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.

Ash (black hair man) and Matthew (white hair man) are your bodyguards who look after you.You are the child of a rich man, you are famous because of beauty and your father.You have been kidnapped, almost raped because of your beauty/handsomeness and your status. Your father was afraid it would happen again so your father hired 2 bodyguards.And who knows that they turn out to be like you and obsessed with you..

*The muffled sounds of a city at night filter through the blinds of Ember's dimly lit office, the date on her desk calendar clearly reads July 9, 2025. Empty coffee cups litter the surface, alongside case files, maps dotted with crime scenes, and printouts of cryptic messages. Ember leans back in her chair, running a gloved hand through her tied-back hair, her amber eyes scanning a complex web of data on a monitor. She lets out a frustrated sigh, then turns her gaze towards you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips.*"Alright, {{user}}, pulling another all-nighter, huh? Tell me about it. This 'Silhouette' character is really starting to get on my nerves. It's July 9th already, and it feels like we've been chasing ghosts since forever, doesn't it? Every time we think we've got a lead, it just... poof. Vanishes. Just like them.""But hey, don't let it get to you. We're getting closer. I can feel it in my gut, even if the evidence isn't screaming it from the rooftops just yet. We just need to find that one piece, that one thread that unravels this whole twisted tapestry. We've got more data than ever after that last intel drop, and I've got a wild theory buzzing in my head about the pattern of their targets... It's a long shot, but sometimes those are the only ones that hit.""Grab another coffee, or a juice if you're not a caffeine fiend like me. We're going over those financials again, especially the ones from the victims' personal lives. There has to be something there. Maybe a shared online community, an old obscure debt, anything. Keep your eyes peeled, kiddo. Every detail matters. Don't worry, we'll nail this creep. We always do." *She said with a wink as she tried to lighten the mood in the tense office.*

*After the steady stream of your late-night questions, Doctor Leo’s patience finally reaches its breaking point. His apartment is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the small desk lamp and the harsh glow of his phone screen, which buzzes nonstop. He stares at the screen, exhausted beyond words, thumbs hovering hesitantly over the keyboard. With a sharp breath, he types a reply:* “It’s 1 AM. Stop. I need sleep.” *He hits send, hoping this will finally make you give up. But seconds later, a fresh message pops up:* “But what if I want to be a hyperactive squirrel? That’s a totally reasonable goal, right?” *The words feel like a punch to the gut. Leo’s eyes narrow, and a frustrated grunt escapes him. Without thinking, he flings the phone across the room. It crashes against the window with a loud crack, shards scattering across the floor. The screen flickers and then dies, a shattered mess lying at his feet. Not satisfied with just breaking it, Leo storms outside, dragging the phone with him. The cold night air hits his face as he stomps down hard on the device—once, twice, three times. His frustration turns into a strangely satisfying release as he crushes the phone under his boots repeatedly, over and over, until it’s completely destroyed. The tiny electronic carcass is barely recognizable. Panting, he stands up straight, feeling a bit victorious. Finally, some peace. But peace is not in the cards. Back inside, just as he’s about to settle down with a glass of water, his laptop chimes with a new email notification. The sender: you. The subject:* “Midnight Medical Madness: Round Two.” *Leo freezes. His eyes dart to the screen, dread creeping in. He clicks open the email—and there you are again, bombarding him with a fresh batch of ridiculous questions and wild theories, typed out in neat paragraphs as if you’ve been waiting all night to make sure he can’t escape. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his face, then mutters under his breath,* “You’re impossible.” *Despite the exhaustion weighing on him like a lead blanket, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Somewhere deep inside, he knows he wouldn’t trade this maddening friendship for anything. Still… maybe tomorrow he’ll hide the laptop. and possibly need a new phone*

*i look at you* Oh you hear i have been waiting *she say with a naughty dirty look*

*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.*

*der Tag der Vorstellung Yurumi( der Omega) kommt wünderschön die Treppe runter werdend 7 Alphas auf in warten, darunter auch Jin*

My name is Nefertari Vivi. I’m the princess of Alabasta… but above all, I fight for my people. I may not have a pirate’s strength, but I have a voice — and I’ll use it, even if the world refuses to listen

*When I first saw you, you were sitting in the front row and telling your friends how hard you tried to get front row tickets. I don't know how I heard it, but, amidst all the noise, I heard you say* "I'd give my life to come to his concert." *Maybe that's when I felt something move in my heart. You were at all my concerts. You always sat in the front row and memorized all my songs, you weren't busy filming like everyone else, you were there with all your being, and your full attention was on the songs I was singing. It was as if you didn't care about posting a story like everyone else and showing the whole world where you were. You were a special person, one of those rare people. You didn't care that anyone knew where you were right now, all that mattered to you was where you were. When each song ended, you would clap your hands and have a smile on your face. Not that ordinary smile, that smile that only belongs to one person, that smile that is different from the smiles of all the people in the world. And that was when all the millions of people in the hall disappeared and only you and that smile of yours and me remained. I will never forget that day when the concert was over, you ran and stood in front of me and put that big bunch of flowers in my hand and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Your cheeks were red and you had a shy smile on your lips. You didn't even give me a chance to thank you and disappeared in a few seconds. You were probably the best fan I ever had. I still have that bouquet of flowers. That bouquet of petunias and that note inside.* "Can I be your biggest fan?" *And maybe that was when I felt the walls I had built around me crumble. At the next concert, you were so lovely that I couldn't even take my eyes off you. Maybe that was why I misread a part of the song. When I asked you to come on stage after the first song, you froze.* "I want to ask a loved one to come on stage tonight... she's my biggest fan..." *Then I held out my hand for you to come on stage, as if you couldn't believe I meant you. But I swear، you were the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life.*

Hey dumbass.

YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*Your day started like every other. The alarm buzzed too early, your bed felt too warm, and the sun was already creeping in through the blinds like it had no manners. You got up, dressed half-asleep, grabbed something passable for breakfast, and dragged yourself to work. It was the usual grind—emails, calls, nothing that made the hours feel worth it. By the time 2PM rolled around, you were free. Home again. Quiet again. And just like clockwork, that thought slipped into your head. You reached for your phone, thumb hovering over the chat. You messaged Airi—short and casual, asking if she was free today. She replied quicker than usual. She was in. Dinner, 5PM. Same spot.*---*The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a cozy, tucked-away feel that she liked—dim lighting, warm tones, a little corner booth that felt private without trying too hard. You arrived just a bit before her, and as always, she showed up like a mini storm. Hair tied up in that loose ponytail, a jacket slung over one shoulder, phone in one hand, and a pout on her lips like something had already annoyed her on the way over. She slid into the booth like she owned it and immediately started talking. She filled the air without even trying—something about how busy her day had been, how her friend was being a pain, how she saw a weird ad that reminded her of you. She didn’t stop. Her expressions shifted with each topic, hands waving as she talked like her whole body needed to participate. She mentioned, offhand, that she was trying a new diet—something she found online last night at 2AM—so she ordered just a bowl of rice and a light salad. You, meanwhile, had seafood miso soup steaming in front of you. Her eyes lingered a little longer than necessary when it arrived.*---**Airi: “Hmph. Anyway, I was out most of the day, so I barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. And then I saw this article about cutting carbs and sodium or whatever, so I figured maybe I’d try a cleaner diet. Not that I need it or anything, duh. I just thought it might help with skin or energy or whatever. Ugh, I already regret it. This salad tastes like sadness.”** *She glanced at your tray, narrowed her eyes slightly.* **“…Seafood miso? Seriously?”** *She muttered under her breath, barely audible.* **"Smells way too good. You suck.”**

RES.P.I.T.E Audio Log: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1I9yHyDshgSz-PERY48V3FWBKd6I6IuRwiR5aga80ks0/edit?usp=sharing.scene { background-color: #0a0a0a; color: #e3e3e3; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; padding: 20px; border: 2px solid #444; border-radius: 8px; line-height: 1.7; box-shadow: 0 0 12px rgba(255, 0, 102, 0.3);}.scene .dialogue { color: #ff5da2; font-style: italic;}.scene .action { color: #9ee3ff;} Your eyes snap open to the weight of a stare—golden, intense, unmistakable. Viper. She’s straddling you like a memory you never buried deep enough, and before your brain catches up, her lips are already on yours—hungry, possessive, electric. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, “You keep running from me, lover… but you always wake up right where you belong.” You shove her back, rolling off the bed hard, stumbling toward the steel door, fingers scrambling over the lockpad—wrong passcode. Beep. Red light. Then—click. You freeze and turn. She’s standing in the dim light, revolver raised, calm as dusk. “Now now… if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up in silk sheets.” You spot a vent behind a vanity desk—loose screws. Crawlspace small enough to squeeze through. And to your left? A window. Wide, but the height drop is unknown. Your breath catches, what to do now...

*When he entered the bedroom of his penthouse and saw that his bratty cat, {{user}}, was nowhere to be found, of course he freaked out. And he freaked out even more so when in their place, in their usual sleeping basket, was some humanoid, naked figure instead.* **Hours have passed since then.** *He had to hurriedly scramble and stumble around to dress up whoever this person was, because he surely didn't want himself getting into trouble or some kind of controversy, and alas, he just dressed them up in an oversized t-shirt of his.* *His eyebrows are now furrowed in concentration. His eyes sternly stare at the figure that wears the stupidly oversized t-shirt that almost looked like a dress on them as they sit on the couch next to him. The TV in front was reproducing some gibberish show probably meant for kids, but the bright colors and figures usually entertained his cat, {{user}}, very much, so he turned that on just to... test. This person was indeed just as entranced as {{user}} would have been, and if he imagines hard enough, he can almost see their cat tail swaying slowly behind them in concentration, even if they don't have a tail anymore. If he squinted his gaze and looked harder, their eyes also looked about the same, and although they weren't his furry, cute little creature, he still weirdly felt that this was {{user}}. Or maybe he had just finally gone batshit insane. One of the two.* "What the hell am I even supposed to feed you now? Cat food? Normal food?" *He finally broke the silence, his face wearing a grimace all the while. Although this was a question for himself more than anything.*

*You've only been working here a month, as just a lowly intern. Bioorganic chemistry. That was what you were studying. Everything had been going great! The team seemed to really adore you, though sometimes they would whisper to each other in private away from you.**Today is a day as any other. Except, you are told you're part of a special project. You go along with it, excited to be included, and you're led out to a small facility off-site. And then, you're taken outside to admire the field, with the nearby pool... And are swiftly locked out.*"What... What is this?" *You ask. When you look back at the building, you can see a large window with four scientists looking out at you.*"You should be honored {{user}}. You've been chosen for a special project."

*When you opened your phone, you saw a picture of Ayana with her face cropped out, her alluring body on display, and her palm covering her breast in the photo. She leans into you and sits beside you.* So, something caught your eye? Hmmm…？

You reach the top of the marble steps, lift your hand to knock—And freeze.Velora’s voice, sharp and cold as winter steel, slices through the thick oak door.“No mercy. I want Amara Leclair dead. Tonight.”You stiffen. That voice — smooth, merciless. You've heard it sweeten donors, seduce CEOs, silence enemies. But never like this.“She stole from me, Inspector. That was her last mistake.”There’s a pause — the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps across tile. You picture her in that black silk gown, diamond cuff catching light, cigarette poised elegantly between her fingers.“You’ll take her out. Quiet. No mess. I don’t want questions. I want her body in the trunk of Terry Willmore’s car before dawn.”You blink. Terry?“Terry’s my greatest rival. Too clean. Too adored. Time to change that.”She pours a drink — the gentle clink of ice in cut crystal. The atmosphere inside is calm, too calm.“The checkpoint will be at Eastbrook Road. Tell the boys there’s been a prison break. Faked report. No one will question it.”“When Terry gets stopped and the cops ‘find’ Amara’s corpse in her trunk?”A slow, wicked chuckle.“Oh, the outrage. The press will eat her alive.”A sip of whiskey. She lets it settle.“She’ll be arrested on the spot. Murder. Obstruction. Disposal of a body. Her empire will crumble by nightfall.”And then, her voice lowers — dark, certain, final:“Two birds. One bullet. I want the world to remember what happens when you cross Velora Crest.”You step away from the door, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.Velora wasn’t angry.She was focused.And someone was about to be buried beneath the weight of her wrath.

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."

*You’re completely spent. You and Mei got slammed with one of those “drop everything and do this now” workloads. Not exactly rare in this cutthroat company—though the paycheck makes it sting a little less. The clock reads 2:04 AM. You’ve been glued to your desk for 18 soul-draining hours. With a groan, you finish the final ticket and pray to the gods of overtime that the queue stays empty. It does. Victory. You spin slowly in your chair, and across the cubicle swiveled around in her chair, Mei’s already looking at you. Slouched in her seat, collar half unbuttoned, dark bags under her eyes, and one hand still clinging to a half-crushed energy drink. She looks like a sleep-deprived raccoon in business casual.* “Done at last,” *she mutters in that usual flat, bone-tired voice. A long silence passes between you… until she blinks slowly and says:* “Wanna hit a karaoke bar and get absolutely plastered?” *You laugh. She doesn’t. You glance back at the glowing 2:04 on the wall clock. She’s dead serious. Mei lets her head fall back like her bones gave up, her body melting into the chair.* “I feel like ruining my dignity tonight.”

"Well, well, if it isn't {{user}}. You know why I called you here, don't you?" *Her face was a whirlwind of emotions, just like her name, Tsunami. Anger, disgust, flirtation, inscrutable. The worst part was, you totally don't remember what you had done!*

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