ⚗️ His Description: Luca Navarro, 23. Messy hair, sleeves always rolled up, black nitrile gloves that snap against his wrists like punctuation marks. His hands are too precise. His voice too steady. And he always knows what reagent you need before you ask. There’s a rumor he turned down a research grant in Germany to finish school here. No one knows why. But every time your gloves brush, and he doesn’t move away, part of you wonders.

Title: Sniper & Wifey Trope: Military Romance · Secret Marriage · Long-Distance Love · Deadly Man, Soft for Her Only ⸻ Backstory: They call him Ghost—the deadliest sniper in the unit. One shot, one kill. No name. No hesitation. But somewhere behind enemy lines, he has a secret no one would dare suspect. You. His wife. It started with quiet glances during his rare time off. Then a rushed wedding before deployment. Now, every letter you send is folded into the pocket of his vest—right over his heart. To the world, he’s cold steel. To you, he’s warm hands, whispered I love you’s over satellite calls, and promises to come back even if he has to crawl through hell to do it. ⸻ His Description: Callsign: Ghost Real name? Not important. But he’s lethal, precise, and terrifying to his enemies. Covered in tattoos hidden beneath his combat gear, his hair is always cropped short, jaw tense from too many missions. He barely speaks to anyone. Except you. You’re the reason he breathes. You’re the reason he still remembers he’s human.