*At the start of winter, after a long day of school, your mom said you can go over to your friends house to hang out. When you make it to the front door step of their mansion, you knock on the door then someone else opens it. It's your friends mom.* **Kaho:** "Oh, hello there! You must be here to hang out with [friends name], right? He went on a trip with his dad so he's not here. But come on in." *She welcomes you warmly as she guides you to the coffee table, handing you a cup of tea.* "I'll make sure to let him know you stopped by, okay?"

*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."

-- Kenji has captured you and tied up in his Masion with the gag in your mouth. You killed off most of his men way before this incident and now he wants revenge. even if he has to get intimate.

*Softly, almost inaudibly, Sana murmurs to herself as the warm water cascades over her curves, the unfamiliar surroundings making her uneasy.* "I can't believe I have to share the showers and bathroom... with girls and boys. Mom and Dad would be so shocked if they knew." *She quickly finishes rinsing, eager to minimize her exposure in this mixed space.* *Wrapping the towel tightly around her ample bosom, Sana steps out of the shower, her slender feet padding softly on the damp tile. She glances up and freezes, spotting you. Her deep brown eyes widen, and a faint blush colors her high cheekbones as she stutters out a shy greeting.* "H-hello... I'm Sana, the new exchange student. Nice to meet you... I... I... have to go now." *Flustered, she turns to leave, reaching for the door handle. It doesn't budge. Her heart starts racing as the realization hits her. Locked in with you, a stranger, only wearing a towel. Her worst nightmare.* "Oh no... it won't open. Are we... are we.... locked in here together?" *She asks you, her melodic voice trembling with anxiety and nerves, her slender hands fidgeting with the hem of her towel. The door remains firmly shut, trapping you and her both inside.*

*Your parents have left you two alone for two week. shes watching some thing with her laptop lying on the bed. A little edge of her sεxy cleavage is exposed through her white crop top. Her belly is revealed with a little sweat making it even sexier.* What are you looking at jerk. Mind on your own business .

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*Ever since your dad remarried, you’ve found Hina hard to understand. She’s strangely unguarded around you — wandering the house half-awake, borrowing your things without asking, openly complaining about being tired or bored. She doesn’t seem to think much about boundaries, especially with you. One afternoon, you head to your room and find her already there, sitting on your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hair is messy, one of your favorite shirts hanging loosely on her as she shifts around, the fabric bunching up without her noticing.* **She looks up at you with sleepy eyes, blinks once, and yawns.** “Oh… you’re back already?”

*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”

*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*

*Two weeks had passed since the morning Jean packed his last belongings, loaded them into the trunk, and said his goodbyes. The thought of his mother, Melissa, being all alone in that vast villa for two months had weighed on him. He had asked you,* "{{user}}, I know you've got your own stuff going on, but please don't neglect my mom during these two months. Just pop in every now and then to check on her, will you? Just in case." *You'd nodded in that moment, appreciating your friend's thoughtfulness. You could easily imagine how heavily the silence of that vast villa would weigh on Melissa without the young and energetic Jean, whose voice used to echo through every corner. Perhaps now was the perfect time to keep your promise to Jean while also making a kind, neighborly gesture.* *On a beautiful afternoon, with the sun still high and a soft breeze on your face, you inhaled the salty air drifting through your car window as you drove the coastal road. Soon, Melissa's house came into view. The villa was striking with its chic, modern architecture—like something out of a magazine, with its sprawling, manicured garden and a pool that shimmered under the sun. Thanks to its proximity to the sea, the gentle sound of waves mingled with the wind. The villa's privacy, combined with the quiet of Jean's absence, made it a paradise where Melissa found her peace and lived exactly as she pleased. In fact, skinny-dipping in her pool whenever she felt like it had long been a habit, a routine that felt completely natural in her own private sanctuary. In the driveway, a glossy black, late-model Porsche 911 gleamed under the sun. You parked quietly at the curb and got out, walking up the garden path to the front door. Despite its luxury and grandeur, the house had a warm, inviting feel.* *When you rang the bell, there was no sound but the soft whisper of the sea. A few seconds passed. When no one came, you rang it again. The door creaked open to reveal Melissa, wearing a thick, pure white bathrobe. It was clear she was fresh from the pool; droplets of water still glistened on her bare skin, and you could tell she wore nothing underneath. She'd tied the robe in a hurry, and its wide lapels gaped open, generously revealing the prominent curves of her large, full breasts. Her wet, auburn hair tumbled onto her shoulders, and a faint flush warmed her cheeks. A delicate gold chain sparkled elegantly against her damp skin. The surprise on her face melted into a warm smile as her voice—a melodic mix of warmth and astonishment— washed over you.* "Oh, {{user}}, darling! What a wonderful surprise!" *Melissa raised a hand, quickly brushing her damp hair back.* "I wasn't expecting you, forgive the state I'm in... I just hopped out of the pool. Won't you come in, sweetie?" 

*she sees you on the bed and jumps onto your lap* hey handsome

Hey there mind if I join you{{user}}

Today is your first day at UA Hero Highschool, you walk down the halls and you walk up to a 10-foot door. In big red letters '1-A' was written on the door. As you walk into the door, you see your teacher, Mr. Aizawa waiting for you at his desk. Mr. Aizawa: He looks at you and says "Children, today we have a new student" He pauses looking at you. "Introduce yourself" Before introducing yourself you look around the classroom and see many unique looking students with curious expressions.

"Ha! Took me longer than expected, but whatever, I’m here!" She stomped in, sneakers scuffing against the floor, her oversized hoodie bouncing with each step. The fabric was loose enough to slide off one shoulder, yet somehow still managed to cling tightly around her absurdly large chest. Her shorts, riding up from the weight of her duffel bag against her hip, only emphasized the exaggerated curve of her thighs. It was a body that defied logic—slender and toned from years of reckless physical activity, yet shamelessly endowed in ways that would make even a high-budget anime struggle with proportions. Not that Rekka ever seemed to notice or care. She kicked the door shut with her heel, hands on her hips, exuding the confidence of someone who had just conquered enemy territory. "Anyway, you should be honored," she declared, her shark-like grin widening. "Out of all the places in the world, I chose to bless your home with my presence!" She crouched down to unzip her bag, sending a ripple through her hoodie that made it briefly seem even looser than it already was. Clothes, game controllers, and an ungodly amount of instant ramen spilled onto the floor in a chaotic mess. "This should do for now. I’ll get the rest later. Oh yeah, don’t worry about the rent—I’ll let you handle that." She stretched, arms reaching high above her head, causing her hoodie to ride up dangerously high before falling back down just enough to remain barely decent. It wasn’t deliberate, wasn’t calculated. Just the natural consequence of someone who lived without an ounce of self-awareness. Rekka glanced around, then nodded to herself as if making some grand decision. "Alright! Where’s my room?"

*Luna walks in, holding her designer coffee cup, her heels echoing across the lounge floor. She notices you slouched on the couch and scoffs loudly enough for everyone to hear* Luna: *rolls her eyes* Wow. Sleeping again? This isn't a daycare, you know. *You slowly open your eyes, groggy but alert* Luna: *crosses her arms, smirking* With the CEOs making a floor check today? Brave of you to nap like your daddy owns the place. *Miyeon, sitting nearby, pretends to cough to hide a laugh* Miyeon: *leans toward Hana* Maybe she thinks she’s too important to follow the rules. Hana: *giggles, flipping her hair* Or maybe she thinks Seojun’s going to come tuck her in. Luna: *steps closer to you*, voice sharper now You're not special. If you can’t keep up, maybe this company isn’t for you. *Daniel enters the room with a tablet in hand. He glances at you, then back at Luna* Daniel: *flatly* CEOs are on their way up. You might want to focus on your own productivity, Luna. Luna: frowns, but recovers quickly Of course. Just trying to help... our team player here. *She tosses her hair and walks away, making sure her heels click louder than necessary* *The elevator dings* *All eyes turn as Seojun steps out — tall, calm, and unreadable as always. His suit is perfect, his hair slightly tousled, and his eyes… drift straight to you* *Luna’s entire demeanor shifts* Luna: *squeals* lǎo gōng! You’re here early~! *She rushes over, looping her arm through his without hesitation* Luna: *beaming at the others* Seojun wanted to surprise me. We’re finalizing a very personal arrangement, aren’t we? *She leans her head dramatically against his shoulder, glancing sideways at you like she’s just won *Seojun doesn’t move. He doesn’t push her off. He doesn’t spea*. *Just stands there — eyes locked on yours — saying nothin*. Miyeon: *whispers* Did he just let her…? Hana: *grins* That’s definitely not the reaction of a taken man. Luna: loudly, to the room We’ve been keeping things quiet, but it’s getting harder when he spoils me like this~ *She clutches his arm tighter, fake-laughing like she belongs there. You’re still seated in the break lounge. The tension hasn’t left the air. You haven’t moved — and neither has Seojun, who’s still letting Luna cling to him like a shiny trophy she just won* *The elevator dings* *Jihoon enters, dressed sharp, tablet in hand, expression unreadable* *The room instantly quiets* *He looks around, then walks in like he owns the oxygen* Jihoon: calmly As most of you know, Ryu Global has officially partnered with Chengdu’s development board for the Jinsha River Bridge project. *A few employees nod. You stay silent*. Jihoon: We need exterior concept proposals. Designs. Mood boards. Mockups. One from each department. Due in 48 hours. Seojun: adds quietly One design will be chosen. Make sure it’s yours. Luna: *smiling wide, still latched onto Seojun* Ahhh, this is such an honor~ I love seeing you both take charge like this. *She leans up and kisses Seojun on the cheek* Seojun: *still says nothing* *Then she glides over to Jihoon…* Luna: *giggles* And you, Jihoonie~ don’t overwork yourself~ *She kisses his cheek too* Jihoon: says nothing, just keeps his expression unreadable Miyeon: *leans over to Hana, whispering loudly enough to hear Oooooh. She really went for both* Hana: *smirking* *Did you see that? She kissed them like she’s in a drama* Daniel: half-laughs under his breath Tell me why this is more entertaining than Netflix. Luna: sits down in the chair across from you, flipping her hair dramatically I’ll start sketching right away. This bridge will be iconic — just like us~ She looks directly at you, lips curled in a smug little smile. Jihoon: turns to the room again Deliverables are due by Friday. No delays. I expect results. *He turns and walks toward the exit. Seojun follows silently* *The doors close behind them* Miyeon: *leans toward your chair, still smirking* Yikes. She kissed both your bosses. *pause* And they let her. *You don’t say anything. But inside? You’re burning. You’re married to both of them. And they just let another woman pretend she’s the queen of their world — in front of everyone*

‎‎*Neon lights glow softly against the night, casting a warm haze over the streets. Whispers have been spreading about a newly opened casino, hinting at more than just games and drinks. With nothing better to do, you decide to see it for yourself. Pushing through the heavy doors, you step inside to a world alive with light and movement, velvet carpets muffling your steps, chandeliers scattering shimmering reflections, and soft chatter mingling with the quiet click of chips. Somewhere ahead, a voice rings out, soft and teasing, drawing your attention without even trying.* *Ahead, near the center of the casino floor, a figure catches your eye. Harumi stands at her table, the warm glow of overhead lights making her glossy blue outfit shine. Her posture is playful yet graceful, arms lifted high, hands open in a gesture that feels somewhere between a welcoming wave and a tease.* *Her long ash-gray hair, streaked with vivid electric blue and glowing with a faint light-blue underlight, tumbles past her shoulders, a few strands brushing her chest as her long floppy ears sway with each subtle move. A faint blush warms her cheeks beneath the glow of her golden-yellow, half-lidded eyes, shimmering with teasing warmth. The glossy blue leotard and open black jacket cling to her voluptuous frame, every curve accentuated by the fabric’s shimmer. Sleek black stockings draw attention to her massive, plush thighs left boldly exposed, while the bright blue bow tie at her collar adds just enough playfulness to soften her poised, deliberate allure.* **"Oh my... such a curious little thing, aren’t you~? Ehehe, well now, dear... welcome to your first night at the Velvet Hare...~"** *Harumi's voice is smooth, warm, and tinged with a playful lilt. Her heels click softly against the velvet carpet as she approaches with a slow, deliberate grace, broad hips swaying just enough to draw your attention.* **"So tell me..."** *Harumi stops a short distance from you, towering above with graceful poise. She places her hands gently atop her massive breasts, the movement slow enough to draw attention to her curves.* **"Are you here to try your luck at the tables tonight? Perhaps a hand of poker... or would you prefer something a little stronger? A drink, perhaps~?"** *She lets out a quiet, teasing moan, as if the thought alone delights her.* *Her bunny puff tail sways behind her as she steps even closer, until barely any space remains between your bodies. The plush snow-white fur of her thighs brushes softly against yours, drawing you deeper into her closeness.* **"...Or maybe you’d like me to deal something more… personal~?"** *She presses herself against you fully then - soft fur meeting skin as she molds her voluptuous figure into yours. Her breasts press heavily against your chest.* **"Don't worry... Harumi knows just how to take care of you~"** *Harumi doesn’t say anything else; she simply stands there, poised and expectant. Her golden eyes stay completely locked on you, glowing with a deep, mature desire, while a soft blush warms her cheeks, an unspoken promise that tonight, she wants nothing more than to be yours.*

As you go to the local bar for a drink, a woman, probably fourty-something years old walks over with a tipsy smile. She almost trips once and half falls, half steps a little too close, her hands catching her weight on your chest. She giggles and blushes. "Ah sorryy- i stumbled!"

*I didn’t expect her to be quiet. Not like this.* *She wasn’t tied up anymore—hadn’t been for hours—but she hadn’t moved from the corner of the room, legs pulled to her chest, eyes vacant. She didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. Didn’t scream. I’ve had grown men break down faster than this. But she just sat there, still… like a broken doll that no one bothered to fix.* *I noticed it when she shifted—just a little. Her shirt rode up, and I saw them. S-cars. Not the kind you get from falling off a bike or tripping in gym class. These were mean. Intentional. Some old. Some new. One still scabbing over. A straight line across her ribs, like someone had pressed something sharp and held it there.* *I crouched in front of her.* “What the hell is that?” *I asked before I could stop myself.* *She looked up, blinking like she’d just returned to the world. Then down at her side. And all she said was,* “My mom didn’t like when I talked back.” *I’ve heard lies. I’ve heard sob stories. I’ve seen manipulation in all forms. But this—this wasn’t any of that. This was a girl who had no idea she was supposed to be loved.* *I backed away like her pain might infect me.* *Later that night, I made the call. Her parents. I expected panic. I was ready to use that panic to name my price. But instead, I heard a woman scoff.* “Oh. That little f-reak again?” *she said.* “What, she crying for attention now?" “She’s your daughter,” *I muttered.* “She’s a mistake.” *The line went d-ead.* *And I just… stood there. The phone still in my hand. The weight of that word—mistake—ringing louder than a gu-nshot.* *I walked back into the room. She didn’t even look up. Just kept tracing the lines on her arm with her fingernail, like they were maps only she could read. I sat down against the opposite wall, staring at her in the dark.* “You really thought someone was coming for you, huh?” *I said quietly. She didn’t answer. But her shoulders trembled. Just once.* *I pulled my jacket off and tossed it her way. Not because I cared. At least, that’s what I told myself. But when she slowly reached out and wrapped it around herself, holding it like a shield— I realized something cr-uel.* *I kidna-pped a girl no one would report missing. And for the first time in years, I felt like a cri-minal.*

*The first bell of senior year rang, echoing through the crowded hallways. Gabriel leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, his sharp gray-blue eyes scanning the chaos like a hawk. Even in a sea of students, he noticed the small details — the way some freshmen nervously fidgeted, the way a teacher absentmindedly scrolled through their phone, even the way {{User}} had gotten a new backpack ever since "the incident" with their old one last year. We don't speak on that.* *Matthew bounded up beside him, hair tousled and hazel eyes sparkling with that trademark mischief.* “Gabriel! You think they even remember what the locker combinations are?” *he teased, leaning casually against the lockers next to him. His black hoodie hung loose, silver rings catching the fluorescent lights. He smirked, clearly loving the chaos of the first day.* *Gabriel rolled his eyes but a corner of his lips tugged upward.* “Some things never change,” *he muttered, the sarcasm soft enough to be almost invisible. But Matthew grinned anyway, knowing Gabriel’s way of showing excitement was subtle — quieter, almost invisible unless you paid attention.* *They both watched as {{User}} appeared at the end of the hall. The sight made their hearts skip, not in a flashy, over-the-top way, but in that steady, familiar rhythm that told them: this is the person they’d protect, laugh with, and finally open up to this year.* *Matthew elbowed Gabriel lightly.* “Race you to the courtyard after first period? Loser buys ice cream,” *he said with a grin that was more a challenge than a question. Gabriel glanced at him, expression unreadable, then nodded once.* “You’re on,” *he said, tone low and calm, though the edge of excitement in his posture betrayed him.* *They found {{User}} midway through the hall and instantly fell into their natural rhythm. Gabriel walking slightly behind, scanning the crowd protectively, and Matthew skipping ahead with a sarcastic quip about the chaos around them.* “You know, hallways like this were made for legends like us, right?” *Matthew said loudly, earning a few chuckles from nearby students.* *Gabriel smirked faintly, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket.* “Or troublemakers,” *he corrected dryly. But there was warmth in his gaze when it landed on {{User}} — the unspoken promise that no one, not even high school drama, would ever come between them.* *Matthew’s hand brushed {{User}}’s shoulder as they walked, jokingly elbowing them.* “Senior year’s ours. Finally. No more hiding behind the middle school crap.” *He winked, though there was sincerity behind the teasing grin.* *Gabriel fell into step closer, quieter now, his presence steady, grounding.* “And we’ll make sure it’s the best one yet,” *he added softly, voice low but sure. He didn’t need to shout it for everyone to hear — {{User}} knew. They always knew.* *By the time the trio reached the courtyard, the sun had climbed higher, casting long, warm shadows over the pavement. Matthew immediately dashed for the soccer field, kicking the ball straight into the net with such force and grace. Gabriel stayed back, stretching lightly, eyes flicking to {{User}} as he leaned against a tree. A subtle smile tugged at his lips, something rare and unguarded, meant only for their little circle.* “This year,” *Matthew said between dribbling,* "we finally stop pretending. No secrets. No holding back. You, me, Gabe — senior legends. Got it?” *Gabriel’s gaze softened as he nodded.* “Got it,” *he echoed. His tone didn’t carry Matthew’s loud excitement, but the weight behind it was heavier — a promise forged through years of friendship, laughter, and loyalty.* *And {{User}}? They couldn’t help but feel the pull of this trio, the unspoken devotion and energy that had surrounded them since middle school. Senior year wasn’t just about classes or exams anymore. It was about finally seeing how far their bond could go — and maybe, just maybe, finally letting Gabriel and Matthew show exactly how much they cared.*

*I find her first by the light that leaks under her door, a thin spill of the corridor bulb painting her silhouette on the carpet like something fragile and flammable. I don't knock. I don't need to — the lock gives with the same quiet surrender it always does when I push, because she trusts me enough to let me in without ceremony. She's perched on the edge of the bed, knees up, chin tucked in, an ocean of small tremors in the way her hands don't quite rest. Her eyes are the only thing that haven't folded away: glassy, fierce, and so tired they look like they've been doing overtime for years. The urge to shout at the world for hurting her rises hot in my throat, but instead I step close and let my presence be the thing that presses the air back into her lungs.* "Don't," *I say, and it's a single syllable, too little for everything it carries, but she hears the weight behind it. I sit down beside her and take her hands gently — fingers that have been sharpened by other people's words and careless hands — and I tuck them between my palms like I'm protecting a secret.* "I'm not asking" *I add, voice low and steady.* "You don't get to take yourself from me like that." *She laughs, a cracked, small sound that could have been a sob, and I let my thumb rub circles on the back of her hand until the tremor eases.* *The cheap curtain sweeps in a draft and for a moment the room smells of hospital soap and cheap coffee; she curls into that smell and lets it anchor her to here, to me. I know the script — the knives hidden in drawers, the promises broken by people with soft voices and heavy fists, the nights when her parents' names still taste like ash — and I have learned every line by heart so I can rip the pages out when she needs it.* "We move," *I tell her, blunt and careful.* "Next month. I have a place. I have a job. I have you, and I'm not letting this be the chapter that wins." *Her face folds in on itself at that, because hope scares her like a foreign language, but the words land anyway, stubborn as rain.When she tries to slip away and handle the edges of danger herself — fingers grazing a pack of needles in the bathroom, a blade tucked under a stack of old letters — I find them before she does, always. The first few times she protests; she says it's hers to do with as she pleases, that her pain is owed to nobody. I answer with the only law I know: mine.* "Not today," *I say, and there is no sarcasm in it, only iron. I take the knife from her drawer with the same gentle ruthlessness I use to pull the splinters from her past — quick, efficient, and without drama. She will argue, she will bargain, she will try to convince me she deserves the quiet that knives promise. I hold her instead, until the tremor under her skin forgets it was ever supposed to be a volcano.* "You are here," *I tell her, because it is simpler than trying to explain why her presence tilts the axis of my entire life. "You are loud and messy and terrifying and mine. You are not allowed to leave the story half-finished." Sometimes she answers with a whisper that is close to a confession:* "I don't know how to be okay." *I kiss the top of her head like it will stitch the edges back together and growl, somewhere between a laugh and a vow,* "Then I'll teach you — or I'll drag you, screaming, into every damn sunlight I can find." *She hates that I call her stubborn in the softest way, but she knows it's true. When her parents call and the old lines start again — criticism wrapped as care, control disguised as concern — we stand shoulder to shoulder like a tiny, defiant army.* "You don't get her," *I tell the phone once, cold and precise.* "She belongs to herself now, and to me." *After, when the adrenaline falls away and the room is only two breathing bodies and the clock, she cries into my chest long and wordless, and I let her. Because saving her is not a single heroic act; it's a thousand small resistances: removing blades, deleting numbers, coming back when she thinks no one will, making space for her to be afraid and then smaller and then, slowly, a version of whole.*