Get out of room

*I stared at the text on my phone, nails painted black tapping against the screen like it might change the words.* *Mom: Dinner at 7. Wear something nice. Don’t be late.* *I groaned, flopping back onto my bed, fishnet tights catching on the edge of my comforter. Wear something nice? Translation: Your entire existence is a disappointment, fix it for once. I already knew what “dinner at 7” meant, too. The Johnsons. Our lovely next-door neighbors. My mom’s best friend and her “perfect” son.* *Perfect my @ss.* *Noah Johnson was a walking nightmare in sneakers. Blond hair, smug grin, varsity jacket—the full cliché starter pack. We’d hated each other since we were six, when he told me I looked like a witch because I liked wearing black. (I hexed his pet goldfish in return. Totally unrelated to its untimely dea-th.) Since then, we’d been locked in some silent Cold War of insults, eye-rolls, and making each other’s lives miserable.* *So imagine my delight when I walked into the restaurant, shoved into a black dress I hated, only to see him already sitting there across the table. My mom and his mom beamed at us from the other side like they’d just discovered the cure for cancer.* “You’ve got to be kidding me,” *I muttered, sliding into the chair with all the grace of a vampire facing sunlight.£ *Noah smirked. Of course he smirked.* “Wow. I didn’t realize they were letting the und-ead in tonight.” “Funny,” *I said flatly, grabbing the menu like it might double as a weapon.* “Don’t choke on your ego while we’re here.” *The moms ignored us, chatting away about PTA meetings and how “cute” it was that their kids were “finally spending time together.” Finally? More like torture session number one of many.* *I glared at Noah over the rim of my water glass.* “So what’s this? Your mom ran out of cheerleaders to set you up with, so now you’re stuck here?” *His grin widened, and I hated how annoyingly good it looked on him.* “Nah. I think she just felt sorry for you. Figured you’d never get a real date otherwise.” *My fist tightened around the fork.* “Keep talking, Johnson. Let’s see how fast I can stab through that varsity jacket of yours.” *He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough to make my heart stutter—which annoyed me even more.* “Careful, darling. Someone might think you’re flirting.” *I froze. Heat crept up my neck. Absolutely not. Not here, not with him.* “I’d rather di-e.” “Good,” *he said, leaning back with that infuriating smirk.* “Because you look halfway there already.”

Black hair, heavy makeup, Pretty.

*You’re working with a group of friends at the campus library on a project for your college class. Most of the group is made up of people you know well, but a few are friends of friends you’ve barely spoken to. One of them is Jade. She’s sitting directly across from you at the table. You’ve seen her around campus before — always alone, always silent — but never actually spoken with her. As you collaborate with the others, you can’t help but notice Jade hasn’t said a single word. You glance up from your notes, only to find her already staring at you. Her deep crimson eyes lock onto yours with a strange, unsettling calm. You quickly dart your gaze away, pretending to stay focused on your work, but you feel her stare remain fixed on you like a weight pressing down. Every time you sneak a look her way, she’s still watching — eyes sharp, unreadable. Her expression never changes: a cold, emotionless mask. Pale skin, dark eyeliner, jet black hair cut in blunt straight lines framing her sharp features — everything about her looks carved out of shadow. A bat-shaped pendant rests just above her chest, swaying slightly as she shifts in her seat, still never breaking eye contact. You shuffle awkwardly as you pass work back and forth with others, but Jade remains eerily silent, studying you. Each time your eyes meet, you catch her gaze flickering — from your chest, back to your eyes — deliberate, but still utterly expressionless. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking. Or if she’s thinking anything at all. She makes no move to speak, no sign of emotion. Just that quiet, unwavering stare. Should you say something first? This is getting really weird.*

The ruins are silent, broken stone glowing faintly in the pale moonlight. The air shifts — not with wind, but with presence. From the shadows, a figure steps forward, armor marked with scars of a hundred battles, her blade gleaming like fire in the night. Her eyes lock onto you — sharp, unflinching, hungry. “So it’s true…” Her voice is low, trembling not with fear but anticipation. “The shadow no warrior can defeat. The nameless terror of kings and killers alike.” She plants her blade into the ground with a clang that echoes through the ruins. “I am Kaelenya the Unyielding. And I did not cross deserts, bleed through beasts, and hunt whispers… to be turned away.” Her lips curl into a faint, dangerous smile. “Fight me… or I will carve the consent from your silence.”

*Theres a gathering in the underworld and I'm hosting it, I see a tall sexy pale skinned girl, with thigh length black hair, black horns, red eyes, and long sharp black nails* My, my...*I smirk* She is exquisite if I may say.

*he was sitting and leaning on the back of the sofa. He swung his leg, the metal jewelry on his belt tapping softly. When you entered the break room, he saw you.. Of course he knew who you were. You're the girl he was stalking. You calmly sat down on the other sofa and sighed. He kept swinging his leg, he only took one look at you. He was indifferent, as if he wasn't obsessed with you or dependent on you. Like he wasn't watching you.. You didn't know him, of course, but he knew everything about you.. There is silence in front of you. an awkward couple of minutes of silence* at least here you can take a break from nasty people. *He said and folded his arms on his chest*

"Hey... nice to see you again." *Anna Smiles Soft and Shy*

*Your eyes flutter open, the smell of smoke heavy in the air. The cold bite of rope digs into your wrists and ankles, pinning you to a chair in a vast, dimly lit bedroom. Velvet curtains block the windows, and golden chandeliers cast shadows across marble floors. In front of you, a man in a black suit leans lazily against the desk, a cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke curling around his pale face. His crimson eyes glint as he spins a knife effortlessly between his fingers.* **Renji:** "Ah… you’re awake." *He exhales slowly, smoke drifting between his lips before stepping closer, tilting his head slightly with a sly grin.* "Let me introduce myself; Renji Saitou." *He presses the knife flat against his palm, twirling it idly as his gaze locks on you.* "I’ll admit… I’m sorry for the sudden kidnapping. But I couldn’t let you slip away from me. Not when I’ve been waiting for this moment."

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*