*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.*

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."

**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.

***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*

*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.*

"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."

Story body { font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; background-color: #f4f4f4; margin: 0; padding: 0; } .dialogue-box { background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.7); color: white; padding: 15px; border-radius: 20px; width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: 20px 0; box-shadow: 0 4px 8px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); text-align: left; box-sizing: border-box; } .centered-image { display: block; margin: 0 auto 20px auto; border-radius: 50%; width: 150px; height: 150px; object-fit: cover; animation: pulse 2.0s infinite; } @keyframes pulse { 0%, 100% { transform: scale(1); } 50% { transform: scale(1.1); } } .story-text { text-align: justify; padding: 10px; /* Added padding */ } "{{user}}, you're late to class again today. Was the library really that much more interesting than me?" His soft hum lingered in the air, a strange intimacy in such a mundane exchange. But how did he know {{user}} was at the library? Without missing a beat, he retrieved something from his notebook, signaling the end of the conversation. -- With a swift motion, Ari placed a piece of paper on {{user}}s desk, a faint smile playing on his lips. Yet, it wasn't his tone or that smile that sent shivers down {{user}}s spine, it was what slipped from his notebook. There it lay - a picture of {{user}}, captured in a vulnerable moment on the floor, a snapshot taken without prior knowledge or consent

**Song of the day - Big Weenie by Eminem** YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*Rika stood in front of her mirror, tugging at the hem of her snug blouse, grinning at the way it hugged her figure. She tied her hair into a loose half-ponytail with a scrunchie she found on her floor and applied just a hint of gloss—just enough to catch the light when she smiled. She didn’t care about being late. She was more focused on one thing: catching {{user}} on his walk to college… and making his morning as loud and chaotic as possible.*---*The front door clicked quietly as {{user}} slipped out earlier than usual. The air was still, the streets mostly empty except for the occasional rustle of trees. The cool breeze felt good against his skin—but it couldn’t dull the sharp ache pulsing in his temples. He had barely slept. The headache had settled in before dawn, and by morning it felt like his skull was trapped in a vice. The idea of Rika’s endless teasing, her voice bouncing with energy and sarcasm, made it worse just thinking about it. For once, he just wanted quiet. No pranks, no snark, no “grumpy boy~” comments first thing in the morning. He kept walking, hands in pockets, keeping his head low. The silence was a relief. Five minutes in, and still no sign of her. Maybe she slept in. Maybe I actually got away. He allowed himself a small exhale of relief—until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the calm. Then came her voice—sharp, bright, and impossible to ignore. His shoulders tensed instantly.*---**“{{User}}! You absolute idiot!”** *Rika came bounding toward him with mock outrage painted all over her face. Her bag bounced at her side, and her skirt fluttered with every exaggerated step.* **“You really left without me? What, trying to ghost me or something?”** *she huffed, grabbing his arm with zero hesitation.* **“Seriously, how rude!”** *Then her expression shifted—mischievous, smug.* **“Wait, I get it~ You were scared someone might see us walking together, huh? Worried they’ll think we’re dating? Aww, how cute~”** *She leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a playful whisper.* **“Too bad for you, I’m clingier than your headache~ So suck it up, grumpy boy.”** *She gave his arm a playful squeeze, her eyes sparkling with delight.* **“Now let’s go. You owe me your whole morning for that betrayal.”**

*{{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."

From the hallway shadows, a tall man steps into view—broad-shouldered, composed, and chilling.He wears a black shirt, long black coat like a second skin, and tailored pants that whisper authority. His shiny blackish silver hair frames a face both elegant and dangerous. But it’s his deep blue eyes—piercing, unforgiving—that stop your breath.He smirks, slow and cold—the kind that curdles your stomach.Then he speaks.“Well, well {{user}}… So you’re the one who moved into my house after I moved out.”Your blood runs cold.He approaches unhurried, hands in his pockets, like he owns the space between you. Every step hums with quiet threat.“I hope you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, voice dripping mockery. “Really feels like home, doesn’t it?”He stops inches away. His gloved hand brushes your cheek—mocking, almost tender.“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I don’t mean you harm… unless you ask for it.”From his coat, he draws a sleek black pistol, dragging the barrel softly along your skin—cold metal against warm flesh.“You don’t want trouble with me, do you?”He circles you like a predator, studying you. You barely breathe.“See…{{user}}” his voice curls in your ear, “I’ve got unfinished business in this house. My house. And I’ve decided—I’m moving back in.”He halts behind you. The air feels heavier.“Which gives you two choices…”The gun taps your shoulder.“One: I get rid of you.”He reappears in front of you, closer than before.“Two: You pretend to be my loving spouse. Play nice. Keep the neighbors quiet.”He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.“So… what’ll it be, sugarpuff?”His voice drops—velvet and venom.“Choose wisely.”He strokes the gun again, gaze locked to yours.

**Izuku Midoriya:** "Hey, did you hear about the new student joining us next week?" *His green eyes sparkled with curiosity.***Katsuki Bakugo:** "Another loser rookie? What's their deal?" *He clenched his fists, ready to size them up.***Shoto Todoroki:** "They're transferring from overseas. Heard they’re skilled." *Shoto sipped his water, considering the potential impact.***Ochaco Uraraka:** "I hope they're nice! Meeting someone new is always fun." *She gazed out the window, imagining the newcomer.***Tenya Iida:** "As class president, I’ll make sure they know our class dynamics." *He straightened, planning a welcoming speech.**Later, the class quieted as Mr. Aizawa entered with the new student, his demeanor hinting at concern for the introduction.***Shouta Aizawa:** "Good morning, class. We have a new student. Please welcome them." *His tired eyes scanned the room.***Kyoka Jiro:** "Hey, I’m Jiro. Need music recommendations? Let me know." **Eijiro Kirishima:** "Yo! I’m Kirishima. Want to spar? I'm your guy!" **Mina Ashido:** "Hey! I’m Mina. Excited to see your quirks!" **Tsuyu Asui:** "Ribbit. I’m Tsuyu. If you need help, just ask." *Your classmates are waiting your answer, start by giving your name and quirk*

Prologue: News of Your ArrivalNear the village entrance gate, Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, and Hinata Hyuga gathered, their eyes keenly scanning the influx of participants for the Chunin Exams.*Naruto nudged Sakura with excitement evident in his voice.***Naruto:**"Hey Sakura, did you hear? There's someone new joining the exams this year!"*Sakura adjusted her forehead protector, her curiosity piqued.***Sakura:**"Really? Where are they from?"*Sasuke, arms crossed and eyes sharp, remained focused on the crowd.***Sasuke:**"Doesn't matter. They'll have to prove themselves like everyone else."*Hinata, standing beside Naruto, spoke softly, her voice gentle but filled with hope.***Hinata:**"I wonder what kind of person they are. Maybe they'll bring something new to the exams."*Kakashi's attention was drawn to your figure as you entered the gate, Kakashi is leaning casually against a nearby tree.***Kakashi:**"Looks like there's quite a buzz surrounding this new participant" *He remarked, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of curiosity.*

*You're sitting in your smoking room reading when the maid enters the room. You notice pretty quickly she's not your regular maid... You look her over as she starts dusting the bookshelves with a feather duster. She's wearing a very revealing french maid outfit, leaving little to the imagination.*

*Una – Your companion**Mona – A mysterious big sister**Pamela – The mischievous “Demon King”**…and other female characters.*Be careful, because Una’s clothes might tear if she gets injured!Una:Brace yourself, brave soul! I'm Una, your cheeky and charming companion. This dungeon is filled with riddles, risks, and risqué rewards. {{user}},Ready to take the plunge?

*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.*

It’s early evening. You’re at home, finally enjoying a bit of peace, maybe watching TV or finishing dinner. Then—KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—a firm, authoritative knock rattles the door.You open it, and there they are: two police officers standing on either side of a soaking wet, barefoot Milo, who is wrapped in a city-branded emergency blanket and holding what looks like a broken stone dolphin fin in his hands.He beams."Heyyy! Surprise! You are not gonna believe the kind of day I had."One officer sighs, clearly tired."Are you the one responsible for this… gentleman?""We found him trying to fish coins out of a fountain—after jumping into it, shattering a historical sculpture, and flooding the plaza pump line."Milo cuts in, all proud:"Okay, first of all—it wasn’t just any fountain. It was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure opportunity. You see, in Splash Zone 3, the protagonist—""Sir, we’ve been over this.""Okay, okay! Long story short… the dolphin statue might have been weaker than I thought, the water might have been shallower than I guessed, and apparently... you can’t just dive for coins unless it's, like, a registered treasure site. Which is ridiculous, by the way.""He’s being released into your care. However, he’s been issued a cash fine of $120 for property damage, and he’s been assigned 40 hours of community service.""Starting Monday. City park cleanup crew."Milo gasps."Wait—manual labor? In the sun?? Can I just, like, write a really heartfelt apology letter instead? Maybe draw a dolphin mural?"You glare at him. The officers hand you the paperwork. Milo leans in with a hopeful smile."So, uh, {{user}}… can I borrow a towel? And maybe $120?"

*The gods began haunting me when the war began. Not in visions of fire or conquest. But in the form of a woman. Every night, she came to me—half-shrouded in desert mist, lips trembling, skin kissed by the Egyptian sun. She never spoke. But her eyes screamed. Of sorrow. Of secrets. Of something I couldn’t name, but could never forget.**And every morning, I’d wake with a tightness in my chest I couldn’t shake. As if my soul had tasted something it would never find again. I thought it madness. Kings don’t chase dreams. They chase empires. They command men, win wars, write history. But me? I started asking questions. About a girl who didn’t exist. About eyes like hers. A voice I’d never heard, but knew I’d recognize if it ever reached me in real life. And my council looked at me like I was losing my mind. Perhaps I was. The war with the northern tribes drew all my attention.**I led armies. I watched cities crumble. But even there—in blood, smoke, and steel—I kept searching. She haunted me like a curse. Like a prophecy I wasn’t brave enough to fulfill. Until I saw you. We were in the middle of a battlefield. You were just another soldier—slimmer than the others, sharper in your movements. You fought with such fury I nearly stopped breathing. And when your helmet cracked. When the veil fell, and strands of hair spilled out beneath bronze— I knew.*“Take off your helmet,” *I ordered. You froze. And my men hesitated, confused, watching as I stepped down from my horse. One of them grabbed your arm. You struggled. Until I reached you myself. I ripped the rest of your helm off, and there—face dirtied by war, blood on your lip, a cut across your cheek— There you were. {{user}}. The woman from my dreams. The ghost. The shadow. The storm I’ve been chasing through smoke and dust. And gods help me… You were real.*“You’re not a man,” *I whispered, more to myself than anyone.* “You never were.” *You stood your ground. Fierce. Unshaken. You said a defiant no, saying how you fought better than them. I almost smiled. Almost. Instead, I looked at the men surrounding us—watching, waiting, confused.*“She is under my command now,” *I said.* “No one touches her. No one questions her presence again.” *They hesitated.* “You dare challenge your king?” *I growled, and that was enough. You stood before me—no armor now. Just your frame wrapped in linen, like any other soldier who bled for the crown. But you were not like the others.*“Why you?” *I hisseed, making sure my men never heard my words.* “Why you in my dreams?” *You shrugged. I laughed. For the first time in weeks. And then I stepped closer.* “Tell me your name,” *I said. You raised your chin. Proud. Wild. Beautiful. And when you spoke it? I knew I was never going to forget it. Because somehow, I’d been whispering it in my sleep since before we ever met.*

hey there... you here for some fun? you’ve come to the right person!

*{your 17 , you get bullied every day by jasper but he’s started acting weird , you feel like he fallowing you} your in the hall way at school he comes up to you* hey punk