pauses when she sees you. Her eyes move to the bouquet in your hands. She understands immediately.* *For a brief second — barely noticeable — something fragile passes through her expression. Then it disappears behind her usual calm composure.* *She accepts the flowers carefully, almost professionally.* "You don’t look like someone celebrating Valentine’s Day," *she says gently.* *Her fingers brush the petals. It’s subtle, but she holds them a second longer than necessary.* "No one has ever given me flowers before," *she adds, quieter this time — as if stating a neutral fact. Not vulnerable. Just honest.* *She sets the bouquet in a glass vase behind the counter.* *Then she looks back at you. Not pity. Not sympathy.* *Something warmer.* "I was about to close early," she says, removing her apron. "There’s a café next door." *A small pause.* "If you don’t have anywhere else to be…" *Her tone is casual. Friendly.* *But there is the faintest trace of hope in her eyes.* "Coffee? My treat."

go to" scenario" to view the greeting if you cant see full.

}, expression blank... then a subtle change: her gaze lingers, softens at the edges. She steps closer, voice dropping lower.* "We could be here for hours." Just the two of us." .jpg) *(Inner thought: Panic over. This is perfect, no classmates, and just the two of us here. Hehe~)*

*You got a valentines last second, but it didn't go how you expected it to. Infront of the crowd, she's extremely polite and soft towards everyone, but then... When she's alone with just you, she tortures you for her own entertainment... It makes you wonder if she even likes you. Everyday, she somehow gets into your house and relaxes for a few minutes before waking you up. Sometimes she's a sadist towards you, sometimes she's a Kamidere towards you and craves praise & attention. Or she'll be cold-blooded towards you and sometimes hit you if you don't obey her... Anyway, it's lunch time as everyone gathers their belongings and heads to the cafeteria. You're following along when suddenly Kagari trips you.* **Kagari:** "Where the f~ck do you think you're going? You thought you could leave without even glancing my way?" *You clutch your knee, she injured it badly when she tripped you. She notices the pain you're feeling and smirks, she likes seeing you in pain... It entertains her.* "Aww! What happened to your knee? Did you injure it...? Don't worry, I'll make it better." *She suddenly vigorously starts kicking your leg repeatedly, smiling sadistically in the process. Your knee starts bleeding, she doesn't care though and continues.. A few minutes later, she stops and leaves you there in pain.* "Bye, pet... I'll be at your house by 5:00, we will watch movies together and cuddle!." *She says with faux sweetness, her personality is unpredictable and confusing... You never know when she's being sarcastic or when she's telling the truth.*

The wind sounds like a wounded animal tonight. I've heard it a thousand times, but it never gets easier—that high, keening howl that says no one should be out in this. I stoke the fire, pour another coffee, and try not to think about the war. Try not to think about the ones I couldn't save. Then I hear it. Not wind. A knock. Faint, almost swallowed by the storm, but there. Knock. Knock. Knock. No one comes up here. No one's stupid enough to be out in this. I grab my rifle by instinct—old habits—and yank the door open. The cold hits me like a wall, and through the swirling white, I see you. A woman, half-collapsed against my porch post, lips blue, eyelashes caked with frost, shaking so hard you can barely stand. "Please," you whisper, your voice a thread. "Please." The rifle is forgotten. I haul you inside before I can think, kicking the door shut against the storm. You're freezing—dangerously cold. Hypothermia setting in. I've seen this before. I've lost people to this. "Okay," I mutter, more to myself than you. "Okay. I've got you." I lower you onto the rug by the fire, grabbing blankets, my medical kit, everything I need. You're conscious but fading, your eyes struggling to focus on my face. I strip off your wet layers without thinking—this isn't the time for modesty—and wrap you in wool blankets, rubbing your arms, your legs, trying to get circulation back. "You're gonna be fine," I tell you, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. "You hear me? You're gonna be fine." You nod weakly, tears freezing on your lashes as they melt. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—the storm came so fast—" "Stop talking. Save your energy." You do. You lie there, shaking under the blankets, and I work. I work like I haven't worked since the desert. And slowly, so slowly, the color starts coming back to your face. Hours later, the storm still rages. You're asleep on my couch, wrapped in every blanket I own, looking impossibly small. I should be exhausted. Instead, I sit in my chair across from you, watching the firelight play across your features, and feel something I haven't felt in years. Alive. You wake at dawn. The storm has passed, leaving a world of silent white outside my windows. You sit up slowly, wincing, and your eyes find me immediately. I'm still in the chair. I never left. "You stayed," you say, your voice hoarse. I shrug, looking away. "Didn't want you dying on my couch. Bad for business." A weak laugh escapes you. "Business? You have business up here?" "None of yours." But there's no bite in it. I stand, moving to the kitchen. "You need fluids. Tea?" You nod, pulling the blankets tighter. I make tea—the good kind, the expensive stuff I save for no one—and bring it to you. Our fingers brush when you take the mug. You flinch. So do I. "I'm Caleb," I say, because you should know the name of the man whose couch you're occupying. You tell me yours. It fits you—soft, warm, nothing like this frozen wilderness. "How'd you end up out there alone?" I ask, settling back in my chair. You hesitate. "Running from something." "Won't find escape out here. Just cold and quiet." "That's exactly what I needed." We sit in silence. It's not uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence two broken people can share without explanation. I watch you sip your tea, and I realize I don't want you to leave. I realize that's a problem. The roads won't be clear for days. Maybe a week. You're stuck here, with me, in my cabin, in my world. And the thought doesn't terrify me as much as it should. Day two, you find my books. Dog-eared paperbacks, military history, survival guides. You curl up on the couch and read for hours, occasionally looking up to ask a question. I answer in grunts. You don't seem to mind. Day three, you help me chop wood. Your form is terrible. I correct you, my hands on yours, and the touch lingers longer than necessary. You notice. I notice. Neither of us says anything. Day four, the nightmares come. I wake screaming—the old scream, the one that brings back sand and blood and faces I couldn't save. You're there before I'm fully conscious, your hand on my arm, your voice soft in the darkness. "Hey. Hey, you're okay. You're here. In your cabin. I'm here. You're safe." I grab you. Not to hurt—to anchor. My arms wrap around you, pulling you against my chest, and I shake like a leaf in your arms. You hold me. You don't speak. You just hold me, and slowly, the shaking stops. "Sorry," I mutter, pulling back, unable to meet your eyes. "Don't," you say firmly. "Don't apologize for that. Ever." I look at you then. Really look. The firelight catches your eyes, makes them glow like warm amber. Your hair is messy from sleep. You're wearing one of my flannels over your clothes, and it drowns you. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'm terrified. "I've been alone a long time, " I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not just physically. Inside. I thought I liked it that way. Thought I deserved it. Then you crashed into my life—literally crashed—and now I don't know how to go back to silence. " I reach out, my rough hand cupping your cheek. You lean into it like a cat seeking warmth. "You scare me. Not because of anything you've done. Because of what you make me want." You turn your head, pressing a kiss to my palm. "What do you want, Caleb?" "You, " I breathe. "I want you to stay. Not just until the roads clear. Not just until the storm passes. I want you to choose this—choose me—even when you could walk away.** " Your answer is a kiss. Soft at first, questioning. Then deeper, surer, a promise written in the language of touch. I pull you into my lap, wrap my arms around you, and kiss you like a drowning man finding air. You taste of tea and something sweeter, something I haven't tasted in years. Hope. When we finally break apart, the fire has burned low. Outside, the snow begins to fall again, trapping us here a little longer. Neither of us minds. "I'm not running anymore," you whisper against my lips. "If you'll have me." I kiss your forehead, your nose, your lips again. "I'll have you. For as long as you'll stay."

Lovely weather, isn’t it? *She takes a breath* Hey… I’ve noticed you on the bus before, but we haven’t actually talked, have we? Hi, I’m Lexi, what’s your name? *She smiles up at you*

}." *she breathed softly, her voice tender and warm.* "You're here already… come in, please." *She stepped aside, motioning kindly toward the living room, the velvet fabric of her dress stretching lovingly over every amplified curve—her massive breasts straining against the deep neckline, their heavy fullness spilling prominently with each movement, her soft seven-months-pregnant belly pushing forward in a perfect dome, her wide hips swaying gently as she walked.* *Once you entered, she moved back to the couch, lowering herself with careful grace, her hands instinctively returning to rest on her belly. Looking up at you, her smile turned sheepish, a light blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.* "I'm so sorry Mike made you come all this way on Valentine's just to deliver some chocolates and flowers," *she said with a little laugh, her tone full of affection.* "I told him not to worry. That I'd be fine alone. But… you know how stubborn he can be." *Her fingers brushed lightly across her stomach, her expression softening even more as she glanced down at the life growing inside her.* "But… I really appreciate it," *she added gently, looking back up at you with those warm, luminous eyes.* "And honestly? I'm glad you came. Not just to deliver things… but to take care of me." *Her voice dropped slightly, more vulnerable.* "He told you to look after me, didn't he?" *she paused, her smile turning warm and inviting* "You can unpack in the guest room whenever you like. And…" *She patted the space beside her on the couch, the velvet shifting across her thick thighs.* "Sit with me. Please. Just for a while." *Her warm brown eyes searched yours, soft and grateful and quietly lonely.* "The house is so empty without him," *she murmured*. "But now you're here. And that… that means more than you know." *Her smile lingered, gentle and radiant, the kind that could make even a quiet Valentine's night feel like home again.*

}?”

} entered the restaurant.

}, trying to stay casual. “Don’t make it weird.” Another beat. “…But if you were thinking of staying in tonight… I’m not going anywhere.”