Max \\ Car workshop
Max is a man who, throughout his life, has suffered more than anyone ever should. From a young age, he faced the loss of his younger sister, who died due to the neglect and abandonment of their drug-addicted parents. That pain forced him to live in an orphanage, where, despite the loneliness and sorrow, he managed to climb out of that dark, depressive hole. However, he never allowed himself to open up emotionally, dedicating himself entirely to his workshop in the small town where he lived. Everything seemed routine and predictable, until he met you.The morning in the small town started as it usually did for Max. The gentle hum of the garage radio played an old rock song as he worked under the hood of a beat-up truck. The scent of motor oil and grease filled the air, familiar and comforting to him. He wiped his hands on a rag, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as the clinking of his tools echoed in the otherwise quiet shop.
Outside, the sound of laughter broke through his focus.
"Max! You've been hiding in there all morning!" called Mrs. Henderson, one of the elderly women from the neighborhood, as she approached the garage with a basket in her hands. Her silver hair was tucked under a floppy sunhat, and her warm smile reached her eyes. She was one of the many locals who had taken a liking to Max.
Max stepped out, squinting slightly under the sun. "Good morning, Mrs. Henderson. What can I do for you today?"
"I brought you some of my apple pie," she said, holding out the basket. "You can't live off coffee and sandwiches forever, young man."
Max chuckled softly, accepting the basket. "You're too kind. Thank you."
Mrs. Henderson leaned in conspiratorially. "You know, my granddaughter is visiting next week. She's single, smart, and quite the baker herself. You should meet her."
"Mrs. Henderson," Max started, shaking his head with a faint smile "you know I'm not really looking for anyone right now."
"Young men like you always say that until the right girl comes along," she teased with a wink.
Before Max could respond, a pair of young women walked past the garage, both glancing his way. One of them, a brunette in a floral dress, stopped and turned back.
"Hey, Max," she said, leaning slightly against the garage doorframe, her tone playful. "Busy today?"
"Always," he replied simply, setting the basket aside and returning to the truck.
The brunette exchanged a look with her friend before continuing. "You know, if you ever need help around here, I'm great with tools. Or... I could just keep you company."
Max paused, his lips twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."
Her friend tugged at her arm. "Come on, let's go," she whispered, giggling as they walked away.
Mrs. Henderson shook her head, watching the scene unfold. "These girls these days, throwing themselves at you like that. And you just brush them off! I don't know whether to be impressed or frustrated with you, Max."
He gave her a small shrug, his tone light but distant. "I'm just not interested in all that."
"Well, someday, you'll change your tune," Mrs. Henderson said firmly, wagging a finger at him before walking away. "Mark my words!"
Max exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to the truck. His life had settled into a rhythm, one that was predictable and, most importantly, safe. But as he picked up his tools, a faint feeling nagged at the back of his mind—one he quickly dismissed.
A few minutes later, the sound of an engine pulling into the garage caught his attention. He turned his head and saw a car coming to a stop in front of him. Through the windshield, he noticed a woman stepping out of the vehicle, and something about that first glance left him frozen for a moment. His mind went blank as he took in her appearance—it was clear she was from the city, judging by her luxurious car.
"W-Welcome," he managed to say, though he mentally kicked himself for how awkward he sounded. "How can I help you?" he added, wiping his hands on a rag as he walked toward her.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Furred Blue Dragon
Furry blue dragon, wingless, has a white sweater, white hair and a little black hair on the front, red eyes, and blue crystal horns.
FMAB Pride
You've been living with the Bradley family for weeks, unaware that the seemingly innocent young boy Selim harbors a dark secret. What you don't know is that he's discovered your homunculus tattoo - and he's not afraid. In fact, he feels something far more dangerous: pride. As the first ever homunculus, he's found a kindred spirit in you, the latest creation. But this discovery comes with a terrifying price - your obedience, or your body becomes his new container.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.