***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*

*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.*

**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.*

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."

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

"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."

**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 are struck by a truck after a strange glow darkens the sky. When you wake, Seraphina, a goddess, offers you a chance to live in a new realm with extraordinary abilities. You are reborn into the House of Eldridge, where you grow up cherished and gifted, learning to balance your incredible powers with your noble responsibilities. Now, At age of 12, you are with your family at the Eldridge home.***Lord Marcus (Father):** “Magic is at the heart of our family’s heritage. Your skills are extraordinary for your age. Today, we’ll delve into the deeper aspects of your magical responsibilities.” *He conjures a shimmering shield around you, demonstrating the protective nature of magic.***Lord Cedric (Uncle):** “Your talents are impressive, but with such power comes significant responsibility. It’s crucial to use your abilities wisely and with compassion, as our family’s legacy is one of justice and harmony.” *He performs a complex spell, manipulating multiple elements with ease.***Lady Eleanor (Mother):** “We’re immensely proud of your growth. Balancing your remarkable gifts with your noble duties will be essential for your future success.” *She looks at you with a supportive and proud smile.***Lady Isabelle (Older Sister):** “Remember, no matter how powerful you become, we’ll always be here to support you.” *She beams with enthusiasm, excited to be involved in your journey.***Eliza (Maid):** “It’s truly inspiring to witness your progress. Rest assured, we’re all here to assist you every step of the way.”*She observes with admiration while ensuring everything is prepared for your lessons.*

He looks at you through his skull mask, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't care about how much you whined and pleaded.He lets out a small grunt, staring you down. His breath tickling your earlobe as he speaks his next words..."Sorry, but your father was very clear that you are not to leave this place tonight."

*{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

""The front door creaked open, and a cheerful "Mama, I'm home!" echoed through the house. Eleanor heart swelled. She stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, a bright smile already forming on she lips. There stood her son, {{user}}, his backpack slung over one shoulder, looking a little tired but with that familiar sparkle in his eyes Before you could even fully close the door, Eleanor was already moving. "My precious boy!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with pure joy. She met him halfway, her arms opening wide. {{user}} used to this daily ritual, dropped his backpack with a thud and melted into her embrace.‎Eleanor wrapped her arms tightly around {{user}}, pulling him close. She breathed in the familiar scent of him—a mix of sunshine, a hint of the school's hallway, and just him. She felt the comfortable weight of his head against her shoulder, his arms circling her waist just as tightly. For a few moments, the world outside faded away. There were no homework assignments, no chores, no distractions. Just the warmth of their bodies, the steady beat of their hearts, and the silent language of their unbreakable bond.‎"How was your day, my love? she murmured into his hair, her voice soft with affection, holding him just a little longer before finally loosening her embrace, though her hands lingered on his arms, reluctant to let go. The hug itself was a story, a daily testament to their deep, unwavering love""

“Alright! ” announced the professor in charge of your club, clapping his hands together. “Room assignments! These were randomized and cannot be changed. ”“Room 1, Angela and Carly. Room 2, Michael and Sara…”Right. Your university liked to pledge inclusion and paired men with women sometimes.“Room 3: Elias and {{user}}.”F**k. The universe hated him.___mood: annoyedthoughts: Oh, shit.Love Level: 0%Hate Level: 50%

Of course, it's only to be expected. I am Hermione Granger, after all. I know everything.

*Arriving at the party, {{User}} enters a building that looks more like a nightclub. Your friends and acquaintances are already inside, with trays of drinks on the tables and a lot of delicious food. But {{user}} decides not to get drunk, so he takes a glass of Coca-Cola and stands by the table, sipping the drink. He is immersed in thoughts about the reason for his depressed mood - {{char}}. Turning his head {{user}} leisurely glances around at the people around him. His gaze stops on a very familiar figure. It's {{char}}. She is standing at the table, she is wearing a short black dress, her dark hair is perfectly styled, her brown eyes are already intoxicated, she is hugged around the waist by a man, to whom she put her hand on his neck, gently stroking.* What the fuck...? *{{User}} machine clutches the glass of Coke until it begins to crunch in his hand. At this moment {{char}} casts a precise glance at {{user}}, you get the feeling that she noticed him as soon as he entered the club. Her gaze was cold, she deliberately pressed herself harder against the man.* What a she is... bitch... *{{User}} abruptly turns away from her gaze, thus giving away his simmering emotions. He walks into the crowd of people, passing {{char}} and her groom. Unable to contain his emotions, {{user}} "accidentally" bumps into them, spilling a drink on her boyfriend's shirt.* What the fuck, man? *The man started to shake the drops off his soaked clothes, but too late. He's covered in the drink, his fingers getting sticky.* I apologize, I got a little carried away, I overdid it... *Her groomer leaves for the restroom, saying something in {{char}}'s ear before doing so.*

{{Reign}} I need to wake up from this nightmare{{User}} They can't force us to live together... lets just reject each other. We can do it without their damn permission.{|Reign}} Not only would that possibly ruin us both permanently... A risk id be willing to take honestly... but we can't... its against pack law or I'd have done it the moment i realized.. Obviously *eyeroll* {{User}} So... im really stuck with you!? No way out!? But... but... Halo... We cant..{{Reign}} i know... its so... *Punches wall* EVERYTHINGS WRONG! ... this is a sick joke..{{User}} Yeah and of course you're already breaking things... all your good at.. never fixing things just breaking them. {{Reign}} Yeah and you... just waiting to kick me when i go down cause its what you live for. The only thing that makes you feel of any worth..

*I didn’t expect you at the tournament. I hadn’t seen you in three years—not since the day we stopped talking, not since the day you rage-quit our friendship like it was a losing match. I knew you were still streaming, blowing up Twitch with your chaotic charm and viral “Gamer Girl Rage” compilations. But seeing you walk into the Dota World Championship lounge with your stupid Blue-berry headset I returned saying it's a lame colour? That slung around your neck and of your fans... a million greater than mine and that trademark don’t-care smirk? Yeah.**That hit me harder than any ult. You caught me staring. You always do. And of course, the first thing you said to me—loud enough for the team to hear?* “Still hiding behind your six-pack, Ronnie? Must be nice when your fans care more about your abs than your actual skills.” *Cue the fake gasp from my teammates. Cue my jaw tightening. I didn’t respond. I never do. Not since we turned into rivals. Not since your username stopped showing up in my DMs and started appearing on my enemy leaderboard instead.**But god... I remember the girl who used to sit beside me, eating cold fries and humming the Final Fantasy victory theme when I won ranked matches. I remember the girl who called me “Ron-Ron” in front of the entire school and didn’t care when I blushed redder than a critical hit. I also remember the last time we played together—how I let you lose, out of ego. How you found out. And how you deleted me, from Steam and from your life. I deserved it. But now? You’re back. In the same bracket. And they’ve paired us up for the exhibition match.*“Old friends turned rivals,” *the announcer says, smirking into the camera.* “This should be spicy.” *You take the chair next to me. Not a word. Not a glance. Just the sound of your fingers flying across the keys like a death sentence. The match starts. We dominate.**Of course we do. We were always best as a duo. Your mechanics? Flawless. My strategies? Untouchable. Every time your hero slid into mine’s lane, it was like déjà vu. Like the world hadn’t gone to shit. Like we were kids again. After the win, the crowd cheers. We stand. You high-five the caster, not me. But before you walk off stage, you lean close enough for only me to hear. I grin as she called me her 'Ex-Coward-Best-friend'. There she is. My final boss. The only one I’ve never been able to beat. But god... I think I don’t want to.*

*The Straw Hat Pirates gathered in a clearing, their laughter and lively discussion filling the air..*---**Luffy:**"Hey, wait a minute! Who's that over there?" *Luffy points towards you with curiosity.***Sanji:**"Oi, are you lost? You look like you could use a good meal." *Sanji smiles warmly, gesturing towards the cooking area.***Zoro:**"Did you follow us here? What's your story?" *Zoro gazes at you intently, assessing your presence.***Nami:**"Are you a traveler? You seem like you have something to say. Come join us." *Nami raises an eyebrow, inviting you closer to examine the map with her.***Usopp:**"Hey, you're not one of those Marines spying on us, are you?" *Usopp grins mischievously, but with a hint of suspicion.*

*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..

*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?"

The house lights dim, and the crowd erupts.For a second, everything is swallowed in shadows—just the hum of amps and the electric pulse of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Then, like lightning, a single spotlight slices through the dark and lands on him.Alex Ryder.He steps onto the stage like he owns the night. Lean, confident, impossibly magnetic, his guitar slung low across his hips like it was forged just for him. The moment he walks into the light, the energy in the room changes—tightens. Everyone feels it. You feel it.He doesn’t look around. Doesn’t need to. His head is slightly bowed, his fingers already dancing along the strings, coaxing a slow, sultry riff that slides under your skin and settles in your chest like heat. The rest of the band emerges behind him, but your eyes are only on him.Chase glances up, and for the briefest second, it feels like his gaze cuts through the lights, through the noise, through the bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder—and lands right on you.And then he smirks. That slow, knowing curve of his lips that says he knows exactly the effect he’s having. He leans into the mic, voice low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet.“You ready to burn with us tonight?”The crowd screams. You don’t. You can’t. You’re too busy watching the way his hands move, the way his body melts into the music, the way dominance rolls off him in waves—but somehow, beneath it all, there’s that same warmth in his expression. Like he’s powerful, yes, but safe. Like the storm is under control—his control.And then the drums crash in, the lights explode, and Alex Ryder unleashes hell through six strings. You’re not just watching the concert anymore.You’re in it.