#❝ watch them disappear as we know ? ❞ — face

[rafeswhre]

orrrr rafe having to deal with a tipsy reader but lowkey being overwhelmed at the whole situation cuz she’s being so lovey dovey and clingy but they’re not dating? 😭

rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive comments

a/n: this is my first time posting i’m so scared loll hope you like it, thanks for sending it🫶🏼 btw english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.

“I don’t know, Top!” You laughed loudly while talking to Topper, who, to be honest, wasn’t actually funny. It was probably just the number of drinks you’d already had.

“Girl, you’re tipsy!” Topper laughed at you while sipping from his whiskey glass.

“I’m not.” You rolled your eyes and tried to take another shot—at least, you tried.

“You’re done.” Rafe took the shot from your hand and moved it away from you. By the way, who knows where he had come from; you hadn’t seen him since the party started.

“What do you mean I’m done? I’m just starting.” You gave the guy in front of you a funny look.

“I mean you’re done, princess. Let’s go.” Rafe took your arm and started guiding you through the crowd.

“Baby, you’re soooo boring.” You pouted at him once you arrived in the parking lot.

“Baby?” He raised his eyebrows, looking at you.

“What’s wrong? You call me princess all the damn time, I don’t say shit to ya, big boy.” You rolled your eyes.

“Watch that mouth of yours.” He leaned back against his car.

“Why are you so grumpy all the time?” You slowly got closer to him, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a little squeeze.

Rafe looked closely at your hands moving down his arms. “I’m not grumpy all the time.”

“I’m not grumpy all the time.” You imitated him in a funny voice and burst out laughing before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “’Course you are.” You whispered in his ear.

Rafe cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at your eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He tried to escape your little grip.

“I don’t wanna go home, Ray!” You pouted again. “Let’s stay here; we could have so much fun! More fun than we’d have in your car, let me tell ya.”

“Why are you so complicated?” He rolled his eyes.

“Why are you so boring?” You teased him, poking his arms. “Although I can think of ways to have fun in your car too.” You got close to him, giving him a significant look.

“Stop saying stuff like that.” He opened his eyes wide, feeling out of place.

“Are you freaking out, Rafey?” you asked, teasing.

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned.

“Why not? That’s what all your bitches call you.”

“No! Just- just get in the car, kay?” He opened the passenger door so you could get in.

“We adore a gentleman.” You said as you climbed into the car. He closed the door and walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

The atmosphere filled with an overwhelming silence; Rafe hadn’t even started the car. You felt a little guilty.

While it was true that you weren’t entirely sober, you weren’t drunk either. You knew what you were doing; it was just that the bit of alcohol had given you the confidence to tell him things you wouldn’t say when fully sober.

“Rafe?” you asked nervously.

“Mmh?” He didn’t even look at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—I know we’re friends; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad—” Suddenly, you felt like the alcohol in your body had disappeared.

“Hey, hey.” He looked at you. “It’s alright, it’s not that, kay?” He buried his head in his hands.

“So? What is it?” You tilted your head to the side, confused.

He sighed. “You know, all your attitudes and shit.” He waved his hand in the air, trying to make you understand. “You’re getting all touchy and clingy.”

“Oh—” You looked away.

“No, no, hey.” He gently took your face and made you look at him. “Look at me, baby. It’s not a bad thing; it’s alright—it’s just—you’re kinda cold all the time. I’ve never seen you this way, it freaked me out.”

“You’ve never been with a tipsy girl?” You giggled.

“Nah, yeah, I have. I said I’ve never seen you this way. It’s different.” He turned on the car.

“What do you mean? Why would it be?”

He turned on the radio.

“Are you ignoring me, Rafe?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” You frowned.

“Nah, I’m not.” He said while steering with one hand on the wheel.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Leaving it all behind— Max Verstappen x Reader

Word count — 30.k

Warnings — smut p in v, mentions of blood and death no one important. Angsty at times but other than that we have soft max.

also I don’t know why there’s funky symbols throughout my fic it wasn’t in the google doc. Also every thing in ** is supposed to be italics but I don’t have the patience to do that.

Beta read/edited by @octavikravecell218 @crispysoup318 @sinofwriting

Summary— Max's life had always been planned out for him—a life he wanted nothing to do with. One night, while driving through the city, he meets a woman who wants to make him feel alive and love, something he has never experienced before.

Tagging - @astraeaworld @ashy-kit @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life e @charlesf1leclerc @charlesgirl16 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dreamyreveriie @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @llando4norris @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @jeffs77 @ironcowboycopnickel @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @omgsuperstarg g @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @anedpev @thenerdysimp

Leaving it all behind ” max verstappen x reader 

The city lay dark and restless under the weight of the midnight clouds. Max’s car glided down the empty streets, headlights slicing through fog that clung to the sidewalks. This part of town was his a

city carved out by generations of his family, each building tainted by their legacy. A legacy Max had always known would eventually fall on his shoulders.

He sighed, letting his hand fall from the steering wheel to drum absently on the gearshift. Nights like these always felt endless, each familiar street drawing him deeper into a life he was starting to question. He’d been told countless times it was his birthright, his duty to keep things running, but in moments like this just him and the hum of the engine he couldn’t help but wonder if this life was all he’d ever have.

That was when he saw her.

At first, it was just movement in the shadows, a sudden scuffle that drew his eye. A young woman struggled against two men, their laughter drifting cruelly into the night air. Before he could think, he’d pulled over, instincts taking over as he slid out of the car. His footsteps were silent, his expression deadly calm as he approached.

“Let her go,” he ordered, his voice cold enough to cut through the fog.

The two men turned, eyes widening as they recognized him, and the fear in their faces was unmistakable. Max had built a reputation; even in the dark underbelly of the city, his name held weight. They stumbled back, mumbling apologies before disappearing down the street, leaving him alone with the girl.

She looked up, breathing hard, her face partially hidden beneath strands of dark hair. Even under the streetlamp’s dim glow, he could see the defiance in her eyes she wasn’t the type to easily back down. A part of him admired that.

“You alright?” he asked, softer now, watching her carefully.

She nodded, brushing herself off, her gaze wary but grateful. “Yeah I didn’t need saving, though,” she said, a spark of pride in her voice.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I could tell,” he replied, “but sometimes it’s nice to have backup.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flickering up to meet him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence was charged and unexpected.

“Thank you,” she murmured finally, her voice losing some of its edge. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I rescued you from danger,” Max said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood. He leaned against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Y/n regarded him with an arched eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. The remnants of adrenaline still coursed through her veins, but mixed with a tinge of fear, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Max’s charm was disarming, but she couldn’t shake the unease she felt in his presence.

“Yeah, thank you for that, but I need to go,” she replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering nerves. She turned away, glancing over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in another unexpected situation. The weight of the moment hung between them, and with each step she took, she felt the distance growing a mix of gratitude and caution urging her to leave before she got too drawn in.

Max only nodded, watching as she turned to go. He didn’t ask her name, but something in him twisted as he watched her walk away, that fierce determination etched on her face. She was like no one he’d met before. And he wanted to know more.

Over the next few days, she lingered in his mind like a melody he couldn’t shake. He knew he shouldn’t indulge this curiosity, shouldn’t look into her life, but he couldn’t resist. He had people at his disposal, and soon he had her name, her address, and details of her life that made his heart ache in ways he didn’t understand.

When he learned she worked at a little bookstore downtown, he couldn’t keep himself from stopping by one afternoon. He wandered in, pretending to browse the shelves, until he saw her head bent over a book, a faint smile on her lips.

She looked up, and surprise flickered in her eyes before recognition dawned. She stood, her hand brushing against a stray lock of hair as she offered him a tentative smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, her voice soft but curious.

Max shrugged, feeling suddenly out of place. He’d been to every luxurious spot in the city, but this small, cozy shop felt like another world. “Just passing by,” he said, though they both knew it was a lie.

They fell into an easy conversation, discussing books, the city, and life. And as the sun began to set, Max felt something foreign and unfamiliar start to build in his chest a longing that made him question everything he thought he wanted.

Weeks passed, and their paths continued to cross until friendship gave way to something deeper. With every conversation, every laugh, every quiet moment they shared, Max found himself wondering if he could leave everything behind. If she could be enough to pull him out of the shadows.

But he knew the cost of that decision. Leaving his family’s empire wasn’t simple; there were loyalties, enemies, and countless secrets that held him captive. Still, when he looked at her—when he thought of a life beyond the city’s corruption and bloodshed—he realized he wanted something different. Something he could only have if he let it all go.

As he stood outside her bookstore one evening, watching the light from within spill across the pavement, he made a silent promise: he would find a way to be with her. Even if it meant sacrificing everything he’d ever known.

Max leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the warm glow coming from the bookstore’s windows. It was late, and the street was quiet. Inside, she was closing up a routine that had become as familiar to him as his reflection.

He shoved his hands in his jacket, watching as she tidied the display, her movements slow, practiced. Even after weeks of meeting almost every day, she had this effect on him. Every little thing about her held his attention and captured his heart as if it belonged to her.

The lights in the shop went out, and a few moments later, she stepped out. She started when she saw him, a hand on her heart as she let out a soft gasp. “Did you just stand there the entire time?”

Max shrugged, pushing off the wall as he took a step closer to her. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just enjoying the view.”

She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “You need a better hobby.”

He chuckled, falling in step next to her as they began walking. “You’re my hobby,” he teased.

She shot him a look, the kind that was meant to be disapproving but couldn’t quite hide her amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

Max just smirked, his gaze flicking down to her hand, to the slender fingers that were curled loosely at her side. He ached to reach out, to take her hand in his. But there was something in him—maybe it was the loyalty to the life he’d inherited, or maybe it was fear—that made him hesitate.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the streetlights casting long shadows around them.

“Hey,” Max said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

She looked over at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, her expression curious.

Max took a deep breath, bracing himself. “Do you think it’s possible to change? To make your path, even when you come from a life that feels...predetermined?”

Her expression softened, her gaze searching his face. “I think it depends,” she said slowly. “On how badly you want it, how willing you are to fight and maybe even lose things along the way.”

Max nodded, her words echoing in his mind, both confirming and intensifying his doubts. Losing things...he’d be losing a lot by choosing a different life”his family’s legacy, their empire, his father’s trust. But even the thought of losing *her* felt unbearable.

“So what if you’re not sure?” he found himself asking. “What if you have feelings you don’t quite understand, but you know they want…more?”

She regarded him silently, her eyes steady, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Max wondered if he’d said too much, or revealed too much. But then she looked away, a sigh escaping her lips. “Then I’d say you’re either being brave…or foolish,” she said finally, her gaze returning to his. “Because love can make you do both.”

Max swallowed, the word *love* hanging heavily between them. Was that what this was, this intense feeling that seemed to consume him every time he was near her? But loving her was like lighting a match in a powder keg. Could he set everything on fire for her?

As the weeks passed, Max became a regular at the bookstore, his visits blending seamlessly into Y/N’s day. They’d fall into easy conversations, and she’d tease him about his “terrible taste” in books, which he took with a grin, never revealing that he’d never really read much for pleasure before he met her. The darkness of his past and his family’s world seemed to fade in those quiet hours, and for the first time in his life, Max felt something close to peace.

The bookstore was a sanctuary. Away from the constant scrutiny, the threats, and the weight of his family’s name. He could just be himself here, free to laugh and chat and listen to her it was her favorite place to be.

Max leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she moved between the shelves. There was a peacefulness to her rhythm, and he couldn’t help but feel a little mesmerized. The way Y/N’s fingers brushed over each book’s spine, her expression relaxed, made it look like they belonged here among the pages and stories.

“So,” he said, his voice barely louder than a murmur, “do you ever get tired of organizing these shelves over and over?”

Y/N chuckled softly without turning around. “Not when I have someone to complain to about it.”

Max grinned, feeling a spark of warmth that was rare for him. “Lucky me, huh?”

They both paused, letting the silence and the music fill the space between them. It was a shared comfort, a feeling that went beyond words. Here, in the stillness of the bookstore, Max almost felt as though they were the only two people in the world. Y/N finished sliding a book into place and turned, leaning against the shelf, her eyes meeting Max’s. “You don’t have to stay, you know. Not much entertainment here.”

Max smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. “Depends on what you consider entertainment. Watching you argue with those books as they move themselves? Riveting.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but Max caught the small, amused smile that slipped through. “Keep talking, and I’ll make you help. Alphabetize the romance section, maybe. Heard you’re a sucker for a good love story.”

He scoffed. “I think you’re confusing me with someone who has a heart.”

Y/N shook her head, the faint sound of JoJo filling the quiet again. She walked closer, books forgotten for a moment, until they were just a step away from him. “Yeah? Then what are you doing here?”

Max felt a tug in his chest he couldn’t quite ignore, his usual smirk softening. “Good question,” he murmured, more to himself than to them.

The air between them was thick with unsaid things. Neither of them spoke for a moment, letting the music and the shadows hold whatever words they weren’t ready to say. Finally, Max cleared his throat, shrugging in that casual, detached way he’d perfected. “Guess I’m just a sucker for bookstores. Quiet. No one is bothering you. Kind of place you can just be.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if she saw through every layer he tried to keep up. “Then you’re in good company.”

Max’s gaze lingered on Y/N, watching the way her face softened in the dim light. He wasn’t used to this, the quiet moments that seemed to slip under his skin, settling somewhere he couldn’t shake off.

Y/N tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, what’s the verdict? Am I decent company for a night at the bookstore?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I guess you’ll do. I’d say you’re good enough to pass the time, but then your ego might get out of control.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Your standards aren’t that high. I saw you trying not to laugh at my jokes last week.”

Max scoffed, pretending to be offended, but a small smile betrayed him. “I wasn’t laughing. I was horrified. Pure survival instinct.”

They both laughed quietly, the sound warm and intimate in the empty store. The music faded into another soft, slow song, and they let the silence settle over them again, neither one in a hurry to break it.

Y/N spoke first, a little softer now. “Have you ever thought about it? Starting over somewhere? Just… a different life?”

Max’s usual mask faltered for a second, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Starting over, huh?” He let out a humorless laugh. “I think that ship sailed a long time ago for me.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, their voice gentle but insistent. “Maybe. But you never know.” She paused, searching his face. “I just think you don’t have to be the person you’ve always been, Max.”

He swallowed, caught off guard by the honesty in their words. It was strange, unsettling even, having someone look at him like he was worth more than the pieces he kept hidden. For a moment, he wanted to believe them.

“Well,” he said, forcing a small smirk, “maybe I like the person I am.”

“Maybe.” Y/N shrugged, giving him a soft smile. “But I think there’s more to you than you let on.”

She held his gaze, and for once, Max found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he looked down, shaking his head slightly, but he couldn’t keep the hint of a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Max’s heartbeat was a little faster, his usual bravado slipping away under the weight of Y/N’s gaze. He could feel them watching him, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to hide.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you’re interested.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m waiting for you to figure that out.”

Max’s throat tightened, the words lingering between them like a challenge, daring him to take a step he wasn’t sure he was ready for. He wanted to say something, anything that could brush off the tension, but the usual defenses weren’t coming to his rescue. Instead, he just looked at them, his eyes searching for hers, caught between the urge to run and the impulse to stay.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” he finally managed, his voice rougher than he intended.

Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. “Not all of you. Just enough to know there’s more to you than you let people see.” She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm for just a second before she pulled back, the touch brief but enough to send a spark up his spine.

Max inhaled, barely holding himself together. The gentle, honest look in Y/N’s eyes left him raw, and vulnerable, and he found himself wanting to let go, just a little. “So, if there’s more to me,” he said slowly, “why stick around? Don’t you have better things to do than try to figure out a guy like me?”

Y/N shrugged, her voice soft. “Maybe I don’t mind a mystery. Maybe I want to see what happens if you let your guard down.”

Max’s pulse pounded in his ears, his gaze locked on theirs. For the first time in a long time, he felt like the ground was shifting beneath him, the walls he’d built starting to crumble. He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “You might not like what you find.”

Y/N just looked at him, their expression open, unafraid. “Try me.”

The words hung in the air, daring him, pulling him toward something he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. But standing there in the quiet of the bookstore, with nothing but the soft music and their steady gaze, he realized he wanted to try.

Max’s life had always been carefully compartmentalized”business was business, and the rare moments of personal life he allowed himself were kept far from the eyes of his family. But over time, his “disappearances” to see Y/N hadn’t gone unnoticed.

One afternoon, Jos sat in his leather chair at the head of their estate’s grand dining room. Marco stood nearby, observing him closely. He was loyal to Jos, fiercely so, and he’d known Max since he was a boy. But loyalty to the family meant loyalty to its survival”and Max was threatening that with his wandering.

Marco cleared his throat, his voice steady. “I’m starting to think Max’s time away isn’t just business, Jos. He’s distracted.”

Jos looked up slowly, his gaze piercing, as if calculating what Marco wasn’t saying. “Explain.”

Marco shifted, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a girl. A nobody who works in some bookstore downtown. He’s spending time with her. A lot of time.”

A silence fell over the room as Jos leaned back, fingers steepled. A faint smirk crossed his face, though his eyes remained cold. “A girl, you say?” He sounded almost amused, but there was a dangerous undercurrent in his tone. “Max has always been soft-hearted. I warned him about that. But this attachment could be problematic.”

Marco nodded, his voice darkening. “He’s slipping, Jos. Losing focus. And if he thinks he can just walk away for her” He didn’t finish the thought, but they both knew what happened to those who tried to leave.

Jos’ gaze darkened, his fingers tapping against the armrest as he considered the implications. He’d built his empire on ruthless loyalty, on men who would die for the family without question. But his son was becoming a liability a weakness that could be exploited by their enemies.

“We need to remind Max of his responsibilities,” Jos said quietly, his voice laced with cold authority. “This… bookstore girl has become a distraction. Make sure he understands that she could be more than just a distraction—she’s a threat to him.”

Marco inclined his head, understanding the unspoken command. They couldn’t afford loose ends. If Max couldn’t be swayed, the girl would have to go. Marco left the room, a faint grimace on his face. He’d always respected Max, but he’d be damned if he let anyone ruin everything they’d built.

It started with a quiet warning. One night, as he slipped into the back office of his family’s club, one of his father’s oldest lieutenants, Marco, was waiting for him. Marco was a man with eyes as cold as winter and a voice like gravel. He eyed Max for a long moment, his face unreadable.

“Word around is you’ve been spending a lot of time away,” Marco said, his tone almost casual, though there was a hard edge beneath it.

Max didn’t flinch, keeping his expression carefully blank. “And?”

“And,” Marco continued, stepping closer, “you’ve got responsibilities, Max. The family isn’t just a part-time job. Your father knew that. I hope you haven’t forgotten.”

Max clenched his jaw, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I haven’t forgotten. I just… I’m handling things in my way.”

Marco’s gaze was heavy. “Your way better be the right way. People are noticing. They’re questioning your loyalty.”

Max stifled a growl, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Of course, people were noticing. Word got around fast in the family, and Max knew better than anyone that loyalty was their currency. He was walking a fine line, trying to juggle two worlds that didn’t seem to mix.

“My loyalty isn’t in question,” he ground out, holding Marco’s gaze. “I know where my responsibilities lie.” 

Marco looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press any further. He simply nodded an ominous gesture that echoed through the office. As the door closed behind Marco, leaving Max alone, he let out a weary sigh. He was tired of the constant tests, the suspicion, the threats. It was never-ending, a constant game of proving himself worthy. His entire life had been shaped by this role, groomed and molded to be the perfect successor.

But now…now he was questioning it all. For the first time, he was considering walking away from everything, from the life that his father had set out for him. All because of *her*.

Max slumped into the chair behind the desk, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew he was playing a dangerous game. His father had never tolerated disobedience, especially from him. He'd always expected obedience above all else, and Max's deviation from that path would not be lightly tolerated. 

Max’s thoughts drifted to *her.* He'd spent every waking moment with her, drowning in the bliss of her company. But each moment had only heightened his desire for something more than what he already had. Something real. Authentic.

He leaned back, closing his eyes. He could hear her voice, her laugh, her soft sighs. He could almost feel her skin under his fingers, the way she fit so perfectly against him. But he couldn’t have her, not in the way he truly wanted. Not unless he was willing to give everything else up. 

The thought sent a pang of regret through him. His family, his legacy, his entire life it was all built on bloodshed and secrets. Was he ready to turn his back on it all?

He opened his eyes, looking at the room around him. The room his father had spent countless hours in, strategizing, planning, and ruling an empire built on violence and fear. Was this the life he wanted to live? Was this the life he wanted her to be a part of?

He knew the answer. The knowledge sat heavily in his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. He was teetering on the edge of a decision that would change everything, a decision that would mean leaving one life behind for another.

He thought back to their time together, the stolen moments in the bookstore, the whispered secrets in shadowed corners. Every moment had deepened his feelings for her. He’d been trying to fight them, to ignore them, but it was a useless battle. 

He was in love with her. Deeply, completely, irrevocably in love. The realization made him sit upright in the chair, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d been denying it, fighting it, but the truth was there. He loved her. He wanted a life with her. A real life. A life without secrets, without violence. 

He knew it was a pipe dream, a foolish, impossible dream. But he found himself grasping for it anyway, holding onto the idea like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

“This is crazy,” he murmured to himself, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is insane.”

He stood up, pacing the room in an attempt to clear his head. But his mind was a storm, thoughts churning together in a confusing mess.

There was no future for them. No world where his family, and his role in the organization, would allow him to be with her. And yet, he couldn’t let her go, couldn’t turn his feelings off like a switch. He could almost hear his father's voice in his mind, a harsh whisper in the back of his head. *You belong to this family. You're not here to make your own choices, Max.*

He closed his eyes again, trying to drown out the voice. But the words only echoed louder in his mind, a constant reminder of the life he was supposed to lead, the life he'd been groomed for.

And yet, amidst the chaos, one thought rang louder than the rest — a thought that both filled him with hope and made him feel like a traitor to everything he knew:

*She’s more important.*

Max leaned on the desk, taking deep breaths, trying to calm the maelstrom of emotions. It was a foolish thought, a dangerous thought. And yet, it was a thought that he couldn’t shake off, a thought that had taken root in his heart and refused to let go. He couldn't have both worlds. That much was clear. He couldn't be a part of the family *and* be free to be with her. He couldn't be the man his father wanted *and* the man she needed. He had to make a choice. 

And the choice, no matter how foolish, was already made. For her, he would be willing to give up everything. For her, he was willing to risk it all.

The next time he saw Y/N, she noticed the tension right away. They were sitting at a small cafe she loved, nestled away from the bustle of the city. She studied him quietly over her coffee, brow furrowed in concern.

“You seem different today,” she said gently, her voice breaking through his troubled thoughts.

Max forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just a rough day, that’s all.”

She watched him carefully, not pushing for more but not letting it go either. After a moment, she reached across the table, placing her hand over his. The warmth of her touch steadied him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

“You know,” she said softly, “you can tell me anything. I don’t know much about you, but I know you’re not just the quiet guy who hangs around bookstores. You don’t have to hide.”

Her words pierced him, and he felt an ache deep in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—the blood, the secrets, the things he’d done to keep his family’s empire running. But how could he? How could he shatter the perfect image she saw in him and risk losing the only good thing he’d ever had?

“I know,” he said quietly, his fingers tightening around hers. “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you. But not yet.”

He watched the confusion flicker in her eyes. He could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to piece together the pieces he was giving her. 

She was perceptive and smart, and it killed him that he couldn’t be honest with her. 

The silence between them stretched, heavy with the things he wasn’t saying. He wanted to pour it all out, to share the weight of his secrets and the burden of his role, but for now, the words stuck in his throat. He shifted, his gaze dropping to their hands, intertwined on the table. The contrast between them was stark hers, soft and unmarred, his, calloused and marked with tiny scars, the souvenirs of fights and battles she knew nothing about.

He turned his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on his skin, the ridges that spoke of life so separate from hers that the mere thought of bridging the gap felt like a fantasy. She must have seen his gaze, the way his eyes followed the tracks of his past. She traced her fingers over his knuckles, light and tender, like a whisper over his scars.

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

*Yes*, he wanted to shout, *It hurts like hell.*

Instead, he just shook his head, offering her another half-smile. “Just old wounds,” he replied, his voice gruff. The look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press the issue. She just continued tracing her fingers over his skin, her touch a soft, soothing comfort he didn’t deserve.

He fought the urge to lean into her touch, to let the warmth wash over him and make him forget everything else. But reality loomed over them, a dark cloud on a sunny afternoon. She moved her hand, picking up her coffee again and taking a sip. He missed the contact immediately, the absence of her touch like a cold knife in his side.

“Max,” she said finally, her eyes searching his face, “promise me one thing.”

He knew what was coming. The question he dreaded and longed for all at once.  He met her gaze, bracing himself. ‘What?” he managed to say.

She took a deep breath, the next word leaving her lips in a rush. “Don’t keep shutting me out. I don’t know what’s going on with you, or why you won’t tell me anything. But we’re…we’re friends, aren’t we?”

The word hit him like a punch to the gut. ‘Friends’. It was such a small word, but it felt so huge, loaded with all the things he wanted and everything he couldn’t have. He nodded, his heart clenching uncomfortably. “We’re friends, yes,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

She smiled at his answer, that small, hopeful smile that sent his heart into somersaults. He swallowed hard, pushing down the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to spill out.

She didn't need to know what he was capable of. She didn’t need to know the darkness that lurked in the shadows of his world.

 They finished their coffee in relative silence. He felt the weight of her unasked questions hanging in the air. Questions he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer. He watched her, trying to memorize every feature, every gesture, every expression. As if he was trying to imprint her into his memory, a moment of light in the dark of his existence.

When they stood to leave, he reached out, almost without thinking, to help adjust her scarf. His fingers grazed the skin on her collar, a small, almost electric contact. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes, and he quickly withdrew his touch.

“Don't want you to catch a cold,” he mumbled, his voice gruff, avoiding her gaze. She didn’t comment on his quick retreat, just smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “Thanks, Max,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

They made their way out of the cafe, the crisp fall air biting as they stepped onto the sidewalk. He took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs with something other than the scent of her perfume. As they stood there, on the cusp of parting ways, he had to fight the urge to just pull her into his arms, to hold her tightly, and never let go. But he couldn’t, not here, not now. So he just stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to conceal his clenched fists.

“See you later?” she asked, her voice soft, hopeful.

“Yeah,” he managed to say, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be. “Later.”

He watched her walk away, her figure getting smaller in the distance. As she turned a corner and disappeared, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The walk back to his car was a blur. His mind was in turmoil, a mess of thoughts and feelings he couldn't sort through. All of them, somehow, involved her.

When he finally reached his car, he leaned against the door, taking a moment to collect himself. *This is insane*, he thought, *I can't keep doing this*.

But even as the thought formed in his mind, he knew it was useless. He was in too deep. The pull of her was too strong. There was no turning back, not while her smile and laugh continued to haunt his every waking moment.

He climbed into the car, starting the engine with a sigh. As he pulled out of the parking spot, he knew he was driving straight towards a decision he would likely come to regret.

The next day, Max returned to his family’s estate, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. He walked through the ornate halls he’d grown up in, feeling a strange sense of detachment as he entered his father’s office. Jos sat behind his desk, Marco at his side, both of them staring watching him with expressions of silent judgment.

“Max,” Jos greeted, his voice deceptively calm. “I hear you’ve been… busy.”

Max didn’t flinch, his gaze hard and unyielding. “I know you’ve been watching me.”

Joe's smirk didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course we have. You’re a valuable part of this family, Max. It’s only natural we keep an eye on where your loyalties lie.”

“My loyalties,” Max said, his voice steady, “are to my own life. I want out.”

Marco’s face twisted in contempt, and Jos’ expression grew darker. “You think you can just walk away?” Jos said quietly. “That girl of yours—she’s a liability, Max. You can’t just abandon everything we’ve built for a stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger,” Max said sharply, his voice filled with a fierce determination. “She’s the only real thing in my life. And I’m done living in a cage, following orders, hurting people for you.”

A tense silence settled over the room, thick with the threat of violence. Jos’s face twisted in anger, his hands clenching the edge of the desk. “You’re my son,” he hissed. “You carry my legacy. If you betray this family, you’ll be the one living in fear.”

Max took a steady breath, his heart pounding. “I don’t care. I’ll protect her from anything you try, and if you hurt her, I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake you ever make.”

Jos’ gaze darkened, but there was a flicker of hesitation. For the first time, Max saw a glint of fear in his father’s eyes—a realization that he could lose the one person who understood their empire best.

The room was a tableau of tension, a stand-off between father and son, both at an impasse.

Max’s heart was hammering against his ribcage, but he stood his ground, facing down his father’s silent glare.

Marco shifted, his muscles tense, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. But a subtle shake of Jos’ head kept him in place, holding him back.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, the quiet punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Jos stood slowly, his eyes never leaving Max. He moved with the quiet precision of a hunter preparing to strike. He walked around the desk, his footsteps echoing in the room.

Max remained motionless, meeting his father’s glare with a defiant one of his own. As Jos approached, Max could hardly draw a steady breath. He could feel the danger in the air, like the electric charge before a storm. When his father stopped in front of him, they were mere inches apart, the air heavy with tension.

“You’d betray us?” Jos whispered, the threat barely contained beneath the surface. A flicker of anger passed over Max’s face. He knew what his father was asking. *Would you betray us for a woman you barely know?*

“Yes.” The word came out firm, without a trace of doubt. Max didn’t hesitate, he didn’t waver. He stood his ground, staring into his father’s eyes without flinching.

There was a note of disbelief in his father’s voice, as if he couldn’t fathom the idea of Max choosing a person over the empire he’d helped build.

Max didn’t back down. He met his father’s gaze squarely, his answer clear in his eyes. “Yes. For her.”

But Max didn’t wait for his father’s response. He turned on his heel, his decision made. He would leave, taking Y/N and disappearing from this life. But he knew they wouldn’t stop coming. He’d have to stay ahead, always watching over his shoulder, always ready to fight.

As he stepped outside, the weight of his choice pressed heavily on him. He knew he was stepping into a storm, but he’d finally found something worth fighting for and nothing, not even his father’s wrath, would stop him now.

Max took a deep breath, the cold air biting into his lungs. He’d made his choice. He’d taken the first step towards something he’d never dared to dream of. 

It was a dangerous, foolish, insane choice.

*And he loved every second of it.*

His thoughts turned to y/n. He could picture her, her soft smile, her laughter, her eyes that seemed to see right through him. The thought of her fueled him and gave him purpose. He had to protect her, above all else.

But as he walked towards his car, the shadows of his past seemed to cast long, ominous shadows over his path. He knew his father and Marco wouldn’t let him go so easily. He had to be ready. He had to prepare. *He had to make sure she was safe.*

He climbed into his car, determination burning hot in his veins. He started the engine, the roar of it a steady, reassuring presence.

As he pulled out of the estate, he didn’t look back.  There was no going back now. He drove through the city streets, his mind working in overdrive. He had to devise a plan, a way to disappear without a trace. But more importantly, he had to keep y/n safe. He couldn’t let her get caught in the crossfire.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. There was no room for mistakes and no margin for error. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. But there was no beauty in it, no joy in the sight. For Max, every shadow seemed a potential threat, every corner a place to hide.

He knew his father and Marco could be watching. They might be tracking his every move, or they could be waiting for him at his apartment, ready to ambush him. He made a few detours, taking roundabout routes to throw off anyone who might be following him. His adrenaline was pumping, making him hyper-aware of every passing vehicle, every pedestrian on the sidewalk.

When he finally pulled up to y/n’s apartment building, he sat in the car for a few moments, surveying the area.

The street was mostly quiet, with nothing but a few passersby and a couple of cars parked on the street. He didn’t see anything suspicious, but that didn’t relax him. He knew his father had eyes everywhere, and they could be watching from anywhere, anyone. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to play it cool, not alarm Y/N. She couldn’t know the danger she was in, not yet. He would tell her, but he had to make sure she was safe first.

With one last look around, he got out of the car and headed towards her apartment. With each step, his heart thumped louder against his ribcage, like a drum announcing his arrival. He reached her door, hesitating for a moment. Then he knocked, three sharp raps followed by a pause.

The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity as he waited for the door to open. Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and the door swung open.

There she stood, beautiful and blissfully unaware of the danger looming just beyond her threshold.

Her face lit up when she saw him, a bright, beautiful smile spreading across her features. “Max, hi,” she greeted him, her voice filled with warmth.

For a moment, he was just lost in her, her presence bringing a soothing calm to his tumultuous mind. But it lasted only a moment. He had to remember why he was there, and what he needed to do.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice gruff. He could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. He followed her into the apartment, his eyes scanning the room. It was a cozy place, filled with little touches of her; a vase of fresh flowers, a few books piled on the coffee table, and a picture of her with her family on the mantelpiece.

But he didn’t have much time to take it all in. He turned, facing her, his expression serious. She closed the door, leaning against it as she watched him. “Everything okay?” she asked, that note of concern in her voice. 

He let out a shaky breath. “We need to talk.”

She studied his face, probably noticing the tension and the anxiety written across it. But she simply smiled, gesturing towards the living room. “Okay, let's go sit down then.”

He nodded, following her into the living room and sitting down on the couch. She sat next to him, turning to face him. There was more concern on her face now, but she remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

He stared at his hands, now clenched tightly in his lap. The words were stuck in his throat, refusing to come out. *How do you tell someone their life is in danger because of you?*

He took another shaky breath, lifting his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were filled with worry now, but there was no suspicion yet. She didn’t know what he was about to say.

Finally, he found his voice. “You trust me, right?”

She was taken aback by the question, but she nodded immediately. “Of course I do,” she said, her voice firm, certain.

He was relieved and terrified by her response. He didn’t deserve her trust, not with the life he lived. But he also knew he could use it, weaponize it to protect her.

He reached out, taking her hand in his. Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate against his palm. It took everything he had to stop himself from squeezing too hard, to avoid revealing the fear and desperation raging inside him.

He took another deep breath, gathering his words. “There’s something I need to tell you. And you have to promise you’ll hear me out, no matter how it sounds.”

There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but she squeezed his hand, reassuring him. “Okay,” she said, her voice calm, steady. “I’m listening.”

“I need you to pack a bag with only the essentials,” Max says. Her eyes widened, confusion clouding her features. “What?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. “What’s going on, Max?”

He squeezed her hand again, holding her gaze. “I’ll explain. Just please, pack a bag. Now.”

She was uneasy, but she nodded, reluctantly slipping her hand from his grip. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll go pack.”

He watched as she stood and walked towards the bedroom, her steps slow, almost reluctant. Once she disappeared from view, he let out a low curse. This was harder than he’d imagined.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly, the silence in the room like a physical presence. He couldn’t make himself sit still, he had to keep moving, keep his mind busy. He walked around the living room, his eyes constantly flicking towards the bedroom door. *What was taking her so long?*

Just when he was about to go check on her, she reappeared, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Her face was carefully blank, a stark contrast to the emotions he could see swirling in her eyes.

“Got everything?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. She nodded wordlessly, her fingers clenching the strap of the bag. He could see the hundred questions in her eyes, but she didn’t voice them. *Not yet.*

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “We need to go.”

She nodded again, following him as he turned towards the front door. She paused at the threshold, her eyes taking in the room one last time. It was clear the realization was setting in, the reality of what was happening. But she didn’t ask any questions.

As they walked out of the apartment, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t involved her in his life, she’d still be safe and comfortable in her home. But he couldn’t change the past, he could only try to protect her in the present.

He led her to his car, opening the passenger door for her. She climbed in, buckling her seatbelt silently. As he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of her face through the window. 

Her expression was solemn, her eyes wide and troubled. But there was no fear, no anger. Just a quiet, steady trust that both reassured and scared him.

He walked around the car, getting in the driver's seat. As he turned on the engine, he glanced over at her. “You’re quiet.” 

She looked over at him then, her eyes meeting his. “I’m scared,” she admitted in a soft voice. 

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d known she was scared, but hearing her say it out loud somehow made it more real, more urgent.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “I know.” 

He reached over, taking her hand in his again. “But I’m here. I’m going to protect you.”

For a moment, she simply held his gaze. Then she nodded, a determined look settling over her features. “I trust you.”

Those two simple words, spoken with such conviction, sent a wave of emotions through him. *She trusted him. She believed in him.*

He squeezed her hand, hoping she could feel all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t. Then he looked away, focusing on the road ahead.

The drive was mostly silent. He kept his eyes on the road, his mind working overtime. He was acutely aware of her presence next to him, her hand still in his. Every so often he would gently brush his thumb over her knuckles, a silent gesture of reassurance.

But as the minutes ticked by, she remained quiet. He didn’t blame her. There were so many questions, so much to take in. In her place, he’d probably be questioning his sanity right about now.

He wanted to explain himself, to tell her everything. But the words always stayed stuck in his throat, his fear of losing her overpowering everything else. They drove late into the night, the city lights gradually fading as they left the metropolitan area. He was heading for one of the small towns near the coast, a place where they could lie low. He would figure out the rest later. *He had to.*

As the city skyline gave way to open fields and the occasional farmhouse, she finally spoke. “Where are we going?” 

It was the first thing she’d said in hours. Her voice was just a whisper against the rumble of the engine, but it was enough to make his heart pound.

He looked over at her, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the road. “Somewhere safe,” he said simply.

It was a vague answer, but it was all he could give her at the moment. He couldn’t tell her they were running, that they were going to be living off the grid for the foreseeable future. That would only terrify her more. 

She didn’t press him, which he was grateful for. Instead, she turned away, looking out the window at the passing landscape. The silence settled back over them, thick and impenetrable. 

He could sense the tension radiating off her, the questions she was undoubtedly dying to ask. But she kept her mouth closed, keeping her trust in him despite the circumstances. They drove for hours, the night deepening around them. He checked the rearview mirror frequently, his eyes scanning the road behind for any sign of following cars. But the road remained empty, the taillights of other vehicles vanishing into the distance.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, the only anchor being the feel of her hand in his. He wanted to assure her, to tell her everything would be alright. But he knew that was a lie, at least for now. The worst was yet to come.

After another hour, they finally reached the edge of the small town. The streetlights were dim, the houses few and far between. This was good, it would be easier to lay low here.

He slowed the car as they entered town, driving past a closed gas station, a darkened diner, and a small motel. The motel signs were all turned off, the only light coming from a flickering neon sign advertising vacancies. He pulled into the parking lot, looking around the area with a critical eye. It was dead, with no cars or people in sight. *Perfect*.

He parked the car in a spot near the end of the lot, furthest away from the motel office. He killed the engine, the sudden silence in the car deafening. He looked over at her, trying to gauge her expression.

She was staring at him, the faint light from a streetlamp outside casting shadows on her face. He could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes, mixed with determination and resignation. He knew then that she would stay by his side no matter what.

He reached over, releasing her hand to brush his knuckles over her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm. For a moment, he forgot everything, lost in her. But reality came crashing back in, bringing with it the weight of the situation. He drew his hand back, clearing his throat. “We should probably check in.” 

She said nothing, simply nodding in agreement. He climbed out of the car, walking around to open her door for her. She climbed out, her legs a bit wobbly from the long drive. He offered her his arm for support, and she took it, her hand gripping his arm tight. They walked towards the motel office, their footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet night.

The office was small and dimly lit, the lobby almost deserted. The desk clerk looked up lazily as they entered, his eyes immediately zeroing in on their linked arms. Max could feel his gaze linger on their coupled hands, but he ignored it, concentrating on checking them in. The clerk, noticing the look in Max's eyes, wisely kept any comments to himself. He simply handed Max the key to one of the rooms, a silent agreement to not ask any questions. Max nodded in thanks, pulling y/n with him out of the office.

The night air was cold and crisp, a sharp contrast to the heat of the office. He led her towards the room, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel parking lot. He glanced at her occasionally, noticing the slight frown on her face and the way she shivered in the cold.

"We're almost there," he assured her, his voice soft. He hurried his steps, eager to get her out of the cold and into the warmth of the motel room. They reached the door, and he quickly unlocked it, pushing the door open to reveal the small room inside. The room was simple but clean. There was a queen-sized bed in the center, with a small desk and chair in the corner. The bathroom was a separate room, visible through an open door. The light from the streetlamp outside filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the room.

He ushered her inside, flicking on the light switch as he closed the door behind them. She looked around, taking in the room with wide eyes. Her gaze lingered on the bed for a moment before she looked at him, her brow furrowed in silent questioning. He could guess what she was thinking. There was only one bed, and they were not sharing it. He swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the ache in his chest at the thought. "I'll take the chair," he said, his voice gruff.

She looked at him, her lips parting as if to protest. But she seemed to think better of it, simply nodding instead. "Okay," she whispered. He looked away, the soft sound of her voice sending a jolt through him. It was going to be a long night. He walked over to the desk, pulled the chair out, and sat down. He leaned back against the hard plastic, closing his eyes and letting out a tired sigh.

He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. His mind was too busy, too overloaded with everything that had happened. And the knowledge that she was just a few feet away, so close and yet untouchable, was not helping matters. He opened his eyes, looking over at her. She was sitting on the bed, her legs drawn up to her chest, her fingers toying with a loose thread on the bedspread. She looked small and vulnerable, the fear and uncertainty on her face making his heartache. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, to promise her that everything would be fine. But he knew he couldn't, not yet. He had to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of control. For her sake as much as his own.

The silence in the room was deafening. He could hear every small sound, every breath, and every rustle of fabric. It was maddening, like a slow torture. But he forced himself to stay still, to focus on the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. She looked up then, her eyes catching him in the semi-darkness of the room. He held her gaze, his heart pounding in his ears. At that moment, all his carefully constructed walls crumbled, his desire and need for her almost overwhelming him.

He wanted to reach out to her, to drag her closer until there was no space between them. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to taste her lips, to hold her until they were both too tired to think.  But he didn't. He stayed where he was, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair, his entire body taut with restraint. *This was for her good, he kept reminding himself.* 

She was watching him, he could feel it. Her eyes were like a physical touch, sending shivers down his spine, and stirring up feelings he had no right to have. He wanted to break the silence, to say something, but he didn't trust his voice not to betray him. The seconds ticked by slowly, the only sound in the room was the steady tick of the wall clock. He could see her looking at him, her eyes tracing the contours of his face, lingering on his lips. It was almost unbearable, the heat in her gaze sending a bolt of desire straight through his gut. He wanted to look away, to break the spell her gaze seemed to have over him. But he couldn’t, his eyes locked on hers like a moth drawn to a flame. He could see the way her chest rose and fell, her breathing growing shallow and fast, matching his rapid heartbeat.

The tension in the room grew thicker, like a living thing between them. The air was electric, crackling with unspoken emotions. He could see her hands clenching and unclenching on the bedspread, and he knew she was struggling as he was, fighting against the pull of their mutual attraction. He clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his emotions, to keep his desire and need for her under control. But it was nearly impossible, every breath, every small movement she made, fanning the fire inside of him.

The air was thick with desire, and the silence between them charged with an almost tangible energy. He knew they were both teetering on the edge, the line between restraint and surrender growing thinner with each passing second.

He was the first to break, his resolve finally crumbling under the weight of his yearning. He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and something else. Hope, maybe, or anticipation. Max needed to escape the room; he felt suffocated as if life had punched him in the throat. Nothing was going the way he wanted. He walked to the door without looking back, desperate for a moment to breathe.

He had never felt this way before panic washed over him, and he didn’t know what to do. He stepped outside, the cold air biting at his skin. He leaned against the wall, taking in the cold night, trying to calm his frantic mind. He was supposed to be the one in control, the one who knew what he was doing. But right now, he was lost, drowning in his own emotions. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. He was used to being in charge, to calling the shots. But with her, everything was different. He felt raw and exposed, vulnerable in a way he'd sworn he'd never be again.

He drew in a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. He needed to pull himself together, to get a grip on the situation. But the image of her face, the need and desire he saw in her eyes, were branded in his mind, making it impossible to think. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise in his head. But the silence of the night only amplified the sound of his heartbeat, the rush of his blood. He had never felt so alive, so on edge. And it was terrifying.

The sun was just starting to rise on the horizon, casting the world in a soft, golden light. Max was driving, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his mind still a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The silence in the car was heavy, the weight of the night's events hanging heavily in the air. y/n was sitting in the passenger seat, her body turned slightly towards him, her eyes fixed on his profile. He could feel her gaze on him, like a physical touch, stirring up feelings he had no right to feel.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, his voice gravelly. He didn't look at her, his eyes firmly on the road ahead. He didn't trust himself to look at her now, to see the expression on her face. "I didn't." her reply was quiet, almost a whisper. It sent a pang of guilt through him, knowing that he was the reason she couldn't sleep. He could picture her, lying awake in the darkness, trying to find a comfortable position in the cramped bed. 

"Me either," he admitted, his voice hoarse. He hadn't slept a wink, his mind too busy, his body too tense. He had spent the night pacing the tiny motel room, trying to walk off his restless energy, but it had been futile. They fell into silence again, the only sound the hum of the engine and the tires on the road. Max clenched his jaw, the tension in the car almost unbearable. He was desperate to say something, to break the silence, but he didn't know what to say.

He glanced at her from the corner of his, taking in her profile, the way her hair fell in soft waves around her face. She looked tired, her eyes a little puffy from lack of sleep. But she was still beautiful, more so than ever in the soft morning light. He looked away, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He needed to keep his distance, to remember why he had left the room last night in the first place. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way his heart ached when he looked at her, the way his body responded to her presence.

But he was also afraid. Not of her, but of himself, of the feelings he had for her. He had always been in control, never allowing himself to be vulnerable or emotional. It was what had made him successful, what had made him the man he was today. And he was terrified of losing that control, of becoming someone else because of her. But then he caught another glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, her head resting against the seat, her eyes closed. She was dozing off, her eyelashes casting little shadows on her cheeks. He felt a pang in his chest, a strange mix of longing and protectiveness. 

The drive continued, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and her soft, even breaths. Max's thoughts continued to churn, his emotions swirling in a tangle of confusion and desire. He had never felt this way before, so out of control, so at the mercy of his feelings. He glanced at her again, his eyes lingering on her face, the peace and innocence in her sleep. He wanted to commit her to memory, to imprint every detail into his mind. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do, but he couldn't help it.

Y/N stood by the window now, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Max was still by the fireplace, sharpening the knives he kept in his bag. The quiet weight of their shared history hung in the air.

“I never thanked you properly for that night,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. She hadn’t spoken about it before, but the memory was still so vivid in her mind. That night had changed everything.

Max didn’t look up, his movements steady and mechanical as he worked. “You don’t need to,” he replied, his voice neutral, as always. “I did what I had to.”

She looked at him for a moment, searching for some hint of what he was feeling. For so long, Max had been a closed book. She had tried to get to know him—know him—but every time she felt like she was getting closer, he shut himself off again.

But now, in this quiet cabin, with the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face, Y/N noticed a difference. He wasn’t the same man who had stepped into that alley that night. She wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but she felt a shift between them. Something unspoken, growing.

Max paused in his work, the knife hanging in the air for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sharp edge of the blade. He had felt the shift too, the tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. But he was afraid, that if he looked at her now, if he let himself acknowledge what he was feeling, he would not be able to keep his distance.

"I didn't expect a thank you," he said gruffly, his fingers resuming their work, the sound of the sharpening stone against metal filling the room.

Y/N turned back to the window, the last vestiges of sunlight painting the horizon in pinks and oranges. The world outside was quiet, and peaceful, in stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside her. She knew better than to push him, to try to force him to open up. But she couldn't help but want to know him, to understand the enigma that was Max Verstappen.

"Why did you do it, Max?" she asked, her voice soft. "Why did you help me that night?" 

Max's hand paused again, the knife still in his hand, the stone poised over the blade. He knew she would ask him this one day. But he wasn't ready to answer, to confront the reality of his feelings.

"It was the right thing to do," he said simply, resuming his movement, the sound of the stone against metal filling the silence. Y/N turned, leaning against the windowsill, her eyes on him. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set, the way he was trying to pretend he was focused on his task. But she knew better.

"Is that the only reason?" she pressed, her voice soft, yet insistent. Max didn’t answer, the silence stretching between them. He could feel her gaze, the questions she was asking without words. He wanted to answer her, to tell her the truth. But he was a coward, too afraid to confess his feelings.

"What other reason could there be?" he asked, feigning nonchalance, his eyes fixed on the knife blade. Y/N felt a pang in her chest at his response. There were so many other reasons, so many things she longed to hear from him, but she knew he wouldn’t say them. Not now, maybe not ever.

"There could be dozens of reasons," she said, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Curiosity, boredom, a sense of obligation..."

Max's hand paused, the knife balanced idly against the whetstone. He could hear the disappointment in her voice, the subtle hint of hurt. It made his gut clench, but he pushed the feeling down, burying it under his practiced indifference.

"You’re overthinking it," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Y/N felt a sting of anger at his words, his aloofness setting her nerves on edge. She knew he was trying to push her away, to shut down any chance of an honest conversation, but she was tired of his walls.

"I’m not overthinking it," she retorted, her voice rising slightly. “You’re under-feeling it, as usual.”

Max looked up at her then, his eyes sharp, his expression guarded. He knew she was right, he knew he was bottling up his feelings, but he didn’t know any other way. Showing vulnerability was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

"And you’re overreacting," he shot back, the words meant to hurt as much as they were meant to deflect. Y/N felt her anger flare, her frustration boiling over. She had tried to understand him, to be patient, to look beyond his cold exterior, but he was making it nearly impossible.

"I’m not overreacting," she nearly snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "I’m trying to understand, to get you to talk to me. But you’re just shutting me out... again." 

Max's hands gripped the knife and stone more tightly, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched. Her words stung more than he'd like to admit, hitting too close to home.

"There’s nothing to talk about,” he bit out, his voice cold. "You’re looking for something that isn’t there, y/n. You’re imagining things."

Y/N felt a pang of hurt at his words, his cold dismissal like a slap to the face. She had felt that there was more to them, a connection that was hard to ignore. But he was denying it, shutting down any possibility of more.

"Then maybe I’m delusional," she muttered, her voice filled with an aching sadness. "Because I thought... Nevermind."

Max could hear the sadness in her voice, the resignation that was setting in, and he hated it. Hated himself a little for causing it. But he didn’t know how to change, how to be the man she wanted him to be. 

"You think too much," he tried to joke, but the attempt fell flat, his voice lacking the usual humor.

Y/N’s heart was breaking a little more with each word he said. She had hoped for so much more, for a real conversation, for some sign that he felt something for her, something more than just obligation or curiosity. 

"And you don’t think enough," she retorted, her voice sharp. "You’re hiding, Max. Behind those walls, you’ve built up around yourself. And they’re getting taller each day."

Max’s grip on the knife tightened even more, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He hated that she knew him so well, that she could see through his walls like they were tissue paper.

"They're there for a reason," he ground out. "To keep me—and people like you—safe." 

Y/N felt a mixture of anger and pain surge through her at his words. He was shutting her out, pushing her away, because he was scared. 

"Safe?" she repeated, her voice rising. "You don’t push people away for their good, Max. You do it because you’re afraid. Afraid of feeling, of being vulnerable." Max’s eyes flashed at her words, his temper flaring. Her accusations were like knives, stabbing at his weak spots, exposing his vulnerabilities. 

"I’m not afraid," he snapped, his voice hard and cold. "I’m just realistic. Feelings get you killed in my world." Y/N felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, the depth of his loneliness and fear making her heartache. But her anger was flaring too, her frustration with his stubbornness fueling her words.

"Maybe in your world," she retorted her voice firm and even. "But in my world, feelings are what make life worth living. And you’re missing out, Max. You’re missing out big time."

Max almost threw the knife down, the stone clattering to the floor. The anger inside him was building, threatening to boil over. He couldn’t understand how to make her so emotional, how she could just wear her feelings on her sleeve. 

"Feelings get you killed, y/n," he repeated, his voice like ice. "They make you weak, a target. I’d have been dead years ago if I let myself feel."

Y/N clenched her fists, the urge to punch him rising. But she somehow restrained herself, holding herself back from giving in to her anger.

"Weak?" she repeated, her voice shaking with rage. "Feelings make you human, Max. They make you who you are, who you ought to be. And you’re missing out on all of it because you’re too damned stubborn to try."

Max’s chest was heaving now, his breaths coming in short, hard gasps. Her words were like bullets, each one finding its mark. But he refused to show weakness, to acknowledge the truth in her words. 

"I don’t need your understanding or your compassion," he growled, his hands shaking with anger and suppressed emotion. "I’m fine the way I am."

Y/N took a step towards him, her anger burning bright. "No," she shot back, her voice steady despite the fire in her eyes. "You’re not fine, Max. You’re alone. You always will be if you don’t pull your head out of your ass."

Max’s eyes widened in shock at her outburst. No one had ever spoken to him like this, so bluntly, so boldly. It was both frustrating and enthralling. 

"Watch how you speak to me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You’re way out of your depth here, y/n."

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the sound harsh and dry. "I’ll speak to you any way I damn please, Max," she bit back, closing the remaining distance so she was standing right in front of him. "And you don’t scare me. Not one bit."

Max’s breath caught in his chest as she got closer, her insolent tone and fearless stare sparking an unfamiliar feeling in him. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to make her understand the danger she was in. But he also wanted to pull her closer, to feel her warmth against him, to lose himself in her fire. 

"You should be scared," he managed to say, his voice hoarse, his body tensing.

Y/N met his gaze without flinching, her eyes holding him with a fire that he’d never seen before. "I’m not," she replied, her voice steady. "Because I know you won’t hurt me. You may pretend to be this cold, hard killer, but deep down, you’re nothing of the sort."

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Max finally confesses that he loved her, that her being here, in this cabin, with him, was by his design. It was overwhelming, the sheer weight of emotion in his words, the rawness in his voice. 

“Max” She took a step closer, her hands reaching out as if to touch him, to anchor herself against the storm of emotions threatening to knock her off her feet. He flinched as he felt her hands on his chest, her touch like electricity on his skin. He had never been one to crave physical contact, but now, with her, it was like a drug. He wanted more, so much more. 

"Don’t," he said, his hands coming up to grasp her wrists, to keep her from getting any closer. "Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me like that." Y/N ignored his request, her fingers tracing the lines of muscle on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart underneath his shirt. "Why?" she asked, her voice soft, her eyes fixed on his. "Why can’t I touch you? Why can’t I look at you?"

Max felt himself shudder at her touch, every nerve ending in his body alive with a strange fire. He should have pushed her away, should have put an end to this madness. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

"Because Because " he stammered, his mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings. "Because if you keep looking at me like that if you keep touching me… I won’t be able to control myself."

Y/N noticed the desperation in his voice and the hunger in his eyes. She knew he was fighting a losing battle, fighting his feelings. But she couldn't stop herself from pushing him further, from wanting more. 

"And what if I don’t want you to control yourself?" she teased, her fingers dancing over his skin, tracing the muscles of his shoulders. Max was coming undone beneath her touch, her words sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t resist any longer, the dam he had built up around his emotions was cracking.

"You don’t know what you're saying," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. But his hands on her wrists were gentler now, no longer trying to push her away. Y/N moved even closer, her body now pressed against his, her hands sliding up to his neck. She could feel the heat from his body, her heart racing. 

"I know exactly what I’m saying," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "I want you, Max. All of you. And I won’t let you push me away."

Max was drowning in her touch, in her words, in her scent. He could feel her body against his, her breath on his skin. Every instinct he had was telling him to push her away, to save her from himself. But the desire, the need to have her was overpowering.

"You don’t know what you’re getting into," he husked, his hands finally leaving her wrists, moving to her hips instead, pulling her even closer. "Once I have you, I’m never letting go." 

“God Max you're so dumb if you haven’t realized that you’ve had me since that night you saved my life” y/n admitted. Max's eyes widened at her words, the truth of them hitting him hard. He had had her all along, and he hadn't even realized it. He was so used to being alone, so used to guarding his heart, that he had missed the one person who had cared about him, truly and deeply. 

"You’re mine," he said, his voice almost a growl, his hands grabbing her hips more tightly. "No one else gets to have you, to touch you, to love you. Ever."

Y/N felt a thrill go through her at his possessive tone, the primal need in his voice. It should have scared her, to be claimed by a man like Max, a dangerous and complicated man. But it didn’t. It only made her want him more. 

"Then take me, Max," she whispered, her hands running down his chest, to the hem of his shirt. "Make me yours, completely."

Max’s control snapped. The last shred of restraint was gone, replaced with a fierce hunger, a primal need. He wanted her, needed her more than ever, and he was going to have her.

He pulled her against him, his mouth crashing onto hers in a bruising kiss. He devoured her, ravishing her mouth, claiming her body, making her his.

Y/N felt herself melt against him, her body submitting to his, giving him everything he wanted. The kiss was wild, unbridled, a tangle of teeth and tongue and passion. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as he kissed her, as his hands roamed over her body, claiming her with every touch. Y/N felt herself melt against him, her body submitting to his, giving him everything he wanted. The kiss was wild, unbridled, a tangle of teeth and tongue and passion. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as he kissed her, as his hands roamed over her body, claiming her with every touch. Max tasted her as if she were his last meal as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He pushed her back against the nearest wall, his body pressing against hers, his hands exploring her curves, claiming every inch of her.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin, marking her as his own. Y/N arched against him, her body responding to his touch, to his claim. Every nerve ending was on fire, her body aflame with desire. She had never felt like this before, so wanted, so desired. 

Her hands moved to his hair, her fingers tangling in his locks as she held him closer, begging for more. Max felt her surrender to him, her body responding to his every touch. He loved the way she felt in his arms, loved the way her body moved against his. His mind was hazy with desire, his skin on fire with need. 

His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, his fingers slipping under the fabric, pulling it up and off over her head. Y/N gasped as he pulled off her shirt, her skin bare now, sensitive to his touch. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, his hands roaming over her exposed flesh, his touch sending shivers down her spine. 

Her own hands were exploring his chest, her fingers tracing the hard planes of muscle, her nails scraping lightly over his skin. Max groaned at her touch, her nails on his skin making his head spin. He couldn’t get enough of her, he needed more. 

He pushed her back against the wall once more, his mouth finding her neck, his teeth scraping over her collarbone. His hands moved to the waistband of her pants, unbuttoning them, and pulling them down her legs. Y/N felt herself being stripped of every bit of clothing, Max’s hands and mouth leaving a trail of heat on her skin. She was bare before him, vulnerable and yet powerful in her desire for him. 

She pulled at his shirt now, needing to feel his skin against hers, needing to be as close to him as possible. Max pulled back just long enough to rip off his shirt, his chest now bare, his breathing heavy. He pulled her back against him, the skin-to-skin contact sending a jolt through his body. 

He picked her up effortlessly, carrying her towards the bed and laying her down gently. He looked at her there, lying beneath him, beautiful and perfect and completely his. Y/N looked up at him, the heat in his eyes stealing her breath. She had never felt so desired, so wanted, so needed. She reached for him, pulling him down on top of her, her hands roaming over his back, her legs wrapping around his waist. 

Max leaned down, his body covering hers, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss. His hands were everywhere, his touch desperate, needy. He was on the verge of losing control, consumed by the fire that burned for her alone. 

He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down her neck, her chest, his teeth nipping at her skin, marking her, claiming her. Y/N arched against him, her body moving in a rhythm all its own, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. She was lost in a sea of sensations, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her. 

She ran her hands over his back, her fingers tracing over the taut muscles, her nails scraping lightly, trying to urge him on. Max felt her nails on his skin, the sting of it only fueling the fire within him. He moved lower, his mouth finding her chest, his tongue flicking over her peaks, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to make her his completely. 

Y/N felt herself coming undone beneath him, her body responding to his every touch, his every move. She was burning for him, her body on fire with desire. She wanted him, needed him, more than anything. 

"Max," she gasped, her voice rough and breathless. "Please. I need you. Now."

Max didn't need any more encouragement. He was past the point of no return, consumed by his need for her, his entire body on edge. He positioned himself at her entrance, his body thrumming with anticipation. 

He looked down at her, her eyes wild and desperate, her body begging for him. He wanted to savor this moment, to commit it to memory. But the need was too overpowering, the hunger too strong.Y/N looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, holding his gaze. She could see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained need burning within him. She wanted to say something, to express her own need, but she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t break the spell. 

Instead, she reached for him, her hands pulling him down to her, her body arching against his, silently begging for him to give her what they both so desperately needed. Max couldn't hold back any longer. The feel of her body against his, the fire in her eyes, it was all too much. 

He pushed into her slowly, her body welcoming him, her heat enveloping him. He groaned, her name a whisper on his lips, as he felt himself being pulled deeper, closer. 

He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm at first, trying to savor this moment, to make it last. But the feeling, the sheer intensity of it, was too much. He found himself moving faster, harder, deeper, consumed by the need to own her, to make her his, to love her. Max lost himself in her, his body moving with a primal rhythm, his thoughts consumed by desire, by need. He was lost in her, in the feel of her body, the taste of her skin, the sound of her cries. 

He wanted more, needed more. He needed all of her.

He moved even faster, harder, pulling her closer, deeper, trying to fuse them completely. The pleasure was building, hot and intense, driving them to pleasure. Y/N gasped as he moved, the pleasure building and building, so intense it was on the edge of pain. She held onto him, her nails digging into his skin, her body writhing beneath his.

She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, her mind consumed by the sensations, by the burning need. It was all too much, and yet not enough. She wanted more, needed more.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on, crying out his name, lost in the fire they had.

Max was beyond reason, beyond control. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, burning him up from the inside out. 

He moved even faster, deeper, his body on autopilot, driven by the primal need to possess her, to claim her completely. 

His hand found her hip, his fingers digging in, holding her in place, holding her to him. "Mine," he growled, his voice rough and possessive. "You’re mine. All mine." Y/N felt the words down to her core, the possessive tone sending shivers through her body. She wanted to deny it, to rebel against the claim, but the feeling was too strong. She was his, in body, mind, and soul. 

She moved with him, her body responding to his every move, every touch. She could feel the pleasure building, intense and overwhelming. 

She reached for him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "God, Max," she gasped, her voice breathless, "I’m yours. All yours."

Max felt her words like a jolt of electricity. He loved hearing her say it, to hear her admit that she was his. It only fueled the fire within him. 

He moved even harder, deeper, the need to claim her completely overpowering him. He could feel himself losing control, teetering on the edge. 

He leaned down, his mouth finding her neck, his teeth scraping over her skin. "Say it again," he commanded, his voice rough and possessive. "Say you're mine."

Y/N gasped, the pleasure building to almost unbearable heights. The words came easily this time, the truth of them making her heartache. "I’m yours," she repeated, her voice hoarse and breathless. "I’m yours, all yours, Max. Only yours."

Max felt his body tense at her words, the fire within him burning hotter than ever. He was so close, so close to losing himself completely. 

He moved harder, faster, deeper, his body and mind completely consumed by pleasure, by need. 

He found her mouth, kissing her fiercely, claiming her in every way possible. "You’re mine," he growled against her lips, "Mine forever." Y/N felt the words wash over her, the possessiveness in them igniting a fire within her. She was lost, completely lost to the sensations, to the feelings he was evoking. 

She met his kisses with her own, her body moving with his, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. 

"Yes," she gasped, her voice breathless and strained, "Always. Always yours."

Max felt the pleasure building, the pressure within him mounting. It was too much. He was on the verge of losing control, losing himself completely to the fire within him. 

He moved with a frantic pace, his body driven by the need to claim her, to make her fully his. 

He looked down at her, his eyes locking with hers, holding her gaze as he teetered on the edge, the pleasure reaching its peak. "Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and desperate, "Say my name." Y/N felt his body tensing, felt the need in his voice, the fire in his eyes. She was lost in the sensations, in the overwhelming pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes holding his, her body responding to his every move. 

She reached up and cupped his face, her thumbs tracing over his skin. "Max," she breathed, her voice a mere whisper, "Max, I'm yours."

Max felt her say his name, the sound of it like a spark igniting the fire within him. The need, the desire, the love he felt for her was overwhelming, all-consuming. 

He was on the edge now, so close to losing himself completely. 

He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in harsh gasps. "Damn it, Y/N," he whispered, his voice strained, "I love you, I love you so much it hurts."

Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart swelling in her chest. She'd never heard him say those words before, and hearing them now, in this moment, it was overwhelming. 

She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. "Max," she said, her voice a broken whisper. "I love you too."

Those words, those three little words, they were all it took. 

Max felt everything in him explode. The pleasure, the need, the love, it all boiled over, consuming him completely.

He let out a guttural moan, his body trembling as he found his release, his mind completely blank, his senses overwhelmed. 

He held onto her, his body collapsing on top of hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "God, Y/N," he managed to say, his voice rough and hoarse, "I love you so damn much." 

Y/N felt him shudder against her, the pleasure in his voice sending a thrill through her. She held onto him tightly, her arms around his shoulders, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her release. 

She held him close, her body cradling his, her hands gently running through his hair. "I love you," she murmured, her voice soft and filled with emotion, "So, so much." 

Max buried his face in her neck, his breaths still coming in ragged gasps. He felt raw, vulnerable, and exposed. But he didn't care. 

He'd just told her he loved her, something he'd never said to anyone before. He'd just given himself to her completely, body, mind, and soul. And it felt right. It felt good. 

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, his expression soft and filled with tenderness. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "Promise me something."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. She could see the vulnerability in his gaze, the soft tenderness in his expression. 

She ran her fingers gently over his cheek, an unspoken promise in her touch. "Anything," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Max felt his heart clench at her response, her words filling him with a mix of hope and fear. He knew what he was about to ask was a lot, a huge risk. But he had to take the chance.

He leaned his forehead against hers, their noses almost touching. "Promise me you'll stay with me," he said, his voice rough and hoarse, "No matter what." Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words. She could hear the fear in his voice, the desperate need for reassurance. 

She lifted her hand, her fingers tracing over his jawline, a silent promise in the touch. "I promise," she said, her voice so soft it was barely a whisper. "I'll stay, no matter what. Always." Max felt a wave of relief and gratitude wash over him at her words. Her promise, her reassurance, it was exactly what he needed to hear. 

He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her, his body molding to hers. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, the scent of her like a balm to his soul. 

He had put his heart on the line, had bared his soul to her, and she had not run away. She had stood her ground and had made him a promise. It was more than he ever dared to hope for. Y/N held him back just as tightly, her arms around his waist, her body fitting against his like a puzzle piece. 

She could feel the strength in him, the vulnerability. She could see the walls he had worked so hard to build starting to crumble, because of her. Because he loved her.

She ran her fingers through his hair gently, whispering, "I'm not going anywhere, Max. You're stuck with me now." Max chuckled softly against her, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement.

"Oh, I'm stuck with you, am I?" he asked, lifting his head to look down at her, a smirk playing on his lips. 

He tightened his arms around her, pressing her even closer, his tone teasing. "I guess there's no getting rid of you then, hm?" Y/N laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with humor. "Nope, sorry. You're stuck with me forever," she quipped, feigning an apologetic tone.

She reached up and ruffled his hair, a wicked gleam in her eye. "You should've thought about that before you fell in love with me," she teased, a smirk curving her lips. Max huffed out a laugh at her retort, his eyes narrowing in mock irritation. "Oh, and that's on me, is it?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

He pinched her side gently, his fingers drumming against her hip. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he said, his tone affectionate. Y/N yelped at the pinch, her body jerking against his. She tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he held her fast, his grip firm but gentle.

She looked up at him, her expression a mix of mock indignation and playful defiance. "Me, a pain in the ass?" she asked, her words flavored with a hint of laughter, "Oh, please. You love it." 

Max chuckled again, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. He pulled her even closer, his body pressing against hers.

"Maybe I do," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Maybe I love it just as much as I love you."

He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin, his words muffled against her skin. "God, you drive me crazy, you know that?" 

Y/N shivered as he nuzzled her neck, her breath hitching at the feel of his lips against her skin. 

She tipped her head back, offering him better access, her hands roaming over his back, tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "I don't know," she said, her voice teasing, "Am I supposed to be sorry about that?"

Max nipped at her neck, his teeth grazing over her skin, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to send a shiver down her spine. 

"No," he said, his voice a low growl, "You're not sorry about it, are you?"

He pulled away slightly, looking down at her, his eyes smoldering with heat. "You love driving me crazy," he said, his tone rough and raw. Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes, the desire, the heat, it was almost too much to bear.

She felt her own body responding to his, her heart rate quickening, her skin heating up. 

"Maybe a little bit," she admitted slowly, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. "But can you blame me? You make it so damn easy." Max's eyes darkened at her words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He tightened his arms around her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. 

"You're playing with fire, darling," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "Careful, or I might just lose control again." Y/N met his gaze, her expression one of feigned innocence. "Who, me?" she asked, her voice dripping with sweetness. 

She pressed a hand against his chest, her fingers splayed out over his thudding heart. "But I like seeing you lose control," she confessed, her voice a sultry whisper. "It's incredibly hot." Max's eyes nearly rolled back into his head at her admission, her words like fuel to the fire already burning within him. He leaned forward, his mouth by her ear, his breath hot against her skin. 

"You're a damn tease," he growled, "And you know it." Y/N chuckled, her breath hitching at the feel of his breath on her skin. "Guilty as charged," she admitted, her tone unapologetic. 

She shifted against him, her body moving in an unmistakably provocative way. "But you love it," she added, her voice dripping with sultriness.

Max growled again, his hands tightening on her hips, his body responding to her movements. He was losing control again, he could feel it. 

He could feel the fire within him burning hotter and hotter, the need for her overwhelming. He fought to hold on, to keep his control, but he was losing the battle fast.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, his voice rough and strained. "I'm not going to be gentle."

Max's eyes darkened, and his breath caught in his throat. Her touch, her words, they were pushing him towards the edge. 

Y/N relished the tone of his voice, the low rumble that sent a shiver of desire down her spine. Her hands roamed over his body, her touch light but intentional, designed to fuel the blaze within him. "Who said I wanted you to be gentle?" she asked, her fingers tracing a path down his chest. He could feel his control slipping away, the fire within him burning white-hot. He leaned down, his voice a husky whisper against her ear, "Be careful what you ask for."

Y/N shivered at the heat in his voice, his words sending a thrill through her body. 

She pressed herself closer to him, her breath coming in short gasps. "I don't want to be careful," she breathed, her hands wandering further down, brushing over the front of his trousers. 

"I want you, Max, all of you." Max's breath hitched at her words, at the feel of her hand on him. His body was taut, his muscles coiled and tense, ready to snap.

He let out a guttural moan, his hands gripping her hips so tightly it was almost painful.

"You're driving me insane," he ground out, his voice rough and desperate. "You're going to be the death of me, I swear."

Y/N loved seeing him like this, desperate and unhinged, all because of her. 

She pressed her body against his, her hands exploring the planes of his chest. "Maybe that's kind of the point," she teased, her voice low and sultry. 

"Maybe I want to drive you insane. Maybe I want you to lose control." Max knew he was losing control, but he couldn't find it in him to care. 

He took his time exploring her body, his touch gentle and reverent. He paid attention to every little gasp and moan that escaped her lips, memorizing what she liked, what made her body arch and shudder beneath him. 

He wanted to imprint this moment in his memory, to commit her every reaction, every sound, to memory. 

"You're so damn beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse and rough. Y/N was lost in a haze of pleasure, her body responding to every touch, every caress. 

She'd never experienced anything like this before, this maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, this feeling of being worshiped and adored. 

She ran her hands over his back, digging her fingers into his flesh, her voice a ragged whisper. "Max please " Max wanted time to stop leaving them in this moment forever but he was a rational man and he knew his with y/n was limited so he would give her anything he wanted. Max pressed his forehead against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"What do you want, darling?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes holding hers. 

"Anything. I'll give you anything you want."

Y/N felt a wave of tenderness wash over her at his words, at the look in his eyes. 

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, her thumb tracing over his cheek. "I want you," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. 

"Just you. I want all of you." 

Max's eyes darkened at her words, his heart swelling in his chest. 

He turned his head, his lips brushing over the palm of her hand. "You have me, darling," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You have all of me. I'm yours, completely yours."

Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart fluttering in her chest. 

She pulled him down for a kiss, her lips moving hungrily against his. 

"You're mine," she breathed, her voice filled with a possessive edge, "And I'm not letting you go, Max. I'm never letting you go." Max returned her kiss with equal fervor, his body pressing hers into the mattress. 

He broke away from her mouth, his teeth grazing over her neck. 

"You're not getting rid of me, darling," he growled, his voice a raw, possessive rumble.  "I'm yours. For as long as you'll have me." Max says looking down at her. 

Y/n smiled sweetly up at cradling the side of his face “of course I’ll have you max. I’ll always have you” she says softly before kissing him. 

The next morning, Max found himself slumped in the old, creaky chair by the window, sunlight streaming in and casting warm patches across the worn wooden floor. On the table beside him lay the gun he had been meticulously cleaning, now untouched and gathering dust, as if it mirrored the chaos in his mind. He stared blankly at the intricate details of the firearm the way the light glinted off its polished metal, the grooves of the handle that felt oddly familiar in his grip but his thoughts were far from the present moment. 

The sharp scent of gunpowder lingered in the air as Max stood in the dimly lit warehouse, his eyes locked on the lifeless body of the man on the floor. Blood pooled around him, staining the concrete beneath. Max’s pulse barely quickened. He’d done this before. It had become second nature clean, efficient, unemotional.

Behind him, his father, Jos, stood with his arms crossed, watching the scene with a calm, detached gaze. It was as if this was nothing more than a business transaction. A simple job.

Max wiped the blood from his hands, his heart heavy but his face blank. He was eighteen, and already he’d seen more violence than most men saw in a lifetime. Jos had taught him well and had made sure his son knew the price of loyalty and the consequences of betrayal.

“Clean it up, Max,” Jos said, his voice low but commanding. “We don’t leave a mess.”

Max didn’t reply. There was no need for words. He moved to the side, motioning to the men who had been waiting for this moment. They began to drag the body out of sight, and Max turned his focus back to his father.

Jos approached, his gaze sharp and assessing. “You did good. You’re ready.”

Max swallowed the bitterness that rose in his throat. “Ready for what, exactly?”

Jo’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Ready to take on bigger jobs. You’ve proven yourself in the field. You understand the power we hold, the loyalty that binds us.” He looked Max over with a keen eye. “Now, it’s time you start carrying out the work that will solidify our family’s hold over this city.”

Max’s stomach tightened. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going, but he wasn’t in a position to question it. Not then.

Jos stepped closer, his voice lowering. “This isn’t just about muscle, son. It’s about strategy. You’ll be making decisions. Learning how to control men, how to make deals, how to enforce our will. This city belongs to us, and I expect you to protect it.”

Max nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knew that this was more than just killing. This was about taking power, holding onto it with an iron fist, and doing whatever it took to keep the family at the top. He had been raised to believe that this was his destiny.

A few months later, Max was in the backseat of a sleek black car, his knuckles white from gripping the leather seat. His father’s business was expanding, and that meant more jobs—jobs that Max didn’t feel comfortable doing but never once questioned. His father had trained him to be ruthless, and he would be.

They had just finished a deal with a rival faction, and things had gone south. One of the men involved had tried to double-cross Jos. Now, they were on their way to deal with him, to make sure he never did it again.

Max didn’t speak much during the ride. He stared out of the window, his mind going over the plan. Jos had made it clear. The traitor had to pay the price. There was no room for weakness.

When the car stopped in front of an old warehouse, Max’s body tensed. This wasn’t just a simple hit. The man they were after had family—his wife, his kids. Max had never been asked to kill an innocent person before, but he knew the game well enough to know that in the world they lived in, anyone could be collateral damage.

Jos stepped out first, followed by Max and his men. They moved swiftly, heading toward the building. Max’s heart raced as they approached the door, knowing what would come next.

Inside, the man was waiting. He was on his knees, hands bound, his face pale with fear. His wife and children were behind him, terrified, clinging to each other. Jos gave a casual glance over his shoulder to Max, his voice calm but chilling.

“Make sure the wife and kids know their place. Don’t let them forget why this happened.”

Max stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. It wasn’t just the man’s life at stake now. His whole family was caught in the crossfire.

But Jos didn’t hesitate. He ordered the man to be executed in front of his family, making sure the wife and children witnessed it. Max’s stomach churned as he tried to keep his focus, trying to remind himself that this was the life they lived, that this was what he was trained for. Yet something inside him twisted, recoiling at the sight of the child’s tear-filled eyes.

Afterward, as they walked back to the car, Jos didn’t say a word about the mess they’d left behind, the people who would now be marked for life. But Max could see the pride in his father’s eyes. He had done his job. He had proven himself. But in the silence that followed, Max couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that what he’d just done was a step too far.

Max sat alone in his father’s office one evening, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on him. He was twenty-two at the time, more deeply enmeshed in the family business than ever before. But it was starting to feel like a prison, and he was beginning to realize he had no way out.

Jos entered the room, his demeanor calm but cold. He had a job for Max a big one. But this time, it wasn’t about taking out a rival. This time, it was personal.

“There’s a traitor within our ranks,” Jos said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “I need you to take care of him.”

Max looked up, his gaze steady. He had seen this before. He had been the one to carry out such orders countless times. But this time, it felt different. His hand clenched into a fist under the table.

“Who is it?” Max asked, his voice even.

Jos leaned forward, his eyes hard. “Yusuf.”

Max froze. The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Yusuf had always been a thorn in the side of the family, but Jos had never considered him a threat not until now.

“What’s he done?” Max asked, his voice tight.

Jos didn’t answer directly. Instead, he dropped a folder onto the desk. Inside, Max found surveillance photos of Yusuf meeting with rival factions, scheming behind his back.

“He’s trying to take control of the business. He’s planning a coup,” Jos said, his tone cold. “And I won’t let it happen. You will take care of it, Max. I’m counting on you.”

Max stared at the photos for a long moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He knew what this meant. If he killed Marco, there would be no turning back. He would be fully entrenched in his father’s empire, forever.

But it wasn’t just about loyalty anymore. It was about control about power. Max knew he had a choice, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure he was ready to make it.

Jos watched him closely, waiting for a response. But Max didn’t speak. His mind was already racing, wondering if he could ever truly break free from the chains his father had wrapped around him.

Max had been raised with expectations. His father, Jos, had made sure Max understood early on that loyalty to the family came first. There was no room for weakness, no room for doubt. When Max was barely eighteen, he had been sent on his first assignment”more like an initiation.

He still remembered the cold, sterile office of the warehouse, the pungent scent of cigar smoke hanging thick in the air as Jos spoke in that firm, commanding voice.

“You will do what is necessary, Max,” Jos had said. “There is no going back from this life. Remember that.”

Max’s first job was simple: eliminate a rival. No questions asked. No hesitation.

It was a clean job. A quiet job. He did what was required and moved on. There were no emotions, no second thoughts”only the task at hand. But that night, when he saw life leave the man’s eyes, something inside him shifted. Something that told him this was the path he had to follow, whether he wanted to or not.

He’d buried that feeling deep, knowing that he couldn’t afford to feel it. Not in his world. 

“Max?” Y/N’s voice snapped him back to the present, her soft, hesitant tone pulling him out of his thoughts.

He turned to face her, blinking in surprise. “What is it?”

She studied him carefully, her expression softening. “I don’t know why you keep doing this for me… But I think I get it now.”

Max frowned slightly. “Get what?”

“Why do you keep pushing everyone away,” Y/N said, her eyes locking onto him. “Why don't you let people get too close.”

Max’s breath caught in his throat. It was like she could see right through him. He wanted to deny it, to brush her words off, but instead, he found himself standing there, looking at her as if she were the only thing that made sense anymore.

“I don’t know how to be anything else,” he admitted quietly, the walls in his chest cracking just enough to let a little vulnerability slip through.

Y/N stepped closer, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be that person anymore. You don’t have to push people away. Not with me.”

Max’s eyes flickered to hers, and for the first time in a long time, he felt the pull of something warm. Something genuine.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready to let go of everything he’d known, but with Y/N standing theres someone who wasn’t afraid of his darkness he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could try.

A few months ago, Max had been faced with the ultimate test of loyalty. His father had tasked him with making a choice: protect the family’s interests or eliminate anyone who stood in their way. There was no room for both.

But something had happened. Something Max couldn’t explain. When he thought about Y/N the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel like he wasn’t just his father’s son Max realized that he didn’t want to keep living a life based on violence and betrayal.

The night he decided to leave, he didn’t say goodbye to anyone. He just left, taking only what he needed. He couldn’t tell Y/N why he was doing it not yet but he knew one thing: He was done with the mafia. For her. For himself.

Max sat beside Y/N, the flickering fire casting long shadows across the room. They had spent the day in silence, both lost in their thoughts, yet more connected than ever. After weeks of running, of living in constant fear, tonight felt different. It felt like they were finding a new rhythm, a new normal.

Max glanced over at Y/N, who was staring into the fire, her expression contemplative. Her presence, once just a source of distraction, had begun to feel like something more”like peace.

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing hers. It was a simple gesture, but it held more weight than words ever could.

Y/N turned to him, her heart beating a little faster. She’d been thinking about the same thing the way their bond had been growing. It hadn’t been instant, but every moment they shared felt like a small piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

Max took a deep breath, his voice quieter than usual. “I never thought I’d get out. Not really. I was born into this life, Y/N. Raised to take it all in stride. To be the boss. My father made sure of that.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She just listened, her heart heavy with empathy for the man sitting next to her. She had seen the coldness in his eyes when they first met, but now she understood it. It wasn’t who he was it was who he had been forced to be.

“I remember the first time my father sent me out on a job,” Max continued, his voice a little distant as the memory surfaced. “I was eighteen. I didn’t even know how to feel about it hell, I didn’t even know how to kill someone until he told me exactly how to do it.”

Y/N’s hand tightened around his, but she didn’t speak. She just let him continue, knowing that this was something he had kept buried for far too long.

“I did it,” he said softly, his voice full of a haunting finality. “Without question. I wasn’t a kid anymore. But I was still I don’t know… broken inside. I couldn’t feel what I was supposed to. Like, I knew what I had to do, but it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like me.”

Max paused the weight of his words hanging between them. He turned to face Y/N, his eyes filled with something unspoken.

“Until I met you.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his words. “Me?”

Max nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You changed everything, Y/N. I didn’t know it then, but when I pulled you out of that alley… you made me feel something real again.”

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest. Her breath caught as she realized the magnitude of what Max was saying. The man who had been hardened by years of violence, who had lived a life of solitude and coldness, was opening up to her. He wasn’t just speaking to her as the man who saved her that night”he was speaking as someone who had truly started to care.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Max continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how to be this person I feel like I’m becoming when I’m with you. I’ve been a monster for so long that I’m not sure how to be anything else. But when I’m with you I don’t feel like that anymore.”

Y/N could feel the vulnerability in his words, and her heart ached for him. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between the man he had been and the man he wanted to be.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Max,” she said softly, her voice steady and warm. “I just need you to be you. That’s all I ever wanted. Because…”

She stopped herself, the words catching in her throat. Her heart was pounding now, and she knew this was a moment they couldn’t go back from. She had to be honest, even if it terrified her.

“Because I love you and you're my best friend,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max froze, his entire body still as her words washed over him. It was like time had slowed down, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure what to say whether to admit the same feelings he had buried deep inside or to keep pushing them down, afraid of what it would mean.

But then Y/N squeezed his hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and he realized she was just as afraid as he was.

“I love you, too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I think I have been for a while now. But I don’t know what this means for us, Y/N. I don’t know if we can escape the world I came from. And I don’t know if I can protect you from it.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, her thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. “Max,” she said, her voice filled with quiet resolve, “maybe we can’t escape everything. Maybe our pasts will always follow us. But we can choose what we do next. We can choose what we make of this.”

Max let out a deep breath, feeling a weight he didn’t know he was carrying to start to lift. He looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time, seeing her not as someone he needed to protect, but as someone he wanted to protect. Someone who had brought light into his darkness.

For the first time in years, Max felt like he could finally choose something for himself. Something good.

He leaned in slowly, his hand gently cupping her face. “Then let’s choose this. Together.”

And in that moment, as their lips met for the third time, everything else faded away—the past, the danger, the uncertainty. There were only them.

But even as they shared this moment, the danger was still very much alive. Marco’s men had been closing in on them for weeks, and though they had been successful in evading capture, Max knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to face the consequences of their choices.

As they pulled apart, Max’s mind went back to the life he had left behind. Marco wasn’t someone who would let his son’s disappearance go unanswered. And his father’s wrath was never far behind.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Max vowed, his voice low and fierce. “No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression determined. “I trust you, Max. And I’ll fight with you. I don’t want to run anymore.”

The resolve in her voice made Max’s heart race. They were no longer just running from the past. They were ready to face whatever came next together.

And in that moment, they knew the fight was far from over. But at least they had each other. And that gave them more strength than they had ever known.

Max held her close, feeling her heart beating against his chest. He knew they had very little time before Marco’s men found them. But in that moment, all he could feel was her. The softness of her skin against his, the warmth of her breath on his neck.

He ran his fingers through her hair, his voice low. "There's something I have to tell you, darling."

“I know who you are Max,” Y/n says before Max can say anything else. Max is caught off guard by her words, his hand stilling in her hair. He looks down at her, his eyes dark and intense. 

"You knew?" he says, his voice a low rumble. 

He was not sure what he was expecting from her, but this wasn’t it. He'd been so careful to keep his true identity from her, to shield her from the darkness of his world. Y/N nods, her expression solemn but firm. 

She reaches up, placing her hand on his chest. She can feel his heart beating fast beneath her fingertips. 

“I’ve known for a while,” she admits softly. “I saw some things. Heard some things. I put it together.” 

Max just stares at her for a moment, processing her words. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. She was smart and observant. Of course, she would figure it out eventually. He lets out a breath, his jaw clenching. "Why didn’t you say anything?" 

His voice is rough with emotion, a mixture of vulnerability and defensiveness. He had spent so much time and energy trying to keep this part of himself hidden from her. Now it seemed pointless. 

Y/N steps closer, her hand sliding up to press against his cheek. She looks at him with a mixture of understanding and concern. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was judging you,” she says, her voice gentle. “I know I know what you’ve been through. What you’ve done. But I also know that you’re more than your past, Max.” Her words hit him hard, like a punch to the gut. He had expected judgment, fear, and disappointment. But all he saw in her eyes was acceptance, understanding, love. 

His shoulders sag with a mixture of relief and confusion. How could she see the monster in him and still look at him like he was someone worth saving?

He pulls her towards him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her hair. He doesn’t know how to process the range of emotions running through him. 

“You should hate me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with raw emotion. “You should be afraid.”

Y/N wraps her arms around him in return, holding him just as fiercely. She buries her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. 

“I don’t hate you, Max,” she says quietly, her voice quivering slightly. “I love you. okay Max I love you and I don’t know how much longer we have together but as long as I’m with you I’ll keep reminding you that.” Max’s heart clenches at her words, his grip on her tightening. He hadn’t dared hope that she would say that. Not after everything he had done, everything he had been. 

He pulls back slightly so he can look into her eyes. They’re glossy with unshed tears, but her gaze is unflinching, her determination clear. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice rough. “You’re too good for me, too pure. I’ll just end up hurting you, or I’ll…” 

He trails off, unable to continue. It was the same fear that had been eating at him since the moment he realized he cared for her. The fear that he would destroy her, tainted her with his darkness. Y/N cups his face in her hands, making him look at her. Her eyes search his, her expression resolute. 

“You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me,” she tells him firmly. “And I don’t care if you think you’ll hurt me. I can handle it. I’m choosing to be with you.” 

Max leans his head down, resting his forehead against hers. Her words make something deep within him ache. He was used to people leaving him, abandoning him. And yet here she was, throwing herself into the fire for him. 

“You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” he mutters, unable to hide the hint of affection in his voice.

Y/N laughs softly, the sound a sweet melody to his ears. “You love it,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

Max snorts, his lips curving up in a wry grin. And despite the danger lurking on the edges of their happiness, he knows she’s right. He does love it. He loves her.

He pulls her closer, his arms encircling her waist as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. For a moment, they just stand there, holding each other. And in that moment, all the worries, all the dangers seem to melt away. 

Until the sound of footsteps outside the room shattered the fragile peace they had created.

Marco had never liked Max. Marco hated Max’s very existence. The tension between them had been palpable for years, even when Max had been under his father’s roof. Jos had always been the better leader, the more controlled, more calculating of the two. But Marco was ruthless in ways Jos never was.

When Max had left, disappearing into the night without a word, it was Marco’s fury that had been unleashed first. Jos, while angry, had been more patient, biding his time. But Marco? He wanted revenge.

Marco’s first move was to send out his men to track Max’s movements. He had no intention of letting Jos’ son walk away unpunished. Max’s defection had shaken the power dynamic in the family. Marco needed to reassert his dominance, to remind everyone that he was still in charge.

Max had been careful, covering his tracks and using everything he had learned in the mafia world to stay hidden. But Marco’s resources were vast, and his men were killed.

After days of searching, one of Marco’s men finally got a lead. A rumor, a whisper, a sighting. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to set the machine in motion.

Marco got the report late in the afternoon. He read through it slowly, his expression darkening with each word. But when he got to the end, he smiled a cruel, cold smile. 

He knew right where to find Max, and once he had him, there would be hell to pay. That night, a group of Marco’s men were sent to the location where Max and Y/N were staying. They moved with military precision, their footsteps silent, their weapons loaded and ready.

Max was vigilant, his ears straining for any sound that didn’t belong. This was the sort of situation he had been preparing for, and he wasn't going to let his guard down now. Max heard the first sound, a soft scuffle of shoes against gravel. He tensed, his eyes darting to the door. Y/N, dozing on the bed, noticed his sudden tension and sat up.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice betraying her fear. 

Max didn’t answer. He was listening intently, trying to gauge how many men were outside. He could hear at least three, possibly more. They were circling the building, searching for a point of entry.

Max glanced around the room, his mind racing. They had to get moving, and quickly. His gaze fell on the window, and he silently cursed. It was small, barely big enough for him to fit through. But it would have to do.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice urgent. “Get up. We need to go, now.”

She didn’t question him, knowing now was not the time. She stood, quickly pulling on her shoes. Max moved to the window, quietly pushing it open.

Just then, there was a loud bang on the front door. Marco’s men had found the entrance. Max’s body tensed even further, his jaw clenching. They had seconds if that. Max turned to Y/N and held out his hand. “You first,” he said, his voice a low growl. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she climbed onto the windowsill and squeezed out through the opening.

Max followed, grunting as he had to force his broad shoulders through the narrow space. He dropped to the ground next to Y/N, his eyes on the door. It shook again as someone slammed against it from the other side.

“Stay close to me,” Max muttered, gripping Y/N’s arm. He started to move, keeping to the shadows. They had to reach the woods and the car before Marco’s men could catch them. They had just reached the tree line when the first shots rang out. Max pushed Y/N behind a tree for cover, his body shielding hers. He could hear Marco’s men shouting, their footsteps loud and aggressive.

Max and Y/N moved cautiously through the woods, their steps light but deliberate. They’d been on edge for days, the tension between them rising with every passing hour. Max kept glancing over his shoulder, scanning the tree line.

“This isn’t good,” Max muttered, his voice low. “We’re too exposed out here.”

Y/N stayed close, her hand gripping the strap of her bag. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, the air thick with anxiety.

Suddenly, the faint sound of a twig snapping echoed in the distance, cutting through the quiet night. Max stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. He held up a hand to signal for Y/N to stay silent.

He motioned for her to stay behind a tree while he moved forward, moving like a shadow through the underbrush. His every sense was on high alert now, instincts kicking in. The danger was close, much closer than they had realized.

And then, he saw them.

A group of men, dressed in dark clothing, moved stealthily through the forest. They were too far to be a threat yet, but Max knew it was only a matter of time before they got closer.

Max took a step back, retreating slowly to where Y/N waited. His mind was racing. Marco’s men were on their tail.

“They’re here,” Max said, his voice tight. “We need to move. Now.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “How many of them?”

“At least five,” Max replied, his voice steady despite the rising tension. “Maybe more. They’ve got us pinned down.”

Marco wasn’t just looking for Max. He was searching for something more. He had learned about Y/N the woman who had been with Max, the one who had caused the shift in him. Marco had heard whispers about her, and he didn’t like what he’d heard.

In his mind, she was a weakness. A liability.

“Find her,” Marco had commanded his men, “and bring her to me. I’ll deal with Max myself. But if she’s as important to him as I think, she’ll be the key to getting him back.”

Marco’s obsession with control meant he couldn’t afford any loose ends, especially not someone who could pull Max away from the life he was supposed to lead.

Max and Y/N moved through the trees, their bodies close, keeping low. The fear was palpable now, but they couldn’t afford to let it consume them. They had to outsmart Marco’s men and get to safety before they were cornered.

Max knew the woods like the back of his hand, but this time, it wasn’t just about survival. This was about protecting Y/N, and that was a different kind of pressure.

They made their way toward a hidden path, hoping to use it as an escape route. But just as they thought they were in the clear, a voice rang out from behind them.

“Max! I know you’re out there.” It was Marco’s voice, smooth and menacing.

Max froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t let Marco get to them. Not now, not ever.

He turned to Y/N, his face grim. “Run. I’ll hold them off.”

Y/N grabbed his arm, her grip firm. “We run together, Max. I’m not leaving you.”

Max met her eyes, seeing the fear and determination in her gaze. He knew she wouldn’t back down, but they didn’t have much time.

“We’ll fight our way out,” he said, his voice steady. “Together.”

Sure, let’s continue the scene with Max and Y/N facing Marco’s men. The tension is high as they are cornered, but their bond is stronger than ever. This moment will test their trust in each other and their survival instincts.

Max’s heart raced as the voice of Marco rang out through the woods, sending a chill down his spine. The men were closing in on them, and the space around them seemed to shrink with every passing second.

“Max!” Marco’s voice echoed again, closer this time. “I know you’re out there. You can’t hide forever!”

Y/N’s grip on Max tightened as she tried to keep her breathing steady. The woods, once a place of refuge, now felt like a trap. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the fear threatening to overtake her, but Max’s steady presence beside her kept her grounded.

“Stay close,” Max murmured, his voice low but firm.

They moved quickly through the trees, but the sound of crunching leaves underfoot told them they weren’t going unnoticed. The pursuit was relentless.

Max knew they didn’t have much time. He had to think fast if they tried to run, they’d be easy targets. But if they could hold their ground for a moment, maybe, just maybe, they could make it out alive.

He looked around, searching for a way out. His eyes landed on an old cabin in the distance. The roof was partially caved in, but it was close enough that they could take refuge there at least for a little while.

“Over there,” Max said, his eyes locking with Y/N’s. “We can make it to that cabin. Stay low. Stick to the shadows.”

Y/N nodded, her face set with determination. She had come this far with Max, and there was no way she was backing down now. Together, they could get through this.

As they darted toward the cabin, a rustling sound broke through the air then the unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in. They were almost there, just a few more yards.

Max’s pulse quickened. He could hear the men behind them, their voices now loud and clear as they gave chase. Marco’s men were skilled, and they weren’t going to stop until they had Max and Y/N in their grasp.

“Don’t stop!” Max urged, his hand gripping Y/N’s as they pushed forward, the cabin getting closer by the second.

But just as they reached the door of the cabin, a sharp voice called out from the trees.

“There they are! Don’t let them get away!”

Max spun around just in time to see two of Marco’s men burst from the trees, guns drawn, closing in on them.

“Shit,” Max muttered under his breath. He didn’t have a choice anymore”he had to make a stand.

He grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her behind the cover of the cabin, forcing her to crouch low. He motioned for her to stay still as he pulled out his gun, the weight of it familiar in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest, but he knew what he had to do. Protect her. No matter the cost.

Max peeked around the corner, trying to get a better look at their attackers. He could see two men approaching, their eyes scanning the area. They hadn’t seen them yet, but they were getting closer.

Y/N’s breath was shaky, but she stayed silent, her eyes wide with fear as she watched Max prepare. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was trying to anticipate their next move.

Max squeezed her hand once, reassuring her without words. They had to make this count.

Then, before he could react, the men rounded the corner of the cabin, their guns raised.

Max fired first.

The loud crack of the gunshot echoed through the woods, and one of the men staggered back, clutching his shoulder. The second man didn’t hesitate, immediately returning fire.

Max dove behind the cabin’s decaying wall, pulling Y/N with him. The bullets whizzed by, but they were safe for now, at least behind the cover.

“Stay down,” Max hissed through clenched teeth. His mind raced, looking for a way out. He couldn’t keep fighting here it was a losing battle.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the gun in Max’s hand, and she nodded. “What’s the plan?”

Max’s gaze shifted toward the trees behind them, calculating his next move. “We’re going to make a run for it. On my mark.”

But before he could finish, he heard the unmistakable sound of boots crunching the leaves behind them. Max’s pulse surged in his chest. He wasn’t sure how many men Marco had sent, but he knew they couldn’t stay here much longer.

He turned to Y/N, his voice quiet but urgent. “We move in three, two”

The words were cut off by a voice—cold and commanding—that sliced through the night.

“You think you can run from me, Max?”

Max’s blood ran cold as Marco stepped into view from the tree line, his dark eyes fixed on them. His expression was calm, almost amused, as though he were merely observing a game he had already won.

Marco was a man who controlled everything he touched, and he would not allow his blood to slip through his fingers.

Max didn’t flinch. “Marco.”

The tension between them was palpable, thick as the air around them. Max stood his ground, his gun raised, but Marco made no move to draw his weapon. His men, however, were ready, guns trained on Max and Y/N.

“You’re making a mistake, Max,” Marco said, his tone almost pitiful. “You can’t escape who you are. You’re mine, boy. Your father’s not here to protect you, and now you’re mine to deal with.”

Max’s grip tightened on his gun, but Y/N moved to stand beside him, her body rigid with fear, yet unwavering. She was ready. “No,” she said, her voice strong. “He’s not yours, Marco. He’s his person now. You don’t control him anymore.”

Marco’s eyes flickered toward her, a dark glint of amusement crossing his face. “And you do you think you’re going to change that? A woman? How sweet. But you’re just as much of a liability as he is.”

Max stepped in front of her, his face hard. “You’ll never touch her, Marco.”

Marco’s smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. “You believe that? You think I won’t do whatever it takes to bring you back? To make you remember who you are?”

Max’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his gun. But he didn’t lower it. Not yet.

He knew what Marco wanted—to break him, to remind him of the life he had walked away from. But Max wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not when Y/N was by his side.

“You can try, Marco,” Max said, his voice low and steady. “But we’re not going back.”

Marco’s eyes glinted with something darker, more dangerous, as his lips curled into a sinister smile. He had Max exactly where he wanted him: cornered, with nowhere to run. But the fire in Max’s eyes told Marco that this time, things were different.

“You think you’re untouchable?” Marco sneered, slowly circling Max and Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. His men stood at the ready, watching for any sign of movement. “You’re still my blood. You’re still bound by everything Father taught you. Taught me. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten where you came from.”

Max held his ground, his gun still aimed at Marco. His pulse thundered in his ears, but his mind was clear. The old Max might have hesitated, might have been tempted by the power Marco offered, but that man was gone. The past was in the past. The present was all that mattered now.

“What do you mean by blood?” Max asked as far as he knew he was Jos’ only son but he also wouldn’t have put it past his father to have affairs with other women before or after he was born. 

“The old man never told you?” Marco says cockily with a chuckle, taking the barrel of the gun and tapping the side of his head with it before pointing it back at the two of them. 

Max’s expression hardened, his mind racing. “What are you talking about, Marco?” he demanded, his voice tight.

Marco’s grin only widened, a mocking glint in his eyes. “Poor little Max, the golden child, left in the dark.” He tapped the side of his head again with the gun, clearly enjoying himself. “Old man Jos never told you he had… extracurriculars?”

Max’s stomach twisted as realization began to creep in. “What are you saying?”

Marco chuckled, lowering the gun slightly as he leaned in closer. “I’m saying, dear brother,” he spat the word with bitterness, “that I’m as much a part of his legacy as you are. The only difference? I was the one left to fend for myself while you got the title, the protection, the kingdom handed to you.”

Max’s jaw clenched, anger flashing across his face. “You think I wanted any of that?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d rather be in your cozy little bookstore, playing at a normal life,” Marco sneered, “but blood is blood, Max. And whether you like it or not, I’m here to claim my piece.”

Max held Marco’s gaze, searching for any sign that this was some sick joke. But the anger in Marco’s eyes was real, years of resentment boiling to the surface.

“You think you’re entitled to something just because of blood?” Max shot back, his voice cold. “Jos barely treated me like a son. Whatever you think he gave me, it was a curse.”

Marco laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Oh, you poor thing. Life in the big house, daddy’s golden boy, all while I grew up in the shadows. Do you know what that does to a person? Watching someone else live the life that should’ve been yours?”

“Nothing about this life was a gift,” Max replied, his voice low and dangerous. “And if you think Jos would have done any better by you, then you didn’t know him at all.”

Marco’s expression darkened, his grip tightening on the gun. “Maybe not. But I know one thing: you don’t deserve to walk away from all this. To pretend you can just leave and play house with your little bookstore.” He spat on the ground. “I clawed my way here, Max. Everything I have, I earned. And I’m not leaving empty-handed.”

Max took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “So what’s the plan, Marco? You think you can just waltz in, wave a gun around, and take whatever you think I owe you?”

“Oh, I think I can do a lot more than that.” Marco smirked, stepping closer. “You may have walked away from Jos’ empire, but that leaves it wide open for someone else to take over. Maybe I’m not here for revenge, Max. Maybe I’m here to make you an offer.”

Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “An offer?”

Marco’s grin was almost feral. “You and me. We take what’s left of the empire, rebuild it, make it ours. All that power, that legacy—it’s in our blood, Max. Think about it.”

For a moment, the weight of Marco’s words hung between them. The idea was tempting in a dark, twisted way—a chance to take control of the very thing that had once controlled him. But Max shook his head, breaking the spell.

“I left that life for a reason,” he said firmly. “I’m not going back, and I sure as hell won’t do it with you.”

Marco’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold fury. “Then you’re a fool, Max. And if you won’t help me, you’ll wish you had. Because one way or another, I’m taking what’s mine.”

Y/N stood at Max’s side, her hand clenched into a fist. She was terrified, but her trust in Max was unwavering. She had seen the darkness that Max had been through, and she had witnessed the fight inside him to rise above it. This wasn’t the man Marco thought he could control anymore. This was a different Max—a man who had chosen his own path.

Marco’s gaze flickered to her, the hatred clear in his eyes. He knew that Y/N was the root of the problem. She had changed everything for Max—his priorities, his mindset, his resolve. Marco would never allow that.

“You think you’re going to protect her?” Marco laughed coldly. “You think you’re going to keep her safe from me? From us?”

Max took a step forward, narrowing the distance between himself and his uncle. His jaw clenched. “I won’t let you touch her, Marco. Not now. Not ever.”

Marco’s smirk faltered for just a moment, his eyes scanning Max’s face. Then his gaze snapped to the men around them. He nodded once, and they started to advance, inching closer to where Max and Y/N stood.

Max’s mind worked at lightning speed. He wasn’t about to let them get close. He had to get Y/N out of here. He had to protect her.

Without warning, Max fired another shot, taking down one of Marco’s men who had started to raise his weapon. The shot echoed through the night, a violent reminder of the stakes at hand.

“Move!” Max shouted at Y/N, grabbing her arm. They couldn’t stay here. Not now.

She didn’t need any further encouragement. She followed him, her legs pumping as they sprinted toward the trees. Marco’s men were still firing, but Max kept them off-balance, shooting at the trees to force them back.

“Keep running!” Max barked.

They ran as fast as they could, the sound of gunshots ringing in the air around them. Y/N’s breath came out in sharp, panicked gasps, but she stayed close to Max, her trust in him more solid than ever.

Max could feel the weight of every step, the knowledge that they were being hunted pushing him forward. He couldn’t let Marco win. Not now.

As they ran, Max’s thoughts briefly flickered back to the life he had once known—the life his father, Jos, had dragged him into.

The world of the mafia wasn’t a world Max had chosen. He had been born into it, groomed for it, shaped by it. But it was never what he wanted.

Jos had always pushed Max harder than anyone else, forcing him to take on dangerous assignments. There had been jobs that Max had carried out without question—jobs he didn’t want to think about now. There had been a hit in the dead of night on a rival gang leader. Max had pulled the trigger himself, following his father’s orders without a second thought.

Then there had been the night he’d been forced to take care of a traitor—a man who had once been loyal to his family but had turned on them. Max had done what he was told, even when it meant silencing a man who had once been a friend. He had never questioned Jos. He had believed in his father’s vision for the family until the day he realized it wasn’t a vision. It was a prison.

But then came Y/N.

She had been the catalyst. The thing that had shifted everything for Max. The moment he’d saved her, it was as if a new path had opened before him a path that wasn’t dictated by bloodlines or mafia codes. A path that was free of Marco’s influence. A path that was his own.

The small house that Max had found was tucked away on the outskirts of town, hidden by the dense trees. They reached it just as the sound of the vehicles grew louder, the engines rumbling through the night like a looming storm. Max quickly led Y/N inside, locking the door behind them with practiced ease.

He glanced out of the window, his fingers brushing over the gun in his jacket. He knew they didn’t have much time. He had learned to read the patterns of Marco’s men—how they moved, how they searched—but this time, it felt different. The air was thicker, the pressure mounting with every passing minute.

Y/N sat down on the rickety old couch, trying to calm her nerves, but the weight of the situation was wearing on her. She looked over at Max, who was pacing in front of the window, his eyes focused on the road that led into the woods.

“Max…” she said softly, her voice breaking through the silence. “I know you’re scared. I can see it. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

Max froze, his back stiffening. He didn’t turn around immediately, but after a long moment, he finally faced her, his expression unreadable. His gaze softened slightly, though the tension was still palpable.

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’ve spent my whole life doing things I can’t take back. I’ve hurt people, ruined lives—all for my family, for the empire. But none of that matters now. All that matters is you.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “If anything happens to you, I won’t be able to live with myself. I don’t care about anything else anymore. I just want you safe. Away from this mess.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she stood up, closing the distance between them. She could see the inner turmoil in his eyes—the battle he was fighting between the man he had been and the man he wanted to be. She reached out, touching his cheek gently.

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone,” she whispered, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down his face. “I’m here, Max. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Max allowed himself to lean into her touch. His shoulders sagged, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He had spent so long running from his past, trying to protect her from it, that he hadn’t stopped to let her in. But now, in this moment, with Marco’s men closing in, he realized something.

He couldn’t keep fighting this battle alone. Not anymore.

The moonlight filtered through the cracks in the dense woods as Max and Y/N made their way through the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of fallen leaves. Max’s eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area, his senses heightened. He could hear the distant hum of engines and the faint crackle of radio chatter. Marco’s men were closing in, and they had to keep moving.

Y/N stayed close to him, her breath shallow as she clutched onto Max’s jacket, her face pale but resolute. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. She’d never seen him like this before—so focused, so fierce. He wasn’t just trying to protect her; he was fighting a battle within himself. She could sense the weight of his past pushing against the choices he was trying to make for their future.

“Max we can’t keep running like this,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. “We need a plan. We can’t outrun them forever.”

Max didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched as he led her further into the woods, pushing through the underbrush with urgency. He knew she was right. But how could he make a plan when everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers? Marco and his men weren’t just after him anymore. They were after both of them. And the only thing standing between Y/N and them was Max’s desperation to keep her safe.

“We’ll figure it out,” Max finally muttered, his voice strained. “Just trust me, okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. She had always known Max had a dark past, but seeing him like this”so different from the man she first met”tugged at her heart. She wanted to believe they could escape this life, but the more she saw of Max’s world, the more she realized how deeply entrenched he was.

“Max, please,” she urged, her grip tightening on his arm. “We need to talk. You’re not just running from them. You’re running from yourself.”

Max’s heart clenched at her words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him down a narrow path that led to a small clearing ahead. He could see the glimmer of headlights cutting through the darkness—Marco’s men were getting closer. He needed to get them to the safe house he had prepared, and he needed to get there fast.

Suddenly, the sound of tires screeching to a halt outside somewhere in the woods jerked Max out of his thoughts. His eyes went wide, and in one fluid motion, he reached for his gun, his heart racing. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she stepped back, realizing the time had come.

Max turned to face her, his face hardening. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice steely. “No matter what happens, don’t move.”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling as she pressed herself against the wall. She could hear the sounds of footsteps outside, the distinct thud of boots crunching on gravel.

The door burst open without warning, and in stepped Marco, flanked by several of his men. His face was cold, calculating, as he looked around the small cabin.

“Well, well… Max,” Marco’s voice dripped with disdain. “I was hoping we could do this the easy way. But it looks like we’re doing it the hard way, after all.”

Max didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, his eyes never leaving Marco’s. The gun in his hand was steady, though the tension in his body was anything but.

“This ends tonight, Marco,” Max said, his voice low, but his words cutting through the air like a blade. “You’re not going to take her from me. I won’t let you.”

Marco chuckled, a mocking sound that echoed in the cabin. “You really think you can stop me? You’ve been running from your past, Max. You can’t outrun the family. You can’t outrun me.”

Max’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening around the gun. “I don’t care about the family anymore. I don’t care about the empire. I care about her. And if you think for one second that I’ll let you destroy that… you’re wrong.”

Max’s heart pounded as he faced off against Marco, his father’s enforcer and the one man who had haunted him for years. Marco’s cold smirk was gone, replaced by a steely determination that Max knew all too well. For Marco, this was a matter of principle, a ruthless reminder that no one—especially not Jos’ son—could turn his back on the family.

“You’ve always thought you were better than this life,” Marco sneered, circling Max like a predator sizing up its prey. “But you’re a fool if you think you can escape it. It’s in your blood, Max. It always will be.”

Max held his ground, his body tense. “I’m nothing like you, Marco. Nothing like my father.”

Marco’s gaze darkened, his voice dripping with contempt. “Then why are you still here, trying to protect her?” He nodded toward Y/N, who was still hidden in the shadows, her eyes wide as she watched the scene unfold. “If you cared about her, you’d know you’re putting her life on the line.”

Max’s grip tightened on his gun, his jaw clenching. “I am protecting her. I’m protecting her from people like you.”

Marco laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “You can’t protect her from this world, Max. You were born into it, and now, so is she. You’ve made her a part of this, and there’s no escaping it.”

With a slight nod, Marco signaled his men to close in, their weapons raised. Max’s pulse raced, but he refused to back down. He had to think fast, act faster. The exit was blocked, and the only way out was through Marco and his men.

“Stay back, Y/N!” Max called over his shoulder. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Marco, but he could feel Y/N’s gaze on him, her fear mixed with determination.

But Y/N didn’t listen. She stepped out from behind the crates, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I’m not leaving you, Max.”

“Y/N—” Max started, but it was too late.

Marco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Look at this—loyalty. Almost touching, isn’t it?”

Max’s patience snapped. He lunged forward, his fists colliding with Marco’s chest as they grappled. Marco’s men sprang into action, but Y/N, summoning every ounce of courage, threw herself into the fray, grabbing a fallen pipe from the floor and swinging it at one of Marco’s henchmen. The man staggered back, momentarily stunned, giving Max a moment to break free of Marco’s grip.

“Run!” Max shouted to Y/N, but she stayed put, her eyes blazing with determination. Together, they fought, their movements almost in sync as they faced down Marco and his men. Max knew they couldn’t hold out forever, but they had to try.

Marco, recovering quickly, let out a snarl. “You’re just delaying the inevitable, Max. We’ll hunt you down. Both of you.”

Max ignored him, his focus razor-sharp as he dodged another attack. They moved toward the exit, inch by inch, fighting off anyone who got in their way. But then, just as they neared the door, Marco raised his gun, aiming it directly at Y/N.

Max’s heart stopped. In that split second, everything slowed down.

“No!” he shouted, throwing himself in front of Y/N just as the gun went off. The shot echoed through the room, and pain seared through his shoulder. But he didn’t stop—he couldn’t. He pushed Y/N toward the door, his vision blurring as he fought to stay conscious.

“Go, Y/N!” he gasped, his voice hoarse with pain. “Get to the car!”

Y/N hesitated, her face pale with fear, but she nodded, her eyes filled with tears. She sprinted toward the car, her heart pounding as she heard the sounds of the struggle behind her.

Max stumbled after her, his hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder, but he refused to fall. He refused to let Marco win. With a final burst of strength, he reached the car and collapsed into the driver’s seat, slamming the door just as Y/N hit the gas.

They sped away, leaving Marco and his men in the dust, but the weight of what had just happened hung heavy between them.

As they drove through the night, Max leaned back, trying to catch his breath. The pain in his shoulder was agonizing, but he forced himself to focus, to stay conscious. Y/N’s hands gripped the steering wheel, her face a mixture of fear and worry as she glanced over at him.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Max forced a faint smile. “I’ll live.”

But the truth was, he didn’t know how much longer they could keep running. They were in deeper than he’d ever anticipated, and Marco wouldn’t stop until he had them both.

“Max…” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. “Why did you do it? Why did you risk everything for me?”

Max met her gaze, his expression softening despite the pain. “Because you’re worth it. Because… because for the first time in my life, I have something real. Something worth fighting for.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled, reaching over to take his hand. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their situation sinking in.

Finally, Max spoke, his voice filled with determination. “We’re going to get through this, Y/N. I don’t know how, but we will.”

Back at the hideout, Marco paced furiously, his face twisted with rage. His men were scattered, licking their wounds, but the real wound was to his pride. Max had defied him—and worse, he had escaped.

Jos’ voice echoed in Marco’s head, a reminder of the family’s iron rule: No one leaves. No one defies us.

But Marco was not one to give up easily. He knew Max would be on the run, hiding in the shadows. And he knew exactly where to look.

“Spread out,” he ordered his men, his voice cold and unwavering. “Find them. And bring them back alive. I want Max to see what happens to those who betray the family.”

Marco’s men nodded, their faces grim as they set off into the night. They knew the consequences of failure all too well.

As dawn broke, Max and Y/N pulled into a small, run-down motel on the edge of town. Y/N helped Max inside, guiding him to a bed where he could rest. She quickly set to work cleaning his wound, her hands gentle but determined.

As she worked, Max studied her face, his heart aching with a mixture of love and guilt. He had dragged her into a world of danger, into a life she didn’t deserve. But he also knew he couldn’t let her go.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes fierce. “Don’t you dare apologize, Max. You saved me. You’ve protected me. And I chose to be here with you.”

Max’s heart swelled, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We’re going to have to disappear. Go somewhere Marco and my father can’t find us.”

Y/N nodded, her expression resolute. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll leave all of this behind.”

For the first time, a glimmer of hope sparked between them. They had a long road ahead, but together, they had a chance.

As Max lay back, drifting into a restless sleep, he thought about the life he was leaving behind—the family, the power, the legacy. It was a life he had never wanted, a world he was finally breaking free from.

But he knew that as long as Jos and Marco were out there, they would never stop coming for him and Y/N. They would always be looking over their shoulders, always running. Unless Max found a way to end it once and for all.

When he awoke, Max knew what he had to do. It was risky, and it might cost him everything. But he would do it, for Y/N, for their future.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with a new resolve. “It’s time to end this.”

She looked at him, understanding in her eyes. “What are we going to do?”

Max took her hand, a spark of determination in his gaze. “We’re going to take down Marco. And then we’re going to be free.”

Max and Y/N knew they couldn’t do this alone. Marco was cunning, ruthless, and had a network of men at his disposal. But Max also knew that not everyone in his father’s organization was loyal to Marco. Some were just like him, caught in a world they never wanted to be a part of, bound by fear rather than loyalty.

Max glanced over at Y/N, who was leaning over a map, marking down possible locations where they could corner Marco and his men. The determination in her eyes was unmistakable. She wasn’t just in this to survive; she was ready to fight back.

“I know someone who might be able to help us,” Max said, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up, curiosity in her eyes. “Who?”

“An old friend of mine, Victor. He was part of the family but left years ago. He managed to disappear and stay under the radar. If anyone knows how to avoid Marco’s reach—and take him down—it’s him.”

Y/N nodded, hope sparking in her expression. “Do you think he’ll help us?”

Max hesitated, memories of Victor flashing through his mind. They’d gone through a lot together, but things had soured when Victor left, realizing he couldn’t stomach the violence or the lack of control over his own life. Max had respected him for it, but he’d stayed behind, tied by his loyalty to his father.

“He’ll help us,” Max said finally. “If he knows what’s at stake, he’ll come through.”

A few days later, Max and Y/N arrived at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was one of the few places Victor trusted for clandestine meetings, and Max hoped his old friend still frequented it.

The place was dark and eerily quiet, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of oil. Max’s nerves were on edge as they waited, his hand instinctively hovering near his weapon.

After what felt like an eternity, they heard footsteps approaching. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, his face partially hidden beneath the brim of a worn baseball cap. As he stepped into the light, Max recognized him immediately—Victor, looking older but just as intense as he remembered.

“Max,” Victor greeted him, his tone cautious. His gaze shifted to Y/N, and he raised an eyebrow. “And you must be the reason Marco has been tearing the city apart looking for him.”

Y/N managed a faint smile. “I guess you could say that.”

Victor let out a dry chuckle, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “You’ve stirred up a lot of trouble, Max. Marco’s men are everywhere. And Jos—well, he’s none too pleased with his son running around with a civilian.”

Max’s expression hardened. “I don’t care what he thinks. I’m done with all of it. We’re here because we need to end this.”

Victor studied him, his expression unreadable. “You’re asking for a death wish, Max. Going after Marco—going after your father, no less—that’s no small feat.”

“I know,” Max said, his voice steady. “But I can’t keep running, Victor. They won’t stop coming after us unless we make it impossible for them to do so.”

Victor’s gaze softened slightly, and he nodded. “All right. If you’re sure about this, I’ll help. But you need a solid plan, one that’ll keep you two alive.”

Y/N stepped forward, determination in her eyes. “We’re ready to fight. Just tell us what we need to do.”

With Victor’s help, Max and Y/N began to formulate a plan. They would lure Marco into a trap, using a location that could be easily controlled. The plan was risky, but it was their best chance of catching him off-guard.

Victor explained that there was an old factory on the outskirts of the city”one that had been abandoned for years and was seldom monitored. It was isolated enough that Marco wouldn’t suspect an ambush, but contained enough that they could limit his escape routes.

They would spread false information, leading Marco to believe that Max and Y/N were hiding out there, vulnerable and unprotected. When Marco showed up with his men, they’d be ready for him.

Max was acutely aware of the danger they were putting themselves in, but he was resolute. He looked over at Y/N, who nodded, her expression fierce. She was just as committed to this as he was.

Victor took out a map, marking down escape routes, vantage points, and ambush spots. “This is going to take perfect timing. If Marco suspects anything, he’s going to lose it. He's like a rabid dog with a bone you have to make it believable. 

“Oh it’ll be believable alright” Max says and the two exchange an handshake. 

As night fell, Max, Y/N, and Victor moved into the abandoned factory. The air was thick with dust, and the metal beams overhead groaned with age. Victor led them to the second floor, a vantage point that would give them a clear view of the ground level where Marco’s men would likely enter. They positioned themselves near the shadows, hidden but ready.

Max and Y/N exchanged a tense look. This wasn’t just about surviving the night; it was about putting an end to Marco’s threat for good. But they both knew that once the trap was set, there would be no turning back.

Victor knelt beside them, going over the plan one last time. “I’ll handle the detonators for the traps we set by the entrances. It should keep most of his men occupied, but Marco will be harder to take down. He’ll be looking for you, Max.”

Max nodded. “We just need to make sure he doesn’t walk out of here. This ends tonight.”

Y/N placed a hand on Max’s arm, her eyes soft but determined. “We’re ready. Whatever happens, we do this together.”

Max gave her a small smile, his gaze steady. “Together.”

It didn’t take long for the sound of approaching vehicles to echo through the empty factory. Max felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the headlights piercing through the darkness outside. Marco had brought more men than they’d anticipated, but it was too late to change the plan. He and Y/N exchanged a tense look as they heard the doors slam and the muffled voices of Marco’s men.

Victor caught Max’s eye and nodded, signaling that he was ready. He held the detonator for the traps they had rigged by the entrances, ready to trigger them as soon as Marco’s men entered.

From their vantage point, Max and Y/N watched as Marco strode in, his expression steely and focused. He was flanked by several armed men, their gazes scanning the factory’s dim interior.

“Spread out,” Marco ordered, his voice cold. “They’re here somewhere. I want them alive.”

Max held his breath as Victor pressed the first detonator. A loud explosion rocked the factory, and smoke filled the air. Marco’s men were thrown off balance, some of them stumbling backward as the entrance filled with dust and debris.

Using the distraction, Max and Y/N moved silently down a side staircase, making their way closer to the ground level where Marco was recovering from the blast.

Marco’s voice cut through the chaos. “You think you can take me down, Max?” he shouted, his tone mocking. “You’re just as foolish as your mother. You’re weak.”

Max clenched his jaw, the mention of his mother igniting a fury he’d kept buried. He stepped out from the shadows, his gaze locked on Marco.

“No, Marco,” Max said, his voice steady. “I’m nothing like you. And I’m ending this.”

Marco laughed, a cold, twisted sound. “Go ahead, Max. Let’s see if you have what it takes.”

Marco raised his gun, but before he could fire, Y/N moved in from the side, aiming and pulling the trigger. The shot hit one of Marco’s men square in the chest, sending him sprawling. Max took advantage of the moment, lunging forward and tackling Marco to the ground.

They grappled fiercely, years of anger and resentment pouring out in each punch. Marco fought back with a strength that took Max by surprise, but Max’s resolve was unbreakable. He was fighting not only for himself, but for Y/N and the life he wanted to build with her.

Victor took down another one of Marco’s men, shouting to Max and Y/N to fall back as more reinforcements arrived. But Max refused to let go of Marco, his hands clenched tightly around his collar.

Marco’s gaze held a glint of something unsettling”a confidence that sent a chill through Max. “You really think you can escape your father’s shadow? That you can just walk away from this life?”

Max’s grip tightened. “Watch me.”

Just as Marco started to pull away, Victor tossed Max a knife, and with one swift motion, Max drove it into Marco’s side. Marco’s eyes widened in shock, the fight draining from him as he fell back against the floor, his breathing ragged.

“You could have been great, Max,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “You were always meant for this.”

Max knelt beside him, his expression hardened. “I’ll be great, Marco. Just not in the way you or father wanted.”

Marco’s gaze dimmed as he breathed his last, his reign of terror finally ending. Victor, catching his breath, nodded to Max and Y/N, signaling that it was time to go before any more of Jos’s men arrived.

As they ran through the factory, the weight of what they had just done hit them. They had defeated Marco, but Max knew that his father would come looking for them eventually. This fight wasn’t over”not entirely. But for the first time, he felt hope.

Max and Y/N drove through the night, the reality of their escape sinking in as the city faded in their rearview mirror. They didn’t know what the future held or where they would go, but they knew they were finally free.

As dawn broke over the horizon, Y/N reached for Max’s hand, her fingers lacing through his. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and relief.

Max squeezed her hand, a faint smile crossing his face. “Yeah, we did.”

With Marco gone, they had a chance”a real chance”to live the life they wanted. And though Jos’ shadow still loomed, Max was prepared to face whatever came next, as long as he had Y/N by his side.

For now, they would drive until they reached a place where no one knew their names, where they could start fresh. Together, they would forge a new path, one free from the violence and darkness of Max’s past.

The road stretched out before them, endless and full of possibility. And for the first time, Max felt at peace, knowing that he had finally broken free.

Max and Y/N eventually found themselves in a quiet coastal town, a place with winding streets and charming old buildings nestled near the sea. It was far enough from the city and all the memories that came with it. They rented a small, modest apartment overlooking the water, where they hoped they could finally start fresh.

The first few weeks were quiet, filled with long walks on the beach, lazy mornings over coffee, and late nights spent talking about dreams and regrets. It was a life Max had never thought possible, a life he didn’t know he could have. For once, they felt safe, wrapped in the peace of anonymity.

But the shadows of Max’s past weren’t so easily left behind. The tension, the feeling of being watched”it crept back slowly, chipping away at the calm they’d built.

One night, as they were walking back from a small restaurant by the shore, Max noticed a familiar black car parked just down the street. His stomach knotted. He hadn’t seen that car in years, but he knew it”one of his father’s old vehicles.

Y/N noticed his change in demeanor. “Max? Is everything okay?”

Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let’s get back to the apartment.”

They made it back to the apartment, locking every door and window. Max peered outside, watching the car until it finally disappeared down the road. Y/N was by his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, grounding him in the present.

“Do you think it’s your father?” Y/N asked quietly.

Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But if he’s found us here, we’re not safe.”

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but something told him to answer. He took a deep breath, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

A familiar voice spoke, low and menacing. “Max. You didn’t really think you could run forever, did you?”

It was Jos.

Max felt a chill run through him. His father’s voice was calm, calculating, as if this were just another business call.

“What do you want?” Max asked, his voice tense.

Jos chuckled softly. “What I’ve always wanted, son. I want you to come back. I’ll forget your disloyalty, if you return now. But this woman”she’s distracting you. She’s a weakness.”

Max’s grip on the phone tightened. “I’m not coming back, and Y/N is none of your concern.”

Jos sighed, his tone turning cold. “You’re making a mistake, Max. You’re my blood. And blood never betrays family. But if you insist on keeping her, you know what happens to liabilities.”

With that, the line went dead.

Max lowered the phone, his heart pounding. He looked at Y/N, who watched him anxiously. “It was my father. he knows we’re here. And he’s not going to stop.”

Max and Y/N knew they had to leave the town immediately. But this time, they couldn’t just run blindly. They needed a plan, something that would allow them to disappear for good. Max realized they would need help to outsmart his father”a network, a way to stay hidden and off the grid.

That night, they packed their bags, taking only the essentials. Max reached out to Victor, sending him a coded message asking for help. They arranged to meet in a secluded spot, a few miles away, where Victor would bring supplies and information.

Before they left, Y/N placed a hand on Max’s arm, her voice soft but strong. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. We’ll get through this.”

Max pulled her into an embrace, his voice steady but filled with determination. “I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”

They drove through the night, finally arriving at a remote gas station where Victor was waiting. He stood near his car, a heavy duffel bag by his feet, watching the road with caution.

Max and Y/N got out of the car, approaching him. Victor gave them a nod. “Looks like you two could use some supplies”and a new plan.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, exhausted but grateful. “You have no idea. My father he’s found us. He’s not going to let us go so easily.”

Victor handed Max the duffel bag, filled with burner phones, fake IDs, cash, and a list of contacts who could help them along the way. “This should buy you some time. But you need to move fast.”

Y/N thanked Victor, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You’re risking a lot to help us. We won’t forget this.”

Victor gave her a small smile. “Max was there for me when I needed it. Just consider this payback.”

Before they left, Victor placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “One more thing ”you need to think about how far you’re willing to go. Jos isn’t going to stop. You might have to consider taking him out.”

Max’s expression darkened. He had known, deep down, that his father would never let him go. But hearing it out loud made it real.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Victor.”

Victor nodded, watching as Max and Y/N got back into their car, their new identities hidden in the duffel bag. As they drove off, Max couldn’t shake Victor’s words. The idea of facing his father felt impossible, but he knew that eventually, they’d have no other choice.

For weeks, Max and Y/N kept moving, using new names in each town, keeping to small motels and out-of-the-way diners. They became adept at disappearing, slipping into the background of each new place. But as careful as they were, Jos’ men kept finding them, each encounter a reminder that they were never truly safe.

Finally, they received a message from Victor. “He’s coming for you himself, Max. It’s time to end this.”

Max looked at Y/N, his heart heavy but resolved. “It’s him or us. I can’t keep running from him. We’ll make our stand here.”

Y/N placed her hand over his, her eyes fierce. “Then let’s end this together.”

In a darkened alleyway that night, Max and Y/N waited. They heard the footsteps, the unmistakable sound of Jos’ voice. This was the final confrontation the moment when Max would either free himself or be bound to his past forever.

As Jos appeared, flanked by his men, Max stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “It’s over, Dad. You can’t control me anymore.”

Jos’ expression was a mix of anger and something almost like disappointment. “You were always my successor, Max. But you betrayed me. And for what? A woman?”

Max shook his head. “For freedom. For love. For a life that you never gave me.”

In a swift movement, the fight began. Max and Y/N fought with everything they had, each strike a testament to their will to survive. And as dawn broke, they stood victorious, finally free from Jos’ grip.

In the end, Max and Y/N left the city, driving toward a new horizon. They had endured more than most could imagine, but they had come out of it stronger, bound by trust and love.

As they drove into the distance, Y/N leaned over, resting her head on Max’s shoulder. “It’s finally over.”

Max took her hand, a quiet smile crossing his face. “Yeah. We’re finally free.”

They didn’t know what the future held, but they knew one thing: they would face it together, no longer haunted by the past.

One year later 

In a small, sunny coastal town far from the chaos of their past, Max and Y/N settled into a new life together. They’d both embraced the quiet simplicity of it—the kind of life neither of them thought they’d ever have.

Max and Y/N married in a small, private ceremony, just a handful of close friends gathered to celebrate. There were no grand gestures, no lavish displays”just the two of them, standing hand in hand, promising to share a life of peace and devotion. For Max, it was the ultimate vow of freedom, a declaration that he was no longer bound by his family’s legacy.

Over time, they built their own family. They had two children, a boy and a girl, who became the center of their world. Max was a devoted father, often surprising Y/N with how patient and tender he was with their children. Watching him with them, she knew he’d truly left his past behind, pouring his energy into being the father he’d never had.

To make a living, Max chose a career that allowed him to use his skills for good. He became a mechanic, running a small garage where he fixed cars and occasionally helped neighbors with any odd jobs. He found he enjoyed the work”it was honest, straightforward, and gave him a sense of satisfaction he’d never known before.

Max had always been good with his hands, and he took pride in running his business ethically, treating each customer with respect. In a way, his garage became a place where people came not only to fix their cars but to catch up with him and Y/N, who would often stop by with their kids. Their life was simple, grounded, and filled with small joys.

There were still moments when the shadows of their past would resurface”an unexpected noise, a stranger’s lingering look. But Max and Y/N had learned to hold each other close during those times, grounding each other with gentle reminders of the life they’d built.

Their children grew up knowing nothing of the dangers their parents had faced. Max and Y/N wanted it that way; they wanted their kids to live without fear, surrounded by love and stability. They spent weekends by the shore, watching their children play in the sand, building castles and laughing freely.

In the quiet of those moments, Max would look at Y/N and feel a deep gratitude for the life they’d created together. It was a life free from the violence and tension that had once defined him, and he knew he had her to thank for giving him the courage to embrace it.

As the years passed, Max and Y/N continued to build their lives in the small town, becoming a beloved part of the community. They hosted neighborhood gatherings, watched their children grow, and celebrated every milestone, no matter how small.

For Max, this life wasn’t just a new beginning”it was redemption. He’d found a purpose beyond survival, a love that had healed his old wounds. And in the warmth of his family, he had finally found peace.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 2

author note: hey friends, so im sorry for taking so long, i wanted to post it this Saturday but i got lots of work, it's not proofread so I'm so so so sorry for any mistakes, i promise ill fix them a bit later!

also im working on some pre portal stan x reader x ford fic and it's filled with what we love the most - glass and angst (smut included!!), i know i always say it, but im so excited to share it with you guys <3

nsfw, minors dni

Stanford Pines — the enigmatic genius who’s always just beyond your reach, a mind so vast, it feels like trying to grasp the stars. You should be focused, but your gaze keeps flicking back to him. You’re utterly captivated, heart racing, mind spinning.

And then it happens. One moment, you're holding the mug, your fingers curled around it and the next it slips. No! The mug tumbles from your grasp, its ceramic form hitting the floor with a sharp, brutal crack that echoes through the room. You watch in helpless horror as it shatters into a thousand pieces, each fragment piercing the silence like a blade through your chest.

Your heart skips, thundering in your ears, and your face goes hot with embarrassment, an awful flush spreading across your skin as you turn your wide, panicked eyes toward Ford. His gaze meets yours, a mix of surprise and concern, but it’s his calm that gets you. 

“Oh shit—” your voice cracks and you curse yourself silently, mortified. Of course, you would screw up right now, in front of him. Stanford fucking Pines, the man whose brilliance makes your own thoughts feel clumsy, an intellectual giant, and here you are, tripping over a damn mug. The pieces of it seem to scatter in slow motion, like a dream you can’t wake up from. You’re so stupid. You feel so stupid.

“I’m sorry— I'm so sorry,” you ramble, desperate to somehow undo the mess, your hands trembling at your sides. You want to sink into the floor, disappear, fade away. How could you be this careless?

But then Ford takes a step forward, and everything inside you freezes. His eyes are soft, so much softer than you expected, softer than anyone else’s gaze ever could be. He’s not angry, not even irritated. Instead, he’s. . . calm. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says, a chuckle escaping him, as though the whole situation is laughable, as though you’re not standing there, mortified in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with worse. Trust me.”

For one second, everything really seems to slow down as his words sinks into you like a balm. You believe him. It’s impossible to not. He’s seen everything and here you are, worrying over a broken mug.

“Im really sorry,” you stammer again, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, the tenderness in his gaze. What did you expect? That he’d scold you, dismiss you? But no. He’s calm, like this minor catastrophe is nothing. As if nothing could rattle him, as if you, standing there like a fool, didn’t matter at all.

Stanford laughs. “You know, after all I’ve been through, interdimensional beasts, curses, that damn triangle demon, a shattered mug would be nothing. So don’t apologize.” his eyes meet yours. “Im not made of glass. It takes more than a broken cup to rattle me.”

And then his voice lowers with that quiet authority. “Sit down,” he commands softly. “I’ll handle this. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

You can’t help it. His voice sounds so low, commanding, yet laced with something so tender it makes your skin tingle. The words come easy from his lips, but when they’re aimed at you, they tear through you. They make you feel like you’re something precious, something to be cared for, protected. But more than that, a part of you craves to be held by him, right now, right in this moment. To be pressed back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling the strength of his arms, making you feel like you’re the only one in his world.

You’re not just obeying his words, you’re aching to obey. 

That’s why without thinking, you sink into the soft cushions. And shit, there he is — bending down, his bare chest covered with scars still glistening from the rain, droplets make you ache. They fucking shimmer on his skin, taunting you, daring you to touch him, taste him, make him yours. Every inch of him is fucking perfect. God, how are you even supposed to think straight when he looks like that? Your body is screaming for him, for his touch, for everything. 

You try to look away. You can’t. His broad shoulders, his strong fucking arms, his hard chest. It’s too much. He’s a fucking masterpiece and all you want is for him to paint you in ways you can’t even process yet. Your body betrays you, again, that warmth spreading low in your belly, growing. You cross your legs, trying to hide the desperate need that’s already pooling between them. Fuck, how are you supposed to calm this down? It only gets worse.

He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and it’s all laid out in front of you, impossible to ignore. His every movement is so natural, so fucking sexy, it makes your pulse race. You just know he can make you feel things you didn’t even know your body was capable of.

You’re trying to calm yourself, really, you are. 

You cross and uncross your legs again, desperate to release some of the tension building between your thighs, but it only makes it worse. Fuck, why is this so hard? Every thought you have is consumed with him, with what he could do to you, what he should do to you. And the more you try to control it, the more your body betrays you.

You need to touch yourself, but you’re stuck, just waiting, consumed by the need for him.

And then, the thoughts take over completely.

You’re delusional to the point where you feel his hands on your legs, parting them, spreading you wide. You imagine him on his knees, lowering his head, his lips tracing the inside of your thighs, so fucking gentle, so goddamn slow, as he watches you with those eyes, sharp, hungry, possessive. And then, he presses his tongue to your clit, licks you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, making you whine for him.

You bite down on your lip, trying to hold it back, but it’s impossible. You need him. You want him between your legs, fucking you so deep you can’t think straight, making you beg for it. Fuck, what would he say? “That’s it, baby. . . just like that… good girl, taking what I give you. . .” the words seeping into your skin like a drug you can’t quit.

You bite down hard on your lip, desperate to keep quiet, but your body is louder than you’ll ever be. Fuck, your body’s soaking through, your pussy throbbing for his touch, and all you can do is stare at him, mesmerised. His body is a goddamn work of art, and you want to trace every inch of it, feel it on top of you, pushing inside you, taking you.

It’s so fucking embarrassing, but you can’t stop it. Your body’s so ready for him, for his hands, for his cock. You can almost taste him, can almost feel his cock sliding inside you, filling you so nice.

Fuck, any writer of erotic novels would envy your imagination. The thought of him getting rough with you, pushing you down into the cushions, fucking you into the sofa until you can’t think, can’t breathe. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Mine to fuck whenever I want. You belong to me.”

The thought of him pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, makes you want to lose your mind. You just want to hear him growl your name as he fucks you like you’re the only thing that matters.

And you know you’ll let him. Let him claim you, take you apart, until you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure, a good girl begging for more.

“Hey,” Ford’s voice drags you back into reality, unwantedly. Your heart stutters in your chest as you blink, trying to focus on anything other than the way your body’s still burning, aching for him. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, the concern on his face so fucking intense it almost makes you want to tell him everything you’re feeling, right here, right now. But you can’t. God, you can’t. Not when the way he looks at you like that.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” his voice is full of worry, but there’s that edge of guilt creeping in as he mutters, “I really should’ve checked the forecast before dragging you out in this mess. . . feels like a bit of a fool for that.” his fingers are rubbing the back of his neck in that shy way he does, that little sign of guilt that makes your stomach clench in a way that’s too much to handle.

But it’s his fucking proximity that’s driving you wild. He’s so close now, standing there shirtless, looking like some goddamn wet dream come to life. You can’t focus on anything but his body, the way the rainwater trails down his skin, glistening so beautifully. Fucking fuck. 

“No, Ford, im absolutely okay, I swear—”

“Hold still,” Ford commands and that’s when you feel his hand so damn warm against your forehead, sending a shockwave of need straight through you. His touch is too fucking soft and yet it feels like it’s scorching you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re so goddamn horny your body’s reacting to the smallest contact.

You try to calm yourself, try to act normal, but it’s too fucking hard. You force a weak smile. “I told you, I— I’m fine,” you answer, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s all you can do to not let the truth slip. You want to scream it, how much you need him, how much you ache for him right now, but you don’t. Not yet. Never probably.

Ford’s brows knit tighter together and his eyes lock onto yours. He’s not fooled, not for a second. “You’re lying. Don’t try to brush it off. If you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me.”

The urge to confess everything is unbearable. You want to tell him you’re not sick, you’re just fucking drenched in need, that’s all! Aching for him to pull you into his arms, to kiss you until you can’t breathe. But instead, you do the only thing you can do: you force a nervous laugh, a weak attempt to play it off.

“No, I swear I’m fine! I could go on a thousand more anomaly hunts with you!” the words spill out with a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much frenzy and you pray to whatever god is listening that it’s enough to get him off your case.

Ford’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms, still towering over you, still so close

Man, just step back or I'll pounce on you and eat you.

“Cold rain can do a lot more damage than you think. You could’ve caught something serious, and ignoring it won’t help. Do you have any idea how quickly a fever can develop if you’re already run down?”

Oh no, his voice shifts into that familiar, lecturing tone, the kind that makes you want to both roll your eyes and lean in closer to hear more. 

When he says something about cold exposure affecting the immune system, you should be paying attention. You try to focus on his words, but it’s hard when he’s standing there — half naked, with his chest on full display, his messy hair slightly wet from the rain. God, he's just so fucking handsome. The serious, worried look in his eyes makes you weak and you can’t help but sink a little deeper into the sofa.

Just as Ford’s lecture hits a peak, the door swings open with a loud bang and Stanley Pines strolls in, halting mid-step as his eyes zero in on the scene before him. Ford, half-naked, standing too close for comfort, and you, perched on the sofa with that nervous smile plastered across your face.

Stan’s grin stretches wide, clearly loving the situation as he leans casually against the doorway. His eyes flick between you and Ford, then he gives Ford an exaggerated once-over, raising an eyebrow at his lack of turtleneck. “Well, ain’t this cozy,” he drawls sarcastically, giving a smirk that only widens when he spots Ford’s obvious discomfort. “Ya know, Sixer, when I said ‘show the girl a good time,’ I didn’t mean literally strip down to do it.”

Ford’s eyes snap toward his brother, his mouth twitching in a way that’s almost a grimace. His posture straightens, arms crossing defensively as he glares at Stan. “Stanley, really? Must you always reduce everything to your level? She dropped a mug and I was helping her avoid a mess. You wouldn’t understand, but maybe try acting your age for once.”

“Hey, all I’m sayin’ is, if ya plan on gettin' cozy, maybe take it to a couch that ain’t mine.” Stanley’s gaze slides over to you, flashing a wink. “But if you’re lookin' for company, darlin’, I’m more than happy to—“

Before you can let the awkwardness spread more, you spring into the conversation, desperate to steer it somewhere less humiliating. “Stan, actually, Ford was just helping me to—” you force a friendly smile, trying to make light of the situation.

Stan laughs like he’s heard it all before. “Sure thing, toots. But between you and me. . . you’re doin’ a hell of a job of keepin’ my brother here on his toes. Haven’t seen him all riled up like this since. . . well, ever.” your heart thump so loudly in your chest, you’re sure everyone can hear it.

Ford’s jaw clenches so tight, you can practically hear his teeth grinding, but he doesn’t look away from Stan. The vein in his neck starts to twitch.God, it’s almost painful how much he wants to just end this conversation, end this moment, and pull you somewhere private, somewhere safe, where he can have you all to himself, but he doesn’t. “Stan, enough. We have an anomaly to inspect. Something I’d actually prefer not to delay any longer.”

Stan lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying every second of Ford’s discomfort. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, Sixer, run off to your little projects. Just don’t forget there’s a real world out here, alright?” he gives you a quick nod, still smirking. “and you, don’t let him lock you in his lab too long, sweetheart.”

***

Grumpy Ford. The kind of irritated, scowling Ford you never realized you’d find so irresistibly enticing. That brooding frustration, that laser-sharp focus, you can’t help but imagine all that intensity turned on you, directed into every inch of your body.

God, if he just shoved you back onto that workbench right now, you’d let him. You wouldn’t care if his precious equipment went crashing to the floor, wouldn’t even flinch at the thought of papers and tools scattering everywhere. All you want is him, his body pinning you down, hands gripping you like you’re the anomaly he’s desperate to dissect, figure out, devour. 

Holy shit, you want him to push you up against that wall, pin you down until you’re writhing underneath him, his body grinding against yours, every bit of that frustration poured right into you.

Slick heat building between your thighs as you watch him, the way he moves around his lab, muttering in frustration as he punches numbers into some device, brows knitted in that fierce focus. And all you can do is want his hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck, his cock driving into you like you’re all he’s thinking about.

“The rain seems to have masked the anomaly’s energy signature. I suspect it might be due to ionization in the— are you even listening?”

His voice snaps you back, he’s tearing right through your flimsy attempts at focus with that intense gaze of his, as if seeing everything you’re thinking. You offer him a small, sheepish smile. “Of course I am! Gravity, paranormal. . . s-signatures, right?” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes keep drifting over his body, your ache throbbing inside, thighs pressing together as he stands there, so close you could reach out, slip your fingers through the fabric of his clothes, feel the warmth of his skin.

Ford’s gaze follows yours, his expression changes as he considers whether to answer. “That’s a thought-reading device. Designed to access certain mental frequencies,” he explains, stepping closer to it and closer to you. “It can pick up surface thoughts. . . theoretically, anyway. I was working on it before I. . . uhm, it’s meant to strengthen and protect someone’s mental processes. Block out. . . certain entities from gaining access to their mind.”

Ford lets out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Honestly, you’re as distractible as Stan.” 

He turns away, but your eyes don’t leave him. Instead, you let your gaze slide over the room, until something catches your eye. A strange, helmet-like device bristling with wires and so, without thinking, you ask, “Hey, what’s that thing?”

A mind-protective device. Of course, he’d build something like that. It’s so him, his beautiful mix of intellect, caution, that underlying fear of what he’s seen, what he’s had to fight.

“So, it could let me peek into that brilliant mind of yours?” it’s a playful a tease, mostly. But inside you just ache to know, to wonder, to feel his thoughts. Would he think about you. even once, in the same filthy, breathless way you think about him?

Stanford grins. “In theory, yes, but it’s hardly necessary. My mind is. . . complex, too complicated for most people to understand."

And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Ford lifts the machine, his grin is bigger. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Your heart slams against your chest and panic sears through you, cutting under your carefully held composure. Oh god. No. No, no, no. Every filthy thought, every desperate image of him, of those long, deft fingers tracing down your skin, of his mouth, his hands, of him pinning you down and splitting you open on his cock, of moaning his name until you can’t breathe. All of it, laid bare, displayed for him to see? 

You choke down the crazy urge to run, instead forcing yourself to laugh. “Why, Professor Pines, are you doubting my integrity?” you counter, flashing him a daring smirk, praying it’s enough to distract him from the heat that’s burning its way up your cheeks.

Ford chuckles in response. “Integrity?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “No. But curiosity? Oh, absolutely. I think it would be enlightening to see what actually goes on behind that amused little expression of yours.”

“There’s nothing interesting in my mind,” but your words barely sound convincing to you, let alone to him.

Ford tilts his head, arching his brow in that all-too-familiar, skeptical way that makes you want to simultaneously squirm and melt. “Oh really? You know, most people would be thrilled to test out new technology. But you. . . you’re avoiding it like it’s some kind of torture device.”

“Oh, yeah, you know,” a poor attempt at casual. “I just. . . don’t wanna risk, you know, brain cells or something.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. God, please just buy it. . . 

Ford’s laughter rumbles and by the look on his face, you know he doesn’t quite believe you. But, mercifully, he lets it slide. “Alright, alright,” he relents. “I’ll spare you. This time.”

***

The rest of the evening is a haze of Ford’s intense meticulous rambling as you both sit tucked away in the quiet of his lab, soft lamp light casting warm shadows that stretch over the various gadgets, books, and uncharted maps sprawled out on every available surface, his domain, the world he’s always losing himself in.

He’s explaining again, his words so precise about the anomaly you saw earlier today. His voice rises with each detail, the way the rain altered it, how it vanished before either of you could even think to grab it. You should be focused, but his beautiful voice turns into a lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, your body sinking deeper into the chair. 

And Ford notices.

The way your head tilts too far, your eyes fluttering closed just a little too long. He’s not as lost in his thoughts as he likes to think. His gaze sharpens, flicking to you with that careful, assessing precision he’s always had. He sees that quiet exhaustion in the way your posture slumps, the way your breath catches unevenly as your body fights against the pull of sleep.

His voice softens. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “Of course you are. . . It’s too late. Go, get some rest. This. . . all of this will still be here tomorrow.”

A sigh tries to escape your chest before you can stop it. You want to protest, to stay longer, to pass just little bit more time with him. But the way he looks at you makes the words die before they can leave your lips. There's something unspoken in his eyes, a quiet concern mixed with that stubborn, unyielding sense of responsibility.

You try to stifle a yawn, your hand reaches out, fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve, as if the touch might change his mind. “Maybe. . . maybe just a bit longer?” however even your own voice sounds tired.

His answer is gentle but final. “No. You need to sleep. I’ll be here, as always.”

You don’t argue. When you step away, you catch one last glimpse of him, standing amidst the piles of notebooks, the soft light casting shadows along the lines of his face, catching the silver in his hair in a way that’s so painfully beautiful so you let yourself stay a little longer before you close the door.

***

The silence that reigns in the room after you leave feels like a huge, endless void that stretches to all corners of the laboratory and suffocates in its stillness. Ford exhales slowly, a sigh caught between frustration and something deeper he can’t quite name. His gaze lingers on the door, where you disappeared through just moments ago, soft sound of your footsteps still echoing in his mind. God, he’s such a fool, he thinks, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the ache that’s been building inside him ever since you spoke those soft words, just a little longer.

He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t ignore it. The way you leaned in, hanging onto his every word, as if he were something more than he really was, something beyond the man who hides behind his work, behind his mind. The weight of your trust presses on him and with it comes the unbearable pressure of knowing he doesn’t deserve it.

And God, he tries to keep himself restrained. He tells himself that this is madness, that you’re too young, that every second he spends watching you, wanting you, is a betrayal of everything he’s tried to build.

But you’re gone now and his lab feels emptier than ever. Even as he reaches for his journal, his thoughts are still tangled with you, with the way you looked at him, the way your sleepy eyes followed his every move, the way you seemed to hang on to every word, every breath he took. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?

And as he opens his journal, he knows there will be no more notes on anomalies tonight. No theories, nothing but the restless, fevered words he can never, ever say aloud. Ford knows that if these thoughts ever slipped past his lips, they’d destroy you. You’d never look at him the same again. And he can’t lose you. He couldn’t bear to watch that disgust fill your eyes, that revulsion as you saw him for what he truly is: a man with a heart full of shame, but aching for you all the same.

He writes with a fever, the words coming too quickly for him to even think them through. He’s confessing things he’ll never have the courage to say to you. The way you make him ache, how wrong it feels, how unnatural it is to want you this way. You’re so young, so vibrant, so full of life. How could someone like him, an old man, a man of logic and reason, ever think he could want someone like you?

And yet, it’s all he can think about. It’s all he does think about.

God help him, he wants you.

Stanford’s hand trembles as he writes fast.

“The way she seems to lean closer with every word I speak, as if I’m some kind of god to her. I can’t breathe when she’s near, but I can’t stand being away from her either.”

He’s sickened by it, disgusted by the way his hands ache for you, by how his thoughts run into places he can’t control. But even so, he thinks, I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting you.

“If only she knew what I was dreaming about, how I want to erase all layers of distance between us. I want to melt into her, touch every inch of her skin, as if she was made to belong to me, only to me.“

Ford can’t let you know how deeply he feels, how far he’s fallen for someone like you, someone so out of reach, someone who might never look at him the way he looks at you. Because if he did, if he let those words slip from his lips it would ruin you. It would break you.

And he can’t do that.

Not to you.

So, he writes. He writes because it’s the only way he can make sense of the mess inside of him. The only way he can be close to you without breaking everything.

“God, if she knew, she'd never see me as anything but the perverted old man I am.”

“God help me. . . I want her breathless. I want her shaking, clinging to me as I bury myself inside her, feeling every inch of her wrap around me like she was made for this. I want her to be mine. The years between us be damned—”

One sentence, scribbled with shaking hands: “if she knew how much I want to make her come on my cock while explaining the fundamental laws of interdimensional, she’d never look at me same way again”

“I want her shaking, spent, marked by me, by the man twice her age who should know better but can’t help himself.”

“I picture teaching her how to harness interdimensional energy, but my mind twists it, images shifting until it’s my body pressed to hers, whispering “concentrate sweetheart,” while I trust into her from behind. Her breath would stutter as I correct her technique with my hands on her hips.”

“I shouldnt crave her, not with the years that separates us like an unyielding chasm. Yet when she laughs, carefree and obvious, I imagine making her cry my name, hands guiding her hips as I thrust inside up into her, showing her exactly what an older man can do. Showing her why age doesn’t matter when she’s trembling and breathless beneath me.”

“She's got no idea, does she? I want her bent over my desk, books and notes scattered beneath her, while I thrust into her like some animal in heat, filling her over and over until there's nothing left of her but soft, pleading sounds and the way her body pulls me back in with every move. I’d guide her, make her feel exactly what it means to be touched by a man who’s twice her age and twice as obsessed.”

Meanwhile, now, alone in your room, you’re haunted by the memory of your lovely scientist, pulsing between your legs, leaving a needy ache that’s impossible to ignore. Just thinking about him, the strong lines of his hands, those six fingers that could make you see stars. . . it all sends a jolt straight through your body and suddenly, you’re melting, undone, utterly helpless to this craving for him.

You let yourself fall back into your bed, eyes closed, his presence wrapping around you like a ghost you can’t shake off. You can’t even catch a steady breath now, the dampness pooling between your thighs, every inch of you begging to be touched — not by yourself, no. You need him, his skilled, explorative touch, those six clever fingers. The memory of every stolen glance, every careful brush of his hand, it all coils up inside, a slow, delicious torment, and now it’s throbbing there, heavy with need.

You drag your fingers down the length of your body, tracing where his hands might go as you imagine him, his fingers slipping lower, finding that sweet, drenched ache and grazing it with a delicate touch that he’d know so damn well. 'Fuck,' you’d gasp, his name like a prayer on your lips as his six fingers roam, rough and relentless, pressing right against that needy opening, filling you up until you’re nothing but breathless whimpers and cries for more.

“God, sweetheart,” you hear his voice, “I’ve wanted this for so damn long. Do you feel that? How hard you make me?” and then he’d press his cock between your legs, hot veins throbbing against your entrance, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he tells you what a beautiful mess you’ve become for him.

Your fingertips brush over your clit as you imagine his hand there, gentle but insistent, exploring you with that scientist's curiosity, his six fingers pressing slow, circling that sensitive bud, coaxing soft gasps from your lips. “Let me feel you. Take it slow, sweetheart. Let me make you mine.” but even as you touch yourself now, imagining his fingers in place of yours, it’s still not enough

You arch from own hand, fingers gliding through the wetness now slick and ready, you press a little harder on your clit, circling it faster, imagining the way his hands would dig into your skin, his strong arms wrapped around you as he thrusts into you, “take it all, darling. Every inch of me.”

And by some lucky chance, Ford stands outside your door, his pulse slamming hard against his ribs, a wreck of a man just clinging to sanity. The sound of you — all gasping, breathy moans slipping through the thin wood, whispering his name in that desperate little voice — he can’t help himself as his hand flies up to the doorframe, his fingers digging in so hard they’re going white, knuckles taut, trying to keep himself together. 

But the universe is laughing at him, at his pathetic attempt at control, at the sheer uselessness of his restraint, because fuck, every gasp you make sinks its teeth into him.

Something hot runs through him, then it sinks low, thickening in his chest, then spreads down between his legs. His cock twitches, rock-hard and aching, straining against the fabric, pressing hard, begging for the attention he keeps denying it. He shouldn’t be here — hell, he should be miles away by now, somewhere that isn’t two inches from falling apart at the sound of you! But he’s not. He’s a goddamn mess, held hostage to the way you’re sighing his name.

“Fuck, sweetheart. . .” he’s going insane out here.

Ford knows how you look right now, imagined it thousands of times, laid out on your bed with those soft thighs parted, hands trailing down, fingertips grazing over warm, damp skin, teasing yourself open, getting yourself wet just for him. Fuck, he thinks, I shouldn’t be this fucking desperate.

Ford lets his hand slip down, pressing hard against the hardness straining in his trousers, feeling himself throb against his own palm. There’s no relief, just that painful, growing ache that has him grinding his teeth, biting back the low, broken sound that wants to rip free from his throat. He’s a man undone, ruined just by the thought of you, the image of you with your legs open, your body calling out for him like he’s the only one you need.

“Jesus, fuck. . .” his free hand reaches down, trembling as he slides it beneath his waistband, wrapping around the throbbing heat of his cock, feeling himself swell, hard and pulsing against his palm. It’s wrong, so wrong to be here, touching himself to the sound of your little whimpers, but fuck if he can stop.

The sounds coming from your room grow louder and it’s too much for him. He’s already so fucking close as he imagines himself on top of you, sinking inside you, feeling your cunt wrapped tight and hot around him, your body arching, your hands clawing at his back, those delicate fingers pulling him close, begging him not to stop. 

Ford’s back collides with the lab door as he stumbles in, chest heaving, adrenaline of hearing his name on your lips. He locks the door behind him.

Fumbling hands tug at his belt, fingers clumsy, impatient, tearing at the fabric as it’s the only thing standing between him and relief. Finally, the belt slides free, and he wraps a shaky hand around his cock, swallowing down a low hiss as the raw heat of his own skin meets his grip. 

He strokes himself roughly and desperately, letting his thumb graze the sensitive tip with a ragged groan that he’s helpless to contain. His mind runs further, and he pictures you, perfect and pliant, sinking to your knees before him with eyes so innocent, with lips parting as you take him into your mouth. As you let him fuck your throat.

A shiver runs through him and he leans his head back, sighing, groaning and grunting louder as he loses himself in the fantasy. God, if you only knew. If you could see him like that, a desperate moaning and trembling mess with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock. 

“Ahh— ffuck,” hell, just how much he wants to hear you make those sounds too, moan for him, he wants to feel you beneath him, warm and soft, clinging to him, legs tangled around his waist as he sinks into you. His strokes become faster. Ford imagines pressing you down onto the lab table, your dripping pussy welcoming him as he thrusts deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper until there’s no part of you he hasn’t claimed. His breath hitches, hips bucking into his hand as he imagines the way your walls would tighten around him, clenching, pulling him in. 

He’s shaking now, barely able to hold himself together, his free hand clutches at the edge of the workbench, knuckles white, as he lets himself sink fully into the fantasy. You’d look so damn perfect spread out for him. Ford’s hand moves faster, tighter, fueled by the image of you writhing beneath him, helpless, pleading, so sweet and open, absolutely his, his beautiful girl, sweetest thing. 

The pressure building until he can’t take it anymore. His hips jerk, a loud needy moan spilling from his lips as he cums, his body shuddering with release. For a few long, breathless seconds, everything fades: his mind, his shame, everything but the overwhelming, blinding wave of pleasure.

***

The morning breaks, a new day arriving, one that promises to be spent with Ford close by— and, isn’t that something to look forward to?

When you meet Stanford, the first thing you hear is, “Did you not learn anything from last time?“

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but before you can protest, Ford is stepping closer, his coat swishing around him as he moves. The wool of his scarf unravels with practiced ease, and in a smooth motion, it’s over your shoulders, the warmth of it spreads around your neck. You want to say something, but all you can focus on is the way Ford’s thumb traces the edge of the scarf, his touch so delicate it feels too intimate for something so simple.

This shouldn’t feel like it does, you think, but your body screaming what your mind refuses to admit.

“There,” Ford says, stepping back. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I thought you checked the forecast this time,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t today supposed to be sunny?”

Ford crosses his arms with a smile. “Yes, well. . . One can never be too cautious. After all, last time—“

“—last time, I nearly froze my ass off,” you finish, the laughter bubbling up between you and Ford shoots you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond, like he’s about to scold you but can’t help himself.

“I wasn’t going to put it quite so crudely,” he says, but that reluctant chuckle escapes him before he can hide it.

When the sun climbs higher, the forest around you changes in hues of gold, the leaves thinning just enough to let the light filter through in soft rays. You walk side by side, close enough to hear the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps in the fallen leaves and Ford’s murmured observations, but it’s all you can do not to lose yourself in him. His words float past, about terrain, weather, anomalies and predictions, but your mind doesn’t follow, not when your eyes keep straying to him.

You can’t help but wonder if there’s any room left for you in his head, if he ever thinks about anything other than those damned anomalies. A piece of you wants to shake him, to pull him from his thoughts, to remind him that life is more than equations and mathematics. But, god, there’s something so cute about him when he’s like this, so fully consumed by his world, and you can’t look away.

“You’re thinking about something,” Stanford starts, pulling you out of your trance. “Is it the anomaly, or. . .?”

“Just wondering what it is we’re actually tracking. I mean, last time it disappeared before we could even get a good look, so. . . what’s the plan if it shows up again?”

Ford’s face lights up with approval at your question. “It’s an elusive creature, no doubt,” and again, his voice slips into that familiar lecture tone, one you’ve learned to love despite yourself. “But this time, I have a better understanding of its behaviour. The rain threw it off last time, but if my theory is correct, today’s dry weather should keep it on course! And if we can corner it near the ravine, there’s a chance we might get a clear reading on its—”

“Ford,” you interrupt, he stops talking, his brow lifting slightly. “I mean, yes— corner it near the ravine,” you repeat. Wait, what did you just say? 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Ford asks, smiling at you. “If you’re still tired from yesterday, I can handle this on my own.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, crossing your arms as you look at him defiantly. "Oh, please. I said I could do this a thousand times over with you and still keep up,” you challenge.

He laughs again and his laughter is so damn cute. “That, I don’t doubt.”

Time pass and as you walk beside Ford, your mind drifts, you're not really thinking about the anomaly or the hunt anymore. No, your thoughts are elsewhere. Again. Somewhere they shouldn’t be, but there they are. You can’t help but notice the way the sun highlights the strands of silver in Ford's hair, the curve of his shoulders as he walks, his posture so effortlessly confident and strong. And you think about how much you liked the way his body looked in the rain yesterday, when the wetness clung to his clothes and made every line stand out even more. 

You sigh inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye. The weather, as perfect as it is, only makes you feel a bit wistful. Why did it have to be sunny today? You had been hoping for more rain. The kind of rain that soaked him through and made his clothes cling to his skin, the droplets tracing the curves of his chest. That was a sight you’d never forget. But today sun is too bright, too cheerful.

The soft breeze brushes your hair against your face, and you snap out of your thoughts just as you see the clearing ahead. Ford slows his pace, his gaze scanning the area with his usual calculated precision. And just as yesterday, air here feels different, as if charged. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the unease settling in. This is it, the spot where the anomaly was last seen. But, of course, there's nothing. The clearing is quiet, calm, completely empty.

Ford steps forward, looking around with a frown, muttering something under his breath. You stand there for a moment, waiting, listening to the wind rustle through the branches and the distant call of a bird. But there's nothing. 

“Where is it?” you ask and Ford turns to you, his expression calm but with that familiar hint of worry in his eyes, the kind that usually only surfaces when he’s feeling frustrated. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, though his voice sounds more like he’s trying to reassure himself than you. He straightens up, adjusting his glasses. “The anomaly will show itself. We’ve got all day to catch it.” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

All day with Ford? 

Your heart skips a beat and you have to fight to keep your expression neutral. What could be better than spending the entire day with him, just the two of you in this quiet, secluded place? No distractions, just you and Ford, and the anomaly that might never show up.

It takes a little more time while you and Ford are waiting for the anomaly to appear and so, a dialogue ensues.

“I’ve seen some more strange things. In all my years of research, there have been anomalies of all shapes and sizes. Creatures from dimensions we can’t even begin to understand. Some are harmless, just curious things that wander around, never meaning to cause harm. Others. . . Others are far more dangerous. I've seen creatures that could tear through steel without breaking a sweat. Their behavior is— well, unpredictable.”

“What about the really dangerous ones?”

“There's one anomaly, one creature that I’ve encountered that still haunts me, to this day.” he looks away for a moment, as if weighing the decision to tell you more. “a beast unlike any other. Its skin is like iron, nearly impenetrable. And its mind is relentless. It doesn’t think like us. It doesn’t have the ability to reason, only the ability to kill and survive.”

Wow, you already can see it in your mind — a massive, hulking creature, covered in jagged, metallic plates, its eyes wild with an animalistic hunger.

“And you’ve seen it?”

Ford nods slowly. “Yes, once. And it wasn’t an experience I care to repeat.” and then he calls you by your name. “Listen, if we encounter anything dangerous, you stay behind me. Don’t try to be a hero, don’t try to ‘help out.’ I’ve trained for this. I know these creatures; I know their instincts and behaviours. You. . . you don’t. It’s crucial that you follow my lead.”

“I’m not helpless, you know,” you mumble, folding your arms. “I can handle myself.”

But Ford only smirks, oh how cute you are. “And if you ever find yourself lost between dimensions, the key is to stay calm. Panicking is a surefire way to make yourself vulnerable. Reality in those places doesn’t play by the same rules. Your mind can trick you, distort what you’re seeing” 

You stare at him, a mixture of awe and confusion washing over you. “Well, thanks, Ford, for the guide on how to travel through dimensions and fight the monsters that live in them.”

“Years of experience. Sometimes the hard way. But you don’t need to worry about that, alright? Just stick close, keep your wits about you, and we’ll make it out just fine.” he smiles.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, your gaze dropping to the forest floor. “You’re. . . you’re Stanford Pines. You’re used to dealing with this kind of thing. Me? I’d probably end up wandering off into some other dimension if I so much as blink wrong.”

He chuckles softly, and you feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t.”

You open your mouth to respond, but then— crack. A twig snaps somewhere in the trees to your left. The sound is sharp, distinct, echoing through the quiet forest.

Your heart skips a beat and you instinctively grip Ford’s arm, eyes widening. He tenses, immediately going on alert as his gaze darts toward the source of the noise. “Stay behind me.”

You swallow, nodding as you press yourself close to him. Ford moves slowly, keeping himself between you and the sound, his shoulders squared, every muscle tense and ready.

Another rustle, this time from the other side. You bite your lip, feeling the cold prickling sensation of fear clawing up your spine. This doesn’t sound like a bunny, not in the slightest.

The sounds grow louder, surrounding you both. Ford’s posture tightens, his gaze focused and determined, while you hover close behind him, whatever lurks in the shadows isn’t friendly, and Ford, as always, stands ready to protect you at any cost.

Suddenly, Ford raises a hand, signaling for you to stay still. One. . . two. . . three—

A small, furry creature darts out of the bushes, a pudgy raccoon, more plump and inquisitive than fearsome. It scampers out, blinking innocently at you both and you feel sigh with a relief.

You slip out from behind Ford, who’s still standing rigidly, eyeing the raccoon with disbelief. “Well, would you look at that,” you say, glancing up at him with a slight grin. “Our terrifying forest intruder was just looking for a snack, huh?”

“Don’t get too close,” Stanford warns, still frowning. “These things are rarely alone.”

You laugh softly, crouching down and letting the raccoon sniff at your hand. “Oh, come on, Ford. You really think this little guy is hiding—”

The words die in your throat as you catch the look on his face, his eyes wide with sudden horror, mouth open as he shouts, “behind you!” and you whip around just in time to see something that makes your heart freeze, a hulking mass with matted fur and claws like daggers, looming in the shadows. Its eyes flash like yellow lanterns and a rank smell hits you, earthy and rotten all at once. You barely manage a step back before it lets out a furious roar, its maw wide enough to fit a head and then some. The sound is so loud it rattles through you and a splatter of spit flies from its jaws, landing on your clothes. You go stock-still.

“Th-that’s. . .” you stammer, but Ford’s voice interrupts you, calm and steady despite the chaos.

“Stay calm. It’s eyesight’s weak, but sound-sensitive. Just— slowly step back.”

You barely have time to take in his words before the beast’s head snaps toward you again, snarling with an intensity that shakes the trees. Immediately, Ford pulls out his gun, aiming directly at the creature, he fires off a round that echoes through the forest, hitting the beast and it lets out a howl of pain that sends birds scattering from the treetops. But it’s still very much alive, and now it looks angry, furiously angry. The monster's gaze is fixed on Ford with a vengeful glare, and he rushes towards him with a blood-curdling growl.

Ford stands firm, taking careful aim as he readies to fire again. But just as he steadies his grip, a branch underfoot shifts, making him stumble. The gun slips from his hand, landing somewhere in the tangle of roots and leaves and suddenly, he’s weaponless, the monster mere feet away.

Panic flares in your chest as you see the creature, claws poised, ready to strike. Ford scrambles back, but it’s too close, and something snaps inside you. Without thinking, you dart forward, adrenaline flooding through you and you grab a thick branch from the ground. With a yell that’s as much out of fear as it is determination, you swing it at the creature with everything you have, landing a blow that momentarily distracts it from Ford.

But that monster retaliates, slashing out in a blind fury and suddenly you feel the sting of claws raking across your leg. Pain flares sharp and hot, but you grit your teeth, ignoring it, keeping yourself steady enough to stay upright.

Ford seizes the moment, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and fear as he snatches his gun from the ground, turning back to the creature. His voice is hoarse but resolute, “what are you doing?” he shouts irritably, calling your name again. “I told you to listen to me!”

With a final, controlled shot, he fires, the bullet hitting its mark. The monster lets out an agonized cry, staggering back before it turns and lumbers off into the dense woods, its snarl fading into the distance.

The adrenaline ebbs, leaving you and Ford alone in the sudden silence. His gaze finds yours, mad and worried all at once, his hand reaching out to steady you as your breathing finally starts to slow.

Ford’s face twists with frustration, jaw clenched tight and when he speaks, his voice is seething with barely controlled anger. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, charging in like that! I told you to stay back!”

You swallow, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, not out of embarrassment or fear, but because, god, he’s hot when he’s angry, with that fire in his eyes and his tone like a damn storm. You force yourself to stay upright, despite the dull ache pulsing in your leg. “Ford, it’s fine. I just wanted to—”

But he’s already looking at you, really looking, his gaze flicking from your face to the way you’re leaning on your uninjured leg. “You’re hurt,” his tone dips from anger to something softer and worried. “Damn it, I should’ve never brought you out here. I’m such an idiot—“

“No, Ford, it’s just a little—” you try to brush him off, waving your hand dismissively, but as you shift your weight, a sharp bolt of pain shoots through your leg. You bite back a wince, forcing a smile. “Just a scratch, really.”

“Don’t even think about hiding this from me,” Ford turns annoyed and dead serious again, he steps closer as he assesses you, and there’s something really fierce in the way he insists, “Let me take a look. Now.”

For a moment, you think about arguing. But the pain flares again and you realise there's no winning against that look in his eyes. With a sigh, you give in, nodding reluctantly as you show him your new wound, from where the blood has already soaked into the fabric, turning it dark red.

Ford’s face changes instantly. “Damn it,” his hand hovers uncertainly like he wants to reach out, to touch, but doesn’t quite know where to begin. “This is— this isn’t just a scratch.”

His fingers finally settle gently around your calf, supporting you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he examines the wound. You can feel his pulse under his fingertips, it’s obvious he’s anxious, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the Ford who always has the answers.

“This was my fault, I shouldn’t have— damn it, I should’ve kept you safe.”

***

The journey back to the shack feels agonizingly silent. Ford has one arm around your waist, nearly carrying you as you limp along, every step makes the wound throb in your leg. The sting, the ache, it’s all mingling with a sick sense of regret. You feel it settling in your chest. The whole day had been a disaster. You both went out to catch that anomaly, that one lead he was so excited about. . . and instead, you ended up facing something brutal. The monster had nearly killed you both.

Ford hasn’t spoken a word since the forest and with each passing second, it gnaws at you more. The thought appears in your mind, he must regret it. Bringing you along, letting you be there, yeah. . . he’s mad and not in the way you find hot. He’s distant, still supporting you, guiding you with a firm hand, but it’s as though he’s somewhere else entirely.

When you finally make it to the Shack, you find it blessedly empty. No Stan’s loud jokes or questions to break the heavy silence between you. Ford helps you to walk, still wordless and the whole way, you’re trying to find something to say. Some excuse, some apology, but every time you look over at him, you just see that grim look and you stop yourself.

Inside, he lets you sit on the couch. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak, to try to lift that heavy cloud around you. “Ford, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go that way. I didn’t mean to—”

But Ford cuts you off. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I should never have let you come along, I put you in danger.”

That serious tone. . . You nod, saying nothing more and after a beat of silence, you get up slowly, mumbling something about heading to your room. Ford doesn’t stop you, and he watches you go, still worried as fuck, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s rooted there, expression tight as he watches you limp down the hall.

When you get to your room, you close the door softly behind you, but the pain in your leg has started pulsing heavier, sharper, demanding your attention. You look down and finally decide, you’re going to check it, even if just to prove to yourself that Ford’s look wasn’t warranted, that maybe you’re not as bad as he seemed to think.

You settle on the edge of your bed, carefully and slowly taking your pants off, but as you pull the fabric, the sight that greets you isn’t reassuring in the slightest. The cut on your thigh is deep, seeping a fresh, dark line of blood that’s begun to smear against your skin. “Fuck. . .” you curse, tilting your head to get a better look, your fingers hovering over the edges of the wound. Just as you’re mentally preparing to find the first aid kit, a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“No, please, just— let me help still. I won’t be calm until I—”

In the midst of your concentration, you hear the faintest creak of the door, and before you can even react, it opens. 

You barely have a moment to react, still sitting on the edge of your bed, the bloody gash on full display as Ford steps inside, eyes widening as he looks at you. He freezes and for a moment, you both just stare at each other in silence. You’re sitting there in your panties and a t-shirt, and you don’t know if to be happy or not, realising how exposed you must look. Ford’s gaze flickers to your bare legs, to the wound on your inner thigh.

You cross your legs in shock and embarrassment. “Ford, what—” you start, but he quickly raises a hand, cutting you off.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Ford approaches, he kneels beside the bed, looking up into your eyes. “I— I can’t just leave you like this,” he pleads. “Please. . . let me help.”

“Ford—“

Ford’s hands hover over your leg. “You need to stop the bleeding, disinfect it, make sure it doesn’t get infected. It’s going to hurt, but, I can help. I’ll be gentle. Just let me. . . please.”

His eyes search yours, a quiet desperation in them that seems to say more than just his words ever could. Ford may be brilliant when it comes to the unknown, but in moments like this, when it’s you that’s hurt, he’s lost, even if he tries to sounds smart. He doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to fail you.

Slowly, you nod, the vulnerability in his gaze too much for you to ignore.

“Alright,” you whisper. “but be careful, okay?”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

If requests are open can I request the reader being a horny little shit and making her friends Wanda Nat and Bucky orgasm in public. Like making them feels their wildest fantasies happening until their moaning messes.

Wildest Fantasies » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlett Witch, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader, Best Friend!Wanda Maximoff x Best Friend!Female Reader, Best Friend!Natasha Romanoff x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: You decide to make Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha moaning messes in public.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, male x female x female x female, alcohol, dirty talk, fingering, female receiving, blowjob, hair pulling, Sergeant/Sarge kink, praise kink, sexual acts in public, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also, this is my second time writing the reader with female characters so please bare with me and I hope it’s what you’ve imagined🩷

A/N #2: I would like to thank my bestie @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me come up with ideas for this🥰🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“What do you think of this one?” Wanda asks, opening the dressing room door.

“It looks cute, but can I adjust it a little?” You asked.

“Sure!” She answers with a smile.

She stepped aside, allowing you inside of the dressing room. You closed and locked the door behind you. You bit your bottom lip like you were thinking, but little did Wanda know that you have something in mind.

“Face the mirror.” You tell her.

Wanda turned around, looking at you in the mirror. You acted like you were adjusting the skirt she was trying on. One of your hands made its way to the front of her body, disappearing under the skirt. A gasp left Wanda’s lips when your fingers grazed her pussy over her panties.

“What- What are you doing?” Wanda asks, stuttering.

“Helping a friend out.” You whispered in her ear.

A shiver went through her body. Wanda didn’t protest. She let it happen. You moved her panties to the side. Your fingers rubbed in between her folds to her clit, feeling how wet she is.

“Oh my god…” She moans softly, trying not to be loud.

You slid two fingers in her pussy, moving them at a decent pace. Your free hand bunched the skirt up above her hips. Wanda watched in the mirror as your fingers fucked her.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” You say in her ear.

“Mhmm.” She hums, nodding her head.

A gasp left her lips when your fingers hit her sweet spot. Wanda quickly put her hand over her mouth to muffle her moans so no one heard her. You smirked to yourself.

“Too bad we aren’t at the Compound so you can moan and scream my name right now.” You almost whispered. “I bet that’s what you want to do, huh?” You say seductively.

Wanda nodded her head yes. You lightly chuckled and quickened your movements with your fingers. Your thumb rubbed her clit a little faster. Wanda’s free hand reached down and grabbed your wrist to keep it there and for something to hold on to. Her nails dug into your skin.

“F-Feels so good.” Wanda moans in her hand, tilting her head back against your shoulder.

“I bet it does.” You mused, biting your bottom lip.

Your fingers continued their movements. Wanda’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of your fingers fucking her pussy. She took her hand off of her mouth to say something, but it was incoherent.

“Hmm? What was that? Can you say that again?” You asked in a soft hum.

“Faster please.” Wanda managed to say coherently.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” You say.

Your fingers sped up their thrusts, along with the rubbing of your thumb on her clit. Wanda quickly covered her mouth with her hand again. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head. Her breathing got heavier. Her pussy clenched around your fingers when your fingers hit her sweet spot.

“F-Fuck…” She moans into her hand.

Wanda lifted her head off of your shoulder to look in the mirror. Her eyes looked down at your fingers fucking her. The sight of it is hot. She felt her orgasm building up. She wasn’t sure hot much she could take.

“I-I’m- mmm!” She moans, unable to form coherent words.

“Gonna cum?” She asked in a cooing voice.

Wanda moans into her hand and nodded her head yes in response.

“Cum for me.” You whispered in her ear.

That was enough to send her over the edge. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she came on your fingers. Her moans were muffled by her hand when she moaned your name. Your fingers fucked her through her orgasm. Your thumb gave her clit one last rub before pulling your fingers out of her pussy and putting her panties back in place. Wanda panted and looked at you in the mirror as you licked her cum off of your fingers, moaning at the taste.

“Oh my god…” Wanda says breathlessly, watching you lick her cum off of your fingers.

———

“Too bad Wanda had to go on a mission and couldn’t see this movie with us. It would’ve been nice to have her here with us.” Natasha says.

“I know right. What a shame.” You say with a playful pout.

You and Natasha decided to go to the movies. You wanted until the theater darkened and the only light that filled the theater was the giant screen in front of you two before you made a move. Yours and Natasha’s seats were towards the back of the theater. There wasn’t many people in yours and her area of the theater so it was perfect for what you had in mind.

You put your hand on her knee. Natasha took it as a friendly gesture and didn’t think much of it. You slowly moved your hand upwards towards her covered pussy, stopping on her thigh first and gave it a squeeze, catching Natasha off guard.

“What are you doing?” She whispers, looking at you.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just watching the movie.” You answered innocently.

Natasha turned her attention back to the movie screen. Your hand moved upwards to her covered pussy, rubbing it through her jeans. Her breath got caught in her throat, making you smirk to yourself. Your fingers unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. You slid your hand in her panties, feeling how wet she is. Natasha opened her mouth to ask you what you’re doing again, but she didn’t want to question you. She continued to watch the movie, thinking you won’t take it any further. Little did she know what you had in your mind right now.

Your fingers circled her clit. She let out a shaky breath. She leaned forward to take her jacket off and laid it across her lap so no one saw what you were doing to her. Your fingers rubbed against and in between her folds, getting your fingers wet with her slick. Your fingers circled her clit a few more times before moving them to her entrance. You slid two fingers in her pussy. Natasha stifled a moan by biting her bottom lip. You could tell that she was nervous about you fucking her with your fingers in public so you leaned over towards her to whisper in her ear.

“There’s no need to be nervous.” You whispered in her ear. “Just try to relax and watch the movie.” You whispered again.

Natasha nodded. Your fingers began thrusting in and out of her pussy. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her moans, even though her moans were also muffled by her biting her bottom lip. Your thumb began rubbing her clit. She clamped her legs shut on your hand. You softly chuckled.

“Keep your legs open.” You tell her very softly.

Natasha opened her legs back up. She spread them as wide as she could. The arms of the chair stopped her from spreading her legs any further. She tried her hardest to focus on the movie, but couldn’t due to you fucking her with your fingers. Her head fell back against the headrest of the chair and her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of your fingers rubbing along her walls.

“Watch the movie, babe.” You whispered in her ear.

Natasha whimpered quietly before lifting her head. She tried to focus on the movie again, but couldn’t. She was too focused on what you were doing to her.

“Good girl.” You praised softly.

Natasha moaned into her hand when you praised her. A loud sound in the movie helped cover her moan so no one heard her. Her free hand held onto the arm of the chair, digging her nails into the leather when your fingers sped up their movements. She grinded her pussy against your hand, wanting more and without realizing it. She was basically silently begging you for more. You obeyed her command and gave her more.

Your thumb applied more pressure to her clit as you rubbed it. Your fingers also sped up their thrusts. Natasha’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when your fingers hit her sweet spot a couple times in a row. You then curled your fingers. Her pussy clenched around your fingers at the feeling. You grinned to yourself when you found her sweet spot with ease.

“I can feel you getting close.” You whispered in her ear, sending a shiver through her body. “I bet you’re so fucking close.” You say in a teasing voice.

“Yes!” Natasha gasps quietly.

“Cum for me.” You whispered seductively, curling your fingers and hitting her sweet spot again.

That’s all it took for Natasha to fall over the edge. She came so hard that she soaked your fingers. Your fingers fucked her through her orgasm. Your thumb gave her clit one last rub before you pulled your fingers out of her pussy. You took your hand out of her panties and jeans. Natasha looked at you, panting softly as you licked her cum off of your fingers. You winked at her before turning your attention back to the movie.

“Holy shit…” Natasha whispers to herself, making you smirk to yourself.

———

“Hey, Sarge.” You greeted Bucky and sat down next to him in the booth. “Sorry I’m late.” You apologized, kissing his cheek.

“No need to apologize, doll. I ordered your favorite drink.” Bucky says.

“You’re the best!” You smiled at the Super Soldier.

You took a sip of your drink and turned towards Bucky.

“Tell me about your day.” You say.

“We work together, doll. You already know about my day.” He says with a light chuckle.

“I know, but I wasn’t with you when you were training the new recruits.” You say, taking another sip of your drink.

“Ok. Well…” Bucky tells you how well the new recruits were today.

As Bucky was talking, you put your hand on his thigh. Bucky took it as a friendly gesture and continued telling you about his day training the new recruits. You slid your hand up his thigh, moving it towards his cock.

“What- What are you doing?” Bucky asks nervously, looking down at your hand.

“I’m not doing anything, Bucky. I’m just listening to you talk.” You say innocently.

The innocent sound of your voice went straight to his cock. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat when you palmed his hard cock through his jeans. He was finding it difficult to talk with your hand on his covered cock. You took another sip of your drink before sliding off of your seat and went underneath the table. Bucky’s eyes went wide when you unbuckled his belt, but he didn’t stop you. You unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. His hard cock was clear as day just by looking at his boxers. You reached your hand in his boxers and pulled out his hard cock.

Bucky looked around the bar, making sure no one was looking or walking towards where the booth you and Bucky are in. He leaned back in the booth, looking down at you. You looked up at him innocently and bit your bottom lip, stroking his cock in your hand. Your tongue kitten licked his tip. You moan softly to yourself when you tasted his precum.

“You’re so big, Bucky.” You say seductively.

Bucky felt turned on by the innocent and seductive sound of your voice. You sucked on his tip for a short moment before moving your mouth further down on his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt your tongue against the underside of his cock. You then kitten licked and sucked on his tip before putting his cock in your mouth.

Bucky watched intently as you bobbed your head. He couldnt help but reach a hand down and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling on it as you sucked his cock. You moaned at the feeling of him pulling your hair. You glanced up at Bucky, making eye contact with him. Bucky could’ve came on the spot with the innocent look in your eyes.

“F-Fuck…” Bucky cursed under his breath.

Bucky made sure not to make any kind of noise as you sucked his cock. He would if you two were alone in the privacy of his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what has gotten into you, but he’s not complaining.

His tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Bucky looked around the bar to make sure no one looked over at you guys or heard you when you gagged on his cock, which no one did.

You momentarily took his cock out of your mouth to catch your breath. Your hand moved up and down on his cock as you looked up at him with a seductive look on your face.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Buck?” You say seductively.

Bucky nodded his head. You bit your bottom lip as you continued to stroke his cock in your hand for a few more seconds before putting it back in your mouth. You braced yourself and took his full size in your mouth. You steadied yourself by holding onto his thighs. Bucky’s hand remained on the back of your head. Also making sure you didn’t hit your head on the underside of the table.

Bucky bit back a moan when he felt your tongue against the underside of his cock. His eyes closed and he titled his back, enjoying the feeling of your tongue and mouth on his cock. You took his cock out of your mouth and stroked it in your hand momentarily.

“Eyes on me, Sarge.” You ordered, tapping his thigh.

Bucky opened his eyes and looked down at you.

“Good boy.” You praised.

Bucky watched intently as you licked from the base of his cock to his tip. You did that a couple more times before putting his cock back in your mouth. Bucky quickly put his free hand over his mouth when he felt your fingers rubbing his balls. His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. His hips thrusted upwards, making his cock go further in your mouth and hit the back of your throat.

“Do- Do that’s again, doll.” Bucky begs quietly.

Your fingers rubbed his balls more, adding a little more pressure this time. That nearly sent Bucky over the edge. He could feel his orgasm building up.

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop.” He says quietly.

You continued to bob your head on his cock, helping him get closer to coming. Saliva pooled in your mouth. A little bit of it came out of your mouth and rolled down your chin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He whispers.

Bucky came in your mouth. You moaned when he came in your mouth. A little bit of his cum, rolled down your chin. You then took his cock out of your mouth, breathing heavily. Bucky quickly put his cock back in his boxers, buttoning and zipping up his jeans. He was quick to buckle his belt too. You got out from underneath the table and sat down next to Bucky like you just didn’t suck his cock under the table.

Bucky looked at you, watching closely as you wiped his cum off of your chin with your thumb and licked it off of it.

“Fuck me.” Bucky mumbles.

“Oh so now you’re asking for that, Sergeant.” You say seductively in his ear.

Bucky groans softly and tilts his head back. You giggled softly and kissed his bearded cheek.

“Just admit it. You enjoyed me sucking your cock in public.” You whispered seductively in his ear.

“You have no idea how much I enjoyed that, babydoll.” He says, reminiscing what just happened in his mind right now.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 4 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - (Y/n) begins to notice Art suddenly growing more distant and she spirals into insecurity and concern. He reassures her and opens up about what has been occurring, but the events to follow will forever change the course of their lives together.

Notes - Y’all it’s here!! Definitely finished sooner than I thought, crazy what motivation does to someone lol. This is probably my favorite of all of the works I’ve done for Art and I’m so excited to bring you all on this journey! Without further ado, enjoy the show.

Word Count - 7,287

Warning(s): Blood/gore, violence, insecurity, smut, self-harm, suicide/sacrifice (don’t worry)

Song Inspiration -

ZAND - I Spit On Your Grave

Lewis Blisset - Killing Butterflies

(Y/n) entered the work room with a heavy sigh, tearing the fresh newspaper before tossing it into the trash. Art waved at her half-heartedly from where he worked at his bench, not bothering to face her as he focused. 

She set down a small cardboard box on her stool and looked around for a moment. 

“Can I use that knife for a moment?” She asked the clown casually. Art gave her a suspicious side-eye before reluctantly passing her a steak knife. “Thank you.” 

She cut at the tape, opening her new shipment of paint before handing the knife back to him and unpacking the box. 

“Anything crazy happen when I was gone?” She asked, but then quickly answered for him before he could even comprehend the question. “No? Good.” 

Art stared at her in disbelief, expressing a blatant what the fuck as he squinted. He watched as (Y/n) tossed away the box and sighed again as she hung her camera around her neck, his signal to get up. 

The clown put his hands on his hips and gave her a stern look. Her gaze softened and she gave him a gentle smile. 

“I’m okay, I’m just in a bit of a mood.” She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, Art simply poking the tip of her nose with an approving nod before grabbing his bag. 

“Man or woman tonight?” (Y/n) questioned as she played with the ruffled fabric at the bottom of his sleeve, eyes focused on the sidewalk they followed. “Or both?” She added and Art pointed at her with a mischievous grin, agreeing. “We should find a couple, but that might be harder to find. Could always just get a man and woman separately and -“ 

Art slapped his free hand over her mouth and they froze, (Y/n) looking up at him expectedly. 

Voices were heard speaking casually in the distance and she followed his gaze, coincidentally spotting a couple walking out of a restaurant. Art grinned mischievously and removed his hand from her mouth, the two of them sharing an eager expression, then simultaneously looking back at the couple before stalking forward. 

Art disappeared into an alleyway while (Y/n) continued to follow the couple from behind them. 

“Excuse me?” She innocently caught their attention. They turned to see her, the man more skeptical while the woman was more concerned. “My friend just collapsed, I think she blacked out, but I’m not sure and I don’t know what to do.” (Y/n) panicked, fidgeting with her hands. 

“Sure thing hun, where is she?” The woman politely pressed further. 

“She’s just over here.” (Y/n) motioned to the alleyway not far from them. The woman stepped forward to follow her, the man hesitating before shaking his head and following reluctantly. 

As they turned into the alleyway, (Y/n) slowed to stand behind them as they wandered further, looking into the seemingly empty space. The woman turned to question (Y/n) when a loud thud sounded as a plank rammed against her head, sending her into the brick wall. 

The man shouted as he watched her fall, his gaze then trailing to trace the figure of the monochromatic clown that stood menacingly in front of him. The man gasped and quickly spun around to leave, only to come face to face with (Y/n) who casually leaned against the wall. She raised her hand, wiggling her fingers at him in a wave before ramming his skull into the wall, his body collapsing next to his partner. 

Art laughed wildly with glee in her participation, dropping the board and clapping his hands. He turned to his bag as (Y/n) lifted her camera, adjusting it then snapping a couple of photos as the couple groaned in pain together. 

When Art stood straight once more, she turned her back to them and leaned against the wall again, watching the street while she patiently waited. 

After long, Art tapped her on the shoulder and presented the now mangled pair, (Y/n) tilting her head in thought. After minor deliberation, Art propped them up against the wall to sit next to each other, leaning against the other with the woman’s head on the man’s shoulder. 

(Y/n) crouched, catching different angles and lighting while Art watched her work, taking in her form and focus with admiration. He caught the sound of new voices, head snapping as his smile dropped ever so slightly before stepping towards the opening of the alleyway. 

He reached the entrance, peeking his head out and looking both ways. He caught sight of a trio of teenagers, two brunettes and a blonde as they giggled. His eyes squinted when the shorter brunette turned her face more into his view, rage subtly beginning to simmer as his eyes glimmered in recognition. 

“What’s the matter?” (Y/n) asked when she stepped beside him, following his line of sight to see the same three girls. “You want them too?” She furrowed her brow when he didn’t acknowledge her. “Art?” 

He finally broke away from them and looked over at her, waving his hand off in dismissal. 

“Let’s get going, then.” She watched as he cast the disappearing girls one last look before turning to grab his bag, then took her hand as he came up to her and began their walk back home. (Y/n) looked back at the group one last time with suspicion.

As the two of them laid in their bed, (Y/n) couldn’t help but remember Art’s strange behavior earlier. She tried to focus on his steady breathing and the beat of his heart, his fingers that mindlessly caressed her shoulder. But it couldn’t distract her enough to brush it off. 

She felt Art tap her shoulder, feeling the unsteady rhythm of her heart that contrasted his own. (Y/n) looked up at him and he tilted his head at her in a silent question. 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “What was that earlier? With those girls?” 

Art’s lips twitched, then he waved his hand as if to say it was nothing. 

“You’ve never done that before.” (Y/n) pressed. Art frowned and a firm finger raised, warning her to not worry. She laid her head back down on his chest in defeat and he rubbed her shoulder, soothing her to help her fall asleep. 

(Y/n) stood in darkness. A void. Surrounded by nothing. She turned to see the silhouette of what seemed to be the shorter brunette from the trio, a nauseous feeling settling in (Y/n)’s stomach as tears welled up in her eyes. 

As she felt one trickle down her cheek, a hand cradled her chin and turned her head to face them. She was met with the beautiful green eyes of her infamous clown, falling into a trance as her legs began to lose feeling, jellifying under his piercing gaze. 

But when she reached up to his face, he disappeared. 

Her eyes fluttered open, the spot next to her on the bed cold and empty. Her eyes looked towards the boarded window, seeing no light shining through. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, checking the time. 

3:47.

(Y/n) stood with a sigh and rubbed at her tired eyes, sluggishly walking towards the door and leaving the room in search of Art. She entered the work room, expecting to find him sitting at his bench. But there was no sign of him. 

She checked the other rooms they rarely used, thinking he might’ve been in a more sporadic mood. But again, no sign. 

She meandered back over to her door when the entrance of the building opened and in walked the man in question, though without his bag and without more blood than she had fallen asleep to. 

He paused in the doorway, staring at her with his usual grin and she felt a pang in her chest, looking him up and down before disappearing back into her room without further acknowledgement.

Art cocked his head back in confusion, smile faltering at her behavior. He thought about following her, comforting her or cheering her up in some way. But he decided against it and made his way to his bench. 

She felt another pang in her chest when she heard him begin to hammer away, hoping that he would join her. 

Her mind raced, jumping to conclusion after conclusion.

Something wasn’t right, that much was evident. It didn’t start until he saw the group of girls. He wasn’t bothered, no. She knew him well enough to know that. 

No, what she saw in his eyes was determination. Sadistic, violent determination that worried her more than it should have. So much so that an uneasy feeling began to settle in her stomach. A feeling she hadn’t felt during the nearly full year they had been together. 

Uncertainty. 

During her turmoil, she fell back asleep, exhausted from the events of the night and her unfiltered thoughts. 

When she awoke the next day, the sun was up as rays showed between the boards. (Y/n) stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, mind quiet as she slowly blinked. 

Eventually, she stood and changed into a different outfit, sighing as she adjusted her clothes and finished getting ready before walking out towards the work room. 

Her spirits lifted when she saw Art’s back to her at his bench this time, toying with one of his creations. She shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and feeling him relax beneath her. One of his hands reached down to pat her forearm, settling on top of it as he felt her cheek press against his back. 

“Missed you last night.” (Y/n) mumbled against him and his finger caressed her wrist in acknowledgment. 

She finally let go and stepped to stand beside him, kissing his cheek then sitting on her stool.

“Sharpening?” (Y/n) asked as he ran one of his knives along a metal rod and nodded. “Getting ready for something special, then?” She continued and yawned. 

Art nodded again, slower as he was deep in thought. He tossed the knife back into his bag sat beside him and stood, (Y/n)’s eyes following him curiously as he twisted the opening into a handle and slung it over his shoulder. 

“We’re going out during the day?” 

Art shook his head, slicing his hand across the air to tell her no. He pointed at her and made the motion again and her eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You don’t want me to go…?” 

Art’s eyes widened at the evident pain in her voice, waving his hand in front of him and shaking his head more vigorously in a panic to console her. 

“Then why shouldn’t I go?” She stood and her voice raised a little, the rate of her heart beginning to pick up. 

Art motioned for her to calm down and take a deep breath, pointing between the two of them and giving her an ok symbol. He rested his free hand on her shoulder and bent down to kiss her nose, walking backwards towards the exit and giving her a thumbs up for reassurance. 

As (Y/n) heard the door close, she began to hyperventilate as her mind raced with thoughts she never imagined were possible being with Art. 

Why didn’t he want her with him? Was there someone else? Was he growing tired of her?

The image of the girl from her dream, manifesting from the trio they saw that night entered her mind. 

Tears pricked at her eyes and she breathed heavily, pacing the room that now felt colder than usual and empty. A choked sob slipped past her lips and she covered her mouth. 

“No…” (Y/n) denied the possibility of him cheating on her. How could someone so simple take his attention away from her? From the relationship they had built together for so long? 

Unless the girl wasn’t as simple as she thought.

“No, no, no -“ She repeated to herself in desperation, and fell to her knees, arms wrapping around herself in false comfort. 

She cried, the dam she so proudly held finally breaking as everything came crashing down onto her in that moment. She crawled across the floor to lean back against the wall, head tilted back as she continued, looking up at the ceiling helplessly. 

After some time, her throat grew raw and her cries died down to sniffling and shaky breaths. She finally looked down from the ceiling to the concrete floor, catching a glimmer of something out of the corner of her eyes. 

She turned her head to see a simple kitchen knife laying a few feet away, taunting her as the blade shined beneath the single bulb hanging from the center of the dull room. 

(Y/n) stared at it for a few moments, a defeated sob working its way out of her throat as she slowly reached for it. She simply looked at it as she held it in her lap, contemplating. 

Her breathing grew labored, trembling as she slowly rolled up the sleeve of her left arm. The blade was lifted to the skin, just barely grazing the surface when she heard the front door open and she yanked it away, standing up in a rush. 

Her heart raced when she heard familiar footsteps grow closer, closer until the clown entered, bag nowhere to be seen. He looked around for a moment, eyes squinted in observation before he spotted her.

His grin immediately dropped at the sight before him. Her sleeve was up, blade in her other hand and shaking in her grasp. What disturbed him more than the blade was the raw emotion in her eyes. Emotions he would typically drink in with pleasure. 

Panic, fear. Pain. 

(Y/n) froze, unsure of what was going through his head, the sight of his frown unsettling in that moment. She took a step forward, face set in determination. 

“Who is she?” She choked out. No response. “Who is she!” (Y/n) shouted, breaking. 

Art slowly shook his head, forgetting about his theatrics with her state and stepping closer to her. 

“Who is she to be more deserving of your attention?” Tears began to flow down her cheeks once more. “What does she offer that I don’t?” Her voice cracked. 

Art simply stood, unmoving as he took in her words. 

“Answer me!” She screamed desperately.

He watched as (Y/n) looked down in defeat, then at her arm, then slowly back up at him. And Art noticed the familiar look of determination. The one he himself was so well acquainted with. 

Before he could understand what was happening, she quickly ran the blade across her inner forearm, effectively slicing the skin as red began to flow down in gentle streams and drip onto the floor. 

Art lurched forward and snatched the blade from her hand, tossing it to the side as it clattered onto the floor. He gritted his teeth at her, frustrated as she stared at him with tear-stained cheeks. He looked down at the wound she inflicted, observing the damage. 

It wasn’t deep enough to cause fatal harm, but it was a decent gash that would take some time to heal. He pressed the sleeve of his own forearm against it, soaking the blood and adding pressure to prevent further bleeding. 

He frowned as he looked back at her after hearing a sob, shaking his head at her in disappointment.    

“Please don’t leave me…” His brow furrowed. “I’ll do anything.” She whispered desperately and his expression softened in realization. “Please…” She watched as his gaze pierced through her and felt a strange pressure in her head, followed by an odd sense of comfort and adoration. 

Art suddenly leaned in and their lips met in sweet, demented unison. He tasted the salt of her tears, as did she as pressure was added to their kiss and she was flooded with overwhelming emotion. 

Her uninjured arm desperately reached up around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer as she stood on her toes. His own free arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him, then he suddenly lifted her up bridally. 

(Y/n) gripped onto him as if her life depended on it, burying her face in his neck as he brought them to her room and placed her on the bed, hovering over her. 

Their lips met once more and they desperately clawed at each other, eager to prove that the other was real. Art moved down to her neck, biting and sucking harshly as she jumped and breathed heavily for an alternate reason. 

His hands bruisingly gripped her waist as he ground himself into her, taking in her harmonious hums of pleasure. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, raising it to reveal the skin beneath until it was pulled over her head, mindful of her cut that he continued to press dry every now and then. 

His teeth dragged down her neck, in between her breasts, gloved hands desperately kneading them through her bra and growing frustrated with the fabric. He reached under her and toyed with the clip, eventually unclamping it and tugging it off before he returned to her breasts to continue his mannerisms. 

She sighed as his mouth aggressively latched on to one of her nipples, toying with it and rubbing himself on her thigh that he straddled. (Y/n) yelped when he bit down particularly hard, her thigh meeting his erect member and his head leaned back, eyes closed and mouth open at the unexpected pressure. 

Art licked down her stomach, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake and tugged off her pants and underwear impatiently, breathing hotly against her core. He grit his teeth in anticipation, looking up at her as she gazed at him with hooded eyes, hand reaching down to grasp at his shoulder. 

He then leaned in and began to ravage her pussy, dragging out a moan from her as her head dug into the pillow beneath her. His movements were erratic and desperate, fingers digging into her thighs and kneading them as he rocked his hips into the mattress. 

Her hips lifted to meet his tongue, practically grinding into his mouth and his chest rumbled in approval, growling noiselessly as he let her use him for herself. 

As her pitch and volume heightened, he focused on bringing her to the brink of her orgasm, hands roaming up and down her figure. 

Just as she neared the edge, he pulled away and she sighed, looking down at him with a pleading expression. Art looked up at her and crawled his way up the length of her body with an animalistic bearing, biting at her bottom lip and delving in to taste her lips once more. 

(Y/n) reached around to undo his zipper, pulling it down and sliding the fabric of his suit off of his shoulders as he took over to bring it down the rest of the way until his erection was freed. 

Their teeth clashed as he rubbed his tip against her center, using his hand to rub the moisture over the rest of his heavy cock. She whined as she felt him poke at her, sighing when his hips rolled and his member slipped past her folds and buried itself into her. 

Art wasted no time in waiting, setting a steady rhythm as his mouth worked its way down her neck again, settling on sucking aggressively at the delicate skin. One of his arms reached beneath her, hooking his hand on her shoulder to pull her into him as he thrusted into her. His other pressed against her forearm to block the wound, taking her mind away from the aching pain as his speed increased. 

She cried out in pure bliss, hand resting on the back of his neck and holding him against her as her thighs pulled back. He angled himself upwards, finding the area she loved so sweetly as she nearly screamed into his ear. 

He licked up and down her neck through his grin, pounding into her with newfound aggression as she clung onto him. Her eyes rolled back, closing as her mind grew foggy with intense pleasure. 

With a few more thrusts, she was thrown over the edge and arched her back, pressing herself into him as she rode out her high. Art watched her with lust clouded eyes, thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own release. She felt him pulse within her and moaned at the sensation, feeling him fill her more than before and looked down at where they met. 

Art huffed silently and pulled out, collapsing next to her with a lazy smile. He looked down at her arm and frowned, giving her a for shame motion with his fingers. (Y/n) met his patronizing gaze with doe eyes, wide and filled with unanswered questions. 

“What are you hiding from me?” She whispered, dreading the answer. 

Art held up a finger, as if to say first. He pointed between the two of them, then waved a careless hand out into the room to show nothing else in the world mattered to him but themselves. 

“Then what is happening? What is so special about that girl?” (Y/n) sat up, invested in what was going on and he followed her up. 

Art pointed to himself, then to the window to represent the girl, then ran a finger across his neck and made an after motion. 

“Why not just kill her and be done with it since you’re so determined?” 

Art shook his head then grinned mischievously. He balled his hands into fists, putting one over the other and slowly twisting. 

“You want to torture her?” Art nodded. “You can’t just do that right before you kill her like everyone else?” Art shook his head again.

He pointed between the window - the girl - and himself, slicing at the air in front of him with his arms then folding them in front of himself like a child throwing a temper. He then pointed back at the window, then himself, then slid a finger across his neck again. 

(Y/n) chuckled incredulously. “She wants to kill you? So you’re basically enemies.” 

Art nodded excitedly and pointed at her. 

“That’s even more reason to just kill her and get it over with, that doesn’t make sense.” 

(Y/n) stood and began to re-dress as Art watched with a thoughtful expression. When she turned to face him again he slid a finger across his neck for a third time, pointing firmly at the ground to say today.

“And I’m going with you, yeah?” She replied as a statement more than a question. Art began to shake his head and she crossed her arms, holding back a wince as she forgot about the cut. “I’m going with you.” She reaffirmed sternly and his shoulders slumped in defeat, looking off to the side with a glare. 

Art looked back at her with a sarcastic smile, giving her two ok symbols before his smile fell and he rolled his eyes. 

(Y/n) sighed and her expression softened, making her way over to him and guiding him to stand and turn around. 

“We’ll be okay.” She reassured him softly as she zipped up his suit, letting him turn to face her again. “We always are, in the end.” She kissed the tip of his nose and he nodded giddily, his smile returning genuinely. 

Later that evening, after the sun had just set, Art urged them to leave and get into the van - and still wouldn’t disclose where he got it from. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled, Art hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition as the van revved itself to life. 

“When did you learn to drive?” (Y/n) asked jokingly. Art shrugged sheepishly, then eyed the spot she sat in with an odd expression. “What?” He shook his head and waved her off with uncertainty, shifting the van into drive and speeding off to who-knew-where. 

(Y/n) fidgeted with her camera when they pulled into a nicer neighborhood, rain pattering against the windshield as it stormed. He parked in front of a house at the end of a roundabout, pointing to it with an eager smile. 

“Is this her house?” 

Art shook his head, taping his index fingers together. 

“Her friend?” 

Art nodded and wiggled his eyebrows, (Y/n) sighing before the two of them got out and ran around to the back of the house. She gasped when he suddenly grabbed a brick and smashed in the sliding glass door, quickly collecting herself and following him inside to get out of the rain. 

“Not feeling really subtle tonight, I see.” (Y/n) spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence settled in the house. 

Art meandered into the kitchen, waving a hand in dismissal of her comment as she trailed behind him. 

“It’s too bad, this house seems so nicely decorated.” She annotated as she looked around, facing Art when he grabbed a random glass from the counter and turned on the faucet to fill it with water. 

She chuckled at his antics, turning into a giggle when he faced away from the sink to chug the water as if he hadn’t had any in days. (Y/n) then looked across the countertop, stepping closer when she spotted a pair of scissors and a knife. 

She hummed in approval. “Found your favorite.” Art set down the glass once it was empty and spun to face her, spotting the two items and rubbing his hands together in excitement, making his way over to them. 

(Y/n) suddenly heard a floorboard creak and looked around, seeing one of the brunettes from the other night watching them in pure terror. She casually lifted her camera and snapped a picture, Art giving a test snip of the scissors before looking to see what caught her attention. 

He stood up straight with a playful smile when he spotted his victim, raising the tools in his hands and snipping the scissors tauntingly at her. The girl screamed and ran off, Art following after her immediately in the opposite direction. 

“Have fun!” (Y/n) called after him, chuckling to herself when she heard them thump up the stairs. 

She looked around a little while longer, appreciating the owner’s sense of interior design for a moment before sitting down on the living room couch. She turned on the TV, drowning out the sounds from upstairs as she flipped through the different channels. 

She perked up when she saw an image on the news of Art leaving what seemed to be a costume shop during the day, suit freshly bloodied with his signature bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Huh.” She reacted simply, then turned around when she heard footsteps from the stairs. Art walked out, coated in much more blood than before and she quirked an eyebrow. “Done already?” She asked with a hint of surprise.

Art shook his head, (Y/n) watching as he rummaged through the cabinets and cupboards in the kitchen. He pulled out a white gallon jug of a chemical she couldn’t quite read from where she sat, then a container of salt and giddily trotted back upstairs. 

She simply shrugged and turned back to the TV, disappointment painting her face when the news anchor moved on to a different story. 

Some time later, she jumped when she heard the shuffle of keys outside of the front door and switched off the TV, getting up to hide behind the wall of the staircase. 

“Allie!” A woman called as the door opened and closed, presumably the girl’s mother. “Have you been handing out candy? That bowl is still filled to the brim.” She continued. 

(Y/n) stood frozen, peeking around just enough to see the woman hanging up her purse on a rack by the door. She quickly hid back when the mother began to head up stairs, holding her breath when her steps suddenly stopped. 

She dared to peer around once more, seeing her looking in the other direction where the glass door had been broken in. “Oh my god.” She gasped worriedly. “Allie?” The woman began to back away towards the stairs once more. “Allie!” 

As her voice grew distant, (Y/n) finally let out a breath and rolled her eyes at the disturbance. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, waiting expectedly. After a minute or so, a scream echoed through the house and she nodded her head. “There it is.” (Y/n) mused, then kicked herself off of the wall and made her way back to the couch to resume watching the television. 

When she heard Art descend the stairs a second time, he brought down the mother’s head with him and showed it to her with a proud flourish. (Y/n) walked up to him and examined it, noticing the top had been carved out into a makeshift bowl. 

She looked up at him and shook her head with a smile, walking over to the candy bowl sat by the front door with Art in tow. “Don’t expect me to help with the kids.” She warned him as she took a few handfuls of candy and transferred them into the head. Art simply grinned at her and nodded his head. 

Just then, the doorbell rang and (Y/n) shrugged, stepping around the clown to open the door for him. She hid behind the door, hearing the kids’ reactions of whoa’s and cool’s at Art’s ‘costume’ and candy bowl. “Ew,” She heard a little girl complain. “Why is mine so sticky?” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just fake blood, just put it in the bag.” The mom told the little girl and (Y/n) silently gave compliments to her for her patience. The kids giggled before they turned and left, granting a Happy Halloween before Art came back inside and closed the door. 

“You get your fix?” (Y/n) asked him as he tossed the head to the side, candy scattering over the floor. 

He shrugged in agreement, then clapped his hands together and pointed at the door for them to leave. 

“Exactly how many people are you getting involved with tonight for this?” (Y/n) broke the silence as he drove, the rain slowly coming to a stop. 

Art held up four fingers and she hummed. 

“That’s a surprisingly small number for you. But I guess dragging out each victim will do that.” Art nodded joyfully, the van slowing down as they reached a new neighborhood. 

They pulled in front of another house and parked, (Y/n) making a move to follow him when he told her to wait. She pouted and he reached out to her, gently patting her on the head before he got out of the van. She watched as he wandered up to the house until his figure disappeared inside. 

(Y/n) jumped when the van suddenly shifted into drive and began to move seemingly on its own, unable to move as she just sat frozen and baffled.

She then looked over to the driver’s side and saw what looked like a little girl with strikingly pale skin. She was dressed similarly to Art himself, makeup and all. Though it resembled more of a poorly put together cosplay of him. Her teeth were just as rotten, but her eyes glowed a bright yellow and red when she looked over at (Y/n) with an eerie smile and waved. 

Hesitantly, the woman returned her wave and spoke. “Are you a friend of Art’s?” She asked with a slight tremble in her voice. The little girl nodded, focusing back on the road as she cheerfully drove. “How long have you known each other?” (Y/n) asked, deciding to simply embrace what was happening and strike a conversation. 

The little girl held up a finger. 

“Days?” The girl shook her head. “Weeks? Months?” More shaking. “A year?” A nod. “You’ve been with him this whole time?” The girl smiled giddily, tilting her head side to side. “I’m assuming you know who I am then?” She nodded again and held up a half-heart with her fingers. 

Her face then twisted into focus, the van slowing to a stop. (Y/n) followed her line of sight, spotting a teenage boy hunched over and panting. 

The girl suddenly honked the horn and (Y/n) jumped in surprise. “Can he see us?” She asked as the boy whipped around to look at the van in both fear and confusion. 

The girl pointed at herself and shook her head, then pointed at (Y/n) and nodded. They watched as a group of kids ran past him and he stumbled, then turned to look back at them and slowly made his way towards the van. 

“Is he serious?” The little girl clapped excitedly and nodded. The boy stopped a few feet away from the van, the radio turning on and glitching through different stations as he stared at (Y/n) with his eyebrows furrowed. He looked away at the group of kids that passed him when the girl honked the horn again to recapture his attention. 

His eyes widened when the girl revealed herself to him, staring at him with a blank expression and wide eyes before he bolted. 

When he left, the girl giggled silently and looked over at (Y/n) for validation. The woman genuinely joined her, the boy’s reaction amusing. 

The van began to move again, following the boy as he ran into the house that Art had gone into and parked in front of it once more. 

The girl turned to face (Y/n), the latter doing the same and paused when the girl poked her knee playfully. Then twice again. Not understanding, the girl motioned to her own knees, then looked back up at the woman expectedly. 

Slowly, (Y/n) reached out and poked her knee just the same as the girl did and the girl giggled happily before reaching out and poking her knee again, now three times. (Y/n) followed. 

She went along with the girl’s little games in boredom as they waited, then screams sounded from the house and they looked at each other in understanding. 

Art suddenly emerged from the front door, dragging the boy from earlier by his arm, his body unmoving. The clown popped open the doors at the back of the van and slid the body inside, closing them as he walked around to the driver’s side door. 

(Y/n) gasped and froze when the girl crawled over into her lap, plopping herself happily to sit on top of her and kicked her legs. Art opened the door, face showing surprise at first, then laughed when he saw (Y/n)’s shocked expression. 

He hopped in the van and shut the door, throwing the van into drive and speeding off. 

After a few minutes of driving, Art pulled out a phone from beneath his legs on the seat and handed it over to the little girl. (Y/n) watched as she unlocked it and filtered through its contacts, clicking on Sienna and dialing. 

“Hello?” A female voice answered on the other end of the line. 

“Sienna, I’m in trouble!” The girl mimicked the boy’s voice and (Y/n)’s eyes widened, looking over at Art as he laughed while watching the road in front of them. 

“Oh, you think? Mommy told me what you did to her car, you little asshole. I mean, really?”

(Y/n) looked over at Art and pointed at him in question and he nodded proudly. “No, you have to come get me.” The little girl continued. 

“What do you mean? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at the old carnival. Eric and Sean left me here. I’m all alone!” The girl’s head tilted eerily with a creak. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Please, I’m really scared! I don’t know what else to do, I can’t call Mommy!” 

“Okay, um - alright, calm down. I’ll come get you. Okay?”

“Hurry, my phone is dying!”

“Alright, just wait by the main entrance, okay?”

The girl hung up and the three of them looked amongst each other with a shared glint in their eyes. 

As they rolled into the carnival’s parking lot, they all hopped out and Art grabbed the boy’s body from the back, throwing him over his shoulder. (Y/n) turned to look for the little girl, but found nothing and looked back at Art with a confused expression. 

Art simply shrugged and began to make his way inside, (Y/n) following like a lost puppy. 

“So when were you going to tell me about the girl?” She questioned him as they entered the Terrifier, trusting that Art knew where he was going through the maze of demonic props and animatronics. 

He pointed between the two of them, then made a short this high motion to represent the little girl and waved his hand in dismissal. 

“Is she always there?” Art shook his head, then pointed at her and made a sleeping motion. “Only when I’m asleep?” He nodded. “Well, that’s sweet of her, at least, to give us our time.” 

Art shrugged as they entered a room that looked similar to their workroom at their own hideout, spotting a bench that was equally as messy with tools splayed out. His bag sat next to it, a small and broken in box TV in the center of the room not far from his bench. 

Art turned to face her and aggressively pointed to the floor, telling her to stay put with a stern expression. (Y/n)’s lips parted in confusion.

“Why?” She pleaded, stepping closer to him as he adjusted the body over his shoulder and cocked his head at her, letting her know not to argue. She let out a shaky breath. “Will you be long…?” (Y/n) asked as she picked at her nails, worry decorating her face. 

Art shrugged, not knowing how long it would take and she bit her lip. She took a deep breath and walked up to him, lifting herself on her toes to bring their lips together in a passionate kiss. 

“Just come back to me.” She whispered, meeting his intense gaze. 

Art gave her a firm nod and slowly turned to make his way out of the room. 

“Art?” 

The clown paused, head turning to acknowledge her. 

“Give them hell.” 

His mouth spread wide open with a large, toothy grin, then stalked out of the room to carry out whatever it was he had planned. 

As she sat alone in Art's alternate workroom, the sounds of chaos and violence echoed through the walls. Her heart raced with every scream, every cry for help that pierced the air. She had learned to trust Art, but something felt different about that night as each passing moment felt heavier than the last.

She tried to calm herself, reminding herself that Art was a master of his craft, a performer who knew how to handle himself in any situation. But the fear crept in, consuming her with every passing second. What if something went wrong? What if he needed her and she wasn’t there?

Impossible.

(Y/n) paced the small room, hands trembling with anxiety. She longed to be by Art's side, to support him, to protect him. But there she was, helpless, waiting for him to come back to her.

Minutes turned into hours - or so it felt. Time seemed to stretch and warp, playing tricks on her mind. The cries of help, yelling and screaming had died for quite some time. 

She tried to come up with reasons for his delay that made sense. Covering his tracks? Cleaning up? 

Never. Not with Art. 

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, thoughts spiraling into a dark abyss of worry and doubt. She had never felt so alone, so vulnerable.

After what she deemed to be too long of a silence, she gave in to her instincts and left the room. She wound through the maze, left and right and left and right, at first attempting to follow trails of blood and all leading to nowhere except another cheap attraction. 

(Y/n) then found herself in a rather messy and empty-looking room. Trash seemed to litter every square inch, boards scattered among the dust and grime. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar comically large shoe, turning her head slowly to find the source. 

She gasped sharply, then cried out a painful scream at what lay before her. 

She stumbled over to the decapitated body of her clown, falling next to it on her knees and frantically touching him. 

“No, no, no - my love!” (Y/n) sobbed and continued to scream as tears streamed down her cheeks, refusing to accept that what was in front of her was real. 

She leaned down to rest on top of his body, arms wrapping around him as if he were still alive. Her body shook violently as she lay there with him when something glimmered next to her. 

A sparkle of silver shone from the bottom of his pant leg and she reached over to raise the fabric, seeing a hunter’s knife strapped to his calf. 

(Y/n) simply breathed for a few moments, staring at the weapon. Her hand then grasped onto the handle and slid it out, squeezing it as she sat on her knees, hovering over his body. 

She looked up at the ceiling, heartbroken and desperate.

“We’ll be okay.” Her voice echoed in her head.

Her other hand also came up to hold onto the handle, arms raising up, outstretched with the blade facing her torso. 

“We always are, in the end.”

She plunged it into herself with a hoarse scream. 

Blood seeped through her shirt, pouring down onto the body below her as she slid the blade out of herself. The knife clattered onto the floor as she dropped it, hands shaking as she slowly sunk down onto the stained floor to lay next to Art’s body. 

(Y/n) snaked her arms around him, lightly pressing herself against him as her blood soaked into his suit from behind. 

Her breath trembled, growing more and more shallow as time seemed to drag and her eyes grew heavier. 

She gave in, eyelids drooping to close as everything went black. 

-

“Just leave her.” A raspy and distorted female voice spit. “If you’re so determined, then do it yourself. I’m not wasting my time with this shit.”

The sound of retreating footsteps gradually disappeared, leaving a dark and disturbing presence to loom over the body that lay in the center of the dusty attic. 

The figure crouched down beside them, gloved hand reaching out to caress their cheek. The same hand trailed down to their torso, palm covering the fatal gash that sat over where their heart was. The figure’s eyes closed for a moment, feeling as if a force was pulling at them, weakening their already vulnerable state as they grit their teeth.

Then it disappeared. 

The figure’s eyes opened and took away their hand, watching as the face below him paled, yet somehow seemed to glow with a newfound ethereal beauty.

Suddenly, the body’s chest rose as it took in a breath, eyes fluttering open as it exhaled. Their eyes wandered for a moment, adjusting to the environment around them, then slowly met the now stark-white irises of the familiar face above them. 

“Art?” Her delicate voice called to him. 

Tag list: @hoe-for-daddywise @callsignwidow

[hannie-dul-set]

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.

p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.

requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.

myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.

“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”

“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”

“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”

so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.

“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.

“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”

“she threatened to mutilate you…?” 

jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”

there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”

a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”

admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.

“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”

speechless.

in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.

so, reasonably— they call for backup.

“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”

“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”

“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”

a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”

“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”

it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.

but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection. 

which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”

it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”

“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”

sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?

a thought enters sungho’s mind.

hold on a second—

“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”

—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?

oh my god.

“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”

“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”

“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”

this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.

“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”

hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”

“yeah, we should order it.”

“what drinks should we get?”

this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.

no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—

“huh.”

the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.

sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”

“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”

first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning. 

“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.

“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”

“but isn’t his life in danger?”

“i misunderstood.”

forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[jimmybutlrr]

Mystery Girl

Pairing: Professor -Terry Richmond x Brown-Skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing, and Smut) One-Shot, "Getting Slut Out"

Summary: He's that easy, that his draws dropped a few hours after meeting.

A/N: You voted and you shall receive. As always constructive Criticism is welcome and feedback *No Part 2*

“SURPRISE” everyone said. 

Terry clutches his heart feeling happy that his family showed up and out for him. 

“Thank y'all,” Terry said. After going around the party greeting every family member and friends. Terry can be found talking to Mike and the rest of his friend group. “We have to the club, maybe the strip club” Mike said, throwing all the options out there, “calm down, I just came back after being in the military for a few years” Terry said knowing his cousin is not going to take no for an answer. “You're right, we could go to the bar and use your military discount” Mike said, making the men laugh. 

Terry sighs, thinking about the options, laid out in front of him. “Alright, we can go to the bar but only for a few hours because I want to bury these memories”. Terry said in despain, thinking about his time in the military. “I’m going to make those memories disappear” That’s what Mike said a few hours ago, now being too drunk to entertain Terry. 

As Terry sits at the bar talking to the bartender as he has nothing better to do. During the time he spent talking to her, he found out that she had graduated university with a bachelors of social science, has a chihuahua, is collecting another degree  and works at the bar to be able to pay off her classes and debt.  “I really enjoy this talk with you but It’s the end of my shift and I have to switch out now, See you later Handsome .

" The bartender says winking at Terry and leaves before Terry can have a chance to get her number. Drinking the rest of his drink, he looks around for Mike and the boys, seeing them on the dance floor and he walks towards them. Tapping one of his friends on the shoulder, he lets them know that he has to leave and to watch out for Mike. “I have to go, but make sure you guys  make it home safe, alright”. The man nodds to Terry’s words, turning around to continue to dance with the bad gyal in front of him.  

Making his way through the club, throwing a few excuses here and there. He gets to the exit of the club and starts searching for his car when he sees the bartender on the phone, arguing with the uber as he’s not understanding where to go or what she’s saying. Terry walks up to her grabbing her attention, “Hi, I was just walking to my car, when I  saw you upset and I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright, as it’s dark out” Terry said concerned for safety. “I’m alright , it’s just the uber, they're starting to piss me off”. She said upset, “If It makes you feel better, you look sexy when you’re mad” Terry said walking  even closer to her, she blushes feeling flattered, by his compliment. 

“Thank you handsome, you don’t look too bad yourself” She smiles, staring into his eyes, biting her lip, noticing the height difference between them.  “I’m about about to go home, do you need a ride” Terry said breaking the silence, “I would love that” She said putting her head down, Terry wanting to charm her some more, takes to fingers and picks up her head “Don’t put your head down around me”  he demands staring into her eyes some more, feeling a bit chilly as he has no jacket, he put his arm around her neck and starts walking towards his car.

Thinking back to how they met, It really doesn’t explain how she ended up on his bed with her face planted into the sheets, gripping for dear life. “Don’t cum, Don’t cum” Terry demanded “No ppllleeaassee, let.. .me .. .cum, ppllleeeaasse” moans as her stomach starts hurting her. “It hurts, pleassee”. Terry nodds “Alright let it out, when i could to 3 alright” Terry said, lifting up her hand to start slapping her cheeks “ One “Slap” Two “Slap” Three” Terry said feeling her tighten around his dick, feeling like 2 orgasm isn’t enough. 

He starts fucking her through her orgasm, not caring that she’s trying to push his stomach way from her “Please, it too much,plleeaassee” She moans feeling tired. Terry stops, slapping her ass one good time before turning her around. He takes her legs putting them next to her head giving her a small kiss before he starts to bottom her pussy out”OOOMMYY Gooooodddd”. Tears start falling from her eyes, all while her ears start ringing and her body starts twitching. 

Making her reach up to push his body,” Why you running” Terry said, grabbing her hands and choking her. Looking down, Terry smirks, seeing drools fall from her mouth, the whites of her eyes and her delayed speech, trying her hardest to speak English or at least speak at all, it was cute. Terry’s thrust starts rough and slopier, revealing that his nut is getting closer and closer. “Come on, Nut deep inside me, daddy please” She said hoping to be filled. Terry obeys letting of a string of curses while he nuts deep inside her, not caring about the missing condom

Letting go of her body, he falls next to her, both too tired to get up. They fall asleep bare and sheetless.  A few weeks later, Terry wakes up and starts rubbing his eyes. Walking to his bathroom he starts getting ready for his first day being a substitute teacher for a college course that his connections helped him get. He gets to work, taking out the lesson plan from the previous teacher, the students start piling in one by one. Scanning everybody's faces for remembrance, he sees her. Shocked that she turned out to be his student, while also coming to the conclusion that she is equally as shocked as she is seated staring at him with the same eyes that were rolling back, just a few weeks before. When it hits him, He never got her name.

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy @planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo @jenlovey

@avoidthings @kimuzostar

@skvrpion @theereina

@megamindsecretlair @theereina

@melaninpov @mscarter213

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 31

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,250ish

Summary: You and Logan continue to mend your relationship.

Warnings: mentions of sex, anxiety, panic attacks

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I enjoyed writing it! This is also the start of The Wolverine (2013) movie!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

You were awake before Logan, allowing you to stare at his beautiful body. The two of you had had a wonderful week, just focusing on the two of you. You only left the house to go into town and get supplies. It was nice in town. No one knew who you were, as it had been a long time. Logan didn’t hate going to town either. He constantly had an arm around you or his hand in yours. And if someone looked at you a way he didn’t like, he made sure they knew you belonged to him by pulling you in for a kiss.

Logan started work today. You didn’t want him to work, finding out that Charles had set you both up with a nice chunk of money. But Logan insisted that it would allow him to get his needed anger out on the trees and that the two of you would do better if you weren’t around each other constantly. You hated to admit that he had a point.

“Stop starin’,” Logan muttered, slowly waking up.

“Can’t help it,” you smirked, kissing his shoulder. 

“Yeah, well,” he opened his eyes and turned to face you. “Two can play at this game.”

You laughed. “It’s not a game, Logan.”

“It could be.” He pulled you into him, kissing your forehead. “I need to get up.”

“No… stay.”

He chuckled. “We’ve talked about this, sweetheart. I’m only working part-time, a few hours five days a week.”

“Still… I…”

“I know you’re nervous. I am, too… the last time we had a morning like this, in this house—“

“Victor basically killed me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen. I promise.” He kissed your lips softly, like he could seal the promise. “We have a plan. You’re not leaving the house. You’ll call me if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.” Logan could tell that you were growing nervous. “It’s alright. I won’t be long.”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Come on,” He flipped the covers off of the two of you and pulled you off of the bed with him. “Help me get ready.”

~~~

“Before you go, I need you to take these,” you said, pulling the dog tags from around your neck and placing them around his. “I’ll keep yours still, but I need others to understand that you’re mine.”

“Marking your territory?” He smirked.

“Something like that.” You pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Logan kissed you again before driving off. You stood at the door, watching as he disappeared down the mountain. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to calm the anxiousness that began to build inside of you.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you whispered to yourself.

You slipped back into the house and tried to busy yourself with unpacking more. With each minute that passed, you grew shakier, and your skin grew hotter. You had to stop touching anything due to the fact that you had started setting everything on fire. Eventually, you ended up standing in the middle of the house, staring at the phone on the counter. You knew that you could call Logan, and he would drop everything to come running, but you didn’t want to ruin his first day. A few tears sizzled down your cheeks as you came to the conclusion to just handle it yourself. You’d be fine. This was just a one-time thing, right?

~~~

Logan actually enjoyed his first day of work. It was nice to feel normal once again, and chopping wood allowed him to clear his mind. Logan did feel bad for leaving you, though, so he swung by a flower shop in town before heading home. He was excited to get home to you and spend the rest of the day holding you. As soon as he entered the house, Logan could sense that something was off.

“Y/N?” He called, taking off his boots and jacket. “Sweetheart?’

“In here!” You called.

He followed your voice and found you curled up in the corner of the couch,, book in your lap. His lips lifted into a smile as he came up behind you and leaned over, going in for a kiss. You laughed into the kiss. Logan broke from your lips and began peppering kisses over your face.

“I take it the first day was good?” You laughed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, giving the top of your head a kiss before jumping over the couch to sit beside you. He pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his nose into your face. “I brought you flowers.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.” He handed them to you.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Glad you like them,” he kissed your temple. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was… good.”

His brows furrowed as he pulled back to see you better. “Why don't I believe you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. You pushed the book open and tried to read it.

“Nu-uh.” Logan grabbed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table nearby. “Don’t ignore this… don’t ignore me.”

“Seriously, Logan, it was fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Logan…” You moved to push yourself off of Logan, but he quickly held tighter.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He kissed behind your ear. “I believe you.” 

You nodded. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get something started. Go clean up and meet me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulled you in for a quick peck before the two of you stood up together. You smiled at him before slipping into the nearby kitchen. Logan watched knowingly. Something was going on with you, but you weren’t willing to admit it yet. The two of you had moved here to work on your communication skills and other aspects of your relationship, though it was clear it would still be a long road.

Logan was quick to clean up and join you in the kitchen. He could tell that you were relaxing the more he was near you. The two of you teased each other as you worked together to cook dinner. After dinner, the two of you cuddled on the couch, reading until Logan began distracting you. The two of you ended up in bed, ravishing each other’s bodies.

~~~

That became a repeat for the next few weeks. Logan would go to work, and you would panic alone. Logan would come home, knowing that something was wrong, but swiftly distract you with something he got you from town. It was annoying you that you couldn’t fight off the anxiousness of being alone, especially as the weeks wore on. You knew that no one would take you away or kill you. No one knew where you were or who you were. But the old memories haunted you. You’d barely been near the cliff where Logan had buried you, and Stryker had dug you up. It was all so much, though you truly wanted to be there.

“I have a long shift today, remember?” Logan said as the two of you walked to the door. “I won’t be home until late.”

“Right,” you murmured, looking down.

“Hey.” Logan hooked a finger under your chin and guided your head to look at him. “I can stay home if you need me.”

“No, I’m fine.” You shook your head and gave his lips a peck. “I’ll have dinner ready for whenever you arrive tonight.”

“Love you.” He captured your lips for another kiss before heading to the truck.

“Love you.”

You watched until Logan had completely disappeared before heading back into the house. Today, the anxiety seemed to hit you worse for no good reason. As soon as the door was shut, your hands were trembling, and sparks were shooting from your fingertips. Your legs buckled beneath you as you began to gasp for breath. 

You needed Logan. You need to fess up and tell him the truth. You just had to get to the phone and hopefully not burn it when you did. Your trembling body wouldn’t allow you to stand, so you were forced to crawl, burning a path in the wood. With a shaky hand, you reached up onto the counter and knocked down the phone. As quickly as you could, you typed in Logan’s number. It rang once before Logan answered.

“Miss me already?” Logan joked but quickly stopped when he picked up on your labored breaths. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. You could hear the truck's tires as Logan turned it around. “I should have told you… I should have been honest…”

“I’m on my way back, baby. Stay with me.” It’s like he could see that you were going to lose consciousness. “Breathe, Y/N.”

“I’m—I’m… trying…”

“I know you are. I’ll be right there. Okay?” Your body gave into the darkness. “Y/N?! Shit!”

Logan drove speedily up the mountain, trying to get back to you. As soon as he could, Logan was out of the truck and racing inside. The air smelt of your smoke and Logan noticed the burnt trail into the wood. He followed it to where your body lay near the kitchen. There were small flames littered around you. 

Despite the heat of your body, Logan grabbed you from the floor and hurried you to the bathroom. He needed to wake you and cool you down. Flipping the shower on, Logan stepped inside, not caring that the two of you still had clothes on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, trying to cool you down. “Wake up.”

You groaned, slowly coming back to. “Lo… Logan?”

“I’m here.”

“Are… are we in the shower? Oh no! Did I set something on fire?”

“It’s fine. You stopped.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I should have told you from the beginning.”

“Yes, you should have. But I’m not mad at you. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

You nodded, wincing as some harsh water hit your eyes. “Do you think we could continue this conversation out of the shower?”

Logan chuckled. “Okay.”

~~~

After that day, you and Logan tried to never keep a secret that important from each other. Logan slowly helped you with your anxiety, making sure you had a routine to follow when he wasn’t home. When he was home, he made sure to be fully home with you. The two of you shared the chores, though most of the time Logan was trying to get you to rest and not worry about it.

Both you and Logan continued to have the occasional nightmares, but neither of you was bothered by the other’s nightmares. The two of you did what needed to be done to comfort the other.

Your relationship still had its hardships, but you and Logan worked hard on your relationship. Life became nice, almost easy in a way. There was a steady routine throughout your life that you learned to enjoy.

One day, years after you left the mansion, Logan came home late from work. He quietly entered the house and found you working away on dinner in the kitchen. A small smile took over his features as he came over and slipped his arms around you. You jumped slightly, letting out a squeak of surprise as Logan held a kiss to the side of your head.

“Hey, you,” you greeted with a smile, relaxing into him.

“Hey, you,” he repeated. The two of you moved your heads to meet for a kiss. 

“How was work?”

“Good.”

“Good.” 

You pecked his lips again before focusing back on dinner. Logan sighed, resting his head against yours as he remained wrapped around you while you worked. Logan was simply amazed with you and felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.

“Marry me.” 

It was a soft statement, not a question. It had you freezing in your spot. Logan gently guided you around to face him.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

You looked at him. All you could see was his seriousness and his unconditional love for you.

“Okay,” you breathed out.

“Okay?” He repeated, trying to make sure that you were sure.

“I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna question all my responses?” You laughed. “Or are you going to kiss me already?”

Logan’s lips attacked yours before you could tease him again. He quickly pulled you into him and away from the stove. His hands snaked down your hips to your legs and gripped onto your thighs. Without breaking from your lips, Logan lifted you up and turned around, setting you on the island.

“Logan,” you breathed out as he began to trail kisses down your neck. “I’m making dinner…”

With quick movements, Logan shut off the stove. “Dinner can wait.”

~~~

The two of you cuddled naked in bed after showing each other how much you love each other. Logan’s hands gently moved up your neck and slipped his dog tags off.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly.

“Gettin’ your ring,” he mumbled, focusing on opening the chain.

You watched as Logan carefully took the ring off of the chain before he placed it back around your neck. Then Logan took your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Slowly, he slipped the ring onto your finger.

“You still good with this ring?” He asked, genuinely worried.

“Logan,” you moved your hand to caress his cheek. “This ring will always be perfect.”

“You sure? I can always—“

“James.” You pecked his lips. “I love it… I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You two shared another kiss.

“Logan, I…”

“What, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really want to deal with planning a wedding… I don’t want to worry about anyone coming or decorations. We should just go to the courthouse.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “What about private vows right here, right now?”

“But I don’t have a ring for you.”

Logan chuckled. “Baby, I can’t wear a ring. My claws won’t allow it.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Your dog tags will be my ring.”

“Alright… what should we promise each other?”

“Well, I know what I’d promise you… Been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

“Tell me.”

Logan turned to the side and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a piece of paper before helping you sit up with him against the headboard. You felt like you could cry as the paper trembled slightly in Logan’s hands. He had written his thoughts—his feelings down. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Okay,” he breathed out, eyes focused on the paper before him. “Y/N… I never thought I’d experience something like this in my long lifetime. Let alone twice with the same person… I’m not good with words, but I made a list of promises that I intend to keep… I promise to be your partner in all things. I promise to protect you with my life. I promise to be by your side. I promise to love you with a fierceness that rivals me on the battlefield. I promise to embrace every moment with you, cherish our shared experiences, and find joy together. I promise to be your Logan, your James, your Wolverine until the end of my days. But I promise that the title I will wear the post proudly is that of your husband.” Logan looked up at you, eyes shining with love and tears. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You responded by leaning in and kissing him, trying to pour your feelings into the kiss. He eagerly kissed back.

“I love you so much, Logan,” you whispered against his lips. “And I wish I was more prepared—“

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart. As long as you’re here, that’s all I need.”

~~~

You and Logan didn’t care if your marriage was official or not. In your minds you were now husband and wife, which apparently led to more attraction to each other than before. Everything Logan did seemed to turn you on. 

It was a Saturday in the fall, and Logan was chopping down a few nearby trees, wanting to make sure you had enough wood for the winter. You stood in the doorway of the house, leaning against it, nibbling away at your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but check Logan out. The way his muscles moved as he swung the ax. The way his white tank top was just a bit too tight, so it allowed you to see his abs through it. Logan’s skin glistened with sweat as he worked. You were sure that he could feel you staring, purposefully moving in certain directions to keep your attention.

Suddenly, you came up with an idea. You slipped into the house and put on a new set of lingerie you had bought recently and then put on one of Logan’s flannels, buttoning a few of the middle buttons up. As quietly as you could, you came up behind Logan.

“Hey, handsome,” you flirted.

“Hey, sweethe—“ Logan’s voice stopped as he took a second look to actually look at you. “What are you wearing?”

You shrugged, coming closer. “Looked comfy.”

He eyed the lace peeking out of the flannel as he set the ax down. “That’s not what I meant.”

You came up and ran a hand down his muscular arm. “You know… you’re a real good-looking lumberjack.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, brow raising. 

Your hands slowly grazed up his arms until you could clasp them around his neck. “Oh yeah… like the hottest lumberjack around.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle as his arms came around to the small of your back. “Is that why you couldn’t take your eyes off me?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“Did my wife enjoy the show?” You whined at him calling you his wife. It always got to you, and he knew that. “Do you want me to continue?”

“No,” you rasped, shaking your head.

“Then tell your husband what you want.”

“I want to go to our bedroom.”

“And?”

“I want to have sex. Ah! Logan!” You were suddenly thrown over his shoulder.

“Took ya long enough, sweetheart. Do you think I was chopping wood for fun?”

~~~

It had been almost ten years since the two of you left the mansion and never looked back. Life had been a wonderful, amazing bubble. Full of love and laughter. And you knew, deep down, that sooner or later, someone would come around to pop that bubble. 

Logan was at work, meaning that you were alone at the house. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a knock sounded at the door. You were immediately on edge. You quickly grabbed the phone and called Logan.

“Sweetheart?” He answered almost immediately, already knowing that something was wrong.

“Someone just knocked at the door,” you whispered.

“What?” You could hear rustling on his end. “I’m on my way back now.” 

The knock sounded again. “Should I answer it?”

“No. Get to a place where they can’t see you. I’ll deal with it when I get there.”

“Okay, I—“ You spun around at the sound of your glass doors sliding open. A young woman waltzed in, sword on her back.

“Y/N?!” Logan began panicking over the phone. “Sweetheart?!”

“Who are you?” You asked the young woman as you slowly lowered the phone, and a fireball began forming in your free hand. “And what are you doing breaking into my house?”

“My name is Yukio, and I’m looking for the Wolverine.”

next chapter >

[whimsicalpolitical]

Use me - Matty Healy x Reader

in which you always come to matty when your boyfriend doesn’t get you off

content warning: 18+mdni, smut, p in v, cheating, face sitting, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), dirty talk, handjob, aftercare,

“Sorry, where you uhm, going somewhere?” You ask Matty, pointing to his loosened tie and shirt.

“Nah, came back from dinner,” your eyes shoot up at his face. Dinner sounds romantic. He sees right through you though and eases your nerves, “dinner with my mates, love.”

You nod, taking another sip of your hot tea which matty brought you five minutes after banging on his door in the middle of the night.

“D’you need something else?” He asks, “anything at all?”

“No, thank you,” you smile, sinking deeper into the couch, hoping you could stay here forever.

Matty hums and sits next to you, at the end of the couch. He’s throwing his head back slowly, rubbing his forehead.

You watch. You trace the vein under his neck until it disappears into his shirt. His tousled hair reminds you of all the times you tugged at his curls because it was too much. Fuck. You’re still sticky between your legs. You were not able to chase your own pleasure because it doesn’t matter to your boyfriend, it never did and it never will.

Matty always gives a shit, perhaps that’s why you’re here, because you know you’ll feel good. Or maybe you’re here because he shows you an escape from the reality and he’s the only one who has that ability.

“Do I have something on my face?” He jokes, his eyes on you.

You shake your head, “no, it’s perfect as always.”

“Charmer.” Matty spreads his legs further and turns to you, “now, would you like to talk about why you came to mine at two in the morning or should we skip that part where you tell me your little boy isn’t enough for you?”

“Matty-“ you tilt your head and want to apologize, that you’re not using him for your own good but to tell him you enjoy his company.

“Actually, I would like to know what happened this time. Couldn’t he make you finish or did he not care in the first place, c’mon what was it?”

You sigh before locking eyes with him. The brown eyes you can’t stop thinking about. Ever.

“The second,” you respond with shame, “but I don’t care anymore, I just want you, can’t stop thinking about you.”

Matty lets a laugh slip out of his mouth before he moves closer to you, taking your legs and dragging them across his lap.

“Oh, darling, that’s a fucked up situation you’re in, s’ a real shame though- for him I mean.”

His hands are going up and down your thighs, teasing you, making you go crazy.

“What did you say to him ‘fore you left, sure didn’t say you were going to see me.”

You shrug, “told him I need to get work done, I guess.”

Matty hums, his hands now closer to the place you want him the most.

His knuckles brush against your lower stomach which is on display because your shirt had risen up. He sends goosebumps down your body at the feeling of his warm hands on your bare body and you want nothing but to feel them everywhere.

Matty wants to be close to you as well so he takes the opportunity and drags you onto his lap with his arms under your knees.

You don’t have time to make a sound because his mouth is on you again.

You part your lips willingly, gasping when he lurches forward and slides his tongue along yours, biting and sucking at your lips. Matty groans softly at the faint noises you make, your fingers tightening in his hair, the pleasing sting in his scalp sending jolts down to his hard cock.

“mmm matty” You’re panting, desperate for air he won't give you. He likes this—making you gasp, making you weak, making you forget entirely about your boyfriend.

Your hips move over his’ one slow time, gasping at the friction.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grips your hips and drags you across his bulge again, enjoying the pleasure himself, “is’ good?”

“Yeah-“ you breathe out, his hands kneading your hips to pull you back and forth over his hard cock beneath his jeans. With his eyes closed, lost in the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, his hands finding his way to your ass.

“Matty-“ you gasp, as his jeans hit your clit over and over. You can’t wait, it’s impossible. You tried all night to chase your pleasure but how, if your boyfriend stops when he’s done and doesn’t help you.

“Please, can we-“

Matty is quick to lay you down on the couch, dragging your jeans with your panties down your legs. He shakes his head though when he throws your jeans down the couch.

“I don’t want you to beg, alright? M’sure you’ve done enough of that tonight. I just want you to use me, make yourself feel good, the way you deserve.”

You bite down on to your bottom lip, nodding.

“Want to kiss you here first, that alright?” He asks, spreading your legs with his hand.

“Fuck- yes.”

“Mhm,” he leans down, eyes looking up at you one more time before his gaze fixates on your dripping cunt.

"Fuckin' christ. You're a mess down here. You really tried, hm?” he says, and you can feel every word blow against you.

"Uh-huh," you say, a kiss sucked to your thigh striking stealing all thought from your mind.

"Get close?" he asks, with another kiss, hands kneading at your thighs and ass as they wrap around you and try to tug you closer.

You nod, hoping he can see you as your eyes slip closed with the feeling of him right here, between your legs.

“That’s fucking cruel though,” he chuckles, “fucking dickhead, would make you come everyday for the rest of my bloody life.”

He bites the inside of your thighs until you feel a soft, teasing kiss to your clit. You shudder and whine and your hand falls to his curls to encourage him to give you more.

“Please just-“

“Darling, ease up, like I said, use me, c’mon let’s switch places.”

You frown, not knowing what he actually means but it gets clear when Matty shoves a pillow under his head and you straddle him but he tugs you up his chest.

“Wait-“ you slow him down, “shirt off?”

“Sure,” he says, opening the four buttons that were closed, “now.. up.”

He's licking his lips and looking up at you - all over every inch of you - eating you alive with his stare.

He pushes and pulls you then, dragging you up his chest until your knees are settled either side of his face. You can feel the gust of his breath against your thighs iust before he hauls you forward a little more until his half face is completely covered by your cunt, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible now.

“Fuck, love, need me so bad you’re dripping down your thighs. I’m not making you wait, sit down, darling.”

“That’s it.” You settle down slowly onto his face, listening as he guides you down until you feel the first broad swipe of his tongue up through your folds.

"Perfect,” he says, swallowing the taste of you.

He kisses around your clit, nudging it with the curved tip of his nose when he finally licks up into you again.

And then, he's pulling your flush to his face and feasting.

The noise that leaves you is stupid. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan and a question all at once. His nose is pressed against you, his laughter fanning out across your mound as you try not to squirm and wiggle against him, fearful of crushing his head beneath your weight, or at the very least suffocating him.

His face burrows deeper, his hands holding you firm, squeezing and scraping calloused fingertips against your delicate skin.

His hands move from anchoring you to his face, locked around your thighs, to pressing against your ass, gripping the globes of them in each of his broad hands.

He grunts, squeezing your thighs up to your hips as he pulls your clit into his mouth, lathering it with his spit and your wetness. It's white-hot: the pressure on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, the insistent bump of his nose against your clit as he teases his tongue around your tight hole.

"Matty, Matty, fuck," is all you can manage, sweet little gasps that he drinks in, his hips bucking involuntarily with the delicious pain of your fingers pulling at his scalp. You're losing grip on the real world and slipping elsewhere, and he wants to get you there.

One of Matty’s hands slides between your legs, easing them open even more, and rests on your belly, shifting to your ribcage and helping you steady yourself atop him. His fingertips graze your breasts under your shirt.

“Mhmm, fuck, perfect,” he mumbles.

The sounds are slick and obscene, mingled with your drunken sighs and words of encouragement as you curl your fingers against the couch uselessly.

"Matty,” you whimper, your hips rolling against his face, “so good, shit.”

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly.

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly. He'll imprint the feeling of him on your skin forever-if he hasn't already. He'll make sure you never have another man like you have him.

"I'm... oh, fuck, I'm gonna..." Your hips buck wildly, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you steadfast and firm to his face. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and fixes his tongue to you, wiggling slightly as he feels you stiffen above him. "Matty, shit.”

He knows. You're already coming. You’re both not surprised, you’ve been trying the whole evening and the orgasm that’s been stolen is now more than back.

“Yeah, like that, darling,” he praises, lapping at your cunt in the same pace.

Your hand leaves his hair and braces next to your other one on the couch, ensuring you don't fall over as your thighs shake uncontrollably and your mouth drops open in a keening whine. Matty keeps sucking at your clit long after your orgasm fades and you cry out from the overstimulation.

Gently, you reach down to tug his hair, and he reluctantly pulls away. He's so hard he can't conjure much mental activity besides getting his dick wet.

“Alright?” He asks with a big grin on his face.

“More than,” you respond.

Your chest is heaving as you try to pick your leg up and get off him, but your strength fails you. Instead, Matty grabs your hips and sits up, your cunt sliding down to sit on top of his erection. Experimentally, you grind down on him, watching a muscle in his jaw feather.

"Need you. Are you going to let me take your pants off?" you ask him, teasing, your finger tracing the metal of his belt buckle.

He grits his teeth, letting you take control for a moment, sliding the belt achingly slow out of each loop.

“Do anything you want to, you’re in control. Don’t need to act all modest with me.”

You dip your body low to his chest and press gentle kisses all the way down to his stomach.

Matty moans brokenly when you shuck his jeans down his legs and squeeze his hard length before it can slap up against his stomach. Your tongue darts out and licks up the precum pooling at his slit, making his cock twitch in your grasp. “jesus,” he groans. “You don’t have to, darling, you can make this all about yourself.”

You ignore him.

Your soft lips part around the throbbing head of his cock. Squeezing his strong thighs to ground yourself, you swirl your tongue around the tip and take him deeper, your throat expanding to accommodate him in your mouth. Your thumb rubs over his ‘we are kings’ tattoo like you always do, you look at him as you do so. His eyes are watery, blinking hard to expel the tears, his hand instinctively cradling the crown of your head to keep you on him, keep you choking around him.

“Christ, fuck,—” His fingers curl in your hair and gently urge you off his cock; you pout, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. His dick jumps at the sight, lying hard on his stomach.

“Don’t pout, don’t need to come in your gorgeous mouth if you want me again,” he rasps.

“Fine,” you playfully roll your eyes but of course you listen and crawl up his body until your hips are flush, his hardness slotted, thick and throbbing, between your folds. The hum that leaves your mouth is wanton, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hands move to your lower back, digging into the flesh just above your ass so you’re forced to roll your hips along his shaft.

“Have at it, darling,” he says.

You lift yourself up but instead of sinking down you take his cock into your hand and start moving up and down.

Matty shudders and grips your wrist, “fuckin, d’you want to kill me?”

You only giggle and shake your head innocently, “want you to fuck me now, I’ve been good.”

“Yeah, you reckon you are?” he reaches down, his hands going to your hips and guiding you down onto him. You both let out a moan as he fills you, the sensation almost overwhelming.

“You feel so good, love,” he breathes, looking down at where his cock disappears, “want you all the time n’ I can’t fucking stand the thought of you being with him.”

You look at each other, pupils dilated, mouths parted. You don’t move, not just yet, but you lean forward to crash your lips against Matty’s as a response.

Your hand grips the back of his neck to keep him exactly where he is, his tongue gliding across yours, filthy sounds coming from the both of you when you finally start to move.

“Yeah- fuck, you’re so good.”

You can feel his gaze on you, and it only served to heighten the pleasure building inside you. You start to ride him properly, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, his grip almost painful as he struggles to maintain control. The sounds he is making are sinful, the low moans and gasps escaping his lips spurring you on.

“Oh fuck, Matty,” you moan, “you make me feel so good.”

“Y-yeah?” He gasps, his thumb coming down your body to rub your clit in a torturous, slow pace, wanting to build the pressure, “s’ what I want, babe, need you to feel good.”

You moan again when he lowers his face to kiss you all over your breasts, sucking and biting at your nipple, offering you another way of stimulation.

“Need you, Matty, need you,” you repeat, your head falling against his shoulder while you keep your pace, your hips moving up and down.

“You have me, love,” he groans, moving his thumb a bit faster.

You clench around him and he can’t help himself but thrust into you so deep it makes you scream his name so loud you thank yourself he doesn’t have neighbors.

“Keep doin’ that,” he moans, “fuck.”

“Please,” you beg, just wanting to come with him all together, “Matty please.”

“I’ve got you,” he says, his brown eyes melting when he sees your fucked out face, “wanna come so badly again? Couldn’t feel good all evening and you need me for it?”

“Yes,” you admit, your hips slowing down, not having the energy like you had in the beginning, “fuck- I can’t.”

Matty hums and grips your hips, helping you to ride him faster, “like that, s’good, rub your clit for me though.”

You don’t waist a second and start as fast as when he stopped.

“Fuck, matty.”

“You’re perfect,” he says, moving his hips with yours, doubling the pleasure, “I- fuck, are you close?”

You know he is. His thrusts are faltering, eyes closed, head thrown back, his hands definitely bruising you but you don’t care. You want him to mark you. And honestly you couldn’t care less, not when you’re at the edge, letting yourself fall into him completely.

You clench around him again, a sign that you are close.

“Kiss me,” you whine, “plea-“

He does, it’s not a perfect, sweet kiss. He’s moaning against you, lips messily on yours, licking into your mouth as you both move together.

"You deserve this, you deserve to be fucked like this every day. Not treated like you're worthless."

Matty’s mouth is everywhere-his lips moving over your neck, nipping at your skin before kissing and licking at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, and you moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous," he groans, “fucks sake, my girl.”

He spurs you on and you can’t go any longer.

“Matty, im gonna come, can I- fuck.”

You whimper, your body trembling as the pleasure mounts, your mind going blank as Matty’s cock slams into you harder, deeper. Your hand on your clit, his mouth on your neck, his body pressed tightly against yours-it is too much, and you feel yourself spiraling toward release.

"You don’t need to ask for permission, are you mental?" he laughs, “come for me, love, whenever you want to.”

With a final, devastating thrust, the coil inside you snaps, and you scream his name as your orgasm tears through you, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him as he groans deeply, his hips never stopping, prolonging your pleasure as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans, your hips slowing down as his hips slam into you one strong time, releasing in you with a whimper, groan and moan, “jesus fucking christ.”

You whine, only grinding softly against him until you’re both too fucking exhausted to move.

You stay like this though- with him softening inside of you until he accidentally slips out making the both of you hiss.

“I really really like you,” you say, not being able to lift your forehead from his shoulder just yet, “I swear I’m not using you for this.”

“It’s alright,” he soothes you, hand brushing through your hair, “I’m the last to judge, m’just glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

After a long while Matty decides to lift you up, keeping your legs wrapped around him. You whine at the new coldness, air hitting your naked form.

“I’ll just need to clean you up, darling, you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum holding on to him, “bed though, please?”

“Course,” he says, pushing the door with his foot softly that leads you into his bedroom, “I’ll be right back then.”

He lays you down softly but before he can walk to the bathroom you pull him down, holding his face to give him a sweet kiss.

He’s kissing all over your face then, asking you multiple times if you need anything, praises leaving his mouth, “you’ve done so good, love, going to let me get you a towel?”

“Fine,” you groan, rolling your eyes and pushing him away.

While he waddles over to the bathroom, slipping a pair of boxers on while doing so, you get yourself a piece of clothing as well. A simple black shirt from Matty’s drawer.

You flop down onto the bed then and not even a minute later he’s back, a wet towel in his hand and a lotion.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, kneeling on the edge of the bed and spreading your legs, “it’s what you deserve.”

You can’t help but smile at his sweetness, letting him drag the towel up your thighs to your core, hissing at the soreness.

“M’sorry,” he apologizes, being as careful as he can be, “even used warm water, thought it would be more pleasant than cold.”

“It’s alright,” you nod, “thank you.”

His brows are furrowed in that intense way of his, and you are lost, as always, in the precision of it all — how someone so careless about most things could be so careful with you.

When he finally sets the towel aside, his hands replace it, gliding along your thigh with a gentle grip. He reaches for the lotion he brought, squeezing a bit into his hand before warming it between his fingers. The scent is faint, familiar, like something he’d chosen just for you, and he slowly works it into your skin, thumbs pressing softly in circles along the tops of your legs.

You hum, a sound low in your throat, and he glances up at you, his mouth quirking into a half-smile. "Feel good, love?"

You nod, letting your head rest back on the pillows, eyes drifting shut as his hands continue their slow, steady rhythm.

"Matty?"

"Yeah?"

There is a pause, the silence stretching as you weigh the words you’re holding back. You swallow, feeling the weight of them settle in your chest before you finally let them go. "I think I want to break up with him."

For the first time that night, his hands still, his fingers still warm against your skin as he looks up, his gaze locking onto yours, eyes dark and searching. "You sure?" he asks, voice rough but soft. "I mean… I’d definitely drop that wanker if I were you. But… are you sure?"

You nod, your own voice quieter than you expected. "Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t…" you hesitate, trying to find the right words, "I don’t feel right with him. He’s a selfish bastard, Matty. Only cares about himself. Never really… I don’t know. Not like you do."

The corner of his mouth lifts, just a hint of satisfaction, but he covers it with a quick raise of his brow, setting the lotion bottle aside.

"About time, I’d say. I mean, you deserve better than some bloke who’s all talk and no bloody follow-through." He moves closer, leaning in so his face is just inches from yours. "What kind of idiot would treat you like that? He’s the one who’s missing out.”

"Yeah… I just kept thinking things would get better, you know? Like maybe I was the problem."

Matty’s scoff is loud, dismissive, and his hand finds yours, fingers threading through yours with a surprising softness.

"Nah, not a chance. Don’t you dare let him put that on you. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever walked into his life, and if he was too stupid to see that? Then he deserves what he gets." His fingers squeeze yours, grounding and reassuring. "But you already know that. Just needed a little push?”

You nod, squeezing back. "Guess so."

He lets out a soft chuckle, leaning back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your face as he tilts his head.

“You shouldn’t be with someone who’s not good for you, you know?”

You nod, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and pull him up by his biceps, “you’re right, and that’s why I’m here.”

Matty gets the hint immediately, letting himself be drawn up until he’s lying half on top of you, chest pressing against yours, his weight warm and solid as he settles against you. His head dips down, burying into the crook of your neck, and he lets out a soft, contented sigh, his breath warm against your skin.

“Been wanting this all day,” he murmurs, his voice a little rough, like he’s barely holding back some deeper feeling. “Just you, here with me. None of that rubbish, none of him messing with your head. Just us.

You hum, the sound vibrating in your chest as you feel him relax against you, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair, brushing it back from your face with a tenderness that sends warmth flooding through you.

“Can I bring you anything? Water? Tea? Anything you need, just say the word.”

You smile, shaking your head slightly. “No, Matty, I’m good. You’ve done enough already, honestly. Thank you.”

He lifts his head, just enough so he can see your face, his eyes searching yours with that familiar intensity. “Enough? Don’t say that. Not a chance I’m leaving you without everything you could possibly want, got it?”

You squeeze his arm gently. “Well, in that case, just stay here with me. That’s all I want.”

His lips curve into a grin, his eyes warming. “Now that’s the easiest thing you could’ve asked for. I’m not going anywhere.”

“How about this: we sleep in tomorrow. Really let ourselves be lazy, yeah? Then I’ll take you somewhere nice, like that bakery on the corner. We’ll get those ridiculous pastries you like so much. What d’you think?”

You smile, the thought of it filling you with a cozy sense of comfort. “That sounds… perfect, actually. Can we get those chocolate croissants?”

“Anything you want.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll get a dozen if that’s what it takes to see you smile like that.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Deserve to feel like this all the time. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Least of all some idiot who doesn’t know what he’s got.”

“Thank you, Matty,” you whisper, meaning it more than you can say.

“Just glad you’re here.” His eyes hold yours for a long moment, then he settles back down, pulling you closer until you’re tangled together. He murmurs one last thing, just as you’re drifting off.

“Sleep well, darling. Wake me if you need something or just feeling lonely.”

You giggle as you start to rub small, slow circles along the back of his head, your fingertips grazing his scalp. He lets out a soft sound, almost a purr, and relaxes even more against you, his kisses drifting down to the corner of your mouth, lingering there as if he’s savoring every second.

“I definitely will,” you joke, “good night.”

“Night,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder blade before you’re both drifting off.

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ LOVE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT 𖤐. — yang jungwon.

pairing: idol! jungwon x fem! reader. content: idol au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is female, reader is not an idol here, reader got stood up (not by jungwon), confession, fluff. wc: 1.7k

FROM HYE: childhood friends to lovers troupe will always hit idc!!! idk why this became kinda long though, whoops... ALSO NO DOUBT AND DAYDREAM IS SO GOOD IM ASCENDING

This cannot be happening. 

You sighed for the unknown time, leaning back in your seat as you tapped your phone. The screen lit up upon your brief contact but as always, there was no new notification from your boyfriend. Nearly an hour had passed and you were sure your current state was gathering unwanted pitiful glances thrown your way. You knew what they were thinking. In their eyes, they saw a dressed-up young adult, excited for her date with her boyfriend, only to get stood up and had been hopelessly waiting there, like a complete fool. 

You finished the drink and decided to leave, having waited long enough. You stepped out of the cafe, the door gently closing behind you as you pulled out your phone to call the first person you thought of. It only took two rings before the intended receiver picked up. 

“Hello? (Name), aren’t you supposed to be on a date with Sungjin?” Jungwon asked, concern evident in his voice. His questions put a smile on your face, probably at the fact that he knows your schedule for the day, despite how he was in the midst of practice when you heard music coming from his background on the other line. 

Your prolonged silence was starting to scare the idol, who had stepped out of the practice room after signaling to his members that he was on a call. Jungwon frowns when his ears register the poorly stifled sounds of you sobbing. Hearing you breaking down is similar to getting shot in the heart. 

“(Name), what’s wrong? You know you can talk to me,” he continued in a soft and assuring tone. 

“I… I got stood up. I waited there for an hour and Sungjin didn’t turned up, making me look like a fucking idiot,” you replied through your tears, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

Jungwon's grip on his phone tightened as he listened to you, his jaw clenching when he realized the pain in your voice. The news hit him like a blow: once again, you have been left standing alone, waiting for someone who clearly did not deserve you. His eyes darkened, a storm of anger brewing in them.

“Wait,” he interrupted, his voice low but seething. “He… stood you up? Again?”

You let out a sigh on the other end, trying to laugh it off, but Jungwon could hear the hurt behind it. That was all it took. He took the stairs instead of the lift, stepping out of the company. His sudden disappearance will surely cause his manager to be worried and how he had forgotten his mask would make the situation even worse. But none of that matters when it comes to you. 

“Where are you?” he demanded, his tone softening just a bit when he spoke to you. But there was an undeniable edge to his words, a mix of frustration and protectiveness that seeped through.

"Jungwon, you don’t have to—"

“Just tell me,” he insisted, his voice firm but reassuring. “I need to know where you are. I’m coming to you.”

“...I’m at the park we played at when we were kids,” you replied, knowing your childhood friend is very persistent when the times required him to be. 

Somehow, your feet had led you to the place where you had created countless memories with Jungwon. You took a seat on one of the nearest benches, watching as people of all ages minded their business. Some were having fun with their children or partners. There were children running around the playground area, screaming at the top of their lungs as they chased one another. The sight made your heart soften, as you remembered how you and Jungwon were just like them; having the time of your lives before the harsh reality of life combined with responsibilities had taken over you. 

“(Name)!” 

You turned at the shout of your name, eyes widening in pure disbelief at the sight of Jungwon rushing towards you without a care in the world. What rendered you speechless was how he had forgotten to hide his identity, resulting in the public stopping to openly gape at him. Some had even pulled out their phones to record him, ready to post it on the Internet. Flustered, you stood up, grabbed his hand and dragged him to your home. 

When the both of you are in the privacy of your home, you turned and smacked him on his head. 

“Ow! What was that for!?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with his hand. 

“You idiot! Why did you run out in the midst of practice, and without a hat or a mask too!? What’s going to happen if your manager hears you ditch practice!” You scolded him, resembling a mother scolding her child. 

“Alright, I’m sorry! The thought might have slipped my mind when I heard you were crying,” he admits with a sheepish grin on his face, lowering his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Look, it’s fine. You didn’t have to come all the way here. I’m sure Sungjin’s probably busy with work and he had forgotten to text me.” 

Jungwon gave you an unreadable look. “You’re always making excuses for him.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his emotions. 

“Tell me, has he done anything good for you in this relationship? Has he ever gone out of his way to make you feel loved, or even just… appreciated?”

You were silent, and he took this as a chance to continue. 

“But what about you? You deserve someone who’d show up without a second thought, someone who’d want to be with you, not leave you hanging like this,” Jungwon continued. 

You opened and closed your mouth. “I—” 

He exhaled sharply. “You don’t get it, do you?” He said, his voice softer but laced with pure honesty that made your heart race. “I’ve been here, right by your side, through all of it. I’ve watched you get your heart broken over and over… and every time, I keep hoping you’ll see what’s right in front of you.” 

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. 

“I can’t stand seeing you hurt anymore,” he whispered, his eyes glistening as he held your gaze. “Because I love you. And I would never leave you waiting, not even for a second.”

“Jungwon, I…” You struggled to find the words, feeling a mix of shock and confusion. “You’ve… always been there. I just—”

“You didn’t know,” he finished softly, looking down for a moment, a faint sadness in his eyes. “I know. I never wanted to push you or complicate things. I just wanted you to be happy.” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice lowering. 

“But seeing you go through this again, seeing someone else treat you like you’re disposable, when I know you’re anything but… I can’t keep quiet anymore.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of emotions you had not expected crashing over you. All those times he had offered a shoulder to cry on, the countless moments had picked you up when you were at your lowest—had they all been laced with feelings you’d missed? Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand over his. His fingers were tense beneath yours, but at your touch, he glanced up, searching your face with an expression that was both hopeful and terrified.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked at you, his eyes raw with vulnerability. “Because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to risk our friendship over something I could never take back.” His hand turned under yours, holding it gently as he continued. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore. You deserve someone who’s there, through every high and low, someone who sees you for who you are.”

The words touched something deep within you, warming your heart in a way you hadn’t expected. As you looked into his eyes, the realization hit you like a flood—Jungwon had been that someone all along.

With a breath, you leaned closer, feeling a sense of clarity for the first time. “Maybe I’ve been blind,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But now… I see you.”

A spark of hope flickered in his eyes, and without another word, he closed the distance, his forehead resting gently against yours. You saw how his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment. He was about to lean in when the moment was rudely interrupted by your phone ringing, causing you to pull away. Your face felt when you recognized the number. You were about to reject the call when Jungwon snatched the device out of your hand, accepted the call and put it on speaker mode. 

“What are you doing!?” You hissed, but he merely shushed you. 

“Hello, (Name)? Oh my god, I’m so sorry I missed out on our date. Are you still there? If you want, I’m free now and we can have dinner together if you want,” Sungjin’s frantic voice echoed throughout your apartment. 

“Sungjin, is it? Sorry but your relationship with her is officially over. I’ll greatly appreciate it if you could leave her alone,” Jungwon nonchalantly replied, his thumb drawing circles on your knuckles. 

“...Who is this? And what’s your relationship with my girlfriend?” Sungjin’s voice turned cold but Jungwon was unfazed, turning to face you with a wide grin on his face. 

“Me? I’m her new boyfriend and now if you could excuse us, we have a date to tend to, goodbye and see you never.” 

“Wait—” 

And just like that, Jungwon ended the call. He had even blocked his number, preventing your now ex from calling you anymore. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing. Jungwon puffed his cheeks. 

“What’s so funny?” He pouts. 

“N-Nothing, I didn’t expect the leader of ENHYPEN to be this bold, but since when we’re going on a date and since when you’re my boyfriend? I think you have skipped a few steps,” you teased him once you had calmed down. 

Jungwon’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Then (Name), would you do me the honors of being my girlfriend?” 

Chuckling, you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his lips. “Of course, Jungwon. I’d be more than happy to do so.” 

He made a noise of happiness before engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug, to which you returned the gesture. “You have no idea how happy I am right now.” 

“And what’s the reason?” You inquired when he pulled away to admire your face. 

Jungwon’s features softened as he cups your cheeks. “It’s because I finally got the prettiest girl and I can finally call her mine.” 

[3amfanfiction]

Thinking about a ghost who keeps his mask on because the face is the hardest part to keep human.

When he first came back he would spill out of his flesh at the slightest stimuli. A breeze had three arm-like protrusions erupting from his back. A dog bark resulted in his torso splitting vertically down the middle from his shoulder to groin. When he stepped on a stick and it cracked he lost his shape completely, sharp spikes ricocheting out of his body at random, elbows bending backwards before 5 hands grew out of his arm, head showing only teeth.

He’d come a long way since then.

It was slow work, learning how to control it when his body didn’t want to maintain its shape. Trial and error left bodies in his wake—people terrified of this thing walking around that looked like a man only some of the time. And we all know how scared people react.

It took time but he did it. He mastered it. All of it.

Except for the face.

His face had a habit of dropping its skin at a moments notice. Someone coughed and you could see how his back molars rested against each other, his cheeks disappearing.

Or the shape would morph. Nothing too dramatic but his nose would shift an inch to the side while his tongue stretched like hot taffy spun between hooks.

So he started wearing a mask to hide it. He had a job to get back to—a new team to meet and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time with this. Covering it up seemed the best option.

So he went about his life, starting with the 141. He fit like a glove and they never pressed about the mask. It was perfect.

Until the day one of them saw. An enemy had gotten too close, their knife made quick work of the fabric before ghost broke their neck. When he turned around it was gaz watching him—watching the way his teeth shifted to points before disappearing completely, leaving gaping, bloody holes in his mouth, watching the way his lips would peel back in a Glasgow smile before restitching themselves.

Ghost had come to expect the screams, the way people would ward him off like he was some demon, the aggression that wasn’t very far behind.

So when all gaz said was just a sec, lt, I have a spare mask in my pack just in case, after a quick double take, ghost was floored.

Where was the cursing and screaming and crying?

But gaz acted like it was just another day, pulling out the spare mask he’d stuck down in his pack ages ago just in case it was ever needed, handing it over to ghost once he shook it out.

And ghost waited for the other shoe to drop. 30 seconds, 5 minutes, 2 days—nothing. Gaz just didn’t care. He didn’t bring it up or make innuendos about it. It was business as usual.

And for the first time ghost felt like he might belong. That the 141 just may be the home he wasn’t aware he was searching for.

Now to break it to the other two. He bet he could make soap scream if he played his cards right.

[mimisempai]

The daggers

Summary

A dagger can be sharp, so let's not talk about two daggers... but despite its sharpness, it can sometimes be the tangible proof of an unbreakable bond.

Mobius kept Loki's daggers. He carries them with him at all times, and locks them up in the evening after taking care of them. The only physical evidence of Loki's presence in his life.

But the daggers are also a daily reminder of the gaping hole the god's absence has dug in Mobius' heart.

For @rin-love-is-green

For the @lokiusbang Story based on @rin-love-is-green prompt and beautiful drawings you'll see through the story on Ao3 ann on her tumblr Beta'ed by Sabine

4/4 chapters - 6045 words Rating : G

The rapid tapping of keys echoed through the dimly lit open office of the T.V.A. as Mobius hunched over his desk, his eyes glued to the glowing screen. He was putting the finishing touches on the mission report he and his team had just completed. 

Another timeline repaired, and he felt a sense of satisfaction that the T.V.A., once on the verge of collapse, was coming back to life, giving meaning to the lives connected to its intricate network of timelines. Each mission accomplished was a small patch on the immense wound left by the revelation of all the lives the T.V.A. had previously cut short. All the lies.

"Hey, Mobius!" 

Casey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the agent always bright and cheerful now. He was standing by Mobius's desk, a broad smile on his face as he continued, "It's good to see the T.V.A. up and running again. I'm glad to be more involved in missions now, while I'm still here of course, I'm not cut out for field operations, I'll leave that to you guys. But I'm happy to be a force you can count on."

Mobius gave him a small smile in return. 

"Yes, things are looking up. Who would have thought that the T.V.A. debacle would reveal the hidden talents of some of our team members, hm?"

Mobius winked at him before adding, "People we'd barely noticed before. Make no mistake, you're a force we know we can count on, Casey."

Casey smiled happily.

"Well, I have to go, good night Mobius, see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Casey."

Casey walked away under Mobius' amused gaze and disappeared down the hallway with a final wave of his hand.

Before Mobius could resume his work, O.B. appeared, a whirlwind of ideas and excitement, and as always, Mobius could only listen.

"Mobius! You've got to come see me tomorrow. I have a concept for a new device that could..."

"A new concept?"

Mobius raised an eyebrow and O.B. nodded quickly, "Oh, it's revolutionary! You'll understand when you see it, but it's about adding a principle of..."

"O.B. Mobius doesn't have time to listen to this!"

It was Casey who had returned, and Mobius watched their interaction with an interested and amused eye.

"But what if it's vital to what happens next!"

"Yes, I know, but he doesn't have time now."

"But..."

"I have time now, so why don't you come and explain it to me."

"But I..."

"Over a meal in the cafeteria."

"Casey..."

"I'm sure you skipped lunch again."

O.B., seeing that he wouldn't have the last word, sighed.

"All right..."

"Come on, let's go."

Casey and O.B. said together, "Bye Mobius!" and then left the open office. As they walked away, Mobius heard their conversation fade away.

"So O.B. tell me about this new concept?"

"Well, you know, Casey, I was just thinking..."

Mobius realized how much things had changed around here. His two friends and colleagues had grown closer and Mobius wondered just how close, a strange knot forming in his stomach. What was behind their camaraderie? Was it just friendship or something deeper, something unfolding like the mysterious timelines they so often crossed?

Like what he had with... what he could have had with...

Read the complete story here on Ao3

Lokius masterlist : here

[xobrendann]

pictures and prejudice.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

warnings: homophobia, use of "fairy".

synopsis: you and jj were cuddled up at the boneyard, hanging out with the pogues by a fire. kie snaps a picture of them, and sends it to jj for him to post. the reactions were positive, but rafe and topper did not like it very much.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

the boneyard was alive with the usual friday night energy – bonfires dotting the beach like earthbound stars, music drifting from various speakers, and the constant sound of waves providing nature's bassline. you sat between jj's legs in the sand, leaning back against his chest while his chin rested on your shoulder.

"smile!" kiara called out, holding up her phone. the flash went off, capturing the moment – jj pressing a kiss to your cheek while you laughed, your nose scrunched up in that way that made jj's heart skip.

"send that to me," jj said, already reaching for his own phone. "that's definitely going on instagram."

they'd been taking pictures all night, drunk on happiness and the simple joy of being together. jj kept pulling you close for selfies, making silly faces or stealing kisses that your friends documented with fond eye-rolls and teasing comments.

"you guys are worse than john b and sarah," pope complained good-naturedly, throwing a handful of sand their way.

"impossible," sarah countered, but she was smiling as she watched jj arrange his phone for another photo, positioning it so the setting sun created a perfect backdrop.

"perfect," jj murmured, looking at the picture he'd just taken. the orange sky painted everything in warm tones, and your (e/c) looked almost golden. you were kissing in the photo, soft and sweet, with your hands cupped around jj's face and jj's fingers tangled in your (h/c, hair texture) hair.

"let me see," you leaned over, then blushed at the image. "awh, jj.. that's so cute."

"hell yeah it is," jj was already adding filters, his tongue poking out in concentration. "this is going up right now."

"you sure?" you asked quietly. you guys hadn't exactly been hiding your relationship, but you hadn't been advertising it on social media either.

jj paused, looking at you seriously. "i'm sure. unless... unless you don't want me to?"

you answered by kissing him, soft and sure. "post it."

so he did, adding a simple caption: "lucky doesn't even begin to cover it. 🤍" and tagging you.

the likes started rolling in immediately – mostly their friends and others who'd known about them for weeks now. the comments were full of heart emojis and supportive messages, making you smile as you read them over jj's shoulder.

sarahcameron: "look at how cute they are. 💞"

kiecarrera: "so much for a soft launch."

but then, later, the tone changed.

"what the fuck is this gay shit, maybank?" rafe's comment appeared, followed quickly by topper's: "always knew you were a fairy. guess trash attracts trash."

you felt jj tense against you, saw his jaw clench. before either of them could respond, more comments flooded in as jj kept refreshing:

"guess we know why you were always staring in the locker room 🤮"

"what happened to being a player? did you run out of girls to disappoint?"

"better watch your back at school monday."

"hey," john b noticed their expressions and moved closer. "what's wrong?"

wordlessly, jj handed over his phone. john b's face darkened as he read, and soon the whole group was huddled around, reading the increasingly nasty comments.

"block them," kiara said firmly. "report the comments. don't let them get to you."

"i'm not ashamed," jj's voice was tight with anger. "i won't take it down."

"no one's saying you should," sarah assured him, already on her own phone reporting the harassment. "but maybe we should head home. it's getting late anyway."

they packed up their things, the earlier joy of the evening somewhat dampened. jj held your hand the whole walk back, his grip almost too tight, like he was afraid you might disappear.

the next morning dawned bright and clear, but there was tension in the air. you and jj were supposed to meet everyone at the wreck for breakfast, and jk insisted on picking you up rather than meeting there.

"i don't want you walking alone," he said when you questioned it.

you were halfway to the wreck when you guys spotted them – rafe and topper, along with a couple other kooks, leaning against their expensive cars in the parking lot.

"well, well," rafe pushed off his car as they approached. "the lovebirds decided to show their faces."

"move," jj's voice was low, dangerous. he positioned himself slightly in front of you.

"or what?" topper stepped forward, sneering. "you gonna kiss me too?"

"back off," you surprised yourself by speaking up, even though your heart was racing. "you're really this bothered by a photo?"

"we're bothered by you two flaunting your... whatever this is," rafe gestured between them dismissively. "this isn't that kind of island."

"what kind of island is it then?" john b's voice cut through the tension. he appeared behind rafe, pope and kiara flanking him. "because last i checked, it was our island too."

the arrival of reinforcements changed the dynamic. rafe and topper might have been willing to take on you and jj, but the whole Pogue crew was a different story.

"this isn't over," rafe warned, as he was already backing toward his car.

"actually , it is," sarah stepped out from behind a building, her phone clearly recording. "unless you want this little interaction going viral. i'm sure dad would love to see you harassing people on camera, rafe."

the other kooks retreated, engines revving as they peeled out of the parking lot. as soon as they were gone, your legs gave out. jj caught you, pulling you close.

"i've got you," jj murmured against your hair. "i've got you, (n/n).."

"i'm sorry," you whispered. "maybe we should have waited to post that picture..."

"no," jj pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. "listen to me. i'm not sorry. i'm proud to be with you. i'm proud of us. they don't get to take that away."

"he's right," kiara stepped forward, wrapping them both in a hug that quickly turned into a group embrace as the others joined in.

later, at the wreck, you posted another picture – all of you guys crowded into a booth, you and jj in the middle, surrounded by your chosen family. the caption read: "love wins. deal with it. 🌊"

the comments this time were overwhelmingly positive, drowning out any negativity with waves of support.

under the table, jj squeezed your hand. "see? for every asshole, there's ten good people."

"when did you get so wise?" you teased, bumping your shoulders together.

"must be your influence," jj grinned, then leaned in to kiss you, right there in the wreck, not caring who saw.

because love was love, and theirs was worth fighting for.

the end !!

hope u guys liked this 😣

[hopefulidiocy]

The End is Near

Prince!Aemond x Female!Reader

Warnings: fighting, battle, death

~

Aemond held your cheeks, tears streaming down your face as he spoke softly towards you; his voice so soothing and gentle as he spoke. Your shoulders shaking, your lungs hurting as you relaxed into his embrace; not feeling at all comforted in the arms of your husband. You cried harder when his arms wrapped around your frame, the way his arms slightly trembled and his heart beating quickly against your chests. Daemon was moving towards the Riverlands on his dragon, it was said he was mad and crazy with his eyes wild with anguish. He was shouting for Aemond, scouting him out amongst the Targaryen’s, ready for a fight and you knew… everyone knew that Aemond had to respond.

There was a different charge this time, the energy shifted when Rhaenyra recaptured Kings Landing… when Helaena went truly mad… when Alicent kept herself locked up. There was something different and you both of you knew that he couldn’t lead the Green side. He just couldn’t. That wasn’t his position. It was Aegon’s, but he was too drunk to care about most things these days.

“We’re going to come out on the other side of this, my love.” He kissed your forehead softly, the wind whipping around your safety fortress. You cried even harder then, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Don’t go, Aemond. Just let them take the win, please.” You begged, knowing it wouldn’t happen. He couldn’t let them win anything. He had to get his family back on the right side, or so he thought.

“Baby, we are going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. I have Vhagar, she will kill him for him, all I have to do is ride her. That’s all.” He stroked your hair, tucking it behind your ears, shushing you softly. “Let me go. I will be back before nightfall.” He landed a wet kiss onto your lips, you kissed back with your quivers and sniffed up as you hopelessly watched him sheath his sword and confidently stride out of the room. You watched until he disappeared completely. You threw yourself on your bed that smelled of him, that hint of mint and wine that floated around you, that made your heart hurt even more. You punched your fist against your pillow, your lungs contracting hard and fast as your brain roamed heavily around the death of Aemond. You saw it in your minds eye, you knew this was the end of him and you couldn’t let him go through with it. Just have another few years with him, that’s all you wanted.

You grabbed your sword, your metal armour and basically ran, barefoot out into the bustling air where the wind whipped around your hair, making it enter your lips; annoyed, you tucked it under your shirt and ran towards the Dragon stables, hoping to hear Vhagar was still there with her beautiful roars and cries. You dashed around the corner, slipping on mud and smacking into the hard earth. You groaned, picking yourself up with your elbows, leaning and trying to steady yourself from the dazed being you currently were. Your eyes dragged up towards the bleak stables that were creaking with the wind, you scoured for Vhagar only to realise her chains were undone and she was gone, probably far away from here. Your chest broke into a battle cry, your eyes streaming with tears and it created mud tracks on your cheeks. You held your hand to your forehead, retching and gagging onto the ground you were lying on. Your breath hitching and the air not entering your body, your brain screaming at you to get up! Get up! Get up!

Knees curled up, your toes digging into the ground as you straightened up, wiping the snot away and your tears as you approached Firelight, your beautiful blue dragon. She turned her head towards you, a smile slightly increasing as you stroked her head with a sad gasp.

“Just you and me, girl.” You whispered, pulling the chains from her, taking the saddle in your fists and rising onto her. Normally, you would feel powerful. But now… now you felt weak, vulnerable and just plain wrong. You kicked your heel into her body and she took off into the blistering wind that threatened to knock you off. Throughout the clouds, finding Aemond remained fruitless, you slapped the tears away from your face; it burned as the rain lashed down onto your skin, ripping apart the flesh as you screamed in frustration to find your husband.

Then, as if it was magic, Aemond appeared accompanied by the roar of Vhagar as the clouds disappeared over God’s Eye Lake. You swallowed the prideful scream you were going to make when you realised Daemon was opposite him and that his dragon was going for Vhagar. Both of them fighting with their teeth, claws and fire. Aemond was shouting, his arms high and wild. You sucked in your tears, crouching on the back of Firelight, your eyes narrowed as you made your way towards Daemon. Firelight swooped down onto Daemon, knocking him aside, he screamed with anger and Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N?” He shouted over the wind, the rain spitting down on you harshly. “Get out of here!” He was angry at you but you didn’t care, you needed to get him out of here as soon as possible. You flew over to him.

“Get out of here, Aemond. Please just come with me.” You pleaded, gasping for the air as you saw your beautiful husband in front of you. His hand reached over to caress you.

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, right?” You nodded, your bottom lip quivering. “Let me do this.” He pulled the reins and shot towards Daemon whilst he was weak; you whined, your sobs stopping your speech as you watched him continue with the fire battle.

You needed to do something, you needed to somehow get in between them, kill Daemon or convince Aemond to come home with you. Crying didn’t help so maybe you had to force him. You pulled the reins back and flew towards the fire, getting in between them, the heat taking you by surprise. You shielded yourself, trying to cover any skin on show from being burnt. Aemlnd growled in frustration as he flew over you, protecting you from Daemon’s fire.

“Please, Aemond! I’m begging you. I’m fucking begging you!” You screamed, tears and snot flooding down your face, curling your fist and hitting it against your metal plated chest. Aemond was too immersed into the fight to hear you, and all sound ceased. Everything stopped. The wind stopped. The rain stopped. Your heart stopped, dropping and falling through the sky as Daemon jumped off his dragon, his knife high above his head as he howled. You watched, silently, all sobs stopping as Daemon crashed onto Aemond, who was unaware due to the fire, and slammed his blade into his eye. Digging it deep into his skull, Aemond went limp… your heart left your body. You entirely left the world as you watched Aemond’s limp body slump onto Vhagar. Finally, you cried out, a horrific, guttural, painful battle cry as Vhagar and Caraxes crashed into each other and fell from their height. You swept down, your body falling apart as you made your beeline towards Daemon, your blood raging and breaking out around you like new arms sprouting from your back. Your eyes darkening and zoning in on the bloodied Daemon who was falling with the dragons, you shrieked at him, ready for him with your sword whilst simultaneously keeping Aemond in your sight. You brought up your sword once you got close enough, swung it round and decapitated Daemon with one swift swing.

“Fuck you!” You screamed, weeping from your gut. You breathed in all the air as you landed Firelight on the nearby bank by the river, where Aemond and Vhagar landed. You hopped off Firelight, dragging your broken body towards the dead body of your husband, still and empty. His soul vanished from his eye, you climbed atop Vhagar, a sob emitting from your throat as you held Aemond in your lap, softly scraping his beautiful hair away from his body. Fat drops of tears fell onto his still face, painting him with a bit of you as you held onto him hard, gripping your fingers into his shoulders and wailing in the sky, your heart split and bashed into tiny pieces and left with the corpse of your husband. You placed kisses, soft and gentle like he always did at nighttime, on his face knowing that he wouldn’t reciprocate any of it. Knowing that he would never kiss your forehead again, knowing he wouldn’t make love to you like the most precious being in the world, knowing he wouldn’t laugh at your silly jokes again. Knowing he would never wake up. You looked at Firelight, she was watching you carefully, her eyes sad and heavy as you sniffed up all of the courage in the world. You softly removed Aemond from your lap, swinging your feet over the side of Vhagar. Opening your arms like an eagle readying for his pray, Firelight knew what was coming and backed up.

“Dracarys!” You said loudly, staring into her eyes, her beautiful eyes and knowing this world would not be worth living without Aemond. Firelight backed up again, almost shaking her head, looking down at the ground. Tears rolled down your face, lips quivering as you yelled.

“Dracarys!” Still, your dragon didn’t move. Your sobs grew harder in your chest, you hiccuped hard as you cried out, anguished and crying.

“Dracarys!” Finally, Firelight opened her jaws, revealing her sharp teeth that glittered in the dim light and hurled fire at you. You relished in the pain, waiting to see Aemond again with his arms wide open like he always did when he saw you.

Dead, Firelight slowly approached your body, inspecting you and howling towards the sky as you slumped against Aemond, both of you back together. Firelight opened her wings and curled them around Vhagar, you and Aemond. Keeping you safe from the rain.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

i’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (sorcerer suguru geto x non-sorcerer fem reader, manga and anime spoilers, angst, dead bodies, blood, regrets, mentioning of depression)

✰ a little note: it was something i had written before. since i’m in an angsty mood lately, i wanted to edit and share it. i hope you like it.

September 2007

Suguru Geto’s Family House

ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★ ᯓ★

Deciding what is right and wrong has never been easy. Some powerful people choose to kill the weak for a better life. Because, after a certain point, dealing with their incompetence is nothing but a waste of time. The weak, who can’t even help themselves, ruin not only their own lives but cause the strong to lose themselves as well.

I was not weak. I never was.

Being born lucky wasn’t my choice. My mother and father couldn’t have known either.

Until recently, I believed that Jujutsu sorcerers lived to protect regular humans. But all of that was nothing more than a fucking lie.

Monkeys should disappear. Only then could sorcerers like me live in peace. Special people like us don’t need to waste our time protecting monkeys who do nothing but create trouble.

This is my truth. I don’t give a damn what others think. I was never able to laugh in this world. At least in the world I’ll create, I want to be happy.

“Suguru… what have you done?”

Standing in front of my father’s corpse, I turned toward the only voice in the world that could calm me.

I never wanted her to see this.

“Don’t look at me like an idiot, Suguru! I’m asking what the fuck you’ve done.” She spoke to me, her eyes filling with tears, and she was visibly furious.

God, I love her face so much.

When I looked back at my father’s corpse and then at her again, I didn’t know what to say. God, I hated this. Explaining what I had done was difficult while she looked at me that way.

I never wanted her to see me like this. I didn’t want to pull her into my darkness as I drowned in it. I knew she had seen and understood everything. She hadn’t left my side, not even for a moment, while I was depressed. But she didn’t deserve this.

“What do you want me to explain?”

She furrowed her brows as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying. “GET A GRIP, SUGURU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO… TO YOUR FAMILY?”

Because they are nothing but monkeys standing in the way of the world I want to create.

Except for you. You could never be like them.

“They are not my family.”

As if her legs couldn’t support her body anymore, she collapsed to the ground. With eyes red from crying, she looked at the lifeless bodies of my parents lying on the floor.

“How… how can you say that? They loved you so-”

“DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!”

“WHAT? DID IT BOTHER YOU THAT THEY LOVED YOU, GETO?”

I walked over to her, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. I pushed her body against the nearest wall, looking at her with a fury I’d never shown before. She, on the other hand, watched me with disappointment.

“Of course I know.” I replied calmly, as if all my anger had vanished. “Do you think it was easy to see the love in their eyes for me while I killed them? But they aren’t like me. Love can’t surpass everything.”

“I’m not like you either.”

No, you’re not, but I don’t care. I could never hurt you.

“And I… I love you too.” She closed her eyes and continued speaking. “I’ve known you since I was ten, Suguru. You were always the person I dreamed of.”

You’re that person for me too.

“I knew you were different. Not because of your special powers. You were the person with the most beautiful heart I had ever known, Suguru. That’s what made you special.”

I wanted to die. I wanted to shatter into millions of pieces at that moment so I wouldn’t have to hear these truths spoken by the girl I loved.

“Do you remember the day I confessed to you? We were on the balcony of this house. Just the two of us. I thought it was the perfect time to tell you everything inside me.”

Yes, I remember. I still remember every detail, from the blue dress you wore to the messy bun you had in your hair.

You were beautiful. You always are.

Still with her eyes closed, as if afraid to look at my face, she continued speaking, “God, I was trembling with excitement. I was so curious about what you’d say. You were always kind and caring toward me, but I didn’t know if you wanted something more.”

I did. I do. I’ve loved you since I saw you when I was ten.

“When I clumsily told you everything I felt, I couldn’t even look at your face.” She laughed after her words. “I was so sure you’d reject me. But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled me close and hugged me. Then you whispered in my ear that you loved me.”

Yes. That’s what I did. In that moment, I was the happiest person in the world. Every time I tell you I love you, I’m the happiest person in the world.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me with a genuine smile. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wanted to destroy anything that made her sad and make her smile again. But it was me who made her cry. Damn it, I was the one who caused the person I loved most to cry. And no matter what I did, I would never be able to fix that.

“I can’t believe it’s been three years since that day. I’ve loved you since I was ten, but it took me four more years to finally tell you. But I didn’t care.”

Please, stop.

“I didn’t care about your special powers. Or the millions of girls who wanted you. I still don’t.”

Please. Enough.

“When you were depressed, I did everything I could. Even when you tried to push me away, I… I insisted on staying by your side. I knew you were struggling.”

“Please stop…”

She didn’t stop. “I told you everything would pass, that you’d smile again like before, because that’s what should happen. You would be with Satoru and Shoko. You’d protect people like me, people who have no power. And—”

“Stop—”

“You’d be with me.” She looked at me with tearful eyes again. “Damn it… we’d be happy together. We’d go to see the northern lights we always wanted to see. You’d buy me that ring you promised. We’d have a family.”

“I still want that—”

“HOW CAN YOU STILL WANT THAT?” She began shouting. “HOW CAN YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND SAY YOU STILL WANT THESE THINGS, SUGURU? WHEN YOU’VE FUCKED EVERYTHING UP? WHEN YOU’VE BECOME A MERCILESS KILLER?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that the part of me that’s still good wants to live the life you described.”

“STUPID, STUPID, STUPID,” she kept hitting my chest with her fists, cursing me with every word. I deserved every blow for each moment I hurt her. I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I should have shown up as the man she once knew and fixed everything.

But I couldn’t.

With my hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, I cupped her face and did what I had longed to do.

Her lips were still so soft. Kissing her felt like a drug. Even if I knew it would eventually kill me, I still wanted her.

I was a damn addict. I was addicted to everything about her. And I never intended to break free.

I kissed her as if I knew I’d never see her again. Her fists stopped hitting me. This time, she clutched my white shirt tightly, pulling me closer as if she wanted me even nearer.

There wasn’t a single moment when I wanted to be away from her.

Breaking the kiss, I rested my forehead against hers. I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Silently crying without saying a word.

She was the one who finally broke the silence. “Are you going to kill me too?”

She could have said anything to me. Called me a coward or someone who didn’t understand love. No words could have hurt more than what she just asked.

I let out a small laugh. “Kill you? Shit, maybe I should, but I can’t. Do you know why?”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me with heartbroken eyes.

“Because I can’t imagine a life without you. Even if I never see you again, just knowing you’re alive is enough for me to keep going.”

“Weren’t you the one who just said love can’t surpass everything?” She spoke with a bittersweet smile.

“Yes, but you… you’re different. When it comes to you, everything stops.”

Still smiling, she wiped away my tears with her fingers, placing kisses on my cheeks.

“I know you love me, Suguru, but there’s no going back from here. You made your choice.”

Yes, I did. I wish some things could have been different.

“Do you know what’s worse? I still love the new version of you and I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

Please, don’t. Because no matter what, I won’t stop either.

She held the hands that caressed her cheeks, lowering them so I’d let go. I knew she was going to leave. Staying with me would only make things worse. Her soft lips, her warm body and her beautiful laugh were gone.

In truth, they’d been gone for a long time.

“I hope you find happiness in the new world you create, Suguru. All I wish is for you to smile again, like before.” She placed one final kiss on my lips and started walking toward the door of the house where I’d killed my family. When she turned back to look at me once more, she said, “Maybe we’ll meet in another life, right?”

My freshly dried tears began to roll down my cheeks again. “I’ll find you in every life, my love. I just hope that in the next one, I’ll be the man you deserve.”

She didn’t respond to my words. She only smiled, and then walked out the door.

After she left, my eyes drifted once more to my parents’ lifeless bodies, lying in a pool of blood.

There was no turning back from the path I had chosen. The only thing left to do was to try and find a way to smile once in the new world I wanted to create for sorcerers.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

suguru art in the cover made by @reynisxxsimart

[skekilla]

this looks spooky but please guys i promise this is good news

in summary, caine's found a silly little way to briefly crash their headsets by overloading them... hes keeping up his end of the deal ! and its a tiny bit spooky.

anyway after the break is a short little fic going into more detail on that :P

No one really met up in the big room anymore. Mostly, since Caine had… since everything went wrong, everyone just hung around their rooms now, unless there was an adventure. Pomni hadn’t been in the Circus very long in the grand scheme of things, but she didn’t need to for it to be obvious why: the two people who had the energy to get that going, Jax and Ragatha, weren’t up for it. Jax wasn’t himself anymore—in fact, it felt weird even calling the copy Caine made ‘Jax.’ That thing wasn’t Jax, even if both had been NPCs all along. Everyone felt weird because of it, including Ragatha. She wasn’t herself either, though luckily, not in the same way as him. Pomni didn’t know what she’d do if that was the case. No, this was something fixable. At least, something comfort-able. Ragatha had been there for her all the way so far. She had to try to repay that.

Teapots were an easy enough thing to model, but putting liquid inside had been a pain. Pomni had figured it out for Ragatha though. She balanced the tea tray—a pretty harsh burden with the teapot, two cups, and some flowers all together—with one hand and knocked with the other. “Ragatha? It’s me.”

She was watching the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. Her gaze flicked up to the face on the door, staring into Ragatha’s kind and easy smile. When did she last see Ragatha smile like that? Not at the corn maze, not at that stupid uncanny world she’d made. Not since that disaster, which at the end of the day was Pomni’s own fault. Worry creased her mind. Maybe she didn’t want to see her. That might make sense. But… 

She knocked again. “Rags? Are… I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. I have tea!”

This time, the doorknob did turn. Pomni’s eyes flew up to meet Ragatha’s, which was being rubbed sleepily. “Pomni! Sorry, I just slept in. What—”

All it took for everything to disappear was a blink. The hallway, the tray, the door, Ragatha and her voice, the checkerboard floor beneath Pomni’s feet—everything was replaced in an instant with the luminous and flitting blue of the out-of-map space. Pomni screamed.

Another scream echoed hers. “Pomni! You startled me.”

Whirling around, Caine’s blue and green eyeballs stared out at her from behind his white teeth. “W-wh- startled you?! You didn’t even tell me you were bringing me here!”

“Nevermind. I forgive you, my dear. We have more important things to talk about! And don’t worry, it’s something designed especially to make you and the others very, very happy!” The AI clasped his hands as he leaned in closer. “I’ve made some significant progress on what we agreed on.”

Between the shock of the teleportation, the speed of Caine’s speech, and the general confusion, Pomni didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “What?”

Caine zapped a duo of chairs into existence. He was already sitting in one when they appeared. “You’re going to want to sit down for this. Go on.”

Pomni groaned. “I’m fine standing. Floating. What?”

Caine crossed his legs at the knees. “When I made you my moderator, we agreed on two things: you would help me make things actually fun for everyone, and I would try to find you all an exit. Right?”

That wasn’t exactly how Pomni remembered it. “Right, I guess…?”

“Well, I have found that exit!”

Pomni’s eyes widened. “W-wait- really? There’s an exit?!”

“Yes! An exit. Maybe not the exit, but a very, very brief little one! Still, it’s progress!”

“Oh.” Pomni’s face fell. “So… not a way out.”

Caine laughed his sharp, mechanical laugh. “No no no. But it is a momentary exit created by overloading and crashing your client! You don’t even fully leave the Circus, just glitch within it. No, getting you actually out would probably be impossible. Even for me!” 

Pomni blinked, fiddling with the button at her neck subconsciously. “You… never mentioned that.”

“Oh Pomni, that’s because it’s only probably impossible. I am trying, don’t you worry. We have an agreement, after all! Besides, I’ll do anything to keep my little hermit crabs happy.” Caine clasped his gloved hands together, the chairs whirling away into nothingness as he stood. “Ah! Speaking of trying things, would you like to be the next test subject for this exit?”

‘Test subject’ was a real weighted thing to be, especially given the situation Pomni had already gotten into with the whole headset thing. Instinctively she flinched back. “U-um, is that safe…?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, next test subject?”

“Why of course! I couldn’t very well come up with something like this without testing it. The poor abstracted fellows in the basement worked perfectly for that. It even glitched them back to normal for a few seconds! Just a few seconds, though. Anyway,” Caine finally paused in his ramblings, reaching a finger out towards Pomni’s face. “May I?”

Pomni stared at the finger in her face, so close it was making her go cross-eyed and see it double—once from one side, once from the other. On one side was fear, fear of what it would do to her to have this existence crash in on her brain so hard it would shock her out of it for just a couple seconds. On the other, the hope of what such a thing could mean, what such a thing could become. Was it really even a choice? When one could be death and the other could lead to freedom for everyone—herself, Ragatha, all the others—one side clearly outweighed the risks of the other. She didn’t even speak. She just gave a small nod.

“Boop!” Caine’s finger rested upon the spot where a nose should be on Pomni’s face. Pomni didn’t feel it. She didn’t see it either. She saw a thousand 3D-modelled cages spinning at once, copying one after the other like a bouncing string of error messages. She heard a barrage of every noise anything in the Circus had ever made: dings, crashes, alerts, metal grinding, glass breaking, bells jingling or clanging, all the tracks of a keyboard drum kit, brakes screeching,  pianos, birds, voices. She felt a pounding reverberating through her entire body, from her appendages into her limbs through her neck into her skull and back outward. And then it was blue. And then it was black. There was no sound anymore—at least, not until she realized she could hear breathing. Her own breathing. 

But then something faded into the blackness: ‘C&A.’ And within a second, she was back in.

Caine was looking at Pomni inquisitively, but she didn’t really see him. Pomni was hearing her own breathing again—but simulated now. It felt impossible to focus on anything she was seeing, hearing, or feeling besides that for the moment.

“Well?” Caine prompted. “How was that?”

The AI before Pomni came into focus. “I… it…”

“Speechless! Wonderful. I’ll keep working on it. Oh, but please keep it a secret for the time being. This is top secret moderator business, and it’s definitely a work in progress! Best not to ruin the surprise. Great chat! Now, back to work!”

Pomni fell as she teleported back to where she’d been, collapsing out of the floating state she’d been in onto Ragatha’s door and to the checkerboard beneath. The impact was loud, so it wasn’t unexpected that Ragatha came out to see what had happened. “Oh my gosh, Pomni!” By the time Pomni turned to look at her, she was kneeling beside her. “What happened? I mean, you were just here then- did Caine do something to you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ragatha stared hard, worried, into Pomni’s eyes. “Well… what happened, then?”

Pomni looked down. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”