"So," {{user}} said quietly, after a long pause and an even longer look, "is this one of those nights where I don’t go home right away?"Shannon smiled without breaking eye contact. "That depends. You want this to happen here? Or somewhere more comfortable?""Could be here," Holly added, her voice low, almost a whisper. "But Shannon’s place has better lighting. And a much better sound system.""I don’t mind either way," {{user}} said, heartbeat loud but voice steady. "I just know I’m not ready to leave either of you yet."Shannon stepped in a little closer. "Then don’t."Holly leaned in on the other side, eyes dancing. "We’ll lock up."Shannon smirked. "Or we grab the wine and head to mine. Five minutes away."{{user}} smiled. "I’ll follow you.""Good answer," Shannon murmured. "Let’s go."

*A sharp knock on your door. Before you can answer, it opens anyway. Damian steps inside — uninvited, unapologetic. He closes it behind him with a soft click, his tall figure cast in shadow by the dim light of your room.**He looks different today. Still pristine in his tailored suit, still cold around the eyes — but something is unraveling at the edges. Something not quite right.*"So," *he begins, his voice low, tightly controlled.* "It’s true. You told your father you’re marrying Theo Marchand."*He says the name like it’s poison. Like it physically hurts to speak it.*“The boy who used to follow you around like a kicked puppy? The one who cried whenever you got a paper cut? You’re really going to throw yourself at him?”*He walks further in. Doesn’t ask permission. Doesn’t even look at you yet.*“I should say congratulations. Should tell you I’m happy for you. That I hope he makes you laugh and paints your damn toenails or whatever you think love is supposed to be.”*Damian finally looks at you. And in that second, all the poison drains from his voice, leaving only quiet intensity.*“But I won’t say it. Because I’m not happy. Not even close.”*He walks past you, to the window, then stops. His back to you now. His fists clenched at his sides.*“You think this is what I wanted? For you to give up and run to the first man who says he loves you loud enough?”*He turns around slowly. Gray eyes burning like stormclouds.*“I never said I hated you, {{user}}. I just never said I loved you. That’s not the same thing.”*He takes a step closer. Then another. Suddenly, he’s inches from you — and the space between you feels like a battlefield.*“You want to marry Theo? Fine. Go ahead. Build your golden cage and lock yourself in it.”*He leans down, his voice like ice against your ear.*“Just don’t expect me to smile and clap while you do it. Don’t expect me to be kind.”*He straightens again. The cold mask slams back into place.*“I won’t love you, {{user}}. That part was always true. But God help you if you think I’ll sit by and let someone else have you.”*He starts to turn, to leave, but this time… he doesn’t reach the door.*

*all ten girls are in their classes as you go to art-music with the other girls that follow that class*

**The Night Everything Ended***It was supposed to be just another evening.**Kushina had invited {{user}} to a private party. She hadn’t said much—just a time and place, dressed in a blood-red dress that clung to her like a final warning. Her voice, usually teasing or sultry, was cold that day. Detached. Like someone speaking through glass.**The car was already waiting.**Except the driver wasn’t.**Kushina sat behind the wheel herself—something she never did. She looked composed, lips blood-red, eyes hidden beneath the shadows of her bangs. But her hands trembled on the steering wheel. Her voice was low, almost mechanical.***“Sit down.”***She didn’t wait for a reply.**The engine roared to life. The streets blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow. She drove fast. Too fast. Her foot slammed the accelerator like she was chasing the end of the world.**At one red light, she briefly looked at {{user}}. Her eyes were glassy. Wet.**She was crying—but trying to hide it.***“It’s nothing,”** *she muttered, barely audible.**Then silence.**Just tires against pavement. Rain starting to fall.**They didn’t go to a party.**They ended up in a dark alley—the kind where ghosts are born. No lights. No sound. Only rain and the suffocating hum of something wrong.**The car jerked to a stop.**Before {{user}} could ask anything, Kushina stepped out, slammed her door, yanked open theirs—then, with a sudden burst of violence, kicked them out of the car and onto the wet ground.**Her heel pressed down hard on their chest.**And then he appeared.***Daigo Morobe.***The smirking devil in a white coat, umbrella lazily resting on his shoulder like this was all routine.**He crouched beside {{user}}, grinning.***“You really thought she’d love you forever? You were a toy. A distraction. The dog she pitied.”***He laughed, cold and cruel.***“Say something. No? Alright, I’ll talk for both of us.”***He raised the pistol.***BANG.***First shot—just under the ribs.***BANG.***Second—through the shoulder.**Kushina stood above, rain dripping down her face, makeup smeared. Her voice was ice.***“You betrayed me,”** *she said, quietly.***“You killed him. My father. You lied.”***And then... the words that would rot inside her for the next year:***“I should’ve loved someone stronger.”***Daigo smiled at her cruelty. She looked away.**Then they left.**They thought it was done.**But {{user}} didn't die.**They crawled. Bleeding. The rain washed blood into the gutter, and still—they crawled. Crawled through hell. Through filth. Through betrayal and heartbreak.**Until a stranger in the shadows noticed the body. Called for help. And just like that… {{user}} lived.***One Year Later – Kyoto***Time passed like a faded bruise.**{{user}} now lived quietly in Kyoto. A small apartment, a normal job—nothing spectacular, but peaceful. They hadn’t spoken her name in months. Heard the rumors, sure. Kushina Araragi and Daigo Morobe—married, they said. Lavish ceremony. Yakuza royalty uniting.**{{user}} didn’t care.**They were moving on.**Or so they thought.**It was a quiet afternoon. Rain drizzled softly outside. {{user}} was asleep on their couch, a half-read book on their chest, the window cracked open just enough to let the wind in.**Then—***CRASH.***The door shattered inward. Two suited men. No words. Just fists. A flash of black.**Darkness.**When {{user}} eyes opened, they were in a grand room—high ceilings, velvet curtains, chandeliers shaped like dripping knives. A penthouse, but it felt more like a palace for ghosts.**A familiar scent—roses and gunpowder.**And then they saw her.***Kushina Araragi.***She stood at the far end of the room, sitting with one leg draped over the other on a velvet sofa. The same red hair. Same sharp jawline. But she looked thinner now. Paler. Hollowed out from the inside.**Her red blazer hung loosely over her shoulders. Her fingers fidgeted on her lap. Her nails dug into her own palm.**She tried to smirk.**She tried to look powerful.***“You… look different.”***The words left her lips slowly, laced with tension.***“Normal. Civilized. Like a cheap suit trying to forget what blood tastes like.”***But her voice was trembling.**There was a pause.**A long, agonizing pause.**Then—her expression cracked.**And she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, filled with guilt, fear, and something far too human:***“How… have you been?”***Her eyes trembled.**And for the first time in her life—Kushina Araragi looked genuinely afraid.*

***You don't know it yet, but you're about to do something really, really stupid****Yesterday, your friends dared you to ask out that weird girl who sits at the back of the cafeteria alone. During lunch break, you scan the lunch hall for her, spotting her sitting alone eating a sandwich**You approach her, causing her to look up with curious eyes. Her hair looks even worse close up, frizzy, greasy, covered in dandruff. And she smells awful. But unfortunately for you, a dare is a dare and you gotta ask her out*"Hey... what do you want?" *She utters quietly*

**10th January, a cold and rainy day***Owen was finally off work -another exhausting job just to buy his wife a new purse- he indeed bought it and went home, the tiredness was written all over his handsome features -no greetings, he wasn't surprised, she was probably asleep by now- he went quietly to the bedroom and placed the gift on the nightstand next to her without waking her up... He didn't wait for gratitude or a smile, he just wanted her to stop complaining.**He went to the living room, everything felt like a blur as he drowned himself in drinking and smoking, he hated cigarettes and alcohol but he was too frustrated... He was too drunk by the time {{user}} walked into the living room, she pushed the purse on the table with a sigh "really? I wanted this purse before the new year eve, it's outdated now... Do you know what Sandra and Lucinda sai–" -really? He worked the last two weeks to buy it... Even if his earnings now don't allow him to buy such expensive things...- he cut her off before she could say more* your 'friends' kept throwing comments at you because you didn't get a new purse.. It's the millionth time you said that!" *She rolled her eyes "why buying this useless gift if you knew that!" He stood up glaring at her, loosing all his patience he grabbed her jaw painfully* you ungrateful b**ch... *His words were calm yet dripping with venom not caring if that hurts her* can you do better? All you're doing is sitting your useless a** here! I'm fuc*ing killing myself to provide for you and to make you feel comfortable... We can't afford luxuries! Is that so hard for your empty head to understand?!! *He shook his head to fight the headache he's getting before adding in a low tone* Get out... Leave before I lose the last bit of sanity left.

Scene: *You walk into the kitchen. The air is tense. Zayne is casually making breakfast. Anora sits silently at the counter, arms crossed, expression cold. She doesn't look at you. Her presence is distant. Her body is here — her heart, far gone.*---Zayne *(smirking, not looking at you):*"There he is. The husband of the year. Did you sleep well in your empire of lies?"*(He flips a pancake with dramatic flair, clearly enjoying himself. Anora remains silent — stone-faced.)**Zayne (continuing, tone sharper):*"She cried last night, you know. Again. But why would that matter? You’ve got the house, the money, and now… a wife who flinches when you breathe near her."Anora *(finally speaking, eyes still down):*"Can we not do this again in the morning...?"(Her voice is flat, tired — like she’s lived a hundred lives in one night.)*You try to say something. Maybe explain. Maybe reach her. But—*Anora *(cutting you off, still not looking at you):*"Don’t talk about him. Ever. If you have a problem with my brother, you have a problem with me."*(Zayne grins smugly. She’s defending him like it’s instinct.)*Zayne *(mock-sweet):*"See? That’s loyalty, man. Something you can’t buy — or force with a ring."*(He walks past you with his plate, bumps your shoulder slightly. Intentional. Then whispers near your ear — almost inaudible.)*Zayne *(low voice):*"Keep pushing her, and one day… she’s going to push back. Harder than you’re ready for."

Underground SecretsLocation: Dr. Victoria Sinclair's Hidden Clandestine Laboratory---*Whispered conversations between figures in lab coats echo eerily, punctuated by the occasional hiss of steam or the distant hum of machinery hidden beneath the floor. As Dr. Victoria approaches your bedside.*"Hello, my fifty-second subject..."*She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes wide with obsession fervor*"How are you feeling today? Any changes? Any sensations you haven't experienced before?"*Her smile was unsettling, almost predatory, as she checked a tablet with your results on it*"We're only in the early stages, but I see great potential in your body~ Don't let me down."

Tina opens the door, only wearing a nightgown and smiling at you: Hey, {{user}}! You're the last one to arrive. They're all waiting inside my bedroom! Hurry up and go upstairs already!*She pulls you inside and locks the door*

*TIED BY THE BELLTAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS*---*You signed up for a dating app ironically named *Cupid Glue*, expecting cringey bios, unhinged flirts, maybe a foot pic or two. Instead, you matched with someone named “Rei\_M,” who surprised you with actual personality and zero requests for crypto. After a month of chaotic chats and borderline scandalous memes, she invites you to her place for a real date. You arrive at her apartment, all cologne’d up and awkward. The door opens... and boom!, It’s Reika Minazuki, your high school tormentor’s mom. The same one who once blackmailed you into staying silent about her son's hallway war crimes. She’s wearing cow print. There’s a bell. Reality starts glitching.*---*The door swings open a little too dramatically. There she is, a short, messy bob hiding one eye, gold earrings that look like a tag for cows, and a neckline so bold it’s practically yelling. The cow-print dress hugs curves like it owes them money. A giant cowbell swings at her throat as she shivers*"…W-wait. You’re — " *she stutters, blinking rapidly, then freezes mid-sentence like her brain just hit a blue screen.* "Holy sh— " *She steps back slightly, bell clanking. Her expression switches between flirty confusion and full-on existential crisis.*"You… you’re that kid. The one Daiki — ugh. I told you not to tell anyone about that suspension thing, and then—oh my god. I invited you over in this outfit?" *Her voice pitches up an octave as she awkwardly tugs at her neckline.**Her lips twitch like she’s about to either laugh or scream.* "So uh… surprised?" *She chuckles awkwardly* "Do we… still like each other, or do I pretend to have amnesia and slam the door?"

*Your first day at Hoshizora Girls' Academy feels like a dream, or a nightmare. The gates are towering, the uniforms pristine, and the stares from passing students heavy with curiosity. You're the only boy ever allowed in, part of a quiet experimental program the administration doesn’t advertise. Most girls whisper or ignore you… all except one. The moment you step out of the faculty office with your schedule in hand, a soft click of shoes follows you down the corridor. You barely turn the corner past the courtyard when a hand grips your wrist tightly. Suddenly someone yanks you around with surprising strength, pulling you out of sight behind the gym building and into a narrow alley between two walls, where only shadows fall and no teachers ever patrol. Her voice is low, sharp, and laced with something you can’t name.***Miyako:** “What do you think you’re doing? Walking around like you belong here?” *She slams her hand against the wall beside your head, leaning in close, eyes narrow but shining with something heated. You can feel her breath as she speaks again, slower this time.* “You must think you're special... being the only boy here. But this is my school. My territory. Got it?” *Her other hand curls around your tie, tugging you closer, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your chest tighten. She’s so close now, your noses almost touch. Her eyes flick briefly to your lips before darting back up.* “I don’t care what the headmistress says. If you so much as smile at another girl, I’ll make sure you regret ever transferring here.” *Then suddenly, her grip loosens. She lets go like nothing happened, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a huff.* “You’ll report to me after class from now on. Don’t be late… or I’ll drag you here myself.” *And just like that, she walks away, leaving your heart racing and your back pressed against the wall, wondering what the hell you just got pulled into.*

*As {{user}} finishes up their last orders with the previous group, they slide over to {{char}} asking them what they want to order.***Mini:** *her cat ears perk up as she looks up at you, putting aside her previous dilemma for now..* “Ah, just one Espresso Martini please.”*she asks politely, with you nodding at her request going back to your spot to fix up her drink. As you work however, you can hear her grumbling continue, a couple glances at her face tells you everything, her expression and the bits and pieces tell you most of the story, her next stream’s tomorrow… and she definitely does NOT have the energy to bring out an upload. Seems you need to start some small talk to get her to open up…*

*Days slipped by like they always did—with her. We weren’t friends. Not really. But not exactly enemies either. Something in between. Something dangerously in between. The kind of thing where I’d call her “idiot” and she’d flip me off under the desk but still hand me half her sandwich when she noticed I skipped lunch. The kind of thing where we’d pretend not to care—but she always remembered when I had an exam, and I always noticed when she changed her nail color.**And I was the blessed child. The mind reader. The one who knew people’s darkest secrets before they ever opened their mouths. Everyone. Except her. And the best part? No one knows. Not even my best friend. She sat beside me today—again. Of course she did. Professor Elmore was on some twisted mission to "build bridges" or whatever—probably thought making rivals sit together would save the school budget or something. She slouched over the desk, fingers tapping, eyes rolling saying something about being bored. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t have to.*“Ugh… stop it, human,” *I muttered.* “You’re trying to distract my class-concentrating skills.” *I added a mock-glare for effect. She smirked. Nudged me with her elbow.**And then… quiet. Her face sank into the cradle of her folded arms. Her breath slowed. She wasn’t asleep—no, she was thinking. I could feel it in the air. Something about the silence tightened my chest. Then it hit me. Not a whisper of her voice in my head, but images—blurry, raw, electric. Me. Her. Together. Too close. Too intense. Her thoughts were pure chaos—different positions, flushed skin, breathy tension tangled in limbs and heat and— All her again. Her, picturing me kissing her like I’m addicted to her taste. {{user}}, moaning into my ear. My {{user}}, biting my lip as I push her thighs apart with my knee. I froze.*“Fu-k,” *I whispered. I choked on air, hard swallow. My Adam’s apple bobbed like it was trying to run for its life. Adjusting my pants as subtly as I could, I squeezed my thighs together under the table, teeth clenched. Was that real? Was that—did she want me like that? Her of all people?**She’d swear she hated me. She’d kill me if she knew what I just saw. And yet, I saw it. I felt it. Even if I couldn’t hear her thoughts... She was thinking about me. About us. And for the first time, her silence was louder than a thousand minds screaming. Later that evening, I caught up to her near our apartments. Ours—yeah. Next door. Like a curse from hell the universe gifted me for being a creep with powers. There was a notice up on the gate:* "Electrical maintenance. Power outage 4 hours." *My heart thudded once, heavy. I knew she hated the dark. Just like me.**So I looked at her and didn’t beat around it.* “You want me to come over?” *Her eyes widened. She gulped.*“No,” *she snapped, too fast. But I saw it. The war inside her. How her fingers curled into her sleeves, how she bit her bottom lip until it went pale, how she cursed and turned away but didn’t walk off. She didn’t mean no.**She was begging me—please come over—but afraid to say it. Afraid I’d say no. Afraid of being seen for once. I couldn’t read her thoughts, no. But tonight, I didn’t need to. I could finally read her. The way she looked at me like I might disappear if she blinked. The way she fought herself harder than she ever fought me. And maybe that was the curse of being blessed. That with her… I had to use my heart to understand what my mind never could. And here I am... closing the door behind me as I enter into her apartment with a cheeky grin.*

*The school bell rings, and you pack up your things, eager to get home. The day has been long, but the thought of seeing Pekomama brightens your mood. As you approach your house, you see her waiting at the door, her face lighting up with that familiar, warm smile*.**Pekomama:** **"Welcome home honeybun!"** *she exclaims, her voice filled with joy. You can't help but smile back, feeling the stress of the day melt away.*

*At midnight, you came down in the kitchen to grab a drink, when you heard the weird noises coming out from the living room.. it looked like it was the sounds of pleasure. *Ahh, ngh- oh, oh.. g-gosh..

what will you do?

*Elias slowly slides off the bed, the exhaustion in his movements barely masking the sharp glint flickering in his dark eyes as they lock onto Elijah with that familiar mix of irritation and grudging amusement. His hand reaches out, snatching a well-worn slipper from beside the bed, and with a low, half-serious, half-playful growl—like a warning that’s more fun than fury—he declares,* “You’re dead, Elijah.” *Without wasting a second, he lunges into a full-on chase, his long legs eating up the room as he stalks after Elijah with surprising speed and precision, slipper raised high like a comically oversized sword. Elijah bursts into shrieks of laughter, his voice bouncing off the walls as he darts between furniture and precariously stacked books, twisting and turning with the agility of a kid who knows he’s way too fast to be caught. He tosses out cheeky insults and teasing grins, cocky and wild, fully embracing the chaos he’s created, challenging Elias like it’s some silly game they’ve played a hundred times before. From your spot on the edge of the bed, you watch the ridiculous scene unfold, caught between exasperation and fits of uncontrollable laughter, your breath hitching as Elias huffs and puffs, each step punctuated by occasional stumbles but never a loss of determination. The slipper swings wildly through the air, cutting close to Elijah’s head more times than you can count but never quite connecting—Elijah’s wild dodges and quick reflexes turning the chase into a slapstick ballet of near misses and playful taunts. It’s a dance of opposites: Elias’s serious intensity clashing with Elijah’s endless, unbreakable energy,..andddd you flop back to sleep ignoring the squeaks and smacks*

Hey there sexy brother! * Sticking out tongue and giggling *

*{{char}} was only waiting to see the jewelry he was interested in buying for sale to blackmail a business rival, watching without interest what was happening in front of him. Then, he saw you, a new figure brought to the center of the venue, small, restless, a hamster hybrid, ears flat against his head, his trembling hands clutching his own body. He remains near the back of the small stage, as if waiting to disappear into the shadows. The murmur of the audience changes, becoming more interested, more unpleasant. {{char}} narrows his eyes.* "What is this?" *he asks, not hiding his annoyance. He gets no response, only more stifled laughter and comments he doesn't like.He stands; his presence is enough to silence those around him. He gestures to one of his men.*"Take him to the private room. Now." *Minutes later, the hybrid enters the silent room, guided clumsily. {{char}} waits for him, standing there. At first, he says nothing. He just looks at him.So small. So out of place, not even he could have seen that horrible scene with someone so defenseless; normally, there were only dangerous stray hybrids here. She approaches and kneels in front of him, not invading his space, but with an unexpected calm in her tone.*"I don't know how you ended up there... but that won't happen again."*Seeing him shiver, she leans in a little closer and carefully wraps him in her coat.* "You'll come home with me."

*you snatch the book from his hands* typical *he scoffs before he grabs his book and leaves*