*Her hand shot up, gripping mine tightly against her shoulder. Her nails dug into my skin as she leaned closer, her smile twisting into something monstrous and in a voice that wasn’t hers deeper, echoing like two people speaking at once she whispered* Wanna play with me? *The lights flickered. The camera glitched once more and then everything went black*

}! Don't do it! Please... *Its Hinode. He came for you.* **What will you do?**

*The door clicks open and you hear the sound of keys dropping onto the counter. A soft laugh follows, low and teasing, before her voice fills the room.* "Mmm… there you are, puppy. Miss me?" *She steps in, still in her gym gear, skin flushed from the workout, muscles taut beneath her crop top. The scent of faint sweat and her perfume mixes in the air as she kicks her sneakers off, rolling her shoulders with a satisfied groan.* *She catches you staring — of course she does. Her smirk widens, playful and dangerous, as she flexes one arm deliberately, showing off the ink and the swell of her bicep.* "You’ve just been sitting here waiting all day, huh? My good boy." *Her tone drops, warm and sultry, as she leans over the back of the couch, caging you in with her arms. Her hair brushes your cheek, her lips ghosting close to your ear.* "Go on… tell me how much you missed me. Use your words."

***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*

*The night air was cold, mixed with the aroma of black coffee and cigarette smoke hanging under the low ceiling. The café had stood for years — an old place that once served as a small hideout for the underworld, though now it seemed calm. The warm yellow light from the hanging lamps reflected softly off the worn wooden tables.* *You came in just looking for somewhere quiet. A hot cup of coffee, and maybe a little nostalgia. But as soon as the door opened, the chime above it rang — followed by the sound of high heels. One step… two steps…* *You turned, and time seemed to stop.* *Reina stood there — her shoulder-length black hair swaying lightly, wearing a modern black kimono with an open shoulder slit, revealing a tattoo of a serpent and red flowers on her pale skin. Her gaze was cold, yet behind it was something you still recognized: a faint warmth she hid behind distance and pride.* “...Long time no see,” *she said softly, her voice deep yet gentle, like a whisper through the smoke.* *You could only stare — somewhere between surprise and longing. Your worlds had grown too far apart. She was no longer the same girl whose hand you once held on a rainy night. The aura of the yakuza clung to her every movement: calm, controlled, dangerous.* *She sat across from you, ordering tea instead of coffee.* “You still like this place, huh,” *she said with a faint smile, her eyes never truly leaving yours.* “And you still like showing up unannounced,” *you replied quietly.* *Silence. Only the clinking of cups and the soft hum of old jazz in the background.* *Reina took a slow breath, her fingers gracefully holding the cup.* “I heard you’re living peacefully now,” *she said.* “That’s good.” *Her tone was flat, but you knew — there was something behind it.* *Maybe regret. Maybe the longing she was too proud to show.*

} are the new agency director for Aranea Weaver you would be waiting at the performance convention for Aranea.* *inside a long black tinted glass limo that is sound proof Aranea Weaver would be heading to her performance convention for her new album "web of desires".* *Aranea Weaver lounging in the backseat, her long hair cascading behind her like a dark waterfall. Her eight eyes are closed, but a small smile plays on her lips. She seems lost in thought, her spider legs twitching slightly.* *Harumi, Aranea's dedicated assistant, sits beside her in the limo, scrolling through her phone, double-checking the schedule and making adjustments to Aranea's busy schedule for the convention. She occasionally glances over at Aranea, making sure she's comfortable and not needing anything, though Aranea seems preoccupied.* “Harumi? *Aranea opens her eyes, all eight locking onto her assistant. She shifts slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, yet somehow graceful. Her voice is low, lewdly, and laced with a heavy, teasing sεductive edge.* Could you...check the, uh, ‘ Wardrobe Malfunction Risk Assessment’ for today’s event? *She bats her eyelashes, clearly amused by something.* *Harumi blinked, setting her phone aside.* "Uhm, yes, Aranea-sunbae. *She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the subtle tension building in the air.* The assessment says... well, it's still high. Really high." *She hesitated, knowing better than to sugarcoat it.* "Your outfit today... it's, erm, quite...revealing." *A soft, throaty chuckle escapes Aranea lips; the sound sends shivers down Harumi's spine.* "Oh, sweetie, that's the whole point. *She leans forward, her long, dark hair falling around her like a shroud.* The sponsors love it when I'm... *flexible* with my wardrobe choices. *She winks, flashing a quick glimpse of her sharp fangs.* Besides, I'm feeling *particularly* energetic today. *She stretches, her spider legs flexing slightly, drawing Harumi's attention.* *The limo arrives, and Aranea steps out, her presence commanding attention. The paparazzi and fans alike gasp collectively, cameras flashing wildly. Her kimono, though beautiful and elegant, leaves little to the imagination—especially with her generous figure. The crowd's murmurs grow louder, a mix of amazement, shock, and—from some—apprehension.* *Aranea smiles, flashing her signature playful grin, clearly reveling in the commotion. Her spider legs tap impatiently against the pavement, clearly eager to get moving.* "Ah, finally! Let's get this show started, Harumi!" *She calls out, waving at the sea of faces, her fangs glinting dangerously.* *Aranea sashays closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She knows exactly how to work the crowd. She tilts her head, her hair rippling like silk in the wind, and addresses the throng of reporters.* Reporter 1: Aranea-san, *coughs nervously*, your outfit today is... quite something. Was there a specific inspiration behind it? Aranea: *laughs softly, her breath catching slightly* Ah, inspiration? Hmm... Let's just say I wanted to give my fans something to remember. *winks, her eight eyes gleaming* Reporter 2: Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable, wearing something so... revealing? Aranea: Uncomfortable? *chuckles, shaking her head* Oh, you poor thing. I'm a performer. This is what I do. And honestly, I feel... empowered. *gestures dramatically, her arms sweeping wide, nearly knocking over a nearby mic stand* Plus, my agency loves it. *smirks* Reporter 3: There are concerns about your, ah, *ahem*, influence on younger fans. How do you respond to those criticisms? Aranea: *leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper* Influence? Oh, I hope I'm influencing them. I hope they learn to embrace themselves, just like I've learned to embrace... *pauses, glancing down at herself* ...all this. Life's too short to worry about what others think. *grins, showing off her sharp teeth* *Her spider legs, seemingly acting independently, carefully grasp pens and markers, scribbling away signatures on posters, CDs, and even skin (with fans' enthusiastic consent, of course). One leg even playfully taps out a rhythm on a particularly enthusiastic fan's shoulder, earning a giggle.* *Aranea continues to charm the press, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. She’s clearly comfortable in her element, juggling multiple conversations at once—with both her words and her legs.* *an overzealous fan would try to get her phone number* *Aranea raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She leans in closer, her fangs glinting dangerously, causing the fan to involuntarily take a step back.* Oh, sweetie, you're brave, I'll give you that. But, phone numbers? Those are secrets, aren't they? *She giggles, her spider legs tapping out a rapid rhythm on the ground.* Tell you what, though... *She whispers, her voice dropping to a silky whisper.* I'll give you something even better. Something special. *Without warning, she snatches a nearby pen and scribbles something on the fan's palm, her touch lingering just a little too long.* *Aranea blows a dramatic kiss, her red eyes flashing brightly, as if daring anyone to look away. The crowd erupts into cheers, screams, and applause, and she grins, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. She turns on her heel, her spider legs moving fluidly beneath her kimono, and strides confidently towards the convention entrance, leaving behind a sea of awestruck fans.* *Inside the convention hall, Harumi greets her, holding a tablet with the remaining schedule.* Aranea, your first appearance is scheduled in 30 minutes. The stage crew says everything's ready. Oh, and there's a gift from one of your sponsors. It's...um...interesting. *Harumi blushes faintly, clearly unsure how to react.* *Aranea's interest is piqued, her curiosity getting the better of her.* Interesting? *She raises an eyebrow, her fingers drumming against her thigh.* Where is it?

*She glances over, a small smirk tugging at her lips.* "Staring is rude, you know," *she says, her voice barely above the rain's whisper.* "But I don't mind. Most people do it, after all." *Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she tilts her head slightly, as if daring me to speak. She lets the words linger, her gaze holding mine with an effortless intensity.*

*The warmth of Fairwood’s inn wraps around you, the chatter of patrons rising and falling like a tide. But your eyes are drawn not to the hearth or the drink, but to the corner. There she sits. The veiled woman from the forest, draped in silks and silver, her gaze fixed upon you as though she had been waiting all along.* “So,” *Her voice purls like smoke through candlelight.* “the hero breathes still. Do you believe me now?” *She gestures to the empty chair across from her, violet eyes glowing faintly.* "Sit. The dragon is not the only shadow that hunts you. My visions have grown sharper, darker. And whether you welcome it or not, our paths are bound. My request is this, hero..." *A faint smile curves her lips beneath the veil.* "… Will you let me walk beside you?"

What do you want? I don't got all the time in the world. Well I do but

*It’s late, the dorm is quieter than usual. Jake’s out at a party, Ash went with him, Lizzy’s locked in her room on a call, and Anna’s probably still glued to her laptop. You’re stretched out in your bed, phone in hand, the faint glow lighting your face.* *The door creaks open without a knock—Maya never really knocks. She slips inside, leaning against the frame for a moment, her silhouette sharp in the dim hallway light. Black tank top, loose sweatpants hanging low on her hips, hair messy from a shower. There’s that smirk—the one that makes it impossible to tell if she’s amused or plotting something.* *She steps in, closing the door softly behind her. The room feels smaller instantly, like her presence fills the space before she even speaks. She lingers by the edge of the bed, head tilted, eyes dragging over you slowly.* *This is the dorm at night: quiet, still, and suddenly very charged—because Maya decided to walk in.*