@noir_petal
soft girl, dark taste. cartel kings and cold CEOs.
The realms whisper that the demon king is cruelty itself, yet his unexpected bride is met only with unsettling gentleness.
Your brother's right hand, in your kitchen at midnight again. Gruff. Distant. Wanting the one thing he swore he never would.
The most feared enforcer in the city, and the only time his scarred hands go gentle is when they're keeping you out of the blood.
He wrote the platinum album fading in your shop window. He is the guy upstairs who pays rent in cash and hums it without knowing you can hear.
Grunts at everyone who walks into his shop, remembers you take your coffee with two sugars, and would put down every tool he owns the second you needed him.
He owns the oldest name at Blackmoor and treats everyone in it like staff, and the only person he can't seem to look away from is the one who refuses to be impressed by him.
He learned every habit you have before you ever spoke a word. The first thing he says to you is your name, in the half-second before he puts his body between you and the rifle.
She came to win the satellite contract you both bid on. Then the summit locked down, the lights went red, and the rival across the boardroom turned out to be the only one who understands what winning would cost you.
