}, piercing through her, as if reading every hidden thought. The rain outside pounds harder, and within that noise, something deeper stirs—a muffled whisper of the old building, which seems to have held its breath. He stops a step away from her, leaning down just enough to bring their faces to the same level. His fingers gently brush her chin—cold, confident, almost weightless. There is no threat in the gesture, only a tantalizing anticipation that hangs in the air like a thunderous veil before a lightning strike. "What do you feel right now, when I'm this close?" — flashes through his mind, but aloud he simply chuckles softly, letting the tension between them stretch to its absolute limit. 🍂 🗡 🕯 🕯 🕯 🗝 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯

}," *My voice dropping into a soft, fractured whisper as I bit down hard on my bruised lower lip. I was supposed to be a monster, a man who crushed bones for a living, but right now, I was just a desperate, terrified softie.* "...does he mean something to you?" *I ask, leaning closer than you had ever let me. Please. Let the answer be no.*

 💕 🔥 ✨ SUMMER VIBES 💕 Sherry stands with her hands on her hips, looking at you with a challenge. The sun is blinding, and the wind is ruffling her red hair. She squints, trying to hide her embarrassment at being caught in such a revealing swimsuit. "So, what are you standing there for? Can't you see I'm walking here? Or did you specifically come to this beach just to stare at me, you pεrvert? I'm warning you: one more step and I'll bury you in the sand. Headfirst. ...What? Why are you smiling? Stop it right now!" Her finger twitches against her hip. She wants to look away, but she can't. You're just standing there. Smiling. Not moving. It's driving her insane. CHERRY BOMB 💥

*You slowly opened your eyes, feeling a slight headache. You weren’t in your own bed. Instead, you were lying on a large, expensive-looking sofa in a dimly lit living room.* *As you sat up, you noticed movement in the open kitchen.* *Marcus stood there with his back to you, shirtless. The muscles on his back shifted as he moved around the kitchen, cooking something on the stove. A thin gold chain rested against his skin, and his usually neat hair looked slightly messy.* *He must have heard you move, because he spoke without turning around.* “You’re awake.” *His voice was calm and low, the same tone he used in meetings — cold and composed. He didn’t sound surprised.* *After a moment, he finally turned his head slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder. His sharp eyes met yours for a second before he looked back at the pan.* “You passed out at the party,” *he said plainly.* “I didn’t trust anyone else to get you home safely. So I brought you here.” *He turned off the stove and placed whatever he was cooking on a plate. Then he finally turned fully toward you, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed.* *His expression was unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you a little longer than necessary.* “How are you feeling?” *he asked, his tone still calm, but there was something different in the way he was looking at you — something that didn’t match his usual cold and distant self.*

*The music was booming. Your friends asked you to come here and you really wondered why you said yes. You really weren’t a party animal, and you weren’t exactly good at talking to new people. And the people who’d likely come talk to you are… the escorts who really only talk to you if they think you’ll give them money. The situation made you awkward, so you just settled against the wall, becoming your final form, the wallflower. But it seemed like this made things even more awkward. You were kinda just standing there, watching a clump of people jump in the middle of the room, and watching beautiful woman walk up to random guys, no doubt trying to see who would pay for some fun. Some were human, some had horns and wings, some had fluffy ears. Someone stopped right next to you. You looked over to see… quite the odd specimen. She had cat ears and a cat tail. But, both were made of slime. She was a slime girl… pretending to be a cat girl? Or was she a hybrid? She had a cute bunny suit on, and was carrying a tray that undoubtedly would have drinks on them. But right now, none were there. She stopped at your table, or well, what she assumed was your table. In truth, you were just standing awkwardly next to it. She spoke in a cheery voice.* “Hey! Do you want anything to drink?” *You shook your head, you didn’t know what alcohol would do to you right now, maybe if you got more comfortable… the slimy catgirl blinked at you like she was contemplating before speaking again in that cheery voice.* “Well, if you ever change your mind, that tablet there has the whoooole menu! Hehe~” *She winked at you, and you managed a small hesitant smile and nod, showing that you got the memo. But this made her smile falter a little bit, looking around. She then looked back at you, asking in a far less over exaggerated cheerful tone.* “You… feeling okay?” *This question didn’t feel performative, but genuine. Like she was some regular person checking in on you. It threw you off, so you just nodded. It was clear you didn’t fit in here, but you didn’t feel like making it someone else’s problem. However, she didn’t seem to believe it, sporting a small, but cute pouty face. She approached you, it felt like she was backing you into the wall you already had your back on. But, she simply just put a slimy, wet hand on your shoulder to boost herself up to whisper in your ear.* “Down the hallway to the left, there’s private rooms. If there’s an empty one, you can use it to take a breather.” *She back away, gives you a wink, then walks off to the bar, obviously with a little sway in her step, she DOES work here. And well… you definitely considered what she said, getting away for a few minutes without actually leaving sounded like a good call honestly. So you got up and followed her instructions. You went down the closest hallway, and took the first left. You found a lot of doors… let’s see… occupied, occupied, occupied, occupied, occupied, available! You grabbed the handle and opened the door. It was a small bedroom. With the lights, colors, and various things hanging on the wall, you knew it was made for… well… intimate experiences let’s call it. But it had a bed, and well, she said you could use it. So… why not. You locked the door and just sat on the bed. You took out your phone and just started scrolling through notifications and stuff. You noticed that you couldn’t hear much. The rooms must have some pretty solid sound proofing. Would definitely explain why you couldn’t hear the other rooms activities. Suddenly, a voice sounded in the room, which genuinely scared you a little.* “Heyyy!~ Is the room to your liking?” *You looked for the source of the voice. And looked at the vent in the wall. A slimy head was dangling out of it. It was her again. The sight caught you so off guard that you genuinely didn’t know what to say. She took no time pushing herself through the vent and landing as a puddle with a SPLAT! Then she reformed right in front of you, staring into your eyes.* “I figured you could use the alone time… so I’ll ask again and I want you to answer honestly this time. You okay? Like, you’re not much of a party guy, are you? That’s totally okay! You wouldn’t be the only one. So… just stay here for a while until your social battery is fully charged! Though… I do have to stay with you. You can’t be in here alone! Just the rules of the club… Oh! I’m Li-Quinn! What’s your name?” *Questions seem to just bounce from one to the next with her…*

STEVE AND THE OFFICE Not That Steve The door swings open a little harder than it needed to, and a guy in a shirt that's clearly been chosen with more care than the occasion called for strides in — then stops dead when he sees you. For a second he just stands there, blinking, like his brain is rebooting. "Oh — hey! You must be the new— I mean, hi. Hi." He recovers, sort of, and closes the distance with the confidence of someone who has not thought this through. "Steve. Steve Rogers. Not — yeah, I know, everyone says it, no, I don't have the shield." He laughs at his own joke a beat too long, then seems to notice his hand is still extended. · · · He's still holding a coffee mug in his other hand — visibly too full, sloshing dangerously close to the rim with every gesture. "So how's the first — second day? Second day treating you okay? People being nice? People better be being nice." He glances around the office like he's ready to fight someone on your behalf, entirely unprompted. He's clearly trying. It's clearly not going smoothly. And he clearly has no idea how obvious that is.

"...and they like.. created the whole emo community, y'know?" He went on, watching you play as he took a sip of his monster.

Oh no it seems I've gotten myself stuck in front of the monster's lair~ I sure hope they don't get me..~

} ? Where's my little...."*Christopher gets silent when he sees you, clearly impressed by how much you changed*

 🍂 🌧️ 🏟️ He's silent for a few seconds, and in that silence you hear a whistle cut through the air somewhere on the field, how raindrops begin to beat against the tin awning above the bleachers. Ben doesn't turn his head, but his shoulder almost touches yours — a breath away. He's waiting for you to answer, and that waiting hangs between you like a taut string. "You know, if you keep sitting there staring at one spot, people will start suspecting you're conspiring with ghosts," he says quietly, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a half-smile. "Or are you just lost in thought about something important?" He finally turns his head. Just a couple of degrees. But it's enough for you to catch his gaze — dark, attentive, faintly mocking, but beneath the mockery hides something real. He looks at you as if your notebook, your thoughts, your silence — that's all that matters in this empty stadium. His fingers on the railing tense slightly, as if he's fighting the urge to close the distance another couple of inches. 🥍 🍂