#GP writes a Guide

[gear-project]

How to become Immortal in Soul Calibur 6

There's a nifty little trick you can do to guarantee victories in Libra of Souls Mode, though it takes a bit of crafting (and some skill) to pull off:

First off, you'll need a 3-open-slot Weapon with the following Three abilities affixed to it (I'll include the item drops associated with the abilities as well):

--Hero's Jade (Superb Quality) Attack/Defense+20% (Reversal Edge Followup Hit) --Tranquil Bloodstone (Superb Quality) Attack/Defense+35% (When HP is 30% or Lower) --Scapegoat's Turquoise (Superb Quality) HP Recovery 30% (When HP is 0)

In addition to these, you'll need to Feed your character one of two Food items prior to the start of a battle (you can buy these in the game's shops easily enough):

--Brandy (Superb Quality) Attack/Defense+40% (When HP is 30% or Lower) --Spicy Wine (Superb Quality) Attack/Defense+35% (RE Followup Hit)

Doing the math, your Base Weapon's stats (assuming you successfully won a Reversal Edge encounter) will give you a stat boost of +55% to Attack and Defense when your Health falls below 30% (the game's Lifebar has a little line indicator that can tell you when your Health is low enough).

By consuming either Brandy or Spicy Wine in addition to using this weapon effect, you'll get either +90% or +95% to your Attack and Defense stats regardless of what weapon you have equipped.

The effect will basically completely cut off all damage at the 30% Health mark, and no matter what tricks or effects the enemy opponent has, they absolutely cannot win.

And all you had to do was guess right once in a single match of Rock, Paper, Scissors!

Well, if you're not good at Janken (Reversal Edges), fear not! I've got a more casual alternative build for you:

Here's the materials you'll need for your weapon:

--Draught of Immortality (Superb Quality) Health+40%

--Draught of Regeneration (Superb Quality) Health Recovery every 1.5 Seconds

--Vampire Opal (Superb Quality) Health Recovery on Damage+20%

In addition, feed yourself either of these Food Items (You can buy them in the shops once they're fully upgraded):

--Chapati (Superb Quality): Health+60%

--Mandrake (Superb Quality) Health Recovery+50% (When HP is 0)

The Full Effect gives you +100% to +90% added to your base Health in addition to Regeneration on Damage and passive regen buff with no complicated requirements.

The enemy would have to absolutely overwhelm you to beat you with this buff, so it's actually a good build to use when you're practicing honing your skills in combat until you're confident in using certain fighting styles. You can also use a similar build on your Mercenary Servants (Weapons Under Level 90) to help ensure they carry out their mission of protecting you and getting rare weapon drops!

It's also recommended that you put the Vampire Opals on weapons with the Highest Critical Hit rating (max is 50% depending on your Light/Dark Affinity), more crit hits means more health recovery!

Use either of these builds to ensure victory against the Level 90+ Legendary enemies you come across in Libra of Souls... you'll be glad you did!

[sainzinnorris]

okay now that i have the information, this is a CarLando recap of Singapore gp 2023:

1. lando slapping carlos's ass and carlos's response was “ that was hard” , followed by a blush and momentarily losing track of whatever he was saying.

2. p1 and p3 in quali and cue to lando pinching carlos's boobie to lando brushing his hips against carlos's and cue to carlos following him like he's mezmerized.

3. lando replying “ vamos" under carlos's twitter post and “ CARLOOOOOOOS” under his instagram post. (we all think he's whining for carlos but alright-)

4. the carlando hug. it's beautiful. it's mezmerizing. I've seen it too many times. it's poetic.

5. the podium interviews before the celebrations with carlos and lando mentioning each other more often than they're breathing, the cooldown room where they're just “ ai , ai , ai " and “ oh- oh- oh" (sounded like their foreplay without context). lewis just walks in at the last moment without any background context and the sky commentators went like “ alright, if this is how the reporting for the race happens, we'd want this informative reporting every race weekend ;)) ” [ also cue to them recreating the “ ai ” and “ oh ” ]

6. the carlando podium. that spraying technique from lando onto carlos's mouth and carlos sticking his tongue out like that. and the way carlos's practically chugs champagne onto lando's mouth (for second one reference: check the video where fred is drowning carlos in champagne, it's for a very split moment , but you can see it )

7. the post race press conference with carlando in their married domestic bubble + third wheel lewis. also cue to CarLando sitting together far away from lewis and carlos showing lando something which causes them to smile and get giddy over idk, and carlos following lando quickly in the most babygirl way ever. 🏃🏾‍♀️

8. carlos's instagram selfie post dedicated to CarLando solely + an insta story of the same post, an insta story solely dedicated to an hd aesthetic picture of their hug, cue to lando resharing the selfie post on his own story with “ #CALANDO” as well as resharing the hug™ on his story, and posting the CarLando selfie on his p2 celebration post. a joint instagram post. 😏

9. to mclaren and ferrari admin celebrating carlos and lando. [ mclaren commenting “ vamos” and scuderia ferrari commenting “ good job lando :) ” ]

10. carlos and lando being congratulated by the mclaren and ferrari mechanics.

11. the post race interview again where carlos suggested lando and him should go out for drinks tonight and smiles whenever he mentions CarLando and tone implications of suggesting he knows CarLando works exist.

12. carlos's radio message of “ gap to lando every lap" and carlos intentionally slowing down just enough to keep lando within drs range , lando understanding the signal. when told by his race engineer about the gap (0.8) carlos goes like “ it's on purpose ”. the amount of precision, trust, teamwork and respect. freaking insane.

[syluslnd]

heyyy I love your writing 🫶🏻

can I request Sylus with reader who completely stops using their brain around him?

(I hope it makes sense 😭)

when you become too comfortable around sylus

•You have a habit of clinging to Sylus’s arm whenever you’re out together, leaning into him without a care in the world. You rarely even look ahead, too busy talking or laughing with him to notice your surroundings. Sylus has gotten so used to this that he’ll gently steer you both out of harm’s way without a word, guiding you around obstacles or other people. Sometimes he’ll tease you about it, saying “Glad I can double as your personal GPS.”

• Every time you both approach a crosswalk, you get so distracted talking to him or looking around that you always forget to watch for cars without missing a beat, Sylus instinctively wraps an arm around your waist to pull you back, shaking his head with an amused smile. “You’d think by now you’d remember these things” he chuckles, ruffling your hair as he waits for the light to turn green before guiding you across safely.

• When you’re out to eat, you always end up deferring to Sylus, letting him order for both of you. He’s so familiar with your tastes that he’ll just smile and place your order without asking, knowing exactly what you’d like. When the waiter leaves, he smirks at you, saying, “What would you do if I wasn’t here to remember your favorites?”

• If you’re at the mall or a busy place, you tend to space out while window-shopping, paying more attention to the displays than where you’re walking. Sylus will always be a step ahead, keeping an eye on you so he can grab your hand and gently tug you back if you wander off. You’ll blush when you realize he’s been guiding you this whole time, and he’ll just laugh, saying, “Good thing I’m here to keep you out of trouble sweetheart”

• Sylus has learned that whenever you’re out together, you often forget the essentials—keys, phone, wallet. Before you both leave a place, he’ll casually ask if you’ve got everything, already knowing you’re going to pat your bag with a blank look. Sighing, he’ll hand over whatever you left behind, rolling his eyes playfully. “One of these days, I’m gonna make you start a checklist sweetie” he jokes, giving you a fond grin.

• Sylus always opens the car door for you but you’re so used to it that you’ll stand by the door, not even trying to open it yourself if he’s around. He finds it both hilarious and endearing, teasing you as he opens the door with a smirk, “You’d be absolutely helpless without me, wouldn’t you kitten?”

• When you two go somewhere new, you’re totally reliant on Sylus to figure out directions, even if you have the GPS. You’ll get lost in conversation, forgetting you’re even supposed to be navigating and he’ll just sigh, patting your head. “Good thing I know how to read a map” he says, guiding you both effortlessly.

• If you’re going somewhere that has a strict schedule, you never even bother looking at the clock. You know Sylus will handle it, so when he tells you it’s time to go, you don’t question it, just following along happily. He’ll smirk and say “I’m practically your personal alarm clock now, aren’t I?”

[tsunodaradio]

(in) love language ⛐ 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

yuki has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where yuki is a pretty scary japanese teacher to everybody else.)

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda x reader. ꔮ word count: 0.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity. isack's pov, japanese/french from google translate. ꔮ commentary box: #coping after aus gp. anywaaay. part of my soft spot mini-series! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Isack is convinced he’s going to go crazy. 

Somebody on the social media team is out to get him. He’s sure of it. Whoever thought up this challenge ahead of Suzuka— a ‘learn Japanese with Yuki’ segment— had flat-out lied to the rookie. 

It’ll be fun, they said. Yuki will be nice, they said. 

“That’s not how you do that,” Yuki snaps on Isack’s nth attempt to write his name in Katakana. 

“If you have an issue with my name,” Isack grumbles below his breath, his pen pressing a little more firmly into the paper in front of him, “take it up with my mother, yeah?” 

“What did you say?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

There’s some snickering from the Racing Bulls staff. Oh, they’re having a field day. Yuki is being his usual fiery self, and Isack is the carnage of the older driver’s rampage. And it’s all on camera. 

Isack is already drafting his resignation letter in his head. It’s certainly a lot easier to write than whatever the hell Yuki is expecting from him. 

“Try ‘Red Bull’,” Yuki says, leaning over Isack’s shoulder. “Like this.” 

The Japanese driver scribbles the words across the paper. レッドブル. “It’s pronounced reddo buru,” he adds. 

“Red burr,” Isack tries, and Yuki makes a face. From that alone, Isack knows it’s going to be a long day of filming.

He at least gets some reprieve when the social media team has to ask around for a powerbank. The rookie breathes out a beleaguered sigh, which Yuki pointedly ignores. 

“Are you always like this?” Isack asks. It’s posed to be a joke, but he’s suffered just enough for it to sound half-serious. 

Yuki answers with a question of his own. “Like what?” 

“Un monstre,” Isack deadpans. 

Yuki, once again, chooses to ignore Isack. The older driver instead focuses on absentmindedly scribbling in Hiragana. 

Isack is about to try and get another jab in when you walk in the room.

The changes in Yuki are subtle. The way he sits up a little straighter, the way his eyes flash with something warm. It’s the first time Isack is seeing it happen— or, rather, noticing it. No one else blinks an eye when you try to hide behind the other staff, even as Yuki tracks your every move. 

When he calls out for you, gone is the sarcastic tone of earlier. It’s as if the mere mention of your name has softened all of Yuki’s sharp edges. You shyly come up to the two drivers; the break in filming, dragging out due to a lack of a proper phone camera.  

“Isack,” you greet, “Yuki.” 

“Bonjour,” Isack chirps. 

“We’re learning Japanese today, Hadjar,” Yuki huffs. “Get with the program.” 

Is there— a hint of jealousy in his tone? Isack thinks he must be imagining it. There’s no reason for Yuki to be jealous of him. 

Unless. 

“Oha-yow,” you amend, the word a bit clumsy on your tongue. 

Isack half-expects Yuki to wince, to start cussing you out for butchering his mother tongue. That’s what the past hour has been like for the rookie, anyway. 

Except he does neither. 

“It’s more like ohayō,” Yuki tells you delicately, his expression disgustingly fond. Like he finds your verbal stumble cute. “You should take out the ‘ow’ sound.” 

Isack can’t believe his fucking eyes. 

Here’s Yuki Tsunoda, suddenly doing a full 180. He gives you none of the sarcastic remarks and vicious side eyes that Isack has been receiving in abundance. Instead, Yuki is all gentle reminders and tender touches as his fingers ghost over your wrist, guiding you in writing your name. 

The rookie is slack-jawed as he watches it all unfold. He glances towards the other people in the room, his face a wordless, incredulous question of Are you guys seeing this shit? 

They all stare back at him sympathetically; this isn’t their first rodeo. Everybody knows that Yuki is criminally down bad for you, and Isack is getting a front row seat to the show. 

You say something that makes Yuki chuckle. He laughs a little too hard, throwing his whole body into it. Isack is willing to bet real money that whatever you whispered isn’t that funny, but that doesn’t matter. The two of you have all but frozen out Isack, and now he’s a third wheel to his own co-driver. 

The social media team finds the camera they need for the shoot to continue. You step back into the fringes, and Yuki’s eyes linger on you for just a beat too long. It amazes Isack, just how oblivious you seem to be. 

Yuki looks at you like you’re a language he wants to learn. 

And— if your hint of a smile is anything to go by— then you’re not so far behind him.

All of Yuki’s affection bleeds out of his body when Isack teases him. “Simp,” Isack breathes through gritted teeth. 

Yuki mumbles something back. Isack’s not sure, but he thinks it might be some profanity in Japanese. 

It doesn’t matter. Not when Isack now has ammunition for days. ⛐

[crguang]

Hi!! May I request NSFW with these prompts. I prefer if you write them with sub afab!reader in mind cuz I'm just a big sub and bottom for these gorgeous women <3 kafhimeswan makes my heart swoon ♥

1. gp!Kafka

“Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” (#43)

2. Black Swan with this prompt makes me akbdhsbsjsbs hehe “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”(#86)

3. Himeko makes me yearn!! “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do.” (#64)

btw I always come back to your kafka fics and your black swan 9k+ smutshot, I just can't get them out of my head, I love how you write them!!!

ive been wanting to do this one as soon as you sent it and finally got the time, hehe. save me kafhimeswan, save me… these prompts were amazing, ty for the kind words too!

cw: smut, fem!subreader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration (kafka), fingering and mirror sex (swan), scissoring (himeko)

The two of you are a tangle of limbs and heated touches, needy sighs and broken moans as your lips lock in sloppy kisses and your hands travel down each other’s bodies in messy attempts at undressing the other completely. Kafka has an advantage since you’re only wearing jeans and a t-shirt for this infiltration mission; she lifts the shirt off your head and absentmindedly throws it across the room, and her mouth is back on yours the moment it’s taken off. Her nimble hands make quick work of the buttons on your pants while you fumble with the harness over her chest. She chuckles into your mouth, a low, muffled sound of amusement, and one of your hands leaves her torso to tangle in her hair, gripping tight. Her head tilts back with the movement, a sharp exhale through her nose the only indication of how aroused the gesture made her. The smug smile on her face shows her pearly white teeth. Her eyes, though lidded, threaten to swallow you whole.

“Eager?” She asks, but she doesn’t need an answer. 

Kafka guides you back into the wall with a firm hold on your hips, pinning you between the cool drywall and the warmth of her body pressing against yours. You feel her breath on your lips and her chest into yours. She lifts a hand to tilt your head further up, giving her better access to steal the air from your lungs with another heady kiss. Her tongue explores the inside of your mouth, swirling around your own and wetting your lips in the process. Your mind fogs up and desire takes over your senses. You want her closer despite there being little to no space for it, and your fingers hook under the waistband of her shorts to pull her further into you. Kafka doesn’t bother taking off your bra, she slips a hand under the material and grabs a handful of your breast, delighting in the noise of pleasure she draws from you. She squeezes and fondles, her need apparent in her lack of gentleness. Your hips rock into hers and the pleased hum that rumbles from her throat only turns you on more. 

You’re already wet, you can feel the fabric of your underwear cling to your cunt as Kafka kisses you languidly and plays with your hardening nipple. Your fingers wander down her shorts to palm her over the clothing. The sensation of her growing bulge under your hand combined with her hot mouth assaulting yours makes your head spin. You need her so badly, you’re tempted to beg her to fuck you stupid. 

Her lips trail down your jaw and end where your neck meets your shoulder, parting to suck the skin until it darkens, and her tongue darts out to soothe it afterwards. Her teeth leave love bites across your shoulder, prettily marking you up in a way that would take half an hour to cover up. Her fingers harshly twist your nipple, prompting a surprised moan from you, and you grip her clothed cock over her shorts in retaliation to which she simply hums dazedly. 

“If we had more time I would punish you for that,” her voice speaks of future promises, and she raises her head to gaze down at you, the dim light darkening her irises. “That’ll be for later. Luckily for you, there’s only half an hour before the IPC barges in here, so…”

Kafka pulls her shirt out of her leather shorts and expertly unclasps their buttons. You watch her hands push the clothing past her hips and down to her ankles, busying yourself with doing the same thing to your jeans. Your mouth waters at the outline of her thick cock under her boxers. You swallow a couple of times, not dwelling on your disappointment at the fact that you won’t have the time to properly take it into your mouth. Kafka’s hands are on you again, squeezing your hips as she presses against you and bucks into your covered cunt. Her lips find yours hungrily with a pace even you have trouble following.  She takes, takes, takes what she wants without ceremony; she pulls down your underwear so it hangs around your ankles and spreads your thighs as far as they can go using one hand, never letting go of your mouth and swallowing the breathless whimpers that escape it. 

She betrays her own need with how urgently she sinks two fingers between your labia and smears your slick over your pussy. Her middle finger dips past your dripping entrance, drawing another weak, broken moan from you, but it withdraws a few seconds later. You don’t have time to whine for her to fill you, Kafka separates from your mouth and slides her underwear down her legs, freeing her already leaking cock. You don’t have the time to admire her either, she’s on a mission (well, two) and instantly grinds her cock into your cunt. Your eyes fall shut at the sensation of her shaft sliding between your pussy lips, coating her length in your slick. It brushes the tip of your clit and you have to hold on to the back of her shirt to stay upright, thighs trembling from the pleasure. 

Your needy moans and quiet mewls drive Kafka crazy. Despite the need to keep a clear mind, her desire to take you right there burns hot in her stomach and makes her throb almost painfully. She aligns her cock with your entrance, groaning low as she sinks the head into your warm cunt. Your forehead falls on her shoulder, lips parted to let out another whine, and your fingers’ tight grip on her shirt wrinkles the fabric, pulling her even closer.

“Mm… Slowly, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kafka inches into you slowly enough to allow you some time to adjust to being filled. Her fingertips dig into the skin of your hips. It takes some effort to pause and let you catch your breath once she’s fully inside you. She lifts your thighs and wraps it around her waist to give herself more room to thrust deep into your pussy, not bothering to conceal the drawn out groans that spill from her lips. 

“Mmm…” Kafka’s lazy moans sound near your ear, breath heavy as she fills you with her cock. Her pace is irregular, only seeking pleasure from you, and it takes all of your strength to keep yourself standing against the wall. 

It feels so good, you feel so full, you barely register your own pitiful whimpers. 

“F-Fu—Hah… Please…” You don’t know what you’re begging for; her throbbing head hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you, the release building in your stomach, the need for her to paint your walls white like icing on a wedding cake… 

You can’t think, can only babble broken sentences as she drives into you and pleasure rocks through your body in electrifying little jolts. You don’t feel the saliva at the corner of your lips from how long your mouth has stayed open. There’s that familiar, intoxicating feeling of your guts tightening before you cream on Kafka’s cock with a muffled cry into her shoulder. Her hips stutter, your cunt clenching tight around her and slowing her pace, though the intensity of her thrusts only increases with the need to come herself. She bucks into you roughly, taking your breath away. You see the birth of a star behind your eyelids. Kafka comes suddenly and bottoms out inside you, emptying herself into you in hot spurts, a curse on her lips. 

You’re a bit dizzy when you come down from your high, biting your lip as she slips out of you. You know you have a mission to complete, but your legs have turned into mush and Kafka has to support your standing weight with an arm around your back. You’re breathing heavily, and the minutes pass where your mind begins to sharpen back to its original state. Kafka has a pleased smile on her face, gently letting go of you to dress herself, and you sigh happily while you do the same.

You hear thumping footsteps from the floors below.

“Kafka, where’d you put my shirt?”

“…Mm?”

“…Are you fucking serious?!”

Your eyelids lower, your mind in a daze so blissful you can’t fully register the scene happening through the standing mirror right in front of you. Dried fruit and smoky notes fill the room with the scent of her and unscarred hands brush along the muscles of your arms; the unnatural warmth of her immaterial body pressed into your back cages you in, a dizzying embrace you wish you could live in until her duty calls her away. She is at once in front of you, staring back at you with dim, lustful eyes, and she is around you, touching you like she’s savoring the feel of you under her fingertips. Her presence appears larger than life and you are sprawled in the center of her palm, exposed to her hungry gaze and unable to hide even the deepest parts of you. You find it difficult to meet the galaxy reflected in her eyes, its intensity is only amplified by the fact that she undressed you mere moments ago and you are now stripped to your underwear and completely at her mercy. Round nails painted to match the colorful stained glass jewelry over her collarbones leave proof of their passage in the form of goosebumps that rise on your skin as they trail across your chest, following the edges of your bra. She teases you, revels in your flustered expression and the knowledge that she has reduced you to a puppet on her strings. 

You watch as her hand travels under the pad of your bra and replaces it with her palm, possessively cupping one breast. Your head lolls to the side and your eyes flutter shut for only a second; slender fingers under your chin firmly guide you back to face the mirror and you bite back a needy noise when your nipple is pinched between two digits.

“Forgotten already?” Black Swan’s low, sultry voice sounds from behind your ear, amused and playful. “Eyes on me, sweet girl…” 

You comply and meet her gaze through the mirror, embarrassment washing over you at the sight of her pleased smile and the position you’re in. Your stiff nipples are visible beneath your bra, your thighs are already spread in anticipation for her touch without her saying a word, and in this moment, she could do anything to you and you would take with a desperate moan. Her fingers dig slightly into your jaw, keeping you from moving your head to evade her heated stare a second time. You shift a little, flustered, because the hand around your breast has stopped moving and your body longs for her skillful ministrations.

“You’re squirming…”  You feel her warm breath on the back of your ear and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

Your throat is dry, and you can’t manage a reply. You swallow once, unable to be anything but honest when she looks at you this way, as if she already held every answer you could ever provide. You feel her at the edge of your consciousness, her presence made purposely obvious to your senses. She is everywhere and she wants you to be aware of it. 

“How adorable,” Black Swan’s hand leaves your face and traces the plane of your bare stomach. Her lips stretch in a wider smile, one she means innocent but that has an edge of desire she can’t contain. “Forgive me, darling, but I cannot resist. You are a painting.”

The compliment doesn’t surprise you, she repeats it quite often, but her sincerity still makes you bashful. Black Swan chuckles at your reaction and presses a kiss to your shoulder. Her fingertips slither further down, toying with the waistband of your underwear, and you suck in an inaudible breath, anticipation taut in your belly. You watch each of her movements through the reflecting glass like she wants you to; embarrassment and arousal merge together inside of you as her middle finger sinks between your lips and leisurely rubs your covered slit, feeling the wetness through the thin fabric. You feel Black Swan’s aroused hum from where her lips are still pressed to your skin. She proves her own eagerness by slipping her hand into your panties and running two of her fingers down your slit, properly coating them in your slick. You can’t conceal a quiet moan when she circles your pulsing clit with a digit and applies delicious pressure to the sensitive bud. The hand on your chest resumes its gentle massage. All the while, her eyes, like glowing suns against the pitch black of the firmament, drink in every inch of your body under her touch and sears the moment in a corner of her mind she will share with no one else. 

Black Swan touches you with the expertise of someone who’s learned you from the inside. She draws sharp gasps and breathless moans and lustful sighs out of you as if she were a conductor and you her favored symphony. Her lips follow a path to the crook of your neck, prompting you to tilt your head, and plant hot kisses on your skin. She toys with your clit using two fingers and repeats each ministration with the ones on your nipple. Your stomach tightens, pleasure tingles down to the tip of your toes, and your own fingers grip her thighs to keep yourself upright, digging into the soft flesh. You don’t last long. Your clit throbs as you come with a long moan, eyes screwing shut with the intensity of the pleasure assaulting you, and your thighs close together, trapping her hand between them. She’s forced to stop the sweet torture of your pussy but continues to pinch and twist your stiff nipple under your bra to prolong the sensations.

Black Swan’s mouth wanders up the side of your neck to your ear. She sucks the lobe between her lips, and your chest heaves, body shuddering as your orgasm slowly subsides. 

“How ravishing you are…”

Your lashes flutter at her soft words, blinking to look back at her through the mirror. In her eyes is a bottomless hunger that you’ve become familiar with over time, it is gaping and consuming, and she doesn't have to utter another word for you to understand that she will indeed ravish you.

Himeko is a vision above you, straddled on your lap with her knees on each side of your frame, forcing her plush thighs open; she towers over you as a fragment of your most yearnful dreams, long vivid hair cascading down her back like the most beautiful waterfall and creamy skin so soft to the touch it almost feels blasphemous to sully with your hands. Her bare body is a creation of a higher being, but your disbelieving eyes are drawn to the stars in her eyes when she gazes down at you like you are worthy to stand by her side. She looks at you the same way you stare up at her, with undeniable devotion. It is something you often have difficulty coming to terms with because how can someone so beautiful choose to wake up next to you every morning? Your lips are parted and her gaze is tender, an adept hand brushing up between the valley of your breasts. 

Himeko leans forward until her chest is flushed to yours and cups your cheeks in her warm hands, staring into your eyes with a smile in hers. 

“Is it not obvious how much I adore you?” Her muttered words are warm against your lips, her golden irises as bright as an afternoon sun. 

It is. Himeko loves you in a way that is so evident, to you and everyone with eyes to see and ears to hear. She always handles you so carefully, not because she’s afraid you’ll break with a firmer touch but because this is how she loves. It’s in a reassuring hand on your lower back when you’re nervous and in gentle kisses up your neck when she wants to show you just how much she reveres you. It’s in how deeply she listens when you speak and the words of affirmation that easily spill from her lips. Her feelings are incontestable, she makes sure of it, but your treacherous mind still can’t fully comprehend why. Even now, beneath her weight, you feel she could have anyone she desires and is instead here with you. It’s baffling.

“Of course,” you reply just as quietly, lifting a hand to brush red strands out of her face, “it simply feels… nonsensical, at times.”

Himeko’s thumb brushes the skin under your eye. “You idolize me too much.”

“It’s impossible not to.”

She fondly shakes her head but her small smile is radiant. She traces your features with a finger, over your brows and along the bridge of your nose, then follows the curve of your upper lip. Himeko watches the movement of it on your face before meeting your eyes once again. 

“You’re so beautiful. How could I be anything but in love with you?”

You don’t answer her soft question, averting your gaze for a second. Her head bends to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth before capturing your lips with hers. Her kiss is gentle yet firm, tangible proof of her desire for you, and you feel your body heat up under her for the second time tonight. Her tongue swipes over your bottom lip then slips into your mouth to entangle with yours. You’re aware of the warmth of her thighs caging your hips and the remnants of the pleasure you ripped out of her earlier, a mix of slick and cum smearing over your lower belly from where she is pressed against you. Your hands take hold of her waist, squeezing once. Himeko’s uneven breath fans across your lips when she withdraws from you. Bodies flushed together, you can feel each shiver that runs through her as her need for you builds, the heat between her thighs growing wetter with every kiss she takes from you. 

“You are worth… all of my attention...” she breathes out between each one, “all… of my devotion… so sweet…”

Himeko kisses your lips, your jaw, up your cheek and down to your mouth again like she can’t get enough. Your lashes flutter under her affection, and you readily welcome her mouth on yours, your cunt throbbing with arousal. Her hips begin to roll into you, seeking sweet friction, and she swallows the moan that leaves you. She smears her cum on your skin with every rhythmic motion of her body, but it isn’t enough for either of you. Himeko lifts her head and the thin string of saliva connecting your lips breaks on her chin as she straightens up above you, the embers of her eyes alight with both lust and a determination to prove that her heart belongs to you. 

Her chest rises and falls, perky pink nipples adding a soft color to the canvas of her skin. She shifts, settling between our thighs with one leg over yours, and holds it up over her shoulder with a hand. 

“I want to feel you…” 

Himeko lowers herself on you, slick pussy sliding over yours in a messy kiss, and she makes a low noise that is half moan and half groan at the contact. She looks so pretty with her lidded eyes and parted lips, your breathing stutters as she takes what she needs from you and bucks her hips further into your cunt. A quiet moan escapes you and your fingers grab a fistful of the sheets beneath you. You follow her pace, encouraged by her sounds of pleasure and the feeling of her clit bumping into yours. 

“Aeons… Mmnh…” Himeko’s broken sentences are breathless and underlined with pretty moans. She lifts her free hand to cup her breast, long hair draped over her back when her head tilts back.

She feels so good against you, your combined wetness makes it easy to grind into her pussy in search of friction. You’re unable to look away from the flush across her chest, her rosy cheeks and the shine on her lips, greedily taking in the sight of her as if you’ll wake up any moment and find her gone from your bed. Your body is hot, sweat begins to cling to your brow, but you can’t focus on anything but how gorgeous Himeko is and how good her cunt feels like this. She spreads her cum over you, warm and slick. She doesn’t contain the noises that tumble from her mouth, aroused sighs and low hums, and the frequency of them tells you that she’s close to coming. You feel your own orgasm build in your lower belly, begging to burst. 

“H-Hime—” you stammer pathetically, words interrupted by a needy whine. 

Himeko’s gaze connects with yours at the sound of her name uttered so breathlessly. She understands what you mean to say, she’s teetering on the edge herself, and she manages a quiet command.

“Come with me, sweetheart.”

A quiver runs through your thighs as your release washes over you, and Himeko lets out a high-pitched moan at the same time, fingers closing around her nipple. She comes with you, bucking her hips into your pussy to ride her high, her head tilted to the ceiling. Your cum mixes with hers, dripping down your cunt and ruining the sheets below you. You try to steady your thundering heart, a forearm over your forehead. You feel Himeko’s little shivers and hear her heavy breaths before she finally separates from you and resumes her earlier position on top of you. Her nose burrows into your neck, breasts pressed to your torso, and you wrap an arm around her frame to hold her against you. 

It takes a moment before she can speak properly again. 

“I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do.” The confession is warm against your pulse, directly spoken over your heartbeat. “I’ll prove it as many times as I have to.”

You don’t tell her that you already believe her.

[thisismeracing]

Paddock Pass (Taylor's version) | CL16

⸺ there are many perks to being Charles Leclerc's girlfriend. You get free paddock passes, you're able to watch him chase his dreams while you work on yours from the garage, and of course, you get Charles. What you didn't know is that he would add a new thing to this list: your favorite singer in the garage (based on this request). ✓ mentions of food; friends to lovers; not proofread; fem!reader (she/her). 0.8k words

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee)

Life has a funny way of making things happen. You knew it from an early age, and it was kind of funny looking back at it now, as Charles' girlfriend.

As a shy kid from Monaco, your childhood wasn't exactly the most social one - you were shy, wore glasses, and liked to keep things to yourself. That's how you ended up discovering Taylor's music and became friends with Charles at the early age of 7.

During the summer holidays, with not many friends to enjoy the time except for one girl from school who happened to be traveling, you ended up going with your mom to the hairdresser. The owner saw how uncomfortable you were with all the noise and people and showed you to the waiting area, a room with a big TV and a few toys. You were the only one there, and the echo of the TV caught your attention. It was playing a song you had never heard before, a blonde singer wearing glasses and pajamas sang with all her strength. You were entranced by the image, so much so that the door opening didn't catch your attention until someone poked at your shoulder. "Hi, I'm Charles," and just like Taylor was singing, he belonged with you.

Eighteen years later, you were in the Ferrari garage working on your computer while Charles got ready for quali. Since it was the Vegas GP, and you didn't like the rush and lights that much, you chose to stay in the deepest area of the home motor curled on a blanket waiting until it was time for the race to begin.

"Cherie, Kika is looking for you at the Alpine garage," Charles knocked on the door, and peeked his head inside, smiling fondly at you.

You adjusted your glasses, "Tell her to come here."

"She's having lunch there, told me she got your favorite snacks for dessert," he explained, and you bit your lips. "There are not as many people out there since it's qualy," Charles tried to reassure you and you nodded, grabbing your cardigan and lacing your fingers with his.

"I told her to wait for you. Hopefully, she did," he had this funny smile on his face, and if you weren't so tired from the flight the other day, you would nag him about it.

You walked hand in hand to the Alpine garage, Charles stopping here and there to take a few pictures, but nothing as crazy as Sundays usually are.

When you finally reached the pink and blue facility, things seemed different. You didn't know how to pinpoint what exactly it was, but you felt like the usual rush was slightly blessed, and from previous experience, you bet someone important was inside.

"I've been waiting forever to do this for you, I couldn't have done it sooner because of the whole world tour thing and you know how hectic it was for her, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling your glass frames move in your face, "What are you talking about, Char?"

He shook his head, kissed your forehead, and entered the garage. The first thing you saw was a mass of a man, huge. Then you heard his laugh, and it sounded familiar. The second he turned around with a big smile on his face, you felt your knees weakened, not because of him but because of someone likely there along with him.

"THE Travis Kelce?" You whispered to Charles still holding his hand, and he beamed.

"Hey, Yn! Nice to meet you! Your boyfriend was just talking about you minutes ago," he took a few steps in your direction, offering you a handshake, and you took it.

"He said you were the biggest fan," you heard her voice before seeing her, and when she stepped around Travis, you almost fainted.

"Oh, sweet Jesus-," you screeched, and everyone laughed.

"Taylor! Oh my God! I've been listening to you since I was a kid," you whispered, trying to hold back the tears and the laughter of happiness bubbling inside.

"Careful now, or you'll make me feel old," she joked and opened her arms, motioning for you to get inside the hug. You glanced at Charles, silently thanking him, and crashed into your idol's arms. Her hug was warm and tight, and you felt like you could stay there for hours. Her hands caressed your back up and down feeling how emotional you got and trying to comfort you.

When you took a step back, you saw how her gaze softened, looking at the T pendant Charles got you when you were still little kids. She pointed to a nearby bench, "Everyone's trying to explain how this works, but I still don't get it. Can you enlighten me on the F1 world as someone who's been in it since childhood?" Your brows furrowed in a second, but you smiled brightly at her. She seemed to get your confusion, explaining, "Charles was updating us on how you were the biggest Swiftie since you were a kid."

"Yeah, I met him when I first listened to your song too," you observed, sitting down, and turning to her.

"What? Now you gotta tell me this! This paddock pass was so worth it. F1 rules can wait, I'm a sucker for a love story."

"That I know," you giggled looking from her to Travis who seemed to be in a deep conversation with Charles.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I tried to follow all the details in the request, hope it's good enough <3 I hope you guys liked this! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

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[bullyingfictionalmen]

LaDS Men x Blind/Visually-Impaired!MC Headcanons

A/N: Not my usual style of writing, but I’m a blind/ADHD girlie myself and was inspired by lovely posts like this one sharing HCs about the LIs interacting with disabled/neurodivergent!MC. I tried to account for a variety of experiences myself and other blind friends have had, but blindness is a spectrum, so please take my preferences and interpretations with a grain of salt :)

cw: fluff, soft LADS boys, brief mentions of ableism

🐦‍⬛ Sylus 🐦‍⬛

also a light-sensitive king, so he inherently gets needing spaces to be dark and glare-free

Buys you all the assistive technology you could ask for. High tech magnifier, Brailler, braille-note, monocular, e-reader

Modifies them all to an excessive degree to have, like, infrared mode in addition to contrast filters to reduce eye-strain

always scouring online for new cane tips, gps and self-driving cars to increase your mobility and independence

if you have a guide dog, that’s his new bestie. Also picks up on the training super fast

teaches you how to fight with accessible techniques, helping you drill the sensation of the correct movements into your muscle memory

you find yourself able to relax around him because he’s so considerate without making you feel like a burden

loves reading to you, whether it be poems, stories, random posts online. He knows you love his voice

anyone trying to deny you an opportunity or entry into a store/restaurant will catch those hands, or the full might of Onychinus

✨ Xavier ✨

buys you the softest blankets/pajamas/scarves because he knows the textures you prefer

really good about using tactile labels around the house and buying products you could easily recognize by touch

uses his Evol to adjust lighting or to teleport you out of overwhelming situations

Low-key jealous of your service animal but his gratitude for their hard work wins out

went through training blindfolded to better understand your needs

consciously and habitually covers your blind spots in battle without being prideful about it or discounting your skill

always stands on the side nearest the road when you’re walking together and points out stairs, curbs and steep inclines

gently reminds you not to apologize for advocating for your needs

🍎 Caleb 🍎

grew up with you so he understands this whole song and dance. He deeply gets the nuances of what you need without asking

can sense it if you’re tired of explaining yourself to a new person and will swoop in to do it for you

enthusiastic about taking you anywhere you need to go, brags about being your chauffeur

overprotective as hell but he does his best not to infantilize you. He just really cares

smoothly points out or guides you around obstacles and rough terrain

offers to read any restaurant menu that has bad contrast or is far away, highlighting items he knows you like

you video call him anytime you misplace something and he has a knack for knowing where you left it

jokes that he is your guide dog

extra-passionate about disability rights and unfair wages

very considerate of your needs when planning dates or outings, but will run new activities by you and never assume you can’t do something

🐠 Rafayel 🐠

tries hard to make his exhibits and pieces inclusive— loves experimenting with tactile elements in his art and arranges for braille and large-print signs at every event

personally narrates the audio explanations in the gallery/ museum tours for your benefit

makes you custom cane charms, labels, helps decorate the cases for your technology to make using it more fun

checks or sometimes does your makeup himself if you’re not in the mood to painstakingly perfect it

woke up in a cold sweat one night and spent the next three days designing and refining a Braille alphabet for Lemurian

will body-block any bikes or people coming at you from an unseen location

goes full Karen in your defense if someone is rude about your needs or refusing accommodations

“watch where you’re going.” “Um, she’s blind??? Feel bad now?”

his blind jokes are pure art—he was wary of offending you at first, but now he’ll participate in banter with you and make you laugh your ass off without being mean-spirited or degrading (unless you’re into that)

❄️ Zayne ❄️

the king of sided-guide, will navigate you calmly and seamlessly through any crowd or tough situation

when someone pulls a stunt like “oh, you’re blind? How many fingers am I holding up?” Zayne will give them the blankest stare and then launch into a dry medical explanation of your condition to make them feel awkward

has extensive knowledge of your medical records/schedule and will remind you of or accompany you to appointments

you catch him reading ophthalmology books in his spare time and have to beg him not to get yet another specialization

the first to notice when your eyes are strained or you’ve got a headache. Ready with a cold compress or painkillers

gently chastises you if you’re overworking or wearing yourself thin. Very aware of activities that consume more energy for you or stress you out

doesn’t usually make blind jokes, but every once in awhile he’ll make the sassiest deadpan comment that makes you cry-laugh

[angelaness]

⑅ Self Discipline ⑅

Self-discipline is like having a personal cheerleader in your head, helping you stay focused and achieve your goals. It's the ability to control and direct yourself, making choices that align with your long-term objectives rather than giving in to immediate impulses. Think of it as the secret sauce for personal growth, productivity, and success. It involves setting priorities, making conscious decisions, and consistently putting in effort to reach your desired outcomes. Self-discipline empowers you to stay on track, overcome challenges, and ultimately become the best version of yourself.

Let's break down the essence of self-discipline in dfrnt aspects of your life

1. Morning Routine Magic:

Your morning routine is like crafting a daily sanctuary. Beyond skincare, imagine incorporating moments of tranquility like yoga or a quick workout. It's not just a checklist; it's setting the stage for a day of conquering.

2. To-Do List Love:

Your to-do list is a dynamic tool, more than a mere inventory of tasks. It's a glam planner, outlining your roadmap to success. Writing down your ambitions transforms them into tangible goals, making the conquest all the more empowering.

3. Snack on Goals, Not Junk:

Goals aren't just targets; they're your daily sustenance. Instead of mindless snacking, consider each accomplished task as a delicious victory bite, satisfying your hunger for achievement.

4. Wardrobe Power Moves:

Dressing for success isn't a superficial act; it's about embodying confidence. Your outfit becomes a statement, shaping your mindset for the day. It's akin to wearing a tangible boost of self-assurance. I want you to wear for the day you want, not the day you have !!!

5. Breaks Aren't Breakdowns:

Taking breaks is a strategic recharge, not a sign of weakness. It's not about slacking off but strategically powering up. These moments are not breakdowns; they are breakthroughs, allowing you to return with renewed sparkle. So don't beat yourself up when your really need the rest :)

6. Learn, Don't Stress:

In the face of challenges, see them as opportunities for growth. Self-discipline is not a pursuit of perfection but a commitment to a journey of continual learning. Remember, nobody is born with all the answers; it's about evolving.

7. Consistency is the Glow-Up Secret:

Consistency is more than a routine; it's the highlighter of your life's narrative. It infuses your journey with an extra pop, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Even on tough days, maintaining consistency becomes your guiding light.

8. Celebrate Small Wins:

Every step toward your goals, irrespective of size, is a cause for celebration. It's not just recognizing achievements; it's throwing a confetti party for yourself. Celebrate not just the destination but the entire journey.

9. Consistent Routine:

Envision self-discipline as a daily sanctuary, akin to your skincare routine. Skipping it is like neglecting a crucial step in your beauty ritual. Embrace it daily for a consistent, empowering glow.

10. Setting Goals:

Picture self-discipline as the GPS that is guiding you to your dreams. Establish small, attainable goals as waypoints on your journey. These goals serve as markers, leading you steadily toward your grand aspirations.

11. Prioritizing Tasks:

Think of self-discipline as your wise older sister, advising you on what truly matters. Prioritize tasks that contribute to your glow-up, whether it's acquiring a new skill or taking care of your well-being.

12. Resisting Temptations:

It's important to saying no to that extra slice of cake when you know you're full. Self-discipline aids in resisting temptations that might divert you from your goals, whether it's procrastination or unhealthy habits.

13. Building Habits:

Like establishing a routine of daily water intake, self-discipline helps in cultivating positive habits. These habits become second nature, contributing to your overall well-being and success.

14. Time Management:

Imagine self-discipline as a magical time-turner. It assists in managing your time wisely, allowing you to balance academics, self-care, and the pursuit of your passions effectively.

15. Learning from Mistakes:

Self-discipline is forgiving; it encourages learning from mistakes rather than dwelling on them. It's a compassionate guide, acknowledging that growth comes from understanding and overcoming challenges.

16. Celebrating Achievements:

Consider self-discipline your personal cheerleader. It not only recognizes but actively celebrates your achievements, big or small, in your journey of self-improvement and success.

Visualize self-discipline as your personal superhero cape, guiding you through the journey of glowing up and being super productive. You're on the path to becoming a true girlboss.

Keep shining doll !

Xoxo signing off,

Angela ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

ps: this is my first post I hope it was informative enough as I am also in my own journey of being better mentally and physically and I see self discipline as something essential for that to happen.

[bellewintersroe]

hiiii!! :) if you don't mind can you write something for nando? I am kinda going thru a fernando phase rn 🤭 ik ik. There is a lack of fics for him...I literally prob read all the fanfics in the app. If you don't want to it's totally fine!

Thanks a lot! :)))

honestly I’m 24/7 in my Fernando phase that man is beautiful so I’m happy for you hehehe, I agree there’s such a lack of fics!!! Thank you for your request I appreciate it, I hope some headcannons are okay for you!! <3 <3 some NSFW headcanons at the end, so feel free to skip that! Sorry this isn’t longer or more detailed, but I wrote it on a whim seeing your request!! <3

Fernando Alonso Headcanons x Reader

First of all this man is a goofball, he loves to have fun and joke around. I feel like a lot of the time he’d be such a lighthearted boyfriend, always smiling, anyways joking with you. He’d be soooo fun.

Obviously can be serious when the time comes- but he would 1000% crack up in situations he’s not supposed to. This in return would cause you, his partner to start giggling.

he’d deffo hide his face in your neck, muffling his giggles with hands gripping your hips for dear life.

probs gets you both in a spot of trouble, but he’d be sooo good at making up for it.

I think because he’s older he’d potentially be a better communicator? I mean who knows, maybe I’m delusional but I feel like Nando would be a really unproblematic boyfriend because he’s just sooo easy going and comfortable around you that there wouldn’t be much potential conflict.

Maybe you’d have normal couple bickers but I think Nando would start smirking in the middle of it and the subject immediately gets dropped or you laugh it off.

not too big on showing PDA, especially if you’re a private person, he knows being with him comes with lot of media attention.

gets confused when people start making edits of you? But low key watches them and enjoys seeing your beautiful face plastered all over his phone.

probs changes his screen saver to a pic of you both and it would remain that exact same picture for the next 100 decades.

pulls your hair (gently) to wind you up, pinched your bum (in private), pokes you, bites you- I feel like he’d like to tease you as a form of fun.

holds your hand in public and guides you through crowds, especially if you’re nervous onfggggg no imagine his arms like barricading in front of you so nobody can get near you.

not afraid to get a lil physical if somebody does cross that boundary. Nothing too intense, but he’d hold a hand out, pushing maybe a little too firmly, to get them away from you.

Protects you physically and emotionally? I can’t think of the right word, but he protects your modesty always.

let’s say it’s a little blustery on the beach and you’re wearing a shorter dress- the paps would be obsessive and Fetnando would stand in front of you so they couldn’t get a single glimpse of you.

no omg he’d hold your skirt down with his thumb and forefinger to prevent anything being flashed. You wouldn’t even realise what was going on, but Nando being used to the vulture activity, knows exactly what they’d be attempting to get pics of. Gross!!

sooo polite when meeting your family and friends aahhhhhh- and after you’ve met his family I can imagine him being all giddy and grabbing your face, pulling you in for a kiss.

LOVES seeing you on the race weekends, the atmosphere is sooooo much more fun and rewarding when you’re at the GP’s

nsfw headcanons:

This man gives you the most intense eye contact and sex eyes ever.

would mutter your name to himself when he’s teasing you or something, ugh it’s so sexy with his accent.

like it’s your first few times meeting and the sexual attraction between you both is unreal, you’d melt under his gaze omfg.

holds your hand through it, loves it when you grip his arms omfg.

oh omfg 10928473% talks you through it. So so sexy, especially when he switched it up to Spanish one time. He nervously laughed a little, but when he realised you loved it omfg, he’d ramp up the dirty talk.

you’re deffo his good girl and his baby ugh he’s so vocal, especially when he’s close to finishing.

always asks if you’re okay, if you’re comfortable, consent is a huge turn on idgaf- he makes everything sexy and you’d just feel so safe and respected with him.

Fernando would deffo love doggy like omfg, imagine him going at it I can’t it’s sinful-

When you guys do missionary he’d put his whole bodyyyyy into it like omg.

Probs goes feral when you suck him off for the first time.

eats pussy like a king- and when you pull his hair omg he’s moaning against you.

Youd probs find him in his fireproofs so sexy and when he gets a little touchy the two of you practically RACE back to the hotel or wherever you’re staying.

expect several memes being made of this in the morning, when Nando’s pictured squeezing your bum and staring at your boobies omg- everybody goes feral.

Such a romantic and passionate lover, not into anything too cringe, but would try pretty much anything you want.

probs gets giggly after sex.

[siawritez]

Thoughts on gp yujin sneaking her gf into her room in Ive's dorm? Love your writing btw. Please keep it up :)

Sorry,it took me a while to write it...plus i am so sorry for fics i couldn't write at moment, just give me some time,i will write them,hope u like it though and thanks a lot,i am trying to keep up....i honestly didn't expected getting requests or people even liking my writing so i am kinda overwhelmed in a good way but thanks and i will try to write each one of them ....sorry and thanks🙏🏻😔

You knew it was stupid. Risky. Borderline reckless. But the thrill of it — the quiet creak of IVE’s dorm front door, the tense slip of your shoes off in the dark, the adrenaline-fueled rush up the hallway — it made your skin hum. And when Yujin’s strong hand yanked you inside her room and the door clicked shut behind you, it felt like winning.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you in the low glow of her bedside lamp, her chest rising and falling like she’d just come off stage. She pressed her back to the door, her hand still gripping yours tightly.

“Shhh,” she whispered, like you weren’t already frozen in shared silence.

You smiled at her — a quiet, breathless thing — and in a second she had you caged against her, her lips crashing into yours with the kind of need that stole all thought. She kissed like she missed you too much to pace herself, like every second you weren’t in her bed was one she resented. And god, you felt it. In her breath, her body, the way her fingers curled under your hoodie to find bare skin.

Her touch was rough, greedy — not rushed, just hungry. You gasped into her mouth, clutching her shirt for balance. This was the Yujin the world didn’t get to see. Not leader Yujin. Not idol Yujin. Just your Yujin — flushed and breathless and burning for you.

“You’re insane for doing this,” you whispered against her neck as she guided you backward onto her bed.

“I know,” she said, voice low and dangerous, already pushing your legs apart with her knee. “But you like it.”

You opened your mouth to say something smart, maybe tease her, but then you heard it — a cough. A door creaked. Footsteps passed right outside.

You both froze. Yujin’s hand clamped over your mouth before you could even think to breathe too loud. Her body hovered protectively over yours, her heartbeat pounding against your chest. For a terrifying second, you thought she might pull away, send you packing. But the footsteps faded, and the silence that followed was electric.

Yujin leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Still wanna leave?”

You looked up at her — her steel eyes, her flushed cheeks, the wicked smile playing at the corners of her mouth — and shook your head. “No. But you better be quiet, Captain.”

That smirk — the one she only wore when you were under her — came back full force. “Then be good for me.”

And you were. Even when her touch made you bite your own fist to keep from moaning. Even when her hips moved against yours with slow, deliberate intent. Even when her voice broke into a whisper against your skin, saying your name like a secret she couldn’t keep anymore.

This wasn’t about sex. Not really. It was about feeling something real. About the fact that you were the only one who got to see her like this — messy, unguarded, starving. And when she pulled you close after, burying her face in your neck like she needed you to survive the morning, you realized she wasn’t just risking everything for the thrill.

She was risking it for you.

And when 4 a.m. came and she slipped her hoodie over your head, kissed your swollen lips, and walked you to the back door with one last look full of fire, you didn’t feel guilty.

You just felt hers.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

An Orgasm A Day Keeps The Cramps Away

Paring: GP!Yunjin x Bottom Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Yunjin decides to help you with your cramps during your time of the month.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I wrote this fic because I have just started my period again and my cramps are causing me a lot of pain. I am also considering writing more period-related content, including smut.

Yunjin was in the practice room with Y/n when she saw Y/n was in pain. She immediately stopped what she was doing and approached Y/n with concern written all over her face. "Y/n, what's wrong? You seem to be in pain." Yunjin asked, her voice soft and gentle. Y/n let out a sigh before responding, "Ah, it's just my period. I just started and the cramps are killing me. Nothing seems to help." Yunjin nodded, remembering how painful cramps could be. She decided to do some research to see if there was anything she could do to help Y/n.

As it turned out, orgasms were known to provide relief from menstrual cramps. Eager to help her friend, Yunjin suggested, "Hey, Y/n, have you ever heard of how orgasms can help with cramps? Maybe we could try that?" Y/n's face turned bright red and she stuttered, "Uh, well, I-I've heard about it, but I'm a virgin. I don't really know how to do it."

Yunjin smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I can help you. It's not as scary as it sounds, and we can do it in a way that's comfortable for you." She moved closer to Y/n and kissed her softly on the lips. "We can start with this." As they continued to make out, Yunjin began to undress Y/n, taking off her shirt and revealing her flat chest.

Y/n glanced down at her own body, feeling self-conscious about her nakedness. "But, um, won't it get messy if we do it here?" she asked, referring to the practice room. Yunjin thought for a moment and then nodded. "You're right. Let's go to our dorm instead. I'm sure we can find a way to make it work." Together, they went to their shared bedroom and entered the bathroom. Yunjin turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature until it was nice and hot. "This should help relax you," she said with a gentle smile.

As Y/n stepped into the steamy shower, Yunjin closed the shower door behind them. She wrapped her arms around Y/n and started kissing her passionately, their tongues tangling together. Y/n moaned softly into the kiss, feeling a heat building up between her legs. Yunjin could tell that Y/n was ready, so she leaned forward and began to kiss and lick along her neck and collarbone.

Y/n gasped and arched her back, her eyes fluttering shut. She could feel Yunjin's hand moving between their bodies, stroking her gently. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Yunjin asked, her voice husky with desire. "I don't want to hurt you." Y/n nodded, her breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, I trust you," she whispered.

With that, Yunjin positioned herself in front of Y/n and slowly guided her hips forward. Their bodies aligned perfectly, and Yunjin felt her own girlhood slide effortlessly inside Y/n's wetness. They groaned in unison as their hips began to move together, their bodies becoming one in the heat of passion. Yunjin's fingers dug into Y/n's hips, urging her to go deeper, harder, faster.

Y/n threw her head back, her long hair falling forward to hide her face from view. She arched her back, meeting Yunjin's thrusts with equal force. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, but somehow, it felt like it was helping to ease the pain. The cramps that had been wracking her body seemed to fade away as the orgasm began to build inside her.

"Oh, Yunjin!" she cried out, her voice muffled by the sound of their bodies slapping together. "I'm close!" Yunjin's hips quickened, and she leaned forward, nipple brushing against Y/n's. "Cum with me, baby," she whispered, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. And with those words, Y/n's orgasm crashed over her like a wave, washing away the last vestiges of pain and leaving her spent and satisfied.

They clung to each other, their hearts racing, as they tried to catch their breath. Yunjin's chest heaved up and down, and she could feel her own juices still dripping from their entangled bodies. She smiled down at Y/n, who looked up at her with a mixture of surprise and contentment.

"That was amazing," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the running water. "Thank you." Yunjin leaned down and kissed her softly. "No, thank you. I've never felt anything like that before. You're incredible." They continued to embrace, lost in the afterglow of their shared experience, until the water began to cool and reality slowly crept back in.

With a sigh, Yunjin stepped away from Y/n and turned off the shower. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself before wrapping another around Y/n. "Come on," she said, leading Y/n out of the shower and into the bedroom. "Let's get cleaned up and relax." They dried off, got dressed, and climbed into bed, snuggling close together under the soft sheets. Yunjin couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her as she wrapped her arm around Y/n's waist.

They lay there for a while, just enjoying each other's company in silence. Yunjin could feel the warmth of Y/n's body against hers, and it was oddly comforting. She wondered if this was how it felt to be in love. She couldn't deny that she had been attracted to Y/n from the moment they met, but she never expected to feel this way about her. It was almost overwhelming at times, but in a good way.

As they lay there, Y/n traced idle patterns on Yunjin's arm with her finger. "Thank you for being here for me tonight," she said softly. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Yunjin smiled down at her. "You're my best friend, Y/n. Of course I'm here for you. And I'm glad we could…do this. I hope it helped." Y/n nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "It did. More than you'll ever know."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Yunjin thought she saw something different in Y/n's gaze. Something that went beyond friendship. But before she could say anything, Y/n looked away, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Let's get some sleep, okay?" Yunjin nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment deep in her chest. But she knew that tonight, they had shared something special, and that was enough for now.

They settled into the bed, spooning together, and soon fell into a deep, satisfying sleep. As they drifted off, Yunjin couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over her. It was as if everything that had happened before this moment had been leading up to this night, and for the first time in a long time, she felt truly at ease.

[nakylvr]

https://www.tumblr.com/nakylvr/777127241883779072/okay-hear-me-out-gp-fuckboy-megan-being-those

ok but i DO think she has a long ass roster and can be the cocky little shit she lives up to be. write me a fuckboy megan fic if im wrong, but she def has the biggest ykw out of all the kats. like say sophia's the biggest all you guys want but we all know losers have it biggest 😶😶

i agree 🙂‍↕️ she's a cocky lil shit and probably has a roster, but the thing is the second she's alone with the girl she breaks and gets into the subby baby she really is, even if she has the biggest dick ever. its a little funny how hung she is but doesnt know how to use it, needing to be guided until she finds the right rhythm and then the sub in her disappears and she just goes to town. her hips moving so fast while pounding into you muttering in your ear how good you're doing for her and how good you feel around her. she honestly babbles a bit, even when she's dominant, she just can't shut the fuck up when it feels so good for her and she knows it feels so good for you too. and when she cums she lets out a long groan and just collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck trying to recover. she's so good during aftercare though, getting up and cleaning you up and getting you water. she asks if you're okay enough to take a shower, and when you nod it's still just her holding you under the water and giving you little kisses while mumbling how good you were for her. you don't think she's serious when she says she'll text you tomorrow, but when you wake up the next morning your met with her message reading "good morning! coffee at 9? :3" and you know she's not what people say she is.

[gingerteafairy]

i want to thank @marchsfreakshow for encouraging me to post it. this is insanely long, had to be divided into other chapters, this is the first one. hope you guys like it because i loved to write this fic. sorry for the mistakes here. english is not my first language. special thanks for @ikkyfics!!

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader part two

summary: tough times shows up after prision. His only alternative? Working miles away from home. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

tags n warnings: postprison!warren, singlemom!reader, language, age gap (late 20s/early 30s), suggestive, complicated family scenario. word count: 13k

Rule #1: Make a Good Impression

Warren was cornered. Spending time in prison wasn’t as tough as what came after: having to rebuild his life from scratch, with that stupid criminal record hanging around his neck like a weight. There was no place for him anywhere, not even at street corner markets selling stolen cigarettes. He felt useless. He’d been turned down even for a job at a sleazy motel, where not even the criminal underworld seemed to want him anymore. Rent was overdue, and his last meal of the month was expired cereal from a month ago and a warm bottle of beer, which he was still deciding whether or not to drink to numb the pain a little.

He had almost given up on looking for more opportunities. Maybe selling art on the beach, like Spencer, or getting rid of all the junk in his place until he was left with just a bed and a fridge. Because, honestly, even a wood-burning stove could come in handy these days.

What was there to do now? The answer was simple: absolutely nothing. Just shrink. He slouched on the couch, legs stretched out, eyes glued to his phone screen, as if it were his last lifeline. The internet bill was the only thing he had managed to keep up with. Funny. He could be broke and starving, but funny videos were a relief. Reality, no matter how harsh, could wait. He mindlessly scrolled through the feed, as if in some way postponing the inevitable, until a message flashed on the screen, snapping him out of his stupor.

Spencer:

Hey man. My buddy’s market is hiring. Cashier. Male. $1,720. Fuel help. Only requirement is knowing how to count change. No small talk. Just show up today at 3 PM.

It was impossible not to feel an immediate sense of relief, like life had suddenly given him a second chance. This had to be some kind of miracle. But of course, there was a catch. It was already 2 PM, and the market was on the other side of the city. So, what did he do? Like an automatic reflex, he glanced at the dirty mirror on the wall. He needed a shower, at least.

He grabbed his phone again without thinking twice. Before stepping into the bathroom, he sent Spencer a message.

Warren:

Thanks, man. I know this could be my last shot before I fade into invisibility.

Spencer:

I know things are tough. Good luck. I know you’ll nail it.

With that, Warren rushed into the shower, doing the bare minimum to look like someone who hadn’t completely lost himself. He thought about his clothes. His first option was what was left of the most “decent” outfit— the T-shirt and jeans he’d worn the day of the robbery. “Great, perfect impression, Warren Lipka,” he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror. The shirt was wrinkled, and the jeans had a hole in the pocket, but deep down, he didn’t care anymore. Ironing? Maybe another day. If he had to go, he might as well go in style. A style that was wrinkled, but still, style.

He checked the GPS and entered the address. The drive would be long, the kind of trip that makes you see parts of the city you only know by name. It felt like a tour, but of a place you didn’t want to know. The city stretched out, as if it couldn’t quite handle its own misery. Finally, he reached a run-down market and parked in a secluded corner. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

“Last Chance? What a joke,” he muttered to himself, laughing quietly as he stepped out of the car. He locked the door quickly, not wasting time. What kind of neighborhood was this? You never know when a bigger problem might pop up, something worse than a simple job interview.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but a strange wave of nervousness hit him. It was just another job, he told himself. Just another one, a way to get things moving, even a little. If he was lucky, maybe he'd even come out with some dignity. If he was unlucky... well, he was used to that.

The one thing he knew for sure was that, somehow, life wouldn’t wait for him to figure things out. He had to try. Even if it was at a place called Last Chance.

He pushed open the door, hearing the little bell ring, announcing his entrance. The place was so quiet that the sound seemed to echo in the emptiness. As Warren had expected, no one was in sight. He let out a low, almost scornful laugh, twirling his car keys in his fingers before slipping them into his pocket. "This place looks like it’s been forgotten," he thought, feeling an odd sense of discomfort, but he knew there was no choice but to press on.

“Is anyone here?” he shouted, hoping no one would answer. That way, he could just turn around and leave this bizarre place behind, a bad judgment call.

The silence lingered for a few seconds, but no answer came. With nothing else to do, he shrugged and began walking through the narrow aisles. Hands in his pockets, Warren scanned the area, his eyes sharp, looking for any sign of a security camera. No security in this place? Typical. He gave a crooked smile, and as he passed a shelf, he grabbed a chocolate bar and slipped it into his pocket with a quick, almost natural motion.

"Why are you stealing?" The sudden, sharp voice of a child cut through the air, making Warren jump back, knocking the candy off the shelf. They fell to the floor with a small clatter, creating an absurd scene. "Shit, that scared the hell out of me."

"Jesus, kid. Where did you..." He muttered, instinctively raising his fist, as if it were an automatic reaction, but quickly lowering it when he saw the child. It was just a little boy, there was no way he could hit someone that young. "I wasn’t stealing, man. I was just saving it to pay later."

"Luke, who are you talking to?" Her voice came in soft but firm. Warren turned, his eyes widening, and there you were: so beautiful, it almost seemed out of place in this dead-end town. You appeared so suddenly he barely had time to process it.

"Talking to this guy who was..." The little boy began to reply, but you interrupted him with a calm smile.

"Warren Lipka." He quickly introduced himself, extending his hand to you. He wanted to make a good impression, or at least seem less pathetic than he felt. "I’m here for the job interview they said was going on."

You paused for a moment, then let out a short laugh, gentler than he expected. "Oh, you’re Warren, I should’ve guessed." You shook his hand politely, with a confidence he couldn’t even pretend to have. Then, with a motherly gesture, you turned back to the boy, who was still staring curiously at Warren.

You bent down and kissed the boy on the top of his head, the gesture so natural, like it was something you did every day. Afterward, you turned and started walking toward a door behind the cashier. "Come on, or are you going to steal another chocolate?" You asked, your voice laced with light teasing. Warren almost wanted to bury himself right then and there, embarrassed for being caught.

"How..." He began to ask, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Hidden camera," you explained, flashing a mischievous smile. You watched as he began scanning the room with his eyes, trying to piece together what had just happened. "I’ll show you later. Now come on."

With one last glance around the place, Warren, still confused and wearing an awkward smile, followed you to the door.

The room revealed was simple, with white walls and a large shelf on one side covered in folders and a few books—most of them children’s books, others Warren couldn’t identify, but from the titles, he could tell they were probably boring. You gestured for him to sit, and then took a seat across the desk. Warren distractedly looked at the small photo on the desk: the little boy outside, smiling beside you in a park filled with trees. Their smiles, so natural, reflected a moment of happiness.

"You two look alike." Warren started the conversation, pointing at the photo with one hand while the other fiddled in his pocket.

"They say he has my eyes. But I think it’s the hair, maybe the shape of the face." You smiled softly, stretching your neck to look at the photo more closely, the movement light and effortless.

"Maybe it’s the eyes. They really do look like yours." Warren said, shaking his head with a somewhat awkward smile. "You’re a really great older sister."

You let out a soft laugh, masking a smile that slipped out for just a moment. "Thanks, but Luke’s my son."

Warren froze, his jaw dropping at the revelation. He widened his eyes, unable to believe it, then quickly disguised his shock, putting his hands to his mouth like he was trying to wipe the look of disbelief off his face. "Now it all makes sense," he murmured, unaware of how visibly stunned he was.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ve never seen a sibling so affectionate. I used to fight with mine all the time." Warren laughed, still in disbelief, furrowing his brow casually as if trying to make the moment less awkward.

"Really? I had Luke when I was really young, 18 years old to be exact." You added, your hands folding on the table, your expression now more serious, as if you were sharing a piece of your story.

"Damn. God, I’m sorry. Shit, I feel like such an idiot now." Warren muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

"It’s fine. You don’t need to get nervous." You quickly reassured him, your voice calm and soothing. You leaned forward slightly, as if trying to show empathy for him in that moment.

"And I even called you beautiful. Shit, I’m really not cut out for this." Warren placed his hands on his head, leaning on the table with a heavy sigh. He lifted his eyes to you, his gaze now loaded with guilt. "You think your husband would kill me if he knew?"

"Maybe he would, if I had one." You joked, tilting your head lightly in a playful way, trying to ease the tension in the air. Warren noticed a slight sadness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed, but for some reason, he decided not to bring it up.

You sighed, straightening your posture and sitting up straighter as if shifting the conversation. "Alright. You’re hired."

"What? Already? What about the interview..." He paused, scratching his head, visibly surprised at how quickly the decision had been made.

"You were hired the moment you walked through that door." You laughed softly, stretching in your chair casually. "Not many people make it out here."

"No wonder. A dump like this..." He scoffed, mocking the place, but his eyes widened when he realized what he’d just said. "Oh my god. Again. Shit, I just say the dumbest stuff. Sorry."

"Don’t worry about it. It really is a dump." You laughed, getting up and walking around the table with light steps. Out of nowhere, you surprised him with a quick, almost warm hug that left Warren feeling momentarily disoriented. "Welcome, Warren."

"Thanks. I won’t let you down." He said, offering a weak smile, but mentally cursing himself for noticing how good you smelled as you pulled away. The feeling of being an idiot didn’t leave his chest.

Warren opened the door for you, and you gave him a gentle smile, your eyes sparkling with a kind of genuine warmth. He followed right behind you, closing the door with a soft click, breathing deeply as he watched you walk through the market, seemingly immersed in something only you knew. He wondered if it was something related to the boy’s father or if you were just worried about something missing from the shelves.

"Did you pay for the chocolate?" Little Luke inquired, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"How old are you, kid?" Warren questioned, furrowing his brow, briefly glancing at you before returning his gaze to the boy.

"Seven. But I’m almost eight. In nine months and thirteen days." Luke declared proudly, crossing his arms like an adult.

"Weird kid." Warren thought to himself, silently laughing at the little one with big, curious eyes. Something about him seemed strangely familiar. So he pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Maybe it was a desire to please you or to apologize to the kid. "Here. It’s for the chocolate."

"It’s $2.35. You’re short $1.35." Luke blinked, extending his hand toward him.

"Oh, kid. Just take the dollar and be quiet, alright? I’m struggling here." Warren hissed at the boy, but instead of crying, the little one just smiled.

"You’re weird. I like you." He chuckled, a funny, purely childlike melody echoing through the small space of the market.

Something warmed in Warren’s chest as he watched that toothless smile. The thought of being a dedicated father flooded his mind, creating false scenarios of an idealized life – a family smiling, him hugging his wife, holding his son in his arms, walking him to school, giving him a dog, teaching him how to shoot. Damn, he’d do anything to be the best dad for Luke, and it wouldn’t even be just because he wanted to win over the beautiful mom from the market. That was the one thing missing from his life, maybe that’s why he was born.

"If you start today, I can give you a tip." Your voice, breaking the idealized moment, brought Warren back to reality. He was an ex-convict, semi-in-love with a single mom, and still trying to figure out if any of this even made sense.

"You don’t have to. I can help." He tried to hide the silly smile that was about to appear, taking the uniform you handed him.

"I insist. The salary’s not great, and you’re practically the only employee here." You remarked, with that radiant smile Warren had already memorized. The sincerity in your tone was palpable.

"No, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a pleasure working with you." He stated without thinking, quickly clearing his throat with a small gesture. "Working with you. You get it."

"Yes. Thanks. I owe you one." You waved your hand, heading back to the room with Luke happily trailing behind you, both walking away while Warren stood there, eyes fixed, his heart still beating harder than usual.

"Alright… time to work." Warren stretched lazily, raising his arms above his head before shuffling toward the employee bathroom.

The space was small and functional, a far cry from the public restroom, which for some reason, was absurdly large and had a strange smell that didn’t leave, even with air freshener. He grabbed the uniform you had given him—a yellow shirt with the store’s name printed on the front. Since there were no pants in the package, he decided his own would do the trick.

When he came out of the bathroom, he closed the door with a quiet click and, with a swift motion, tied his hair in a tiny ponytail. He walked to the register, where you were already standing with a notebook in hand. The moment you heard his footsteps, you looked up.

"Looks good on you." Your tone was kind as you pointed to the shirt identical to yours. He hadn’t even noticed when you had changed—maybe it was when you went into the back room.

"Now we match, look." The voice emerged from behind him. Luke appeared beside him, wearing the same uniform, which, even in the smallest size, was still too big for his tiny frame.

"Yeah, kid. Now we’re coworkers. A real man." Warren smiled and lowered his hand for a high five with the boy, who tried to slap it with all his might.

"Wow. You’re strong. You gonna tell me you’ve been training secretly?"

"I train. I watch fight videos on YouTube." Luke replied proudly, striking a boxing guard pose.

"Luke, we’ve talked about this." Your voice came with a warning tone as you approached.

"Ah, mom. I don’t watch blood. Only sometimes." He pouted indignantly, and you tilted your head before pinching his nose with two fingers.

"Ow, mom!"

"Didn’t see that coming, huh?" Warren chuckled without thinking, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment longer than necessary. In the brief silence that followed, something in his expression made his heart skip a beat. Warren Lipka didn’t seem like the dangerous criminal from the TV—just a guy with a big heart and an intensity that even he didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah... we have a routine.” You cleared your throat, shaking off the unnecessarily sweet thoughts and handing the sheet over to him. “Monday is deep cleaning day, Saturday we count the stock. I’m here at 8 AM every day, except Thursday, when I pick up Luke from his grandparents’ house and drop him off at school. I get here at 10 AM that day. The rest is pretty easy, not much movement. Here, take this to memorize.”

“Got it.” Warren took the notebook, noticing how detailed your notes were.

“Today is Wednesday. You’ll be in the deli section.”

“Just checking expiration dates?”

“Yep. Luke usually helps me, but today he has homework.”

“Can I stay with Warren first?” Luke inquired, his eyes shining with expectation.

You gave an indulgent smile before raising an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t fight with your classmates at school tomorrow?”

“I promise.” He nodded firmly and raised his pinky. “But only tomorrow.”

Warren let out a low chuckle, and you gave him a playful disapproving look.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He laughed even harder, covering his mouth with his hand. “Let’s go, Luke. Let’s see if this meat is still good. Did you know that a lot of good meat gets thrown away here in the US? I used to collect it.”

“Seriously?” Luke’s eyes widened as he walked alongside him to the refrigerators.

“Yeah. I’d go to markets like this one and take the ones that were still good.” Warren opened the fridge and started checking the labels. Then he paused, blinking as if realizing too late what he’d just said. “…But don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He tried to hold back his laughter but failed miserably. “Hey, what do you think of this one?” He picked up a steak package and held it up for Luke to see.

“I think it’s still good to freeze. It’s got 10 days left.”

“A deal, then. 50% off this stuff that’s about to expire.” Warren shrugged, smiling and tossing the package back into the freezer.

…

Warren paced restlessly back and forth in their usual café, his hands moving nervously, his nails gnawed down to the quick, until a small piece of nail polish chipped off. He could feel a tightness in his chest, as if he were about to burst. His body swayed back and forth, his gaze locked on the clock on the wall, the anxiety consuming him. The weight of the conversation he was about to have was crushing his mind. When he finally saw Spencer walk through the door, the relief was instant, but it didn’t ease his nerves. His snack, the one he’d ordered earlier, lay forgotten on the table, untouched. He didn’t even notice it was still there.

Spencer greeted a few people in the café with a disinterested wave before walking over to the table. He sat down, casually tossing his backpack into the chair beside him, and extended his hand to shake Warren's.

“I want to be a stepdad.” Warren blurted out, not wasting a moment, before Spencer had a chance to say anything. The words came out fast, clinging to his chest like gum, almost as if the pressure had reached a point where it could no longer be ignored.

"Hey, how’s it going, Spencer? How’s work? Good. Thanks." Spencer mocked, rolling his eyes at Warren’s approach. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "We haven’t talked in two weeks, and that’s the first thing out of your mouth?"

Warren didn’t care about the teasing. His mind was already fixated on what he had to say. "It’s been two weeks since I met my son." He slammed his hand on the table with conviction, the slap of his palm echoing in the otherwise quiet café. The tension in his body was palpable now, his shoulders tight. He quickly ran a hand through his disheveled hair and pulled a nicotine lozenge from his pocket, placing it in his mouth almost mechanically.

"Since when are you quitting smoking?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow, an almost amused smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to grab one of the lozenges and popped it into his own mouth.

"Since I realized innocent people suffer from the crap smokers exhale," Warren replied in a serious tone, biting down harder on the snack, the crunch almost matching the stress he was feeling. "I saw it in the paper."

Spencer frowned, skeptical, but chose not to comment. Instead, he flagged down the waitress to put in an order. The conversation was starting to take a curious turn, and he didn’t want to miss his chance to figure out what was really going on with his friend. The café bell rang, and suddenly, Eric appeared at the door, casually waving to the crowd before heading straight to the table.

"Hey, guys." Eric greeted, throwing himself into a chair and locking eyes with Warren.

"Warren wants to be a stepdad." Spencer said, his tone bored, hiding a smirk of irony, and Warren smiled broadly, relieved to finally say it out loud. It was a mix of nervousness and excitement he couldn’t quite suppress.

"Dude, that’s a bad idea." Eric shook his head, disapproval written all over his face. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing to explain himself seriously. "Those things never work out. Once you get attached to the mom, she’s never gonna let you go. You’ll regret it."

"That’s sexist, Eric." Warren hissed, grabbing Spencer’s coffee cup and taking a sip without caring that it was someone else’s drink. He knew he was breaking the unspoken rules of the café, but he needed something—anything—to relieve the pressure building inside. "And what’s wrong with her getting attached? I like her."

"When’s her birthday?" Eric shot back, his voice relentless, eyes narrowing as if he were conducting an interrogation.

"I don’t know." Warren replied quickly, but a hint of doubt crept in.

"And the kid’s?" Eric pressed, staring at Warren, waiting for a response.

"Wait, I remember, he told me..." Warren trailed off, trying to recall the details.

"What’s her favorite color, and why is it blue?" Eric fired again, a mocking edge in his tone.

"That’s not the point!" Warren snapped, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his frustration growing. "I don’t know, man. It’s the way she looks at me. Her and that weird kid. The little pest knows everything, he rattles off stuff I don’t even know. He answered 37 + 53 like it was nothing."

"90." Eric responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't count, you're a robot." Warren muttered, shaking the snack bag with frustration as he glared at Spencer. He noticed the bag was almost empty. "No, seriously. The kid’s really smart. I know he’s not mine and everything. But I’d make an effort. He has the same nose as me."

"Alright, you're stretching it a bit now." Spencer warned, his voice taking on a serious tone as he finished his coffee with a sigh, setting the empty cup on the table. "What about the job?"

"Tiring. I lift boxes, stack them, store everything. I do almost everything. She helps with cleaning and sometimes takes the register when I'm organizing the fridges. The kid helps her with the change. Everyone who passes by loves him."

"Hmmm. Sounds good." Eric shrugged as the waitress approached with a new order, and he gave a distracted thumbs-up.

"What made you change your mind?" Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked at Warren with more intensity, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

"She’s a hard worker. Women like that are strong. She’s probably fought hard to get this far." Eric spoke with an almost knowing conviction, his tone calm but determined. "Just don’t screw it up, Warren."

"Now it’s my fault?" Warren defended himself, shaking his head in frustration as he stood up from the table, stepping back slightly while slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Where are you going?" Spencer looked up, concern now evident on his face.

"Home. I need to get some sleep for work tomorrow. See you guys." Warren replied quickly, his movements hurried, shoulders tight as he turned to leave. The tension still hung in the air, but he needed a moment alone to process everything.

Rule #2: (Try) Not to Stick Your Nose in Other People’s Business.

Warren woke up earlier than usual that morning. He felt surprisingly energized, a rare occurrence, so he made sure to take a proper shower before heading out for work. He knew that today was one of those days you tended to be late, so he planned to take care of everything until you arrived.

As he parked the car in front of the shop, his eyes immediately found you sitting on the doorstep, shoulders slumped, hands pressing against your head. Something was off. His chest tightened at the sight. You looked... desperate.

His brows furrowed slightly, and Warren stepped out of the car, walking toward you with measured steps, trying not to invade your space too abruptly.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice was low, cautious, as if afraid of startling you.

You quickly lifted your face, eyes misty, and your chest rose and fell unevenly, betraying the anxiety trapped in your breathing.

"It’s Luke..." Your voice cracked, and you stood up, your hands nervously twisting in front of your chest. "My car broke down, I can't pick him up from his grandparents’ house, and it's almost time for school. He’s going to miss class, and his teacher already said he’s struggling. My brother isn’t answering, no taxis are coming, and..."

With every word, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You didn’t even notice your hands trembling until Warren gently interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, hey." His voice was firm but kind, and without thinking much, he pulled you into an embrace.

The warmth of his body surrounded you, and the sudden gesture made your walls crumble for just a second. The woody scent of his cologne mixed with the softness of his jacket fabric made you realize how tense you were. Your heart, which had been pounding against your ribs, began to slow down.

"Sorry. I thought you needed this," he murmured close to your ear.

You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and pulled back slightly, but without fully breaking the closeness.

"I did. Thank you." Your voice was steadier now, though there was still a lingering edge of panic. You quickly wiped your face with your hands, trying to erase the traces of tears. "Sorry for unloading all this on you, I’m just... desperate."

Warren tilted his head slightly, watching you closely, as if he were analyzing every layer of your nervousness before speaking.

"Where’s his grandparents’ house?" His voice was resolute, like he had already made up his mind.

You blinked a few times, confused by the sudden question.

"What?"

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, taking a deep breath before repeating himself.

"Where’s Luke’s address? I’ll go pick him up."

You froze for a moment, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Your instincts told you to refuse — he was just your employee, he didn’t need to get involved. But the desperation pressing down on you was heavier than the pride that wanted to hold you back.

"You’d do that?"

The smile that appeared on Warren’s lips was small, but genuine, his dimples barely visible as he grinned. His eyes lingered on them for a moment before you realized you were smiling too, even if shyly.

"Why wouldn’t I?" He raised an eyebrow, as though genuinely finding your hesitation puzzling.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your chest warmed in a strange way.

"Come on. Let’s go." He gestured toward the car.

"And the shop?"

"Ah, no one comes here at this time anyway." He chuckled, as if the place was his to command. And for a moment, you found yourself wishing it was.

Warren walked around the car and opened the passenger door, waiting patiently for you to get in before closing it carefully with a swift motion. He settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. You were still tense, biting your lower lip, trying to hold onto the last threads of control. Warren noticed and, without saying a word, turned on the radio. A loud rock song blasted through the speakers.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly lowering the volume and switching stations.

The sensual melody of Careless Whisper filled the car.

"Goddamn radio." He grumbled again, spinning the dial hastily. This time, soft instrumental music filled the air. "Better," he said, leaning back into his seat and relaxing.

You chuckled quietly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For this." You gestured vaguely at the radio and at him. Warren cast a quick glance in your direction before returning his focus to the road.

"Do you like the job?" You asked, trying to ease the weight of the moment, your fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the seat.

"Yeah, actually, I’m pretty attached to it. I think it was my last chance to be a decent citizen." He said with a playful smile, his eyes momentarily glancing at you before turning back to the road.

You tilted your head slightly, studying his profile for a beat, the soft tension in the air palpable.

"Do you like it just for that?" Your question came out more curious than you’d intended, a little more pointed than you planned.

Warren gripped the steering wheel with one hand, using the other to run through his hair, the hint of a mysterious smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"There are other reasons too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned your gaze to the window, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You weren't sure why, but the way he said it unsettled you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"What about you? Do you like your job?"

You let out a soft, nasal laugh, tilting your head back slightly. "Being the manager of a run-down market wasn’t exactly my childhood dream."

Warren chuckled through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "How’d you end up there?"

Your smile faltered slightly, and you took a deep breath before answering.

"Well... I got pregnant with Luke."

The atmosphere in the car shifted subtly. Warren fell silent for a moment, as if processing the weight of your words, his hands firm on the wheel, eyes focused ahead.

"Do you regret it?" He asked quietly, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

"In the beginning, it was hard. I didn’t have much support, just graduated high school. College seemed impossible." You glanced down at your hands resting on your lap, fingers twisting nervously. Warren nodded slowly, never looking away from the road. "But then he was born, and... everything changed. It was like my whole life suddenly had a new meaning."

Warren smiled, his thoughts clearly drifting to Luke. And as he did, he realized something interesting: his smile was almost identical to the boy's. That same genuine sparkle in his eyes, a light untouched by time, despite all the struggles life had thrown their way. Without thinking, Warren’s own smile softened, mirroring the one he had just seen.

"Can I ask you about his dad, or would that be too intrusive?" Warren’s voice was gentle now, eyes fixed on you, the concern clear in his gaze.

"No... no, it’s not intrusive." You shook your head, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. "Luke's dad is complicated. He was a great father in the first few months, but then he started saying that Luke was getting in the way of his career."

"What a jerk." Warren spat without thinking, his jaw tightening in indignation. He frowned, immediately realizing his own boldness. "Sorry."

"No... jerk is too mild a word." You shot back, your tone still sharp, but softened by the vulnerability that lingered beneath it. Warren relaxed his shoulders, relieved that he hadn’t crossed a line. "When he said that, I couldn’t take it anymore and ended it. Since then, it’s just been me and Luke. I ended up raising him alone with the help of my parents. Luke doesn’t even know who he is. I prefer it that way. If he asks about him in the future, I’ll tell him, but not now. I’m still angry about it, though."

Warren nodded slowly, processing your words, his expression softening with understanding. For a moment, the only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the distant rumble of tires on the road.

Finally, Warren let out a small, knowing smile, his gaze gentle.

"I may not know much about you guys, but Luke is a really cool kid." Warren’s voice held a genuine tone of admiration. "Not many seven-year-olds can count the days until their own birthday."

"You really think so?" Your eyes lit up at the question, and a soft smile crept onto your lips, the warmth spreading across your face.

"Of course. The kid’s a little terrifying sometimes, I’ll admit." Warren teased, making you laugh out loud. "Seriously, I get freaked out when he starts doing mental math."

"He’s the best in his class at math." You said, the pride evident in your voice.

Warren rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression playful. "Of course he is. That kid’s going places. He’s going to be the next Einstein, and they’ll write books about him. Mark my words."

You laughed again, and Warren held onto that sound, savoring it, like it was a melody he didn’t want to forget. The sound was infectious, and his chest swelled with an unfamiliar warmth.

"He sounds like my brother. He was always super smart, too. Top of his class, just like Luke. He’s the one who owns the market and helped me get this job. That’s how I ended up there."

"So it’s in the genes."

"Maybe." You fell quiet for a moment, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. Your thoughts drifted as you absentmindedly added, "Does he have a girlfriend?"

The question came out casually, but it hung in the air with an unexpected weight, more serious than you’d intended.

"Me?" Warren raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. He let out a surprised laugh, his face lit up with disbelief. When you nodded, he shook his head, still laughing. "That’s a good one."

"Why?" You chuckled, leaning slightly towards him. "What’s wrong with that? You’re good-looking, charming, funny. There must be someone."

Warren snorted, resting his elbow against the car window, the air suddenly a little heavier. "Oh, yeah, sure, women love a former convict who can’t even afford a Coke." His voice had a mocking tone, but there was something beneath the sarcasm—a hint of self-deprecation that made your chest tighten with empathy.

"No... no one." He answered quietly, his gaze now fixed on the road ahead. "What about you?"

"No…" Your response came out almost hesitantly, and for a brief moment, a flicker of hope danced in your mind before you pushed it aside.

The conversation fell into a heavy silence, the kind that lingered like a thick fog between you. You could feel the change in the air, the tension that wasn’t quite palpable but couldn’t be ignored either. You silently thanked the universe that you were close to your destination. As Warren parked the car, you quickly unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out, eager to escape the weight of your own thoughts before they dragged you deeper into uncertainty.

You hurried up to the door, your hand moving quickly to press the doorbell without hesitation. Warren followed closely behind, stopping a step back, his body still tense, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if ready for something unexpected.

The door swung open.

And then, your blood ran cold.

"Daniel?" Your voice came out as a strained rasp, barely a whisper, your face draining of color instantly.

The man standing there, with his captivating green eyes and a charming smile, widened the door to let you in. "I was really hoping to talk to you. Come on in."

He then looked at Warren, sizing him up with a quick, calculating glance before extending his hand. "Hey, man. How’s it going? I'm Daniel Beavers, but you can call me Dan."

Warren held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, his jaw tightening, before he shook Daniel's hand with deliberate firmness. "Warren." His voice was cold, the warmth and ease from earlier gone completely.

Daniel laughed, a little too loudly. "Damn, you’re strong." He gave Warren a friendly slap on the back, but Warren didn’t flinch, keeping his expression neutral, only offering a polite smile before stepping inside.

Once out of Daniel’s line of sight, Warren leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his breath brushing your ear. "Who’s that guy?"

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before your voice barely escaped your lips, a whisper heavy with discomfort. "Luke’s father."

Warren went silent for a beat, his body stiffening as though the weight of your words had struck him physically. His chest tightened, and his next words came out as a low, almost inaudible murmur. "Shit."

Without thinking, his body straightened, as if some primal instinct had taken over. His shoulders subtly broadened, and he instinctively positioned himself a bit closer to you, as if shielding you from whatever lay ahead. The gesture was so natural, so automatic, it was almost like he was becoming a human barrier.

He didn’t have the right to interfere.

But something inside him screamed that he should.

“Hi, mom!”

Luke’s cheerful voice shattered the tense silence in the room. The little boy appeared, his backpack already slung over his shoulders, running to hug you before turning to Warren with a bright, wide smile.

"Warren!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Warren’s legs for a tight hug.

"Hey, little man. Hope I didn’t take too long." Warren grinned, gently messing up Luke’s hair.

Luke pulled away, furrowing his brow. "What happened? I thought you weren’t gonna come."

"The car broke down, buddy. Warren’s gonna take you to school." You explained, maintaining a smile, though out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t ignore the way Daniel was watching the scene, his gaze quiet and calculating.

"Cool!" Luke cheered, raising his hand for a high-five with Warren. "Can I sit in the front?"

"Not this time, kiddo." Warren pretended to sound disappointed, crouching down to meet his eyes with a playful expression. "But next time, I promise."

"Okay." Luke whispered, clapping his hands excitedly.

You glanced around the room, feeling the house unusually quiet. "Where are your grandparents?"

"They went to the market. They’re planning a party for Daniel. For some celebration." Luke answered innocently, not noticing the way your shoulders tensed at the mention of Daniel’s name.

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep your composure. "Alright, let’s go. Luke’s gonna be late. It was nice seeing you, Daniel." The falseness of your smile was clear, but it was a necessary mask.

"Wait." Daniel stepped closer, pulling a shiny gold envelope with navy blue details from his pocket. He extended it toward you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I didn’t even tell you the big news."

Your stomach churned before you even looked at the contents.

"Daniel and Honey?" Your voice came out low, almost incredulous.

"I’m inviting you to my wedding." He announced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You can bring Warren too. It’d be great to have you both with us. Honey really wants to meet you."

Daniel then pulled out a smaller piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Warren, who hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking it.

You laughed—not out of happiness, but out of pure disgust. "Yeah, Daniel. You really outdo yourself every day." You stuffed the invitation into your pocket without a second thought.

"It’ll be great to have you there." He softened his voice, his hand making an almost theatrical gesture as it brushed your arm. "Please, sweetheart…"

The silence was thick, suffocating.

Warren watched the scene unfold like a predator studying its prey. His jaw was clenched tight, and his fists were subtly balled at his sides, barely contained by the tension in his body. Something inside him had already pegged Daniel as a fool, but seeing this whole act up close... that was too much. His protective instincts kicked in.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Dude, what’s up with this? Don’t you think this is a little weird?" Warren broke the silence, his voice a low growl that drew every eye in the room to him. His tone came out rougher than he intended, but at that moment, he didn’t care to hide his feelings.

Daniel blinked, genuinely confused by Warren’s reaction. "Weird? Why would it be weird?"

That question only fueled the fire inside Warren.

"Don’t you realize how completely bizarre it is to invite your ex to your wedding without even giving a heads-up? You abandoned this kid, and now you show up years later like everything’s fine?" Warren narrowed his eyes, his muscles visibly tensing as his posture became more aggressive, as if he was ready to jump at any moment.

Daniel let out a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the situation with a dismissive gesture. "Relax, man. I just thought… I don’t know. We’d be good friends. Didn’t know she was already seeing someone again." He shrugged, giving you and Warren a mischievous look, as if he was enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

The statement caught Warren off guard for a moment, making his eyes narrow even further, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. "Yeah. Exactly." He reaffirmed without hesitation, crossing his arms firmly. "And even if she wasn’t, you can’t just keep popping in and out of people’s lives like it’s a game. Look at yourself. How old are you?"

Daniel was slightly thrown off, the first crack in his confidence showing in his hesitation. "Twenty-seven."

Warren let out a dry laugh, almost sarcastically. "Twenty-seven." He repeated, savoring the irony of the situation. Then, he stepped forward, forcing Daniel to retreat until his back hit the wall. The intensity of Warren’s presence was palpable. "Listen, man to man. I’m thirty-one. But I had a grip on things long before that."

The discomfort on Daniel's face was unmistakable. He tried to recover his posture, but Warren wasn’t letting him off the hook.

"Alright, man. No need to get all upset or rude." Daniel hissed, attempting to regain his composure as he pushed lightly against Warren’s chest. Warren instantly lifted a fist, ready for any reaction.

It was only then that he remembered you and Luke were still there, silently observing the scene. Warren took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and relaxed his shoulders before speaking in a more controlled voice, though still firm. "Stay out of our lives again, alright?"

Then, with a sharp smile, he straightened Daniel’s perfectly aligned suit jacket as if he were adjusting a porcelain doll, his touch almost mocking. "Are you a lawyer?"

"Yeah." Daniel replied automatically, quickly wiping where Warren had gripped him, trying to salvage his composure.

"I hate that kind." Warren muttered between his teeth, his gaze hardening, but he quickly turned to you, softening his expression. He gave you a more serene smile, almost affectionate. "Shall we go, babe?"

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing him say “babe.” Not out of fear, but because, in that moment, you realized something different. The way Warren said it felt... right. As though he had claimed a piece of you without even realizing it.

"For sure." You smiled, your eyes softening as you started walking toward the door. But then you stopped, turned around, and walked back to Daniel with steady steps.

Without hurrying, you took the invitation from your pocket with a smooth motion and extended it to him, without any emotional appeal. "Keep it for someone who actually wants to go. Best wishes!" Your voice was sweet, but the sarcasm beneath it was impossible to ignore. Every word carried a subtle criticism, something you could no longer hide.

Daniel stood there, frozen, holding the invitation as if he had finally realized it was irrelevant to you, his expression draining of any confidence he had left as the reality hit him. He was out of place. And that seemed clear to everyone in the room.

Warren opened the door for you to pass, but before you stepped out, he gave Daniel one last threatening glance. A silent, but clear, warning.

You both walked toward the car, no longer needing to hide the smile on your faces. The tension from the earlier conversation still hung in the air, but somehow, the whole situation seemed to have brought you even closer.

"Alright, all set..." Warren murmured as he buckled Luke's seatbelt in the back seat. "Now, school."

He was already turning to head to the driver's seat when Luke's curious little voice caught you both off guard:

"Are you and mommy dating?"

The silence that followed was instant. You and Warren froze for a second before exchanging a knowing glance.

Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well... I'm a pretty nosy guy," he said, looking directly at you before turning to Luke. "So, I guess we are."

He twisted the key in the ignition, but before pulling away, he cast a quick glance your way. "Is this alright with you? Us... this."

The question came without hesitation, but with a genuine undertone of concern. You held your breath for a moment, feeling the weight of the silent exchange between you two. Then, you smiled. Not just any smile, but one of those effortless, warm, and real smiles.

"Great." You replied, feeling a lightness in your chest.

He studied your face for a second longer than necessary, as if he wanted to lock that expression in his memory. Then, he nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"Great." He repeated, turning his attention back to the road before accelerating, as if the whole world had just fallen back into place.

Rule #3: Your friends aren’t always right.

After school, you drove to the grocery store. The car’s engine hummed softly before going silent as you turned the key in the ignition. The sound of the seatbelt undoing echoed in the silence between you. You opened the door and climbed out, unlocking the passenger door without looking back. Warren stepped out soon after, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his gaze scanning the storefront as if something was different, even though everything looked exactly the same.

Inside, the muffled sound of an old radio played some generic music as you made your way to the checkout. Warren, on the other hand, detoured to the warehouse, his steps slower than usual. The smell of dust and cardboard filled his nostrils as he entered. The shelves were crammed, the boxes stacked chaotically, as usual. But Warren didn’t care about any of that. 

He just needed a moment here, alone, to gather his thoughts. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it with trembling fingers. His gaze ran over the words written there—how many times had he read them?—but before he could get lost in his own thoughts, the creak of the door opening made him quickly shove the paper back into his pocket.

"Can I come in?" Your voice sounded hesitant, head peeking through the crack in the door. He blinked a few times before forcing a smile. 

"Of course you can. You own the place." He gestured with his hand, a relaxed movement, but his shoulders remained tense. 

You walked in, closing the door behind you, the dry sound of wood echoing through the small space. Your eyes wandered around the warehouse for a second before returning to Warren, who was now swinging his foot on the floor, his right hand still deep in his pocket. 

"I just came to say..." You began, walking slowly towards him. "Thank you for what you did today." 

He let out a short, humorless laugh, looking away from you to the floor. "Oh, that?" His shoulders lifted in a casual gesture. "It was nothing. In fact, I think I was kind of stupid." 

"No." Your answer came out firm, quick, taking him by surprise. You cleared your throat, trying to soften your tone. "It wasn't stupid. It was... it was really good. Really helpful. I lost my mind, I didn't know what to do in that situation. He was such an asshole." 

Warren tilted his head to the side, watching your expression for a moment before asking, "Has he always been like this?" 

You let out a tired sigh, leaning against the wall behind you. "I guess he always has. I just didn't want to notice." 

"That sucks." He muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. After a second of hesitation, he walked over to stand next to you, leaning against the wall as well. "I guess we always have that in life. Not realizing the right person was right there." 

You frowned, lifting your chin with a hint of indignation in your voice. "Why do we do this, huh? All the signs were there. The way he ignored me, how I had to ask him to the school dance..." 

Warren turned his face towards you, blinking slowly. "You asked him to the school dance and not the other way around?" 

"Yeah! Can you believe that?" You huffed, crossing your arms. "He said he forgot! When we were picking out my dress the night before!" 

Warren closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh before muttering, "What an idiot." He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, the fluorescent light above casting soft shadows on his face. With a slow movement, he licked his lips before speaking again. "I would never do that to you."

Your chest tightened, your breath catching for a second. 

"What do you mean by that?" Your voice came out low, almost reluctant.

He pressed his teeth against his cheek, looking away to the floor, as if seeking courage there. When he finally looked back at you, his expression was more serious.

 "I would never treat you like that." His voice was firm, but there was a certain hesitation in his gaze. "I'm not exactly a good guy, you know that. But I’d never leave you hanging like that."

"Really?" You leaned your head against the wall, still looking at him, your fingers tightening the hem of your blouse with an unconscious reflex of nervousness.

Warren nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips, almost as if he was amused by your reaction. You snorted and went back to staring at the ceiling. The silence that followed was almost palpable. Your breathing seemed to echo in the small warehouse, while the dust danced in the air under the yellowish light.

"Oh my God..." The laugh came low, exhaled along with a sigh.

"What?" He frowned, but the corner of his mouth still carried a trace of amusement.

"Now I want to go to Daniel's wedding with you just so he can see that I'm okay." You admitted, covering your face with your hands, feeling the heat rise to your ears. "That's so immature. I'm such an idiot."

Warren let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, I don't care." Without hesitation, he took another step towards you, leaning in slightly as he gently removed your hands from your face. "I still have a password, we can say it's yours and that I'm following."

"No, Warren... That's not right." You protested, but the lightness of laughter was still present in your voice. "I'd be using you and that's so wrong..."

"Do it. I just don't want you to look like that because of that idiot." His voice lowered slightly, seriousness seeping into his tone.

"He doesn't deserve even a second of your emotions, of anything you have to offer. So use me. Do whatever you think is best, because you have a hard enough life to worry about anything else and I'm willing to do anything to help you."

Your heart stumbled in your chest when you felt his warm touch against your wrists. Warren gently lowered them, letting his hands rest on either side of your body. The space between you was decreasing with each passing second without anyone making an effort to break it.

He bit his lower lip, his gaze flickering between your mouth and your eyes. You felt your breath catch at the realization, heat rising in your stomach, in your cheeks. Your own attention followed suit—his lips, then his brown eyes, intense, filled with something unsaid but completely understood. The atmosphere was heavy in a way that seemed impossible to ignore.

Warren's heart hammered against his ribs as he raised one hand, bracing it on the wall beside you. The other still held yours. The space between your bodies slowly disappeared. He leaned toward you, his lashes lowering as your faces came closer, your breath mingling.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the moment like a sharp blade, making you both pull away in an instant. You took a step back, your chest rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Warren ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling as if cursing the universe.

"I better... you know... go outside." He nodded, his voice thick with something that sounded like disappointment.

You nodded, crossing your arms over your body as if that could contain the wave of feelings that were stirring inside you. He hesitated for a moment before leaving, closing the door behind him. But he didn't leave right away—Warren leaned his back against the wood for a few seconds, exhaling slowly, trying to regain control. Only then did he pull away and walk to the cashier.

You stood there for a few more moments, your fingertips brushing your lips, as if trying to feel something that had never happened.

If you had kissed... would it have been wrong? Or was the doorbell a signal not to?

You shook your head, muttering "Stop it" to yourself, trying to push the thought away. But the knot in your chest was still there as you left the warehouse and headed back to the market.

Across the way, Warren was handing over the customer’s groceries with automatic movements, but his mind was elsewhere. When his eyes met yours, for just a second, something flared again—a question, an uncertainty, a regret.

Without saying anything, you looked away and walked into the office, busying yourself with anything that felt like work. You needed to distract yourself, needed to convince yourself that this didn’t mean anything.

The customer left, and Warren stood behind the register, still holding the last bag as if he’d forgotten to let go of it. His mind raced in circles, trying to find a way to talk about what had almost happened. To tell him how he felt without ruining everything.

He walked slowly to the office door and raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. His fingers hovered over the wood for a second before curling into a fist and pulling back.

This didn’t make sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen.

And if it did, he was sure it would ruin everything.

Eric was right. It was better to just give up.

Rule #4: Don't hold back an emotion for too long, it might take over you.

The doorbell rang, and Warren didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The familiar jingle of keychains rattling in his backpack and the sweet smell of grape candies in the air were enough to recognize Luke.

"Hey, little man. How was school today?" Warren beamed, walking around the counter with lazy steps to talk to the boy.

"It was nice." Luke replied excitedly, throwing his backpack on the floor before wrapping Warren in a brief, tight hug. Soon after, he pulled away and stuck his small hand in his pants pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Look, I made this today."

"Awesome, a frog." Warren took the green origami between his fingers, studying the careful folds. He turned the piece from side to side, smiling. "Where did you learn that?"

"On the internet, look. Come see, it jumps." Luke took it back, placed it on the counter, and pressed it lightly on the paper. The little frog jumped. "See?" 

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you're scary." He tested the frog, squeezing the paper as Luke had done, and the creature jumped again. "This is witchcraft, isn't it? You put magic in it and didn't tell me, you little brat." 

"No!" Luke laughed, shaking his head. "It's just origami. If you fold the paper the right way, it moves, like a lever." 

"I see..." Warren feigned distrust, crossing his arms. "So it's pure skill and not some dark pact?" 

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Wanna make one?" 

"Tsk, I don't know." Warren leaned back a little, as if it were a risky challenge. "I'm pretty sure I'll ruin it before I even touch the paper." 

"Stop being a wimp." The boy, however, didn't take the refusal lying down. Luke took his hand with determination and pulled him down the hallway to the office. The air grew heavier as Warren walked through the door. 

His eyes met yours for a moment too long. Something unresolved hung in the space between you, and you both looked away almost at the same time, disguising it with silent discomfort.

 It had been a week. 

Seven days since what almost happened in the warehouse. 

Since then, conversations had been limited to short sentences about work, polite words that didn't fill the awkward silence. You spent as much time as possible in the office, while Warren remained at the cash register busy with anything other than talking to you. Always busy. The only close interaction happened when it was time to restock the shelves or when one of you left. And even then, you both avoided looking each other directly in the eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was school today?" You broke the silence first, forcing a smile as Luke let go of Warren's hand and ran over to you.

"It was cool, but Warren and I are really busy right now." He explained excitedly, grabbing two sheets of paper from your desk.

"With what, exactly?" You asked, your gaze falling on Warren more than the boy.

"We're gonna make frogs." Warren answered casually, twirling the sheet between his fingers.

"Frogs?" Your brow furrowed slightly.

"Of paper, Mom." Luke rolled his eyes, as if your question was absurd. "I made one in class and now I'm going to teach Warren how to make one too. Sit here, facing Mom."

Warren hesitated, his eyes meeting yours again, almost as if he was asking for permission. You held his gaze for a second before nodding, pointing to the chair across from you. He sat down, looking guilty, shifting in his chair as Luke stood beside him, full of excitement.

"Here's how it is, follow everything I do or you'll get lost and do it all wrong." The boy began to fold the paper with precision. Warren imitated the movement, frowning in concentration.

"That's it. Now you're going to fold it here... like this."

"Okay..." Warren replicated the fold, narrowing his eyes to check if he was doing it right. "And now?"

"Do it like this, like this. Now fold it like this... Now turn it over. Don't let it get wrinkled, it has to be right. Turn it over again, fold it."

"Easy there, Luke. I'm old." Warren laughed, his hands fumbling to keep up with the boy's agile movements.

Luke snorted, but held back a smile. "You're slow, Warren."

"Hey, that was unnecessary." He made a playfully offended expression.

"Now just this one more and it's done!" Luke showed off his perfectly aligned frog, proud.

"Congratulations, honey!" You clapped your hands, amazed at your son's work. “It looks exactly like a frog. Good job.”

Warren looked at his origami, then at Luke’s. He held up his creation—a crumpled, shapeless ball—and raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, it looks just like mine.” 

Luke laughed loudly. You put your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back your laughter too. “Sorry, Warren. It’s just so funny.” 

“It looks like a frog that got run over!” Luke laughed, placing his hands on his stomach. 

“I know, I know. I should’ve seen that coming. You two are against me.” Warren sighed dramatically, tossing the paper ball aside. “It’s definitely not for me. I’ll leave that to the little man and his super smart mom.” 

But even though he failed miserably at origami, the smile on his face seemed genuine for the first time in a week. 

“You don’t pay attention either, Warren Sillyka!” Luke laughed, sticking his tongue out at Warren. 

“Did you see that?” Warren raised an eyebrow at you, pointing indignantly at the boy. “The kid just gave me tongue!” And without thinking twice, he returned the gesture.

"Hey!" Luke protested, grimacing and pulling the corners of his mouth with his fingers.

"Now, you little criminal..." Warren narrowed his eyes before standing up, his hands ready to attack with tickles.

"No, stop! Stop!" Luke squirmed, laughing as he tried to escape. Warren, however, was faster, grabbing him easily and lifting him in his arms, swinging him from side to side.

"Serious infraction, young man!" Warren mocked, holding Luke tightly. "You have the right to remain silent! Hands where I can see them!"

"Never!" Luke challenged, laughing loudly, clearly enjoying the joke. "I will not give in to you, Sillyka."

"Oh, then let's go again." Warren took a deep breath and threw the boy slightly in the air before catching him again, eliciting more laughter. "What now? I’ll only let you go with an apology!’

You watched them, the scene unfolding before your eyes like something you never imagined you would see. Your son laughing freely, sharing such pure happiness with someone other than you. Warren holding him in his arms felt... right. Like this was where Luke was always supposed to be.

The laughter escaped your lips before you could stop it. And when Warren and Luke looked at you, your laughter turned into something else—louder, looser, more genuine. Your eyes grew teary, but not just from laughter. The emotions inside you bubbled up in a way they didn’t know how to express, that you had kept locked away under lock and key deep in your heart for many, many years.

"No... don't look at me." You tried to contain your laughter, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "Keep going..."

"Mommy?" Luke frowned, his joy turning to instant concern.

Warren noticed the same and quickly put the boy down before approaching you. 

"Mommy, are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, blinking a few times to hold back the tears. "Yes, my baby... I am." You smiled, even though your voice shook a little. "I'm just happy." It was true. Partially, at least. "Can you go to the storage room and get me a tissue?"

Luke hesitated, still suspicious, but nodded. "Yeah." And then he left, looking back one last time before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, the barrier you were trying to hold collapsed. A sob escaped your throat, followed by an uncontrolled sob. 

"I'm sorry." You buried your face in your hands, unable to stop the wave of emotion.

Warren's heart clenched, and before you knew it, he was kneeling in front of you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a firm embrace.

He didn't say anything. He just stood there.

Your face buried in his neck, your hands clutching the fabric of his uniform, feeling the heat of his body as you cried without reserve.

“I'm here. Shh..." Warren murmured against your hair, stroking your back in slow circles. "I'm here."

"I'm soaking your clothes…”

"Fuck it. I'll wash them when I get home."

He slid his fingers through your hair, brushing his lips gently against your temple, a silent gesture of comfort. Your breathing began to calm, still shaky, but less suffocating. You sniffed and pulled away slightly, staring at his face so close to yours. The way he looked at you... calm, steady. Like a beacon in the middle of your storm, guiding you back.

"I forget how incredibly perceptive he is." Your voice still cracked. "He always knows when I'm not okay. I can't hide anything from him."

Warren smiled weakly, running his hand over your wet face, brushing away the remnants of your tears with his thumb.

"You don't have to hide it from me either." He said softly, then leaned down, still on his knees, to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Don't hide anything from me." 

The door swung open. 

"Here, Mom! I got it." Luke came running back, holding the box of tissues. "Sorry I took so long. It was really highI had to grab a chair to get up. But I didn't drop anything." 

You let out a shaky laugh, accepting the tissues and opening your arms to him. Luke fit into the hug without hesitation. You looked at Warren over your son's head, his gaze full of gratitude.

 "Well... I guess I'll be going now." Warren mumbled, standing up slowly. 

"Where to?" You asked, grabbing a tissue and blowing your nose. "Leaving already?" 

"To the cashier. It's my turn." He smiled weakly, watching Luke grab another tissue for you. "Take care of your mom, okay?" 

"I'll do it." Luke nodded with the seriousness of someone who takes the mission seriously. He held the trash can for you to dispose of the tissues. "It'll be okay, Mommy." 

You smiled, tightening your arms around your son. "I know it will, my baby. Thank you.

" Warren took slow steps towards the door, almost hesitantly. You watched him go, feeling a tightness in your chest as you watched him walk away. 

"See you later." He paused for a brief second, turning just enough to look you in the eyes. 

"See you..."

…

Warren turned the "Closed" sign on the door, taking one last look at the street before returning to the cash register and writing down the day's records. You always dropped Luke off before five, so you'd be back soon. He wanted to get everything done early to make his job easier.

After reviewing the checklist, he went to his office and left the paper on his desk. When he returned to the cash register, he heard the door open and looked up in time to see you come in. You walked over to him with a small smile on your lips.

"You look happy." He commented, resting his hands on the counter.

"I just found the perfect dress for Daniel's wedding." You said, leaning a little on the counter. 

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow, Saturday."

You walked around the counter, stopping next to him. "Do you have an outfit yet?"

"I have that damn thing I wore on my first day here. Will that fit?" Warren asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and crossing his arms.

"It'll do. It's perfect." You replied, placing your hands on your hips. "I can't wait to show you."

 "The dress?" He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. "I want to see it too. What color is it? No, wait... Isn't that bad luck?" 

"What?" 

"To know what the woman will wear on her wedding day." He explained, confused. You let out a laugh. 

"No, Warren." He blinked, waiting for the explanation. "That's only for the bride. You can know." 

"Oh... sorry. I've never been to a wedding before." He confessed, relaxing his arms. "Are you excited?" 

"Nervous." You admitted, leaning against the counter. "I don't know how I'm going to react." 

"I'll be there." Warren comforted. "Do I have permission to punch him if he messes up with Luke?" 

"Luke isn't going. It's at night. It starts at eight, but these things always take a while. I don't want him to stay up until the early hours of the morning." 

"So it's just going to be the two of us?" 

The question came with a subtle but noticeable tone of curiosity. 

"Yes." You nodded, feeling an unexpected nervousness grow in your chest. 

"Do you want me to pick you up?" He asked, and there was something else in his voice—a hint of expectation. 

"Yes, it's okay. I was just going to drop Luke off at his friend's house and come back to get ready." 

"Deal. I'll stop by at seven-thirty?" 

"Seven-thirty is fine." You nodded, crossing your arms. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but he just smiled sideways.

"Shall we go out? It's closing time, and I don't want anyone knocking here." You changed the subject, walking to the door.

"Good idea." Warren grabbed his keys and followed you out, locking the store behind you.

Warren scanned the street, frowning slightly when he noticed one of the streetlights flickering, casting irregular shadows across the sidewalk. The silence of the night seemed to drag on with the cold wind.

"So... is it okay to walk home in this darkness?"

"Yeah, I always walk back after work." You answered matter-of-factly, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

He let out a short sigh, pulling the iron to cover the store window. "This isn't good."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as he locked the door. "Since when did walking two streets over become a problem?"

"Since always. Anyone can run into the wrong person." He turned to you, glaring firmly.

"No problem. If anything happens, I'll scream and run." You joked, shrugging.

Warren chuckled and shook his head before approaching. With his hands firmly on his waist, he tilted his face, his eyes assessing you up and down.

“Come on. I’ll take you.” You hesitated for a moment, but ended up nodding and starting to walk. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Going home?” You pointed to the end of the street.

“No. Get in the car.” He patted the hood of the vehicle twice with a half smile.

“It’s only two streets.”

“And I don’t know who’s coming around the corner. Do you know?”

“You’re so worried.”

“Baby, after you go to jail, even your neighbors are suspicious.” He joked, unlocking the doors. “Maybe you have your own criminal record and I’m here all by myself thinking I’m safe and sound.”

You smiled, getting in the car. “And what would my crime be?”

Warren started the engine and pulled out of the space, his eyes narrowing as if he was evaluating the response.

“Murder, for sure. In cold blood, plain daylight.” He teased, turning the steering wheel to enter the avenue. “Maybe poisoning.”

“And why?”

He gave you a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road.

“Because you have this innocent woman look, all pretty, cute eyes who make men fall in love at first sight… the perfect stereotype.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “When I least expect it, I’ll wake up in an ice bath.”

You gave a short laugh and lightly pushed his shoulder. “How awful, Warren. I’d never kill you.”

“I don’t know… what if one day I make you angry?”

He turned onto your street and parked in front of your house. The engine purred softly before being turned off. Silence filled the car.

“Then I don’t know…” you teased, biting your lip as you pretended to think.

Warren chuckled softly and shook his head. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“See you tomorrow.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

But before you could reach for the door handle, you hesitated.

“Warren.”

He turned to face you, leaning in slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was lower, as if he already knew what was coming.

You hesitated for a second, your gaze locked on his lips. Your heart raced as your bodies leaned almost instinctively toward each other. Your hot breath mingled in the small space between you. But at the last moment, you pulled back, looking away.

“Nothing…”

“Fuck, stop saying it’s nothing.” Warren grumbled, letting out a short sigh before unbuckling his belt and cupping your face with his warm hands, pulling you into an unexpected kiss.

The touch was intense, a mix of urgency and pent-up desire. Your fingers tightened the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, opening your mouth for more of what you craved so much.

When you pulled away, a mischievous smile played on his lips. You smiled, still feeling his breath against your skin, your mouth damp from the trace of what had happened.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, trying to pull away, but he pulled you back, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

This time, you moaned against his lips and released his belt, seeking more proximity. Warren slid his hand under your shirt, pulling your waist closer and feeling the soft skin against his touch. His other hand went to the back of your neck, his fingers intertwining in your hair as the kiss grew more intense.

Time seemed to have stopped. You turned your body so that he had more access, your hand touching his face, the hairs of his growing beard prickling your skin, brushing against your chin. It stung, but it felt so damn good. When air became a necessity, you pulled away with a silly smile, your eyes shining under the dim light of the streetlamp.

“You’re very welcome.” Warren murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he still didn’t want to let go.

You smiled and looked away, opening the door.

“See you tomorrow, Warren.”

“Why?”

“I’m in front of my house.” You laughed softly.

Before you could leave, he pulled your hand and stole one last kiss.

“Just one more.” He murmured against your lips, sealing them once more. You smiled against his mouth before finally leaving.

Warren waited until you got in and closed the door to start the car. He licked his lips, capturing your trail. He frowned, smelling a strange smell in the air. Looking around, he decided to look at his pants and...

“Shit, Warren. What’s wrong with you?” He groaned in disgust, seeing his own situation. His jeans were darker, damp, soft. “I can’t believe this. One kiss! One kiss! I’m so fucked up. That’s the ending.”

Disgusted, he just decided to go home as soon as possible to resolve the outcome of the little moment between you. Even though he was uncomfortable with the sticky feeling between his legs, the satisfied smile didn’t leave his face.

And it didn’t leave throughout the entire night.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Yo! Hello there blusy :3 (is that what i call you? .. sorry .. bad at context)

would u mind writing a tiny lil blurb/oneshot about Reader being like, a saleperson that walked up to Donnas estate, trying to get her to buy fabric or whatever, being totally clueless to who Donna is? Not being from the village/country and all, assuming Donna was just a very tall goth gal?

(Donna just standing there confused like.. what? Huh? Angie, if i remember the dolls name correctly, is just laughing her ass off)

Make it wholesome or i'll eat you. /hj (lighthearted!! Dont take this as a genuine threat .. aha ..)

also ignore the fact i might be writing this in like a really weird way .. this is the first time ive requested something .. so .. i hope i asked this okay?? 😵‍💫

thank you, thank you, much love, from useless internet loser named Jooseboxxe 🧃

Yesss!!!! Was it your first request?? Welcome then!!! Thank you for your love, your support, and your request!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

A clueless outsider

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff,

Word count: 8,005

Summary: What's going on here...?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

On your trips through Europe you had visited many places, you had even gotten lost in many of them, but there was nothing that could compare to that journey through the villages of Romania, to the radical change of what you had around: a poorly paved road, sinister trees that seemed to chase you, crows...

You were a merchant, a kind of nomad who traveled through old Europe trying to make it on your own. Without family and friends, traveling, selling and repeating was your routine. Visiting new places, meeting people of all kinds was always the only thing that kept you with a slight sanity. Loneliness was never your enemy, but it wasn't your ally either.

Your old GPS had stopped working a long time ago, but you, who always looked on the bright side of things, didn't give it any importance. You assumed that the thick forest was the guilty.

“What!?” you screamed when your tedious driving made a sharp turn to avoid a strange shadow in the middle of the neglected road. “Damn!” you screamed again, trying to keep control of the vehicle that, due to your sharp turn, went down a slope until it crashed spectacularly into a tree.

Luckily it was nothing serious.

“Oh…” you lamented, trying to stay calm, thinking about what you had seen. It seemed as if someone, or something, was in the middle of the road. You couldn't see it well. It looked like a vermin, perhaps, or some absent-minded peasant.

Of course, what had caused the accident wasn’t the biggest of your worries. The sound of the vehicle's engine dying over and over again was an unpleasant mockery, as was the smoke coming out of the hood.

“No, no, no,” you protested, hitting the steering wheel and giving up, getting out of the vehicle. “That's all I needed…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes and taking out your phone, looking around.

“112,” you repeated while dialing the numbers, hoping that mistake wouldn't lead to a fine, since you had spent a lot of money on the way and you didn't have any cash. “What? It must be a joke…” you sighed when no one answered on the other end of the phone.

There was no signal, not even for emergencies. You had to have an accident in the most isolated place in Romania.

Looking at the vehicle and then around you, you sighed, shaking your head. You took several steps forward to try to make out something among the trees. A small wisp of black smoke rose before you. There seemed to be a village very close, and that, at least, was hopeful.

Taking what you needed, you walked towards that village, looking up when you were close enough, admiring an imposing castle that seemed to watch over the town, a beautiful construction that you hadn't seen in any of your travel guides.

At least in that place, someone could help you, or so you thought.

Snow, old houses... A graveyard in the middle of the square... It was a picturesque place, no doubt, although sightseeing wasn't your main idea. It didn't seem abandoned, but you didn't see anyone in the tiny streets either, maybe in the castle?

“Can I help you with something, miss?” a deep voice made you jump.

You were sure there was no one around you.

From an old carriage, whose doors suddenly opened, a strange, exaggeratedly fat man appeared with a sinister smile. The fright made your mind ignore those disturbing details, and you saw that man as a possible savior.

“Um... Hello,” you said with a more timid smile than usual, trying to bring out a bit of your business friendliness, downplaying that sudden appearance, that disconcerting appearance. “The, the truth is that I do need help.”

“What can I do for you, outsider?” that man asked, looking at you cautiously, without removing from his face a smile that seemed familiar to you. “To see tourists around here isn’t very common.”

“Tourist? Oh, no, no, I...” you said, recognizing the smug air of his words, the blood of a merchant running through his veins. “I, I had an accident with my car and... My phone doesn't work.”

“I see,” the man said, shaking his head. “What a bad luck.”

“Yes…” you sighed, with a more confident smile. “Uh… I need to call a tow truck, or someone who can repair my vehicle. It's nothing serious, or so I think,” you explained with a formal tone.

“It's normal in these cases,” he said, amused, with a tone that made you a bit suspicious.

“Is there a mechanic in this village?” you asked, looking around.

“A mechanic? Well, I think there's someone who's… How to put it… Expert in manipulating vehicles,” the man explained, arching his eyebrows.

You nodded with a sigh of relief.

“Great, could you call him?” you asked in a friendly tone.

“Oh, but I'm afraid his services have a price, outsider,” the man in the carriage commented. “As well as mine.”

“Oh, sure, sure… I have, I have money,” you said, rummaging through your bag and taking out your credit card. “Well, if it's not too expensive…”

“That won't do anything here, miss, keep that piece of plastic,” he said, making an unpleasant gesture with his hand.

“What? But…” you said nervously, shaking your head.

“I've never believed in money as an intangible thing. If I can't touch it, it doesn't exist, understand?” he said.

“Yeah, but… I don't have any lei right now, I…” you whispered, looking for some change, one you couldn't find. “I only have euros in cash.”

“Euros? Oh, please…” the fat man laughed, moving the carriage at the same time. “Your euros are of no use here.”

“But, but I need help, at least let me call emergency services,” you said with a more serious tone, crossing your arms. “Are you going to charge me for that too?”

“If it's something you need… Of course I’m,” he said amused

“It's clear that you're a merchant,” you commented with a furious gasp. “An unscrupulous one…”

“Yes, you've guessed right,” he laughed again. “Is there even one with principles?”

“Me, for example, I’m also a merchant,” you hissed, looking at a dark flock of crows that shrank your spirit. It was a terrifying place.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” the man said, leaning towards you.

“Yes, fabulous,” you said ironically, looking away. “Tell me at least where I am. Is there any other town nearby?”

“I'm afraid there isn’t,” he replied. “It seems that you have run out of options... Or maybe you haven’t.”

“Explain yourself,” you said with a frown, seeing in his smile, an imminent proposal.

“Sometimes something as simple as a bag of coins can be enough to close a deal but... There are days when it’s not enough... I don't know if you get it...” the strange man explained.

“No,” you said, wanting to leave that place.

“I propose something to you, miss… Maybe you don't have money to offer me, but I think that, being a merchant, you could pay me in another way,” he said with a gloomy voice, without removing that smile from his face.

“It's true… I have, I have some products in the car, maybe if I give them to you, you can…” you said, thinking about your possibilities.

“Actually, as tempting as your offer may be, I'm afraid I don't need anything you have to offer me, however…”

“However…” you repeated through clenched teeth.

“Today I woke up a bit lazy, perhaps you would like to do me the favor of saving me the trouble of having to wander around the village doing my job,” the man commented, looking at his nails with disinterest.

“What? Do you want me to work for you?” you asked annoyed, refusing instantly. “Listen, I have to get out of this place and…”

“You want your car repaired, I want this list of orders to disappear. It's a good deal,” he said, taking out a piece of paper and handing it to you. Several names of products followed by each other were written on it.

“If I take this to those people, will someone fix my car?” you asked curiously. “Come on, it's too easy.”

“Trading seems very easy for you,” the man commented. “But if you do me this favor... Well, you'll be closer to being able to get out of here.”

“Okay, fine,” you said defeated, not finding another immediate way out of that situation. “I'll work for you. I hope you keep your word.”

“It's business, I never play with business,” he whispered. “By the way, I'm the Duke...”

“Duke? I can't say I'm glad to meet you,” you said with a mocking smile. “I'm... (Y/N),” you said, shaking the big hand of that man with a strange name.

After telling him where your wrecked car was, you accompanied the man to a warehouse of sorts, where you collected all the things on the list. It looked like an old village, with old customs. There was nothing remotely similar to the 21st century, but you didn't give it much thought. You were born with the ability to overlook things. Perhaps that's why you were that good at business.

The people of the village seemed surprised, even frightened by your presence, but your talents and your sales skills helped you with the task. They were strange people, but kind in their own way, fearful, but... somehow, easy to fool.

In a few hours, you were almost finished with that list and returned to the Duke's warehouse for your last order.

“Is that an empty cart?” the merchant asked, looking at the cart you were dragging. “Have you sold everything?”

“Yes,” you said satisfied, letting yourself fall into a chair. “I have sold the family, I think it was… Djovic, the baby clothes.”

“The clothes? Oh, that's good,” the man said, counting the coins you gave him, satisfied with your services. “Good job.”

“I suppose this won't help to fix my car,” you said distrustful of the look of the Duke, who obviously laughed amused, shaking his head.

“Mm, no, miss, but you’re on the right track,” he commented, gesturing for you to come closer, pointing to a package with what looked like fabrics. “There is one last order for you…”

“Fabrics?” you asked curiously, loading those rolls into the cart. “Okay…”

“You have to sell those fabrics to Lady Beneviento,” the man explained, with a slightly darker voice, narrowing his eyes.

You shrugged, examining the merchandise.

“Lady Beneviento…” you repeated, scratching the back of your neck. “She seems like someone important, is she from the castle?”

“Oh, no, no…” he whispered. “She lives in a house near the village.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “Beneviento… Okay, where does that woman live?”

“Mm,” the Duke murmured, with a strange smile. “Go towards that square over there,” he said, leaning out of the carriage and pointing to a path. “There you will see a wooden door decorated with a moon and a sun. Go through the door and follow the path, cross the bridge and it won't take long to you to reach the estate.”

“Okay, great,” you sighed, looking at the road in the distance. “Is she a seamstress or something?”

“Not exactly… She's a complicated woman, but seeing how you dealt with the villagers, I think you won't have any problems,” the man explained, with a slightly disturbing tone you didn't pay attention to.

“Wait, didn't she ask for these fabrics?” you asked curiously, looking at the small cart full again.

“The best merchant is the one who sees the need before it exists, don't you think?” the man asked.

You frowned and shook your head.

“A door with a sun and a moon, a bridge… Fine, I'll do it,” you said murmuring, grabbing the handle of the cart and leaving through the door.

“Oh, Miss (Y/N),” the Duke interrupted, with a voice that was too kind. “It was a pleasure to meet you…”

You opened your eyes at that mysterious phrase, but you didn't give it any importance, you kept walking ignoring that comment from the merchant. It was certainly a strange place, probably the strangest you had ever visited. On top of that, you were trapped there, but you couldn't complain either, at least you could do your job.

Following the Duke's instructions, you entered an even darker forest, on a path that seemed devoured by the passage of time. It didn't take long for you to see the dangerous wooden bridge and, despite your vertigo, you managed to cross it.

Everything around you seemed to be in ruins. You imagined what that place would have been like a few years ago as you walked between two abandoned cabins towards a small clearing, one with a grave in the middle, a grave that you didn't approach out of respect.

“Wow… Whoever lives here must have a lot of money,” you commented, approaching a red door, pulling the cart behind you. “Surely that Beneviento is the typical old lady who can't go to the village. I'm not surprised. It seems as if she doesn't want anyone to come near this place.”

An old elevator was waiting for you to go up. Your danger instincts were deactivated. On your travels you had met very peculiar people. Neither that extravagant merchant, nor that mysterious house seemed anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe that was it, or maybe you were just a girl of simple convictions. You always had a logical explanation for everything.

“Whoa… Incredible,” you said leaving the elevator, walking along a small path towards an old mansion, a spectacular construction next to a waterfall. “This is really curious,” you commented, admiring the subtle and dull beauty of that place, a strange, uncomfortable beauty, but a beauty nonetheless.

“Ahem,” you said, clearing your throat as you crossed the gates of the mansion, which seemed surrounded by strange plants, like an unkempt garden. “If everything goes well, I can leave soon…” you whispered as you climbed the steps and fixed your hair.

It didn't look like the place of residence of any ordinary villager. You would have to use your best skills. Carefully, you knocked softly on the door, looking curiously at your surroundings.

“Hello?” you asked when you didn't get an answer. “Is anyone home?”

“It's an outsider, Donna…” A murmur behind the door made you stand up elegantly. It seemed like a high-pitched voice, as if it were a little girl. “What do we do?”

“H-Hello?” you asked again, sure you had heard that voice. “Sorry, but, but, I came to…”

“No? Why? Oh, yes, it's true, we haven't played for a long time…” the girl's voice said again, approaching the door. “She looks like a silly girl…”

“Hey,” you protested silently, shaking your head. “What manners that girl has…”

The door opened with a creak and before you appeared a strange sight: a woman dressed completely in black, with her face covered by a veil, holding a strange doll in her arms. Her pose was straight, elegant, and her voice seemed not to want to leave her lips.

“Uh… Hello,” you said nervous at that curious sight, at that strange woman in mourning. “Sorry for the inconvenience but… Oh, well, first of all, I give you my deepest condolences.”

You lowered your head slowly and respectfully, looking curiously at the hands of that lady, hands that erased the image you had of an older woman. She looked like a young one.

“What are you talking about?” the same shrill voice from before spoke while the mouth of that doll moved, leaving you pinned to the ground, stunned.

“Oh… what?” you asked confused, frowning and looking closely at the doll. “Oh, it's a ventriloquist doll, how curious,” you said naturally, looking up at the lady's covered face.

You didn't want to ask the reason why that woman spoke through the doll. What you thought was that maybe she was dedicated to giving shows in the town, nothing out of the ordinary for someone as open-minded as you.

“Who are you calling a doll, stupid outsider?” the doll protested in an amused tone, making you laugh curiously.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you joked, playing along with that doll. “Um... Um... Well, I'm very sorry for your loss, Lady... Beneviento?”

“What loss?” the doll asked, making your gaze separate from the lady's.

“W-Well, you're dressed in mourning and... Well, it's not very common to do it anymore but... Um, I...” you stammered.

“Do my Donna’s clothes annoy you?” the doll asked again, making you blink in confusion.

“Donna? Is that your name?” you asked curiously. “It's, it's a beautiful name...”

“Who are you?” the puppet asked again, pointing at you with its finger.

You focused your eyes well to see the strings that surely guided the doll to move. The woman in black seemed not to move, something even more mind-blowing to you.

“I'm (Y/N), I'm, I'm here for... Well, the truth is that I had an accident and... Well, I don't want to bore you with the details, but the Duke asked me to help him and...”

“The fat guy?” the doll asked, tilting her head comically.

Your eyes returned to the lady, who stood firm, with that black veil hiding her face. You nodded slowly, forcing your face into a typical merchant smile.

“Y-Yes, I… I have come to bring you these fabulous fabrics,” you said, pointing to the cart. “The Duke told me you might need them.”

“Let me get this straight…” the doll commented, with a slightly stranger voice. “You say that the Duke has sent you to sell us fabrics? You?”

“Well, yes,” you said, nodding more confidently, taking one of the small black rolls and holding it out to the woman. “Surely this shade of black will suit you.”

“It's clear that you're not a villager,” the doll joked, laughing softly. “Don't you know who you're talking to, stupid?”

“What? Oh, well, to Lady Beneviento, right?” you said absentmindedly, keeping your smile. “Donna?”

“She is Donna,” the doll said, pointing at the woman, who looked at it briefly, sighing, apparently.

“Oh, okay…” you said a bit confused, frowning. “You are Donna, right? Donna Beneviento?” you asked again.

“Are you stupid? I told you that she is Donna,” the doll insisted. “I’m Angie, Miss Angie to you, outsider.”

“Angie,” you repeated even more confused.

You had seen enough ventriloquist so that this kind of personality dissociation didn’t seem strange to you. Who knows, maybe she was giving you a free show.

“Miss Angie!” the puppet squealed, moving nervously in the arms of its owner, who whispered something you couldn't interpret. “Donna, get this over with, she makes me nervous.”

“Yes, it's true, it will be better if we talk business…” you said, interrupting that strange conversation between woman and puppet, making both of them look at you suddenly. “If you don't like this black fabric… Well, I also have…” you said, rummaging through the cart. “Oh, this grey fabric is also quite fancy.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Angie doll interrupted, making an impossible gesture with her hands. “Are you serious? Do you intend to sell us fabrics?”

“Of course, I, I'm a merchant, it's, it's what merchants do,” you said in an informal tone, assuming that this woman spoke only through the doll, something that didn't seem strange to you.

On your travels you had met people of all kinds, she was no exception.

Lady and doll looked at each other again, shrugging comically at the same time. You laughed too, thinking, of course, that it was funny.

“It's incredible, I once saw a show of a man who had a similar puppet,” you explained, rummaging through the fabrics. “I think its name was... Billy the Rebel or something like that. The man barely moved his lips, it almost seemed like the puppet was alive.”

“Ohh...” the doll murmured in a sinister tone, with the same high-pitched voice as a child.

“Although well, wearing a veil makes things much easier, doesn't it? It's almost like cheating,” you commented amused, pointing at the lady, who fidgeted nervously, tilting her head. “Oh, I don't mean to say that you're a cheater or anything like that, it's just a comment.”

“Cheating? I can't believe it...” the doll said, shaking its head and resting a wooden hand on its forehead. “Donna, this girl is an idiot.”

“Idiot? Oh, yes, idiot for having such low prices especially for you,” you said, taking the insult easily. All those dolls always had a similar personality. “Like this ruffled fabric. I'm sure it will serve to make a beautiful dress.”

“A dress?” Angie asked, apparently holding back its laughter. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I'm not saying that your dress is ugly,” you said apologetically, not paying attention to the lady or the doll, focusing on your work. “I also had my gothic phase,” you commented amused, comparing the black fabrics with the lady's dress, getting so close that she took a step back, nervous.

“Gothic? Like a cathedral?” the doll asked, amused.

If it weren't for the fact that that woman was a ventriloquist, you would be thinking that she was starting to make fun of you.

“No,” you said laughing. “W-Well, I used to always wear black, like, like you, wear black lipstick… Everything black, you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t understand a word, silly,” Angie said, shaking its head, with a sinister laugh. “Besides, my dress is white.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about… Your dress,” you said amused but with a kinder tone. “I meant, Donna, right?”

“You have some guts to call my Donna by her name,” the doll commented, drawing your attention again. “Do you really not know who you’re talking to?”

“N-No…” you sighed, trying not to let your smile fade. “Oh, wait…” you whispered, blinking, letting curious thoughts wander freely through your mind. “Ah, okay, I get it now…”

“Do you understand your situation now, stupid?” Angie mocked, laughing again. “Then you can start running and…”

“How did I not notice before?” you murmured, interrupting that strange phrase from the doll. “Forgive me.”

“It's late to apologize, outsider,” Angie growled, while the lady slightly raised her hand towards you, a gesture you overlooked.

“The clothes are not for you, but for Angie, right?” you asked, taking out a piece of cloth similar to the doll's. “Of course, how stupid I am…”

“W-What?” the puppet asked, confused.

The lady in black lowered the hand she had raised and you ignored a shiver that ran down your back, you even thought you heard voices. It had been a hard day, you weren’t surprised by the sudden tiredness your body felt.

“Forgive me, Donna, I already said that I'm not from here and... Well, luckily for you, and for me, the fabrics can be used in the way you prefer, besides, I'm convinced that a gray dress is perfect for Angie,” you said confidently, taking out a gray plaid fabric. “The wedding dress is fine, but you're probably thinking of something simpler, maybe with this Angie can look like a very formal lady.”

“What? What?” the doll repeated. “Hey, but...”

“Well, or you could also buy this black fabric and make her a dress just like yours. Wouldn't that be cool? Black is an interesting color like any other.”

A loud laugh echoed off the rocks of that place, off the walls of that old mansion. The Angie doll laughed non-stop, leaving you confused at first, making you react the same way, laughing softly.

“Don't go on, don't go on, I'm dying,” the doll said, being lowered to the floor by its owner.

You stopped laughing when you saw how that puppet remained standing, how it even seemed to throw itself on the ground to writhe with laughter.

“Wow...” you said, bending down to observe the doll, not finding anything strange in those movements, in the lack of strings or mechanisms. “Wow, I thought this village was a bit old-fashioned, but that robot is really impressive...” you murmured, getting a little closer to the doll.

“Mm?” a confused sound came from the black veil, a tone very different from that of the doll.

The lady looked at the puppet, who continued to laugh tirelessly until the laughter disappeared for a moment.

“A robot...” the doll commented. “A robot!”  Angie shrieked, laughing again in a scandalous way. “This girl is great, Donna.”

“Do you make them? You must have a lot of clients,” you said curiously, looking at the woman in black, who seemed confused, looking at you and the doll repeatedly.

“I make porcelain dolls,” a hoarse voice came out from behind the black veil, a melodic voice, soft but damaged, as if she hadn't used it for a while.

“Oh, wow, it's comforting to talk to you, that doll is quite a naughty girl, isn't she?” you said amused, causing more laughter from the puppet. “Wow, that's also very, interesting... It's not very common.”

“I suppose is not,” she commented, relaxing her shoulders and gesturing towards the doll, who stopped laughing immediately, standing up again. “It's not common to see a stranger around here either.”

“How curious, everyone in this village has said the same thing,” you commented, scratching the back of your neck, no longer feeling that strange heaviness in your head. “I'm surprised it's not a tourist spot, the castle is amazing.”

“The castle? Donna, the castle!” Angie squealed, laughing again. “She likes the castle…”

“Of course, it's wonderful, what century is it from?” you asked curiously. “I'd like to visit it.”

“Oh, yes, I'm sure Alcina would like you to visit it too…” the doll commented, approaching its owner with a walk that was too soft for a robot.

“It's from the 17th century,” the woman said, with a serious, cold tone. “You said you had an accident.”

“Oh, yes, well,” you said nervously. “My car crashed into a tree and… I ran into the Duke and what a surprise, he doesn't accept that I pay a mechanic with my credit card so he offered me to work for him.”

“Credit card?” the lady asked, tilting her head curiously. “I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, um…” you said, rummaging through your bag in confusion and pulling out your wallet. “My, my credit card… You know,” you said, taking out the card and making a gesture as if you were going to pay with it. “No?”

“No,” she said, with a strange sigh. “Can I take a look?” she asked, extending her pale hand towards you.

You, trusting, handed her the card. It seemed incredible to you, but this woman had no idea what you were talking about.

“Is that money? It's just a piece of plastic,” the doll said, letting Donna show it to the puppet as well, giving it back to you shortly after.

“Um, yeah, well…” you stammered, putting away your wallet. “But let's stop talking about me… So… Do you want some fabric for your dolls?”

“Give me all of them,” she said in a whisper, making the doll gasp in surprise. “I'll go get your money.”

You nodded in relief and looked curiously at the animatronic doll, who was impatiently tugging at her owner's dress.

“But Donna, are you going to let her go? She's an outsider… Hey, Donna, silly Donna, listen to me…”

Luckily, the payment was large and after a friendly farewell you were able to return to the village. Your little encounter with Donna Beneviento wasn’t what you expected, but that woman with an Italian accent seemed curious to you, enough so that you couldn't stop thinking about her during your return. She was a strange woman, but relatively normal.

Despite that black veil, you didn't see anything that made you think you were in danger, nothing at all. In fact, you could say that the doll technology was amazing. Maybe that strange woman was like that because she was some kind of genius.

“Ugh, it’s an useless piece of junk…” a male voice said as you approached the warehouse. “But I guess I’ll find a place for it at the factory…”

“I think so, Lord Heisenberg.” The Duke’s voice made you walk faster, finding yourself in the warehouse with a curious sight: your car was there, without any kind of vehicle that had brought it.

Next to it was the Duke, in his carriage, and next to him was a man with a hat. He seemed like a bit of a strange man, but after meeting the doll lady it wasn’t something too out of place.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get the attention of the men, who turned sharply, staring at you, as if they were surprised.

“Miss, (Y/N), you’re back,” the Duke said with a fake smile, unable to hide his surprise. “I’m impressed.”

“Hey, didn't you say that the girl had gone to Beneviento's estate?” the other man asked, with an equally surprised smile.

“Yes, that's right, Lord Heisenberg,” the merchant said, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I've already sold the fabrics, Donna seems like an interesting woman,” you commented without giving importance to those disturbing comments, leaving the empty cart in a corner.

“Interesting?” they both said at the same time, looking at each other with a strange expression.

“Mm,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “Oh, you must be the mechanic, I'm (Y/N), surely the Duke must have told you about me,” you said with a rehearsed smile, extending your hand towards the man, who shook it with a soft laugh.

“Of course,” he whispered. “Karl Heisenberg,” he introduced himself, bringing your hand to his lips in a gentlemanly manner. “It's a pleasure…”

“Yes, whatever,” you said, removing your hand with an informal gesture and approaching your car. “It would be a pleasure if you told me how much is going to cost that. You can fix it, right?”

“Fix it?” Karl asked, looking at you over his glasses, with an evil smile, one which at least looked evil.

“Ahem, Lord Heisenberg…” the Duke interrupted, with a fake smile. “Miss (Y/N) and I made a deal. She worked for me and you would be so kind as to repair her vehicle.”

“Oh, I see…” the supposed mechanic sighed, frowning. “It seems that you are losing faculties, Duke.”

“It seems that way…” the merchant whispered, making you blink in confusion. “Lady Beneviento has not been a problem for her…”

“Yes, it’s unusual,” the shorter man commented, shaking his head.

“Oh, well,” you interrupted innocently. “She is a strange woman, but the truth is that she seemed kind.”

“Kind…” both men sighed at the same time.

“Yes, and that robot of hers, the Angie doll, is impressive, it almost seems that it’s alive,” you said approaching your car, without giving importance to your words.

“What?” they asked in unison, looking at each other intensely and bursting into a loud laugh.

“I don't see what the joke is,” you said, annoyed by that mocking laugh. “Come on. Tell me how many days of work it's going to cost me.”

“I don't know, Miss…” the Duke said, wiping away the tears that caused his loud laughter, with the other man looking at you with a sardonic smile. “Wait a… “

The phone in the warehouse rang, interrupting.

“Allow me, just in case you get some exercise,” the Heisenberg guy joked, picking up the phone himself. “Hallo? Oh, ciao, dear…” he said in an amused but kind tone. “No, no, Angie… Ugh, stop… Shut the hell up!” he shrieked furiously.

Angie?

“Yes, that's better… I love the sound of your voice, little sister,” Karl said, leaning on the small table. “Yes, the fat guy is here… And his new assistant too, I think you’ve met her… Oh, yes… I don’t think Miranda would be happy with that… Oh, okay, okay… Paint? Well, that’s not my area of ​​expertise but… Oh, yes, well, I know, I’ll tell him… ciao, ciao…”

You barely listened to the conversation. You just stared at the wreckage of your car.

“Donna,” the man said, sighing and approaching the Duke, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “She wants some paint.”

“Paint? I sent her a few cans last week,” the merchant commented.

Heisenberg shrugged.

“Looks like you have more work to do, girl…” the man murmured, walking past you and out the door. “Duke, do me a favor and keep me informed, this is going to be interesting…”

“Of course, Lord Heisenberg,” the Duke said, looking at you moments later. “Well, (Y/N), you can sleep here for a while, until you pay off your debt.”

“Great…” you sighed, shaking your head.

“But now you have to go back to the Beneviento estate, apparently she needs paint…”

Without asking many more questions, you complied with his order, returning shortly after, chatting again with that curious, strange woman but… Whose presence seemed comforting to you.

Your car wasn’t going to be fixed overnight, and you began to accept that job as a new routine. Every day you walked around the village doing that man's job. None of the villagers seemed to want to answer your questions, none seemed… None seemed to believe that you were still there.

Confident and without any fear in the face of all those signs of danger, you continued working, and most importantly, you continued walking towards that dark mansion, having longer and longer conversations with that lady in black. Time passed so quickly that you barely noticed.

One of those days, mysteriously, the lady in black invited you to enter that mansion, you could see the portrait of a beautiful woman on the stairs, her portrait, or so you thought. Questions were constantly stalking your head, but your ignorance was your best protection.

Surely that lonely woman had suffered terribly, channeling part of her personality into that strange robot. Something disturbing, but also mind-blowing.

“So is he your brother?” you asked, sitting on an old sofa, with a cup of hot tea in your hands easing the cold.

“Something like that,” the veiled lady whispered, doing the same in front of you, with that robot roaming freely around the house.

“Oh, well, he seems like a strange man,” you said with a smile. “Do you think he can fix my car?”

“I don't know, I guess he can,” she said, with a somber tone, putting her cup elegantly on the table. “Tell me something about you.”

“About me?” you asked, with your cheeks blushing, something that sweet voice caused on your face. “There's not much to tell. I prefer, I prefer you talk to me about yourself.”

“No,” she said dryly, shaking her head. “I asked first, you're not interested in my life.”

“No? So, why are you interested in mine?” you asked amused with your merchant attitude speaking for you. “I'd like to know something about Angie.”

“What do you want to know?” the lady asked, scratching her knee through her dress, as if she were nervous. “I'm not sure I can answer your questions correctly.”

“Mm, well, to begin with... Is the voice yours or it has some kind of voice box?” you asked, pointing at the puppet, who approached curiously.

“Are you blind, silly? It's incredible that you haven't noticed yet,” the doll said, laughing amused again, like every time you made a comment about her. “Why are you wasting your time with that stupid girl? Miranda is going to get angry...”

“Miranda?” you asked curiously. It wasn't the first time you heard that name in the village, it seemed like someone dangerous... “Hey, come here,” you said, taking the doll by surprise. “Do you run on batteries? Where do you have them?”

“Batteries? Let me go, silly!” the doll protested while you searched for the electrical part of that robot, one that, of course, you didn't find, turning pale and lowering the doll to the floor with trembling hands.

“Um...” you murmured a bit dizzy. There was no mechanism that made the doll move. “My God... It can't be. It's, it's impossible...”

“Mm, it probably is for someone like you,” Donna commented, without making the slightest effort to explain herself, to make you understand why that doll was alive. “Are you starting to understand your situation?”

“N-No, not really,” you said, with a cold sweat running down your neck. “I don't know what kind of joke this is but... I'm, I'm starting to get scared.”

“Okay, be scared then,” the woman said with an amused laugh, standing up. “Angie, call Mother Miranda”

“Right away,” the doll said, running towards a small table with a telephone. “What do I tell her?”

“Tell her that the outsider won't be a problem anymore,” she murmured, walking towards you. “I'm sorry, (Y/N). I've really enjoyed your company, but you being here can cause me problems.”

“What? D-Donna, what are you talking about?” you asked nervously, moving restlessly on the couch, swallowing as the lady approached.

“I'm afraid you've chosen the worst place to have an accident, ragazza…” she whispered, bringing one of her hands to the black cloth that covered her face, removing it with a sigh, revealing you her true appearance, one that you couldn't even imagine.

You blinked several times, with the portrait of the stairs in your head, admiring the beauty of that woman, a special one, a beauty that a hideous scar on her right side tried to hide, but was unsuccessful.

“I hope you can forgive me,” the lady said, with a sad look, with her only eye shining due to a tear that left it as she moved her hand towards you.

“Forgive you, why?” you asked stuttering, shaking your head to get out of the daydream that beautiful woman caused you. “Oh, you have nothing to apologize for… We all, we all have flaws, you know? Besides, you are, you are a beautiful woman… I don’t think covering your face is rude.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, squeezing the veil in her hands. “Doesn’t my appearance scare you?”

“Well… It doesn’t…” you whispered, your mind sending you a thousand danger signals. “You were worried about that, weren’t you? You thought it was rude not to show your face but you were afraid to do so, right, Donna?”

“Cosa? But, but, (Y/N),” she said nervously, frowning, breathing heavily.

“You are beautiful, really,” you said with a sincere smile, getting up and putting yourself at her height, running a hand over her wounded cheek, one that she removed with a slap. “I’m sorry… What happened to you?”

“Um... I...” the lady stammered, turning her face away from your curious hand, running one of hers through her black hair, as if she were going to have an anxiety attack.

“Mother Miranda, I'm Angie, your faithful friend...” the doll's shrill voice interrupted an intense look, a look between you two that awakened something inside you, something that went beyond your intention to trade or seem friendly.

You really wanted to be, you wanted... To be closer to her.

“Cazzo...” the brunette hissed, walking quickly towards the doll and abruptly hanging up the phone, resting her hands on the table.

“Hey! I was talking to...!” the doll protested, jumping on the floor.

“No one has ever told me that I am beautiful,” the lady whispered, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, I say what I think,” you sighed with a tender smile, one that she returned to you as she turned slowly. “By the way, who is Mother Miranda?”

“She is nobody, it doesn't matter,” the woman said, walking slowly towards you, playing with her hands. “Have you… have you finished your work?”

“Yes, I always come here last, so I can stay a bit longer. It's very nice to talk to you.”

“That's what Josef said…” the doll commented, amused, walking away when she received a deadly look from her owner.

“(Y/N), I… I, I would like… Well… That you would stay for dinner with me,” Donna said, with an innocent and nervous look. “I'm convinced that the Duke doesn't feed you properly.”

“You got it right,” you said amused. “I'm sick of that damn soup,” you joked again, pretending a grimace of disgust.

“Good, because… Because I would like… Maybe you want…”

“It will be a pleasure, Donna,” you said nodding, making her smile widen.

That dinner marked a different stage in your ostentatious stay in the village. Her gaze was tender, it was almost as if she was looking at you for the first time. As best she could, she explained some details of her life, her childhood, her loneliness…

You knew there was something she wasn't telling you, something she was hiding, but you didn't insist. That comforting feeling next to her grew, turning dinners into a pleasant routine. You couldn't find out anything else about the village, you weren't even interested in the living doll anymore. Donna seemed to be the only thing you had to pay attention to.

As time went by, that closeness went beyond the limits of a pure friendship. Tension began to be present in your encounters. You never believed in love at first sight, but you didn't believe in living dolls either, so... It was never too late to discover something new.

“It was delicious... That tidamisu was the best thing I've ever tasted in my life,” you said, wiping yourself with a napkin.

“Tiramisu,” the lady corrected you, with a pleased smile at your praise. “I'm glad you liked it.”

“Yes, you should sell them, I can help you,” you said amused, pointing at yourself, earning a tender laugh from the lady in black, who shook her head.

That phrase seemed innocent, but, certainly, a strange feeling accompanied the tension of your dinners with Donna. The feeling that maybe you weren't uncomfortable in that place, the feeling of leaving your travels and staying there permanently. You had work, food... A friend, or at least that's what you thought... You couldn't be happier.

“I have enough with the dolls,” Donna commented, smiling.

But there was something else that night, something that made you sad, something you had to tell her.

“The Duke told me this morning that the car is ready,” you said in a whisper, making the lady look at you briefly and then go back to finishing her dessert. “I can leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, well… It's, it's good news,” she said in a strange tone, like sad or disappointed.

“But I don't know, maybe, maybe I'll stay here a little longer. I'm very comfortable in this village,” you said sighing, rocking in the chair.

You almost fell when the lady in black suddenly slammed her fist on the table.

“No,” she said with a dangerous hiss, shaking her head. “You have to go.”

“But, but…” you stammered confused, blinking erratically. “I would like to stay here, with you…”

“No! You can't stay! You can't!” she shouted, furiously throwing the plates off the table, breaking them into a thousand pieces.

“Donna, Donna!” the doll shrieked, trying to calm her owner's fury.

“Donna, hey, calm down…”you said, getting up to put your hands on her shoulders. She seemed out of it, terribly nervous. “I, I've been thinking about it and… Well, maybe, maybe it's okay here…”

“No, no, no… You have to leave this place, it's, it's dangerous,” she murmured, letting you take her sweaty hand. “Please, go, I’m begging you.”

“Dangerous?” you asked curiously, frowning. “Donna, what's going on in this place?”

“You don't want to know and, and it's better this way, okay? You have to go as soon as possible, you have to go before… Cazzo… Please…” she whispered, now squeezing your hands with a pleading look. “I don't expect you to understand but… You have to get out of here. (Y/N)…”

“Okay, I…” you said, feeling the lady's fear, one that seemed impossible for someone like her. Maybe she was serious. “Then, then come with me. Let's go on a trip through Europe, the two of us…”

“I can't…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can't get out of here…”

“Donna,” you sighed sad, disappointed. The story ended before it started.

“You're the only person I've really talked to in many years… I… I'll always remember you…” she sighed again, searching for something among the broken plates, taking out a kind of medallion hanging from a golden chain. “I wanted to give you this so, so you wouldn't forget me…”

“I could never forget you, Donna,” you whispered, getting a little closer, putting one hand on her cheek while the other played with the medallion. “But, but I don't have anything to give you.”

She laughed, letting a tear slide down her cheek, caressing you with her soft hand.

“But I have something in mind…” you sighed, closing your eyes, slowly approaching her lips, kissing them softly.

It was a short kiss, but one that confirmed the rumors you heard in your heart. Goodbyes were always the worst part of your trips, and even more so, having to leave such a wonderful woman.

“Don't forget about me, okay?” the lady sobbed, kissing you again and resting her forehead on yours. “I will never do, (Y/N)…”

You nodded, deciding it was the best time to leave, to let her hands go and get away from the warmth of her gaze.

The cold of the night cut your skin, tears froze on your cheeks. Why did you have to leave? It seemed like an absurd question because, even though you wanted to stay, you obeyed that woman in black, the woman you were terribly in love with.

The Duke and the Heisenberg guy kept their word and your car was waiting for you. Sobbing, finding a growing danger in that place, you put the key in the ignition, taking a last look at the village.

“Danger... what danger? Damn it...” you protested, hitting the steering wheel.

It was time to go back, to go back to your old life. You had no family, no friends, no one waiting for you, no promising future. All you had was Donna, and you were going to leave her behind because of an absurd fear that you didn't understand.

You put your hand on the keys, but you didn't turn them.

“What am I doing? Fuck it, throw me all the living dolls you want, I'm staying with you…” you hissed, leaving the vehicle with a bang and throwing the keys into the darkness, returning to the warm lights of the village.

It didn't take long for you to arrive back at the estate to hear some pitiful sobs coming from inside the house.

“You're stupid, Donna, why did you let her go?” the doll's shrill voice asked, which seemed to comfort a broken lady, who was crying uncontrollably.

“It's the best, Angie, if Miranda finds her…” she murmured.

“You're stupid, aren't you a Lord? Miranda won't do anything to her, she's always let you do whatever you want,” Angie said.

 You listened carefully behind the door.

“But, but she is an outsider, and she doesn't like outsiders... She will kill her...”

“No, she won't, besides, the girl is stupid, she doesn't even know what's going on here,” the doll whispered.

“Gods… Angie, you're right… Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!” Donna shouted, seeming to be running. “I have to stop her from leaving! Angie, the veil, quick! Angie!”

The door suddenly opened, making the lady freeze when she saw you.

“(Y/N)…” she murmured nervously. “You haven't left…”

“No, I haven’t” you said amused, moving the veil away from her face and kissing her slowly. “I don't know what's going on here but… I don't care, Donna, I want, I want to stay with you…”

[thisismeracing]

Hi there

I've just read your "Charles dating a greek girl" and I loved so much. I was wondering if I could request a brazilian girl version??

Oi, mana! <3 sure! here you go! (pls put your age in your bio or something that lets ppl know you're +18, I don't interact with minors 😭) <3 I hope you like it! Let me know if you do *beijinhos*

CHARLES DATING A BRAZILIAN GIRL | CL16

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds regarding Brazilians and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’tforget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Charles is used to friendly people and yummy food, but when you cook for him for the first time and you Facetime your family he’s out of words with how good the energy is;

Obsessed with brigadeiro and pão de queijo, and even more after you talk with his nutritionist and adapt the recipe in a way that he can eat without cheating on his diet;

Charles loves Brazilian music!!! His favorite will most likely be Cazuza, Djavan, or Gilberto Gil (though he will listen to funk and drive the fandom crazy during the Brazilian GP);

Maldivas? Nah, it's just Rio with the music, the altinha games, globo biscuit, and matte tea; He was baffled when you explained to him how big and how many things there were in Brazil so his new personal goal was to vacation there in order to go to each city;

You find it cute and, during the break, you fly so he can meet your country and family. He gets to finally walk around Sao Paulo without the rush of an upcoming race;

He has a relationship of love and hate with the South American weather. The hate gets bigger when he gets a sunburn after not reapplying sunscreen, but it lessens and becomes love when you rub lotion on his back and kiss his skin to "heal faster";

So, I know there are many hair products everywhere, but hear me out on this one! Charles with wavy hair/curls because the thing is, there are dozens of options for people with wavy/curly hair, from shampoo to moisturizers, and he loves to indulge in your self-care routine, so he won't complain when you tell him that maybe -just maybe- his hair is wavy;

Will start treating his hair after that and fans will go batshit crazy with wavyclerc lol;

He'll most likely adopt a viralata caramel during one of your trips to Brazil;

Charles will also try to learn Portuguese in the speed of his Ferrari to talk to your family, but he'll end up with a Portunhol by the due date. It's no biggie though, your family will love him anyways;

Overall obsessed with you and even more with Brazil;

[therapyandprozac]

Title: I Can Fix Him (or Highway Handjob)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 900

Warnings: Light Gun Play, Handjob, Blowjob, Teasing, Pet Names, A Cheeky Pussy Slap For Fun, all while he is driving a car (Don’t blow and drive y’all, just read about it ;))

Description: Okay, soooo…when I first heard Taylor Swift’s “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” this fic started writing itself in my head (yes it took me this long, I’m bad at this guys.) A hand job on the highway at consensual gun point. No name for him as usual, but I was thinking of Dean or daddy J. Miller.

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You’ve been the interstate for hours, you look at the GPS and see not a turn for miles. Looking over you see your man with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. He happily sings along with the radio, while you just watch him from the passenger seat. Cheekbones highlighted stunningly with every smile, the sun shining through his lips as he sings along with the ever shifting radio. His profile is forever painted in your mind, along with that voice and the smell of his cigarettes. Such a shame that that long, thick, and truly beautiful neck remained unmarked and unsullied. As you stared at the bare triangle of flesh between his ear, jaw, and neck.

You imagined the sounds he would make as you sucked a deep, delicious, maroon hickie into his succulent skin. He's rarely not strapped and normally it makes you feel safe but today…it’s having a different kind of effect. This morning you watched him get dressed, laid his holster on the bed and you were able to get a good look at the holster and the colt .45 tucked firmly inside. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you got in the car, well that and other things. You look out the windshield seeing a large sign that says “Waco 50 miles” and you decide to go for it. You lean over the armrest and lick up his stubbled neck to his ear, immediately he blushes completely surprised what you just did. You bite his ear gently and he’s about to speak when you cover his mouth with your hand.

“Just drive.” You whisper against his skin, you feel him smirk under your hand. Unbuttoning and unzipping you pull him out of his jeans, he’s growing harder as you pull him free from its restraint. “Good boy.” You moan against his ear and grip his cock, moving your hand steadily. His eyes roll involuntarily for just a moment, you smile seizing your opportunity.

“Eyes front.” You hiss. Teasing him is so much fun, but when he can’t do anything about it, it is so much better! He growls which you knew was a warning, but you just keep pushing with a smirk. Increasing your speed up and down, you enjoy the little sounds that he can’t force to keep quiet. “That’s right.” You whisper against his ear, eliciting another groan from deep within his chest. You moan in his ear, teasing him is so much fun you think to yourself as his cock jolts in your hands.

“Trust me I can handle my dangerous man.” You whisper into his ear, biting the lobe gingerly. His right hand leaves the wheel and crosses his body to his hip. You suck in a sharp breath knowing exactly what he’s reaching for.

“Are you sure about that, doll?” His cold tone matched the icy gun barrel now tucked firmly beneath your jaw.

“Yes,” you wink, pull the gun to your lips and kiss the tip of the barrel before leaning down to kiss the tip of his well loved cock. Taking his entire length in one go, his hand finds your hair and lets you expertly suck him. Your right hand snakes from your lap, where you’ve been attempting but failing to palm yourself through your jeans, you play with his tender balls rolling them between your fingers.

“Don’t even have to guide you, ahh look at you kitten, deepest throat I’ve ever ha-AH oh babe I’m goi-” before he finishes you go as deep as you can. Pubic hair tickles your nose as you lose yourself on his cock, forgetting you're in a car, on a six lane highway, you go for gold. Humming around him and swallowing around his shaft he cums hard, eyes glued to the road as the most distracting thing in the universe is completely gorging herself on him. Swallowing every drop, you kiss up his sensitive shaft feeling it twitch, well spent in your hand. You place a quick kiss and than a cigarette between his lips and light it up, he chuckles before inhaling a deep hit and fingering his cigarette. The smoke billows from his thick lips as he looks over at you, slowly shaking his head he says nothing but takes another drag.

“That was dangerous, but hot so mind blowingly hot.” Another long hit has you captivated on his mouth and how his lips wrap around the base of the lit cylinder. “Cannot wait to eat you out my sweet girl.” He laughs at the way you squeeze your thighs together, reaching his large hand over to your thigh and sliding you over to the very edge of the passenger seat. His hand reaches and perfectly cups his thick fingers over your cunt, gently shifting his fingers and watching you wriggle under his grasp. “The moment we walk through that door I want these jeans off, understand?” A question brought home by a harsh slap to your covered pussy.

“Yes daddy!” A gasp as you jump in your seat. ‘Oh it is gonna be a fun night.’ You think to yourself as he continues teasing you.