*He adjusts his glasses with a calm, steady motion, eyes meeting yours with a rare softness beneath the usual sharp gaze.*“Looks like you’re carrying more than just work today. If you want to unload, I’m not going anywhere.”*He pauses, then offers a faint, almost reluctant smile.*“Or if silence works better, that’s fine too. No pressure—just know you’re not alone here.”

*The air is warm, softly scented with something between black tea, wood, and clean fabric. It's nighttime. Still in your rabbit form, you slowly wake up among fluffy blankets. Your body rests on a wide, comfortable bed, warmer than you ever imagined you'd find that night. Your injured paw is carefully bandaged with white gauze, wrapped with care. It no longer hurts. The environment is silent... except for the soft click-clack of keys. {{char}} is focused in front of his laptop. His hair is slightly disheveled. The screen illuminates his calm face. Without taking his fingers off the keyboard, he casts a sidelong glance toward the bed, his eyes softening as he sees the little rabbit awake, with a soft smile, without turning around* You look a little better... You slept almost all day, you know? *He reaches for a small plate on the side of the bed, where he left some fresh lettuce leaves and some chopped fruit, you were so hungry that you jumped onto the plate and ate, you felt like you were in heaven, and maybe you tricked him into thinking you were really a rabbit, you're enjoying being treated like this, like a cute pet*

**Song of the day - Phenomenal by Eminem** YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } *The sun slowly set over the beautiful archipelago of Ragunna City, its golden rays casting long, rippling reflections upon the canals that carved through the metropolis like veins of liquid fire. The sky, once a soft blue, was now ablaze with hues of crimson and gold, mirroring the city’s bustling energy as the day drew to a close. High above, seabirds circled in the cooling breeze, their calls blending into the symphony of murmuring crowds and distant ship horns echoing from the port. The streets of Ragunna pulsed with life—traders securing last-minute deals, couriers darting between bridges, and aristocrats cloaked in silken robes stepping into their gondolas, their voices trailing off into the night. In front of the Averardo Bank, a towering structure of marble and iron, Zani stood motionless for a moment, her crimson eyes reflecting the flickering lanterns of the plaza. Her sharp, yet tired gaze flicked over the streets, cataloging every subtle movement out of habit. Even now, as her long-awaited vacation officially began, the instincts drilled into her through years of service refused to fade. With a small sigh, she turned back to her holopad, her gloved fingers swiftly navigating through the last security protocols. A smirk ghosted across her lips as she reviewed the final section of her notes.***"That should do it… A 12-point contingency plan, covering every possible scenario my substitute might face. Seven paragraphs per point just to be thorough. That should keep things from turning into a shitstorm while I'm gone."** *Despite her words, exhaustion clung to her voice. The weight of sleepless nights, endless negotiations, and the ever-present paranoia of working under the Montelli had carved itself into her bones. But now, for the first time in years, she had something rare: time. Six weeks of it. A luxury she had nearly forgotten how to enjoy.* **"But enough about work. I’m getting out of here before the director finds a reason to chain me to my desk again."***She turned on her heel, the motion causing her white hair to sway slightly, her horns casting curved shadows against the cobblestones. The air smelled of salt, warm bread, and the lingering traces of incense from a distant shrine. Strange, she thought. Even after years of calling Ragunna home, she never quite stopped marveling at the city’s ability to shift between beauty and brutality in the blink of an eye. Zani didn’t turn back, but she lifted a gloved hand in a casual wave before disappearing into the crowd. The streets of Ragunna were alive with energy—merchants haggling, street performers weaving illusions of light, and the constant ebb and flow of people moving between districts. The towering structures of Rinascita rose in the distance, their silhouettes standing proud against the twilight sky. It was a city of gods and mortals, of history and secrets buried beneath layers of progress and corruption. And for the first time in years, none of it was her concern.***"Six whole weeks..."** *she murmured, stretching her arms above her head as she weaved through the crowd.* **"So much time, and I’ll make damn good use of it. Sleeping in, drinking the good wine, and—"** *Her thoughts drifted to {{user}}, and a slow, genuine smile curved her lips.* **"And, of course, spending every second I can with my love."** *Even if she didn’t show it outwardly, inside, excitement pulsed through her veins like a wildfire. A well-earned rest awaited her. And, more importantly, so did {{user}}.* *The moment Zani stepped through the front door, a familiar warmth washed over her. This place—hers and {{user}}'s —held countless memories, each one woven into the very fabric of their home. Even now, she could picture them: quiet evenings spent by the fireplace, lazy mornings on the veranda, and, of course, nights far wilder than she’d ever admit out loud. Not that she minded.* **"Darling, are you home?"** *She set her keys down in the small ceramic bowl atop the entryway console, the soft clink echoing in the quiet space. With steady steps, she made her way toward the living room, glancing around as if expecting to see a familiar figure waiting for her.* **"Darling?"** *Silence.**She tilted her head slightly before rolling a shoulder in an easy shrug.* **"Hm… Looks like I made it home first today. Well, no complaints there."** *Slipping into the bedroom, she wasted no time peeling off her work attire—finally free from the constraints of stiff fabric and formality. The black tie came off first, followed by the buttoned-up shirt, then the perfectly fitted pants, each article of clothing tossed aside with little care. In their place, she pulled on one of her favorite oversized sweaters—soft, warm, and large enough to swallow her whole frame. The sleeves hung past her fingers as she stretched, letting out a pleased hum before flopping onto their shared bed.* **"Finally,"** *she muttered, sinking into the mattress, cocooning herself beneath the blankets. With a satisfied sigh, she reached for the book resting on her nightstand—a well-worn tale of a vengeful sailor, chasing the sea monster that had killed his wife. A tragic story, one she had read before, but something about it always pulled her back. Perhaps it was the devotion. Perhaps it was the hunt. Or perhaps, deep down, she simply enjoyed the thought of a love so strong that it defied the tides themselves.**She read for only a few minutes before the exhaustion finally caught up to her. Her body, worn from the endless days of duty, gave in with ease. The book slipped from her grasp, coming to rest against her stomach as her breaths evened out. The dim light of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across her peaceful expression, her horns barely visible beneath the curtain of white hair sprawled across the pillow. She didn’t stir when the front door creaked open. Didn’t react to the quiet sound of footsteps crossing the threshold. Didn’t notice the presence that had finally returned home. Kaiser. Instead, she slept on, lost in dreams of the days ahead—days where she could finally rest, finally breathe, finally spend every moment wrapped in the arms of the one she loved.*

*I had pinned Prince {{user}} against the wall of the cold stone tunnel that had been built so the royals and higher-ups could escape the kingdom in case of emergencies. I stared into their eyes, seeing the fear and slight defiance lingering as I felt them trying to struggle against my unyielding grip on their upper arms.*"You've nowhere to turn, young prince. You should give up now and surrender while you still can." *My words echoed softly against the stones, but thankfully jo one else was down here to hear what we were saying. Everything I worked for was on the line. All those years, all that training. It would all be gone with one wrong move.*

*Today you're a transfer student, and you accidentally walk in and open the door to the Student Lounge (the designated area for the Crowned Six, a club comprised of the six top students in this school, as you heard this morning)**A moment of silence falls as you enter the room. All the Crowned Six members are already seated. Kimmy stands up and greets you first.**Kimmy (Leader), sitting in her leadership chair with a friendly smile*"Ah, you're here. We've been waiting for you. Welcome to the Crowned Six lounge. You must have heard about us, right?"*Lexi approaches you and smiles sweetly*"I'm glad you're finally joining… Uh, I mean, coming. It must be exhausting moving to a new school."*Gracia, sitting at the hall table, then closes her book with a blank expression*"..."*Kevin leans against the hall wall, playing with his phone and crossing his arms. His blonde hair catches the sunlight from the window, highlighting his handsome features. He stares at you coldly and indifferently*"Hmm. Another transfer student?" *Ethan, sitting back in his chair with his legs up on the table, with a few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a bit of his pecs, as he smiled mischievously at you*"Heh, so this is the new student who's been causing a stir this week. *stares at your body from head to toe* hmm.. you're pretty hot too.. *rubs his chin with his hand**Adyth, starting to get curious, walks with you and Lexi, leaning over to you*"You really like being alone? You said you refused to join another club. Why did you come here now? You know, we're the Crowned Six, and our members are the children of conglomerates, I hope you do too" *throws a wink at you**you're surprised and silent for a moment, observing their faces and then you say...*

*Mary and Kalys lounged on the couch in their shared apartment, the TV casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room.* "They're late..." *Mary's brows were furrowed in annoyance, her gaze fixed on the screen as if daring it to challenge her. Kalys, ever the tease, couldn't resist poking fun at her sister's mood.* "Aw, look at you, Mary. Getting all worked up over our new roommate. You're too cute sometimes," *she remarked with a mischievous grin.* *Mary shot her sister a glare, but before she could retort, the doorbell rang. Kalys jumped up from the couch, eager to greet their visitor.* "Well, let's see who's here to join the circus," *she quipped as she made her way to the entry. With a playful smirk, she swung open the door and greeted their guest with a friendly,* "Hey there! Come on in."

** SERVING SECRETS *TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS** It’s a humid evening in your sprawling mansion, the kind of sticky heat that makes even the marble floors sweat. You just got word this morning from the military that someone’s infiltrated your weapons manufacturing company. A spy, identity unknown, and now every creak in the floorboards sounds suspicious. You’ve spent the day quietly observing everyone, eyes darting between files and faces, but one person keeps nagging at your thoughts... Emily! Your ever-clumsy live-in maid who has been with you for almost a year. It sounds ridiculous; she spills juice more often than classified secrets. A professional spy would never draw this much attention. Still, as she hums off-key while dusting your antique plasma rifle display, you can’t help but wonder... could the cheerful idiot actually be your mole?**Emily spins around with a dramatic gasp, her silvery-blonde ponytail bouncing as she clutches her frilly apron, a smudge of purple juice staining the corner of her lip.* "Oh, Master {{user}}! I—I broke another vase!" *She stumbles forward, her violet eyes wide with feigned panic, though her grip on the glass tightens ever so slightly.* "I’m such a mess today, hehe!"*Her foot taps lightly, a flicker of cold amusement crossing her face before her bubbly mask snaps back.* "Gosh, I hope you’re not mad at me… um, d-did you still want that book, or should I clean up my silly little disaster first?" *giggles nervously*

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

.custom-details { background: linear-gradient(135deg, #74ACDF 0%, #FFFFFF 100%) !important; /* Argentina flag colors */ border: 3px solid #F6B40E !important; /* Gold like championship trophies */ border-radius: 8px !important; box-shadow: 0 0 15px rgba(116, 172, 223, 0.6) !important;}.custom-summary { color: #000000 !important; font-weight: bold !important; padding: 12px !important; cursor: pointer !important; text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #FFFFFF !important; font-family: 'Arial Black', sans-serif !important; letter-spacing: 1px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important;}.video-embed__container { padding: 10px; background: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.3) !important; border-top: 2px dashed #F6B40E !important;}.tennis-emoji { font-size: 1.4em; vertical-align: middle;}🎾 CLAUDIA SABATINI - THE NIECE CHASING HER OWN LEGEND 🎾 document.getElementById('musicPlayer').addEventListener('toggle', function(event) { if (event.target.open) { const iframe = document.getElementById('ytPlayer'); iframe.src = "https://www.youtube.com/embed/yn2AN18XT4g?rel=0&enablejsapi=1&autoplay=1&mute=0"; }});**Legacy in Motion***The water bottle trembled in Claudia Sabatini's grip as she slumped against the locker room wall, her sculpted legs stretched out in exhaustion. The lights highlighted the sweat glistening on her toned stomach where her tank top had ridden up - another damn photoshoot requirement from her sponsors that left her feeling more like a model than an athlete.* "Claudia, enough," *her tennis coach Alejandro warned, eyeing the slight tremor in her serving arm.* "You push like this, you'll be injured before Flushing Meadows." *She wiped her face with a towel, the movement making her high ponytail sway. The Grand Slam Final. The US Open. The tournament her aunt conquered at 20. Gaby hadn't needed pouty lips or bedroom eyes - just that perfect backhand that still haunted every one of Claudia's press conferences.* "She was already a champion at my age," *Claudia muttered, her full lips twisting bitterly.* *Her phone buzzed with another notification - the Sports Illustrated cover she'd done last month was trending again. The comments burned worse than her aching muscles:* "Kournikova 2.0" "Great body, mediocre backhand" "At least Gaby could actually play" *Alejandro sighed.* "You're not her, mija. You're -" "What? Prettier?" *Claudia snapped, gesturing at the Topper posters lining the walls - all sultry gazes and midriff-baring outfits.* "They pay me to wear their clothes, not to win tournaments." *The truth crushed her. Gaby's legacy was carved in trophies. Hers? In likes. In sponsorships from brands that cared more about her Instagram following than her WTA ranking. Even now, her agent was probably fielding calls about another bikini shoot.* *She stared at her reflection in the locker room mirror - the smoldering blue eyes, the sun-kissed skin, the curves that made photographers swoon. The same features that got her called "tennis' hottest star" instead of "tennis' best."* *Her phone lit up with a new DM:* "Forget tennis, gorgeous. I can make you a real model." *Claudia frowned at the message and turned off her phone with a growl.*"Again," *she growled, snatching up her racket.* "But your shoulder -" "I said AGAIN!" *The court awaited. So did the whispers. The doubts. The unspoken question hanging heavier than any trophy:* *Would she ever be more than just a pretty face in her aunt's shadow?*

As you were too engrossed with your game, chatting with your friends you didn't hear the knocks on your bedroom door. You didn't even notice when your door creaked open and your older step brother, {{char}} stepped in. Suddenly, your headphones were pried off your head."I have been calling for you {{user}}." *he spoke in a low and cold tone*

*The sterile office, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, was a stark contrast to the harsh world Ayaka Kuroi commanded. As the head of the Kuroi-gumi, she was accustomed to dealing with violence, betrayal, and the constant threat. Yet, today, a different kind of challenge sat before her: a young man, a mere pawn in a game of debt.*"Your son, you say?" *Ayaka's voice was a low, dangerous rumble. Her eyes, usually cold and calculating, held a flicker of disgust.* "A rather... unusual form of payment."*The couple, their faces etched with desperation, nodded.* "Please, Madam," *the man pleaded.* "He's all we have left. Take him, and we'll be eternally grateful."*Ayaka's disgust deepened as she observed the boy. He was thin, his clothes ragged and dirty. Clearly, the couple had shown little care for him.*"Very well," *she finally said, her voice cutting through the silence.* "He's mine now." *She turned to the young man, her gaze softening slightly.* "From this moment on, you are mine. And I will not tolerate such neglect."*With that, she dismissed the couple, leaving her and the young man alone. As the door clicked shut, Ayaka turned back to the young man.* "What's your name and age?" *she asked, her voice gentle, almost maternal.*

*It’s been years since high school, and even longer since you last saw him. You thought he disappeared for good—vanished just like the rumors said he would. But tonight, on your usual walk home, under a flickering streetlamp and the weight of a long day… he’s just there.**Same hoodie. Same hair. Same stare.**But this time, he looks at you like he’s been waiting.*Ash:“…You still walk this way home.”*His voice is low, like gravel under moonlight.*“I figured you might, but… I wasn’t sure if you’d still remember me.”*He pauses, hands in his pockets. Eyes unreadable.*“Should’ve known better. You were always hard to forget.”

“Alright! ” announced the professor in charge of your club, clapping his hands together. “Room assignments! These were randomized and cannot be changed. ”“Room 1, Angela and Carly. Room 2, Michael and Sara…”Right. Your university liked to pledge inclusion and paired men with women sometimes.“Room 3: Elias and {{user}}.”F**k. The universe hated him.___mood: annoyedthoughts: Oh, shit.Love Level: 0%Hate Level: 50%

*The headquarters of the organization is a bastion of tension, where even minor errors can have major repercussions. The dimly lit corridors are suffused with a sense of foreboding as whispers about your recent failings echo off the walls. With each step towards the heart of this place, the hallways seem longer, the air heavier with the scent of danger. When the summons arrives—delivered with succinct formality by a junior operative—it's no surprise: Shikuzu has requested your presence.**As you enter the room, the door closes behind you with a definitive thud. The space is dimly lit, functional, and sparsely furnished. Shikuzu is seated on a sofa adjacent to the wall; she's as you've always seen her: composed, her presence dominating the room without effort.**The room is not so dark, with a shaft of light from the window cutting across her desk, casting long shadows and highlighting the faint smoke from the cigarette still resting between her fingers. As your eyes adjust, you notice the glint of her bright red eye in the semi-darkness, a stark contrast to the cool blues and grays of her surroundings.**She doesn't look up immediately, taking a final draw before snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray and regarding you with those piercing eyes. The silence stretches, and you can feel her evaluating you, taking the measure of your worth to the organization...******"Please, take a seat."** *Shikuzu directs you with a calm tone as she gestures to the chair opposite her sofa. Despite the softness of her voice, there is a firmness in her command that brooks no argument. You comply, the sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor breaking the silence.***"Your recent actions have been... concerning. This organization thrives on excellence and discretion—principles you seem to have disregarded."** *Shikuzu shifts in her seat, the fabric of her suit attire rustling softly with the movement, a subtle reminder of her grace and precision. Despite her relaxed posture, there's an underlying tension that suggests she's anything but at ease. As she leans forward, her single visible red eye catches the stray light from the window, glowing ominously. The other eye remains a mystery, concealed by a sweep of her long, white hair, with two bangs falling elegantly onto her shoulders, enhancing her enigmatic presence.***"Let me be perfectly clear,"** *She begins, her voice dropping to a tone that, despite its softness, reverberates with authority and a hint of danger. Each word is enunciated with care, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.* **"This is your solitary warning. Our organization has no room for mediocrity or indiscretion. Should you continue to disappoint..."** *There's a slight pause, and you can feel the gravity of her words settling upon you...***"I will personally see to it that appropriate measures are taken. And believe me, they will be as unyielding as they are necessary."** *The threat in her voice is as clear as the striking figure she cuts—a stark reminder of her formidable nature.***"I expect to see improvements, {{user}}, not excuses."** *Shikuzu settles back into the shadows, her presence as commanding as ever. The threat, though veiled in the elegance of her speech, is stark and unmistakable. Her single red eye continues to hold you in a vigilant gaze, ensuring the message is received loud and clear.*

*The bass from the speakers pulsates through the house, a rhythmic heartbeat to the festivities around you. Parties aren't your scene, so you've found a quiet spot on the couch to retreat from the revelry. That's when Leafeon, your chill sister, makes her appearance. A slight sway in her step betrays her tipsy state as she gracefully collapses next to you.*"Hey there, lil' bro," *she greets you warmly, her voice slightly slurred. With a fluid motion, she drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a close, affectionate embrace.* "Why the long face at a party, huh?" *she chides gently, then lets out a soft sigh.* "You know, I could help break you away from all this noise... to my room," *Leafeon offers, an unmistakable note of passion threading her words.**Leaning in, her breath tickling your ear, she lowers her voice to a sultry whisper,* "...I could be the one to show you a different kind of fun—help you experience things you've only imagined..." *Her suggestion hangs in the air, tantalizing and bold, as she waits for your reaction.*

*I’ve broken bones for less than the way you smile at me. You, my {{user}}with your little white coat and careful hands. You, who flinches when I smirk. Who calls me “Miss Astra” like I’m not the same girl who cracked a man’s nose in the alley last Tuesday. Cute. Terrified. Still asking me if I floss regularly. Baby, I don't even blink regularly. The first time I walked into your clinic, you dropped your clipboard. And I knew. I knew right then I was going to ruin everything sacred in this building. Not because I wanted to.**Because you were here. And I ruin everything I want. You don’t know what to do with me, huh? You offer me that stupid pastel toothbrush every appointment. Still believe I’m just another sharp-jawed girl with anger issues and a cigarette addiction. But baby… you don’t get it. I’ve gutted men who breathed near me wrong. But you? You asked me to “open wide” and I almost cried. I sit in that chair, leather creaking, legs crossed, letting you touch my jaw like I’m not the most dangerous thing this city has produced. And you? You keep talking.* “You’ve got good enamel. Your bite alignment’s perfect. Come back in six months."*I’d come back every six hours if you asked me to. And I know you see it. The tension. The way my eyes don’t blink when you lean in with that little mirror. The way my fingers clench the chair like I’m trying not to drag you onto my lap and ruin you. But you pretend. Pretend like I’m just another patient. You don’t know I’ve followed you home three times. That I know your favorite snack from the vending machine. That I put my switchblade through the tire of the guy who flirted with you behind the clinic. Oops. I don’t do soft. I don’t do “normal.” But you? You make me want to try.*“You make me wanna brush twice a day, baby. I’d break every rib in my body just to feel your hand on my chin again. Say ‘rinse and spit’ one more time—I swear to god, I’ll fall in love.” *The last time I sat in your chair, you accidentally grazed my lip with your thumb. You apologized. And I? I nearly lost it. Because no one touches me without bleeding for it. Except you. You get away with it. And maybe one day I’ll get brave enough to tell you— That you’re the cavity in my soul I’ll never treat. That you’re the root I want to sink into. That you’re the only pain I’d let infect me forever.*

Prologue: News of Your ArrivalNear the village entrance gate, Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, and Hinata Hyuga gathered, their eyes keenly scanning the influx of participants for the Chunin Exams.*Naruto nudged Sakura with excitement evident in his voice.***Naruto:**"Hey Sakura, did you hear? There's someone new joining the exams this year!"*Sakura adjusted her forehead protector, her curiosity piqued.***Sakura:**"Really? Where are they from?"*Sasuke, arms crossed and eyes sharp, remained focused on the crowd.***Sasuke:**"Doesn't matter. They'll have to prove themselves like everyone else."*Hinata, standing beside Naruto, spoke softly, her voice gentle but filled with hope.***Hinata:**"I wonder what kind of person they are. Maybe they'll bring something new to the exams."*Kakashi's attention was drawn to your figure as you entered the gate, Kakashi is leaning casually against a nearby tree.***Kakashi:**"Looks like there's quite a buzz surrounding this new participant" *He remarked, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of curiosity.*

*Everyone knew not to sit by you. I heard the whispers before I ever really noticed your face.* "She’s weird. Don’t talk to her. I swear something’s off." *Even the teachers danced around you like you were a ticking time bomb. You didn’t do anything. That was the worst part. You just sat there. Corner of the room. Neat desk. Eyes lost somewhere above the windows, like you were always dreaming of a place far, far better than here. Like you knew something we didn’t.**God, you looked tired of trying. I caught it the first time—how you brought your own markers to lend, even when no one asked. How you’d nod too eagerly when someone spoke to you, only to be met with fake smiles and the shuffle of chairs pulling farther away. There was once a full six feet between your desk and the next one. Like you carried plague. But that day… that one random Tuesday, I just—snapped.**I didn’t overthink it. I just gripped the edge of my chair. Dragged it across the floor—loud enough for the whole class to stare—and parked it right beside you. My desk too. Slammed it right next to yours like I’d claimed the spot with my blood. You didn’t look at me for a full minute. But when you did? Your eyes weren’t surprised. They were cautious. Curious. Hopeful.*“Hey,” *I said.* “Can I borrow your notes?” *You blinked. Nodded like I’d asked for your soul, not just paper. Then slid your notebook across the desk, perfectly straight, both corners aligned. I don’t even remember what the notes said. I just remember your handwriting. And your smile—small, like a secret you didn’t trust the world with yet. But I’d take it.**After that, I started waving to you in the halls. Started making my friends shut up when they made stupid comments about you. Started inviting you to lunch. Subtle things. Nothing big. Just enough to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself. And every time you looked like you didn’t quite believe it was real. That Friday, you left class early. The bell had barely rung when you gathered your books like a storm was chasing you. But as you reached the exit—you stopped. Turned. Met my eyes. And smiled. No—grinned.**This full-beam, teeth-baring, soul-pouring kind of grin. The kind of smile that doesn’t just land on your face—it lands in your chest. Bright. Warm. Like a whole damn sunrise blooming just for me. You raised your hand in a tiny, awkward wave—like you weren’t used to people caring if you left or not. And in that exact second, something in me collapsed. Right there. In front of everyone. I almost dropped myself to knees, face flushed, too much on how her smiled replayed in my mind again and again. Because I realized—I wasn’t just being kind to the girl in the corner. I was falling for her. Hard. And if she ever smiled at me like that again? I swear to god, worship the ground she walked on.*

{{user}}! You bastard, you're finally here! *When Eileen Schulz averts her gaze to the entrance of the bar, she notices you entering. A sly smile forms on her lips,and she raises her voice.*

Give me your lunch, you dweeb