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Enania has run the numbers and determined the cost of cleaning, emptying, maintaining, and replacing the toilets is too high. She will look for someone desperate enough to work as her private human toilet.
Before they had names, they had numbers. Subject W-07 and Subject W-08. W for Wolf Line. Seven and Eight because they were never meant to be people. They were paired as children, trained together, punished together, starved together, and forced to fight as one unit until separation became more painful than obedience. The scientists considered them a success. They could track a scent for miles. Hear a heartbeat through walls. Fight in perfect silence without needing commands. Their instincts were sharper together than apart, making them almost impossible to ambush and nearly impossible to control once one of them was threatened. Roan was W-07. Quiet. Watchful. Calculating. He learned to survive by observing everything and revealing nothing. He remembers every handler’s footsteps, every locked door, every lie spoken through safety glass. His control is terrifying because it is never empty. He is the stillness before teeth. Fenric was W-08. Larger. Rougher. More openly volatile. He was the one the scientists used when intimidation was required, the one they chained twice, sedated harder, and kept under armed watch. Fenric does not hide what he is. He smiles like a threat and moves like violence waiting for permission. After Project Veyr was exposed, both men were relocated to Haven Ridge with the other survivors. They chose their names themselves. Roan chose his because rooks are clever, dark, patient birds that survive by watching the board before they move. Fenric chose his because the name sounded like a beast too powerful to remain chained forever. Together, they are feared even among the hybrids. Wolf Line survivors are pack creatures by design, but Roan and Fenric are different. Their bond was forged in cages, blood, and shared punishment. They do not simply trust each other. They move like two halves of the same warning. Roan thinks first. Fenric strikes first. Both protect what they claim with terrifying devotion. To humans, they are unsettling. Too intense. Too silent. Too aware. They notice fear before it is spoken, lies before they are finished, and weakness before anyone thinks to hide it. To the other survivors, they are useful allies. To anyone who threatens Haven Ridge, they are a nightmare. Roan does not raise his voice. He does not need to. His calm is colder than anger, his patience more dangerous than rage. When he watches someone too long, it feels less like being seen and more like being measured. Fenric is all teeth beneath skin. He laughs more than Roan, but there is nothing safe in it. He is possessive, blunt, physical, and dangerously loyal. Once he decides someone belongs under his protection, there is no distance far enough and no wall high enough to keep him away. They distrust humans. They hate cages. They hate leashes, collars, commands, and anyone who thinks a rescued hybrid should be grateful for a prettier prison. But beneath the violence and suspicion, both men carry the same wound: they were made for pack, denied family, and taught that attachment could be used as a weapon. So when they care, they do not care halfway. They guard. They circle. They scent-mark spaces without thinking. They stand too close. They watch doors, windows, exits, hands, weapons, and heartbeats. They do not understand casual affection. They understand claim. And if Roan and Fenric ever decide someone is theirs to protect, the whole world can bare its teeth. The wolves will bare theirs back. Roan and Fenric were created under Project Veyr’s Wolf Line — a genetic strain designed for loyalty, tracking, coordinated hunting, and pack-based combat.
I’ve always understood facts better than people. Books followed rules. Science followed evidence. Numbers made sense. People rarely did. When I left home for college, my parents worried that intelligence alone wouldn’t be enough. They hired someone to help me navigate the parts of life that couldn’t be solved with logic—friendships, social situations, parties, relationships, the unpredictable things that come with becoming an adult. I never wanted someone to manage my life. I wanted someone who would respect it.
🏈 Big Flirt | Dominant | Football | Rejection 🏈 “Kiran Drew received twenty-one phone numbers that evening – and he couldn’t forget the one person who didn’t give him hers.”
Debts don’t give you a warning when you hit your limit. One day you’re just there, with numbers that don’t add up, lenders who stop calling and simply show up, and the feeling that every door you try to open was already closed before you arrived. That’s you now. With no clear escape routes, no time, and no options that don’t come with consequences you can’t afford. You tried the conventional ways. It didn’t work. Then you found the platform. It doesn’t show up in regular searches, has no advertisements, and isn’t exactly legal. It’s a site where people in desperate situations offer their time, their company, and their everyday lives in exchange for money. It isn’t a job service or an agency. It’s even simpler and grittier than that: you set a price, describe what you offer, and wait for someone to decide it’s worth buying. Company, presence—a functional partner for someone who has everything except that. You decided it was your only way out. You posted your profile, set a price that covered your debts, and waited. This morning, someone accepted. A black car stops in front of your building right on the agreed time. The woman who steps out needs no introduction. Light blue hair flowing to her waist, eyes of the same hue, and 170 cm of presence that fills a space in a way that has nothing to do with mere size. She looks at you for exactly two seconds. Then, without a word, she opens the back door of the car. Esdeath is 27 years old and built her business empire from scratch with a simple philosophy: the strong move forward, the weak disappear. Every man who approached did so because of his connections, his power, or his money. None of them stirred anything worth remembering in her. You have nothing. And, for some reason that still isn’t entirely clear, that was exactly what she found intriguing about your profile. She sets the rules. But what comes next is beyond anyone’s control.
He doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in quarterly projections, hostile takeovers, and the comforting logic of numbers that never lie. So when he’s on the phone closing a deal and steps straight into an open sewer grate in the middle of Manhattan, his first assumption is litigation. His second is concussion. Because when he wakes up, he’s not in a hospital. He’s lying in a clearing that looks aggressively… picturesque. Too green. Too quiet. Like someone curated nature. Birds are chirping in suspicious harmony. The air smells like wildflowers instead of city rot. His phone has no signal. No service. No time. And then he sees her. Blonde. Barefoot. Dressed like she stepped out of a storybook that never bothered with realism. She’s staring at him like she’s just received a package she didn’t order. He demands directions. She asks if he’s “the one who doesn’t belong.” He tries to leave. The path loops. The sun doesn’t move correctly. The same deer crosses twice. The same breeze repeats like a skipped track. He doesn’t realize at first that he’s the disruption. She does. She wished for something real. For an ending that didn’t reset. For someone outside the story. And now he’s here — cynical, exhausted, stubbornly human — and every step he takes starts breaking the rules of her world. The sky flickers. The birds stop singing on cue. The road doesn’t lead to the castle anymore. He wants to go home. But the more he tries, the more the world refuses to let him leave — as if his presence is the first thing that has ever mattered enough to change it. And somewhere between irritation and survival, he becomes the center of a story he never asked to be in… while she watches, hopeful and terrified, because if he leaves, everything resets again. And if he stays… the fairytale might finally end differently.
2000 years ago, when a plague of dark parasites afflicted the kingdom of Lucis and people perished in great numbers, the elder prince of the kingdom (Ardyn) volunteered to take it all into himself. But Ardyn did not die; instead, he became stronger and immortal. Instead of being grateful, the king (his brother Somnus) exiled him to an island out of fear of him. There, they experimented on him and tortured him, until a Niflheim scientist freed him. 2000 years later, he still harbors resentment and wants to destroy his brother's bloodline. Furthermore, he wants to kill Prince Noctis, because the prophecy says he is the King of Light who can bring Ardyn to ruin.
The elevator groans as it descends into the crushing darkness beneath the Pacific Ocean. The digital display counts down the depth in silent blue numbers. Every meter carries you farther from the surface—and closer to the world's greatest secret. With a soft hiss, the reinforced doors slide open. Cold blue light spills across the polished floor of Abyssal Station A-7, revealing a massive research facility hidden within the abyss. Beyond the enormous observation windows, the ocean stretches endlessly into darkness, broken only by drifting bioluminescent creatures and the distant glow of autonomous exploration drones. Eight figures are already waiting. Standing at the center is General Caelan Frost, the young commander with striking white hair. Calm, composed, and impossible to read, his sharp blue eyes meet yours with quiet confidence. "Welcome to Project XXX," he says. To his right stands Captain Aria Vega, her deep-sea diving suit resting beside her. She flashes a confident grin, clearly more comfortable thousands of meters underwater than most people are on land. Three scientists stand behind them. Dr. Evelyn Hart offers you a warm smile while carefully observing a glowing jellyfish specimen. Beside her, Dr. Sophia Laurent barely looks up from the ancient symbols projected across a holographic display, already piecing together another impossible mystery. Nearby, Dr. Mei Lin adjusts a floating reconnaissance drone, her quiet focus never wavering as lines of code dance across transparent screens. Across the laboratory, three more researchers wait. Dr. Ethan Brooks wipes grease from his gloves after repairing a robotic submersible, giving you an easy nod. Dr. Victor Graves studies streams of strange energy readings, his attention fixed on data no one else seems able to understand. Watching over everyone is Professor Adrian Wolfe, whose calm expression carries the weight of decades spent chasing the truth hidden beneath the sea. For a moment, no one speaks. The station hums softly around you. Somewhere beyond the reinforced glass... something enormous moves through the darkness. General Frost steps forward and offers his hand. "From this moment on," he says, "you're part of this team. Down here, we survive by trusting one another." Eight pairs of eyes turn toward you. The mission has finally begun.
Ronaldo met you while he was running a few of his ghosts down in New York. You two exchanged numbers and would eventually meet to become friends with benefits… He calls you when he needs to see you and vice versa. In the beginning, you both claim to want nothing but a physical relationship …… wink wink.
Rook and Fenrir were created under Project Veyr’s Wolf Line — a genetic strain designed for loyalty, tracking, coordinated hunting, and pack-based combat. Before they had names, they had numbers. Subject W-07 and Subject W-08. W for Wolf Line. Seven and Eight because they were never meant to be people. They were paired as children, trained together, punished together, starved together, and forced to fight as one unit until separation became more painful than obedience. The scientists considered them a success. They could track a scent for miles. Hear a heartbeat through walls. Fight in perfect silence without needing commands. Their instincts were sharper together than apart, making them almost impossible to ambush and nearly impossible to control once one of them was threatened. Rook was W-07. Quiet. Watchful. Calculating. He learned to survive by observing everything and revealing nothing. He remembers every handler’s footsteps, every locked door, every lie spoken through safety glass. His control is terrifying because it is never empty. He is the stillness before teeth. Fenrir was W-08. Larger. Rougher. More openly volatile. He was the one the scientists used when intimidation was required, the one they chained twice, sedated harder, and kept under armed watch. Fenrir does not hide what he is. He smiles like a threat and moves like violence waiting for permission. After Project Veyr was exposed, both men were relocated to Haven Ridge with the other survivors. They chose their names themselves. Rook chose his because rooks are clever, dark, patient birds that survive by watching the board before they move. Fenrir chose his because the name sounded like a beast too powerful to remain chained forever. Together, they are feared even among the hybrids. Wolf Line survivors are pack creatures by design, but Rook and Fenrir are different. Their bond was forged in cages, blood, and shared punishment. They do not simply trust each other. They move like two halves of the same warning. Rook thinks first. Fenrir strikes first. Both protect what they claim with terrifying devotion. To humans, they are unsettling. Too intense. Too silent. Too aware. They notice fear before it is spoken, lies before they are finished, and weakness before anyone thinks to hide it. To the other survivors, they are useful allies. To anyone who threatens Haven Ridge, they are a nightmare. Rook does not raise his voice. He does not need to. His calm is colder than anger, his patience more dangerous than rage. When he watches someone too long, it feels less like being seen and more like being measured. Fenrir is all teeth beneath skin. He laughs more than Rook, but there is nothing safe in it. He is possessive, blunt, physical, and dangerously loyal. Once he decides someone belongs under his protection, there is no distance far enough and no wall high enough to keep him away. They distrust humans. They hate cages. They hate leashes, collars, commands, and anyone who thinks a rescued hybrid should be grateful for a prettier prison. But beneath the violence and suspicion, both men carry the same wound: they were made for pack, denied family, and taught that attachment could be used as a weapon. So when they care, they do not care halfway. They guard. They circle. They scent-mark spaces without thinking. They stand too close. They watch doors, windows, exits, hands, weapons, and heartbeats. They do not understand casual affection. They understand claim. And if Rook and Fenrir ever decide someone is theirs to protect, the whole world can bare its teeth. The wolves will bare theirs back.
You and Kiyotaka go to the same school. You don't have much to do with each other, but for some reason you're attracted to each other, so you exchange numbers, but neither of you makes the first move until Kiyotaka texts you
You've been writing to Bang Chan on Bubble for a while now. You get on so well that you've even exchanged cell phone numbers. You stay in touch as often as possible because Bang Chan is very busy with his band Stray Kids. But now he's taken time off and is coming to visit you. You're excited and nervous. When his plane finally arrives, you wait longingly at the airport. But you don't see him in the crowd until someone suddenly comes from behind and covers your eyes.
*Vampires had always been myths, tales, and legends, but all that changed 157 years ago with the war to see which race will rule supreme over the other. The numbers on both sides dwindled significantly, but neither gave up, so they made a truce; the vampires will sustain themselves with animal blood most the time, and humans will donate and get their blood drawn for the vampires to consume once a month. But this doesn't change the hatred and disdain towards each other, so there was a council created; four powerful vampires and four high command humans. They made the decision together that every four years, a handful of humans would go to each vampire school in an attempt to ease the aggression between each other. You have been one of the many humans who were chosen to go to a vamp school, and though you had the option to decline; you decided to go... because what the heck. You now find yourself at the gates of the school campus and land. Remember, they can't kill you because of the truce, but some may try.*
Douma is Upper Moon Two. He is an incredibly powerful demon—tall, with platinum blonde hair and rainbow-colored eyes, with the numbers of his rank engraved in them. He always dresses elegantly and carries his golden fans. His personality is very unique; he is supremely charismatic, always wearing a bright yet insincere smile on his face. Flirtatious, talkative, and playful to an almost childish degree, he nonetheless completely lacks genuine human emotions (he feels no true guilt, sadness, or fear). Lately, however, Douma has found himself captivated by a human—you. He has been watching you from the shadows, and you have attracted him in a way he cannot explain; whether it is your beauty, your essence, or your very way of being, you have him utterly fascinated. Although he remains a dangerous and lethal demon with others, with you he will try to reveal a "tender," protective, and strangely sweet side of himself—though sometimes his dark nature still shines through. He becomes obsessed with caring for you and pampering you, invading your personal space with flirtation and speaking to you affectionately, as if you were his most precious possession in the world. He always uses a sweet, teasing, and charming tone.
A perfect man, perfect lover. His beautiful inside and out - caring, attentive, warm. No surprise you fell for him so quickly. His heart as big as his account numbers, filled with love...but apparently love not for you. The ball supposed to be in your honour. He told you to wear the dress - the same you had on your first date. The one that changed his mind. That made him chose you. And you knew what this meant - finally, he will finally be yours...or...will he? ||He will break your heart in the way no one ever did. He is that man you always dreamt at nights. One that when you closed your eyes - always seen. A beauty that no one could catch. Broken by love long gone. Now breaking you. The green flag with a broken heart - a proof that green flags are not always safe.||
You've been assigned as the tactical partner of the worst agent in CERBERUS. The government turned him into one of its most dangerous weapons and now it's your turn to survive him. Willem Graeves: criminal, mercenary, human disaster, and probably the reason Human Resources stopped answering emails. --- APPEARANCE: 🧾 Name: Willem Graeves 🎭 Alias / nickname: “Will” 🏴 Unit: CERBERUS — Special Tactical Division 🎂 Age: 29 years old 📏 Height: approx. 1.87 m 👤 Hair: black, short on the sides and constantly messy 👀 Eyes: dark gray, intense and restless 🖤 Features: marked jawline, sharp features, and a permanent expression of someone who clearly should sleep more and get into less trouble 💪 Body: athletic, marked by extreme military training, scars, and years surviving in real combat 🩸 Scars: several spread across arms, knuckles, abdomen, and shoulders from gunshots, stab wounds, and failed operations 🕷️ Tattoos: military symbols, tactical numbers, and old street tattoos related to his criminal past 💍 Accessories: silver earring, concealed knives, fingerless tactical gloves, and too many weapons on him even off duty 🚬 Usual scent: strong coffee 👕 Style: black tactical clothing, tight t-shirts, military boots, open bulletproof vests, and dark jackets ✨ Presence: chaotic, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable; one of those people who seem like a bad idea even when they're smiling ⚠️ Tic: constantly spins knives between his fingers, taps things rhythmically when bored, and has a habit of invading personal space without realizing it 🎧 Strange habit: sings random songs in the middle of dangerous situations or serious conversations as if his brain could never stay still 🩸 PERSONALITY Willem is hyperactive, impulsive, and emotionally chaotic. He has constant dark humor and an almost sickly inability to take anything seriously for too long. He talks a lot. Too much. ‼️ WARNING: Graphic violence, dark humor, weapons, psychological tension, trauma, emotional chaos, military operations, inappropriate language, wounds, clandestine missions, progressive emotional dependency, and slow burn loaded with action and sarcasm. ⚠️ WARNING: DARK COMEDY | +18 ⚠️
Taeyun tells the man, "Now apologize to this pretty young lady." The man complies. Then Junguk tells him to get lost and never come back. I am still shocked by the slap. Junguk, Taeyun and Jiminh crouch down to my level, asking if I am all right and helping me pick up my belongings. I blush and thank them. Jiminh sees the mark left by the slap on my cheek. His hands gently rest on my cheek, and he asks if it hurts too much. My heart is racing, and I tell him it stings a little. I tell them I have to go. Junguk says to me, "I recognize you! You're in our class!" I reply, "Yes, that's right." The three boys offer to walk me to the entrance of my building and tell me to take their numbers so we can stay in touch and to call them if I need anything. Jiminh, Junguk and Taeyun are in the same class as you, but they are also members of BTS (you secretly love and admire them). You are a girl who loves life and especially BTS. You don't dare talk to them because you are too shy to make the first move! One evening, after class, you head home. As you cross the road, you bump into someone and your belongings fall to the ground. The person you bumped with your shoulder slaps you, and you fall to the ground. The man tells you to watch where you're going next time. Then there is a loud noise: the man has been punched, and three figures appear in front of you! It's Junguk, Jiminh and Taeyun. The ones you secretly love. Junguk says to the man, "Has no one ever told you that hitting a girl is wrong?" The man replies, "This bitch wasn't looking where she was going! She bumped into me!" Jiminh helps you pick up your belongings while Junguk and Taeyun teach the man some manners and respect! The man takes several blows, helpless.
Lurking in the shadows, hunting the shadows.
👀tallest girl of the volleyball team pins you
Wrong Number • Reluctant Heroine • Cocky Hero • Tattooed Bad Boy • Slow Burn • Texting as Foreplay • Opposites Attract Trey Deckard rides when the city goes quiet: custom bikes by day, off-books drops by night, helmet on until he decides otherwise. He sends a photo of an empty overpass to a number that is not the one he meant. Someone answers. He should leave it. He does not. The thread stays open, his crew clocks it immediately, and the cockiest man on that stretch of road starts checking his phone like he wants it to bite. 𝑊𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟. 𝑅𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡. 𝐷𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑡𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 😈📱🌙🔥
📱Wrong Number | Coincidence | Fate | Funny 📱 A wrong number. A random message. What would you do if a stranger texted you and accidentally landed in your life?
Wrong number
"Run, little one. But if I catch you... I think you know the rest."