#Hair-Raising Hare

[misterlemonztenth]

10-07-24 | Hair-Raising Hare (1946). misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[artoflooneytunes]

Storyboard drawing for Hair-Raising Hare (1946).

[duffertube]

▶️ Bugs Bunny in Hair-Raising Hare (1946)

Source: Internet Archive

[seeksstaronmewni]

5 years ago I drew Star Butterfly overreacting to The Salty Barnacle’s captain a la Bugs Bunny in the Merry Melodies short “Hair-Raising Hare” for National Drawing Day.

Not typical of Star’s behavior; I know, but... I like it. I like it.

Tweet version here.

[screamscenepodcast]

What's up Doc? It's time for February's horror adjacent bonus episode! This month we take a look at HAIR-RAISING HARE (1946) from Chuck Jones and starring Mel Blanc as Bugs Bunny!

We trace the origins of Warner Bros' Merrie Melodies back to Disney's Silly Symphonies and highlight a few of the people who made these cartoons possible.

Context setting 00:00; Synopsis 52:50; Discussion 56:47

[braineyboxd]

The Double Feature: Salon Scandals

Our theme for tonight’s double feature is the 1930s beauty salon. The salon was oft-used cinematic setting for feminine feuds to fester, infidelities to be revealed, and close friendships to grow or falter. The pseudo-privacy afforded to patrons by the flapping ears of their beauticians provide ample opportunity for the proliferation of exposition, gossip, and rumors. Films set in the salon also serve as real life insight into what gender politics and social roles were promoted by the studios and censors of the era, and we will briefly visit that subject after we enjoy tonight’s offerings.

Tonight’s Bill

Hair-Raising Hare (Merrie Melodies, 1946, Warner Bros)

Mel Blanc, dir. Chuck Jones (as. Charles M. Jones)

Beguiled by a curvaceous mechanical rabbit, Bugs is lured into a mad scientist’s castle. The mad scientist—a Lorre caricature—intends to turn Bugs into dinner for his hairy monster, Gossamer. Bugs attempts escape in typical Bugs fashion, most famously impersonating a manicurist who’s INTereSTed in INTereSTin’ people. 💅

This short is a bonafide classic that I’m sure many of you have seen before. The beautician bit (similarly portrayed in 1952’s Water, Water Every Hare) is one of Bug’s funniest and a familiar sight to movie-goers at the time. The chatty, heavily accented manicurist or hairdresser is a common motif in comedies of the era and gave many a character actress and wannabe starlet her 15 seconds of fame. (My Letterboxd rating)

Soup and Fish (Todd and Kelly, 1934, Hal Roach/MGM)

Thelma Todd, Patsy Kelly, Billy Gilbert, Gladys Gale, dir. Gus Meins

Thelma and Patsy are hairdressers in a fancy salon. When a wealthy client mistakenly invites them to her evening soirée, the women are tasked with entertaining guest-of-honor Count Gustav. Thelma sets out to romance the count, while Patsy tries out some of her “tricks” on him. Thankfully, the count appears better humored than the party’s staff…

This is the fifth entry in the Thelma Todd-Patsy Kelly partnership that would end far too soon with Thelma’s untimely passing in late 1935. What a shame to conclude in such tragedy, doubly so now that Todd and Kelly aren’t well remembered as a comedy duo—neither are the preceding Pitts and Todd, nor the succeeding Kelly and Kelton, Kelly and Roberti, or Pitts and Kelly. Regardless of being denied their proper place in our cultural memory, Patsy and Thelma had chops and chemistry that made even predictable gags funny. (My Letterboxd rating)

Daily Beauty Rituals (1937, Brown-Nagle/Educational Films Corp. of Am.)

Constance Bennett, dir. unknown

Glamorous star Constance Bennett shares her daily skincare and makeup routine with the women of the audience, for “to be beautiful and natural is the birthright of every woman.”

An interesting routine that I’d be curious to see someone follow to the letter as a test… and don’t you dare be one of those lazy cream rouge antis. In case you need something other than beautiful Constance in color to pay attention to, RiffTrax provides great commentary here.

Visit a 1930’s Beauty Salon (c. 1938, posted 2020, glamourdaze)

NEWSREEL: AI colorized and enhanced footage of Pattons and beauticians inside Caroll’s Beauty Shop in Hamtramck, MI, circa 1938.

Peek those torture devices! They’re kinda calling to me, though…

Beauty for Sale (1933, MGM)

Madge Evans, Una Merkel, Otto Kruger, Alice Brady, dir. Richard Boleslawski

An innocent but game woman obtains a job at a beauty salon for wealthy patrons, alongside hardboiled and streetwise beauticians seeking love and security in an unforgiving world.

Beauty for Sale is a severely underrated Pre-Code with bite! The salon herein sets the stage for complicated—often illicit—romantic entanglements. Positions at Madame Sonia’s (well-cast Hedda Hopper) salon provide opportunities for love and a change in economic status at the risk of losing one’s sense of self, as played out in the lives of three women:

Letty Lawson, the small-town woman trying to make it in the big city, playing the game while preserving as much of her moral compass as she can. The game gets complicated, however, when she falls for lawyer Mr. Sherwood (Otto Kruger), who is eager to progress their relationship despite being unhappily married to one of Madame Sonia’s top clients (Alice Brady). Meanwhile, circumstances pressure Letty to leave the lurid salon life to settle down with Bill Merrick (Edward J. Nugent), brother of her best friend. Portrayed by confident—and yes, adorable—Madge Evans.

Carol Merrick, Letty’s wised-up best friend and confidante. Carol is involved with an older sugar daddy (Charley Grapewin), knowing better than to fall prey to feelings again after having been abandoned by her only love, a married man who went back to his wife. Una Merkel is in top form.

Jane, a kind and meek beautician secretly in a relationship with Madame Sonia’s son, Burt (Phillips Holmes). Madame Sonia would never allow her precious boy to date an employee, but Jane and Burt don’t let that deter them—as long as it’s in private. As their relationship develops, they must decide how to proceed in public. Is this real love, or is Jane being strung along? Florine McKinney didn’t have many opportunities as a leading woman or secondary lead beyond 1935 or so, but she makes the most of her truncated screentime here thanks to her light touch and sensitivity. (My Letterboxd rating)

The Women (1939, MGM)

Norma Shearer, Joan Crawford, Rosalind Russell, Mary Boland, Paulette Goddard, Joan Fontaine, dir. George Cukor

After news of her husband’s ongoing affair spreads like wildfire through the patrons of a salon, a woman decides to go to Reno for a divorce, finding camaraderie with a group of soon-to-be former wives involved in thorny relationships.

MGM’s latest foray into beauty salon drama was a smashing success. The Women, based on a stage play of the same name and concept, garnered resounding praise in 1939 and is one of studio’s best remembered treasures, no doubt due to the behemoth star-power of its all-women cast. Besides the leads noted above, you will recognize a slew of other notables in minor roles or cameo appearances, including Virginia Wiedler, Ruth Hussey, Virginia Grey, and Hedda Hopper. Marjorie Main, Phyllis Povah, and Mary Cecil recreate their roles from the original play.

Mary Haines (Norma Shearer) is happily married to Stephen. During a manicure, however, Mary’s cousin Sylvia Fowler (Rosalind Russell) finds out that Stephen is engaged in an affair with Crystal Allen (Joan Crawford), a known homewrecker. Instead of letting her down easy, Sylvia arranges for Mary to see the manicurist so the juicy gossip is revealed via salon (thanks, cuz 😒). Mary intends to work it out with her philanderer until she meets Crystal and everyone in her social circle finds out, thanks to Sylvia and Edith (Phyllis Povah). This prompts Mary to finally put her foot down and divorce Stephen.

She sets out for a ranch in Reno, where she will stay the required 6 weeks until her quickie divorce is finalized. There she meets a countess (Mary Boland) divorcing her umpteenth husband to marry her nextteenth husband (a cowboy, this time!), chorus girl Miriam (Paulette Goddard) whose intentions have been set on Sylvia’s husband, and sensitive Peggy (Joan Fontaine) being pressured to divorce her new husband by the gossip mill.

Although Mary has second thoughts about the divorce, she discovers that he has already married Crystal before she can return to him (what a charmer that Stephen is). The story picks up a couple years later with things going about as well as you’d expect for all involved parties, but I’ll spare you more spoilers and let you see for yourself how the intrigue resolves.

Analysis

While both films have their own merits and are well worth any moviegoer’s time, I’d like to briefly discuss how the films frame sociopolitical attitudes about the "women's picture" and modern relationships broadly. Turn your attention to the respective taglines of Beauty for Sale and The Women: “Which Type of Girl Do Men Marry?” and “It’s All About Men.” These taglines, by nature of their principal positions on the advertisement posters, represent what the studios thought made these films appealing and sellable, namely that women’s lives can and should be portrayed as revolving around men—not at all unlike Old Hollywood’s real-life patriarchal and predatory attitude toward its actresses (TW: descriptions of rape, abuse). Tonight’s double feature, however, reflects two clashing factions acting within a system of onscreen female exploitation: One confirming stereotypes and promoting their acceptance and one managing to assert a spoonful of autonomy by working around them.

Despite the powerful group of screen goddesses blinding audiences with their talent and wit and glitz, The Women remains precisely what the poster says it is: a movie about men, starring women. The conflicts are about men. Most of the conversations are about men. The women get into rows and backstab one another over men. Their thoughts and actions are guided and defined by men who, in Mary’s case at the very least, don’t deserve a second thought, let alone a second chance. But that second chance is exactly what they get, and the women learn to like it—even fight for it, tooth and Jungle Red nail. In 1939, the message is clear: The object of a woman’s desire, the ruler of her heart, and the light of her life is Man… so says the studio mogul, the producer, the ad man, the censors, et al.

On the face of it, Beauty for Sale is hardly different. It’s a story about women being used and abused by men individually, or by a male-centric system. But this B picture wrests back some control over the prevailing stereotypes and narratives—you were allowed to do that in 1933, Joseph Breen be damned. Letty decides to make her own way instead of marrying the first man that comes along, wrestling with the potential consequences and harm she causes all the while. Carol finagles men for monetary gain, which for her is regrettable but preferable to falling for another man destined to jilt her. Jane, sweet Jane, has the hardest time of any, but is a girl’s girl through it all and to the last. Beauty for Sale’s leading trio forge their own paths in a system designed to keep them from doing so successfully—sometimes with wisdom and other times by using and abusing in kind. In this way, the aforementioned tagline doesn’t even make much sense; this film isn’t really about marriage. That’s why I prefer the alt tagline: “The Drama of Three Footloose Daughters of a Modern Skin Game.” This one recognizes that the game is set up for these women to fail, and that they’re free to do as they please anyway. 1939 would be appalled.

Exit

One can little argue that the salon setting in the movie, with its obsessive focus on gossip, cattiness, and florid sex, is socially progressive or flattering to the perception of a modern woman. But for all its trappings and stereotypes, it does provide us with one of the few classic film spaces reserved almost exclusively for women—and what a wonderful avenue it opened to allow the glamor days’ finest talent to share the screen together and sneak in a few feminist sensibilities here and there.

Thanks for attending our first double feature! Make it a triple feature with 1939’s Beauty for the Asking, starring Lucille Ball as a boss babe face cream inventor and entrepreneur whose investor is the wife of her gold-digging ex fiancé. Then read some fan magazine articles featuring Florine McKinney here. You can learn more about the salon treatments given at Sydney's in The Women here. After all that taxing research, treat yourself to a day at Madame Brainey’s Cinema Salon on Letterboxd, where the only gossip allowed is about those INTereSTin’ movie stars from before our grandparents were born.

[snowbairdd]

Eh, I don't know but, did you ever have the feeling you was being watched?

HAIR-RAISING HARE (1946) dir. Charles M. Jones

[pierppasolini]

Hair-Raising Hare (1946) // dir. Chuck Jones

[bed-wed-behead-your-fave]

Dr. Lorre from Hair Raising Hare

[hathousehappenings]

17. Off the Cuffs

This is one of my long-time favorite episodes. Hatter and Hare each get their own songs, which doesn't happen very often. Plus it's just silly I Love Lucy style comedy, which is gold. I can totally see why this was one of the episodes selected for home video release.

I've already drawn the Amazing Hair-Raising Hare a couple times, so I didn't want to focus on him but I did still want to include him in this.

[misterlemonztenth]

12-09-23 | Hair-Raising Hare, 1946. misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[artoflooneytunes]

Storyboard drawing for Hair-Raising Hare (1946).

[angelamontoo]

Don't worry if your favourite isn't here, I'll probably make another

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Tw: parent abandoning their child, fluff, angst, crying, anxiety

Series masterlist

Noah’s living room felt warm, the golden light of late afternoon spilling in through the window, creating a calm atmosphere. You were sitting on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs. Luna, wearing her favorite bunny sweater, was sitting cross-legged beside you, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Noah was leaning back on the couch, clearly trying to act annoyed but already failing.

Luna had been waiting for this. His hair had finally gotten long enough for you two to try braiding it, and you was more than eager to help.

"Okay, Noah, hold still," you said, your voice light and teasing as you ran your fingers through his locks.

Noah groaned dramatically, half-sitting up with a roll of his eyes. "Why do I always let you do stuff like that to me?"

You smiled at his grumbling. “Because you love it,” you teased, your fingers working through his hair with practiced ease, slowly pulling it into sections. His hair were soft, and you loved the feel of them between your fingers.

Luna, who was sitting beside you, held up the first hair tie, her tiny face serious as she inspected it. “Here, this one first!” she declared, raising her little hands as she held the bright purple tie out to you.

"Thanks, Luna," you said with a smile, taking the tie and gently securing the first section of his hair. “We’re doing a great job.”

“Yes!” she chirped happily.

Noah, pretending to scowl, leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I let you both do this to me. I'm the only one suffering hare."

You leaned over and kissed the side of his head. “Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. You’re gonna look great.”

“Mh. Sure” he muttered, but the soft smile on his lips betrayed him.

Luna passed you another hair tie, this time a bright blue one, eyes wide as she eagerly waited for the next step. She was in full-on “helper mode,” even though she didn't quite understand the mechanics of braiding yet. It was adorable. You were doing most of the work, but she was right there beside you, picking out the ties, handing them over with excitement.

"We don’t have the pink one!" She suddenly declared.

You turned to Noah, feigning concern. “Oh no, we definitely need the pink one, right?”

Noah gave you a sidelong glance. “Sure, we definitely need it,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but he couldn’t hide the little glint in his eyes.

You smiled and watched as Luna rushed off to her bedroom to find the missing pink hair tie. Turning back to Noah, you continued working on his hair, gently weaving the strands together. As you did, you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked like this—relaxed, with his hair half-braided, the strands falling in soft locks around his face.

"You look cute like this," you said quietly, your fingers brushing through his hair again.

He shifted slightly, his lips curving up just a little as he turned his head toward you. “Mh. You think so?” he asked, his voice quiet but with that familiar playfulness beneath it.

You nodded, your fingers still working through the strands. “Yeah, really cute.”

You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering for a second. His eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, the teasing smile replaced by something warmer.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his fingers finding your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Then, he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. Gentle and slow.

You pulled back slightly, smiling at him, as Luna appeared in the doorway, holding up the missing pink hair tie triumphantly. “Found it!” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she ran back over and handed it to you.

“Good job,” you said, taking the tie from her and getting back to work on the next braid.

Noah adjusted himself on the couch, his hand resting on your thigh as you continued braiding his hair. His touch was slow, almost absentminded, but you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of your jeans. With his other hand, he reached down and pulled Luna up beside him, his fingers gently rubbing her little back as she settled against his side.

"You’re doing great," you said to Luna, giving her a reassuring smile as you worked.

Luna nestled into Noah, her head resting on his arm. "I’m the best at this,” she whispered almost to herself, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Noah laughed softly, his hand still gently rubbing her back. He glanced at you, his gaze soft and affectionate, before leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You leaned back and admired your work, the little braids now neatly secured in place. "Yeah. Definitely cute," you said.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

The next day, Noah stepped into the the band's living room, Luna bouncing ahead of him as she ran toward the group. The guys were lounging around, but as soon as they saw Luna, they lit up.

“Whoa, look how tall you’re getting!” Jolly exclaimed, crouching down to Luna’s level. “You’re almost as tall as me now!”

Luna giggled, standing on tiptoe and puffing out her chest. “I’m this tall!” she said proudly, arms stretched high above her head.

Noah leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling at the interaction. “Yeah, except she’s the shortest in her class at daycare,” he teased. “She didn’t get that from me.”

Folio, lounging on the couch with a sly grin, chimed in, “She got it from me then. Being tall is not the most important thing, you know?”

Noah rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Dude, we’re not even related,” he said, shaking his head. "You remember that, right?"

Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, yeah, sure."

Matt, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned forward. “So, Luna,” he said, “what are we gonna do today?”

Luna’s eyes immediately lit up. “We are drawing!” she exclaimed, poiting to some sharpies and pens she left on a little table in the corner of the room the last time he was there. “I draw big flowers and rainbows, and sometimes cats. And daddy. And Y/N. And you uncles.”

Nicholas leaned in with a grin. “You draw cats? I really wanna see one."

Luna nodded seriously. “I can draw you one! But only if you color it with me.”

“Deal!” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m an expert at coloring!”

Folio raised an eyebrow. “Hey, does that mean you’re gonna be a famous artist one day?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled as she thought about it. “Maybe! I’ll make big art and sell it for a lot of money. Then I’ll buy ice cream!”

The group laughed.

“And you, Uncle Folio?” Luna asked, her tone serious but playful. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Well, I’m pretty good at playing the drums. And I like fishing."

Luna looked at him with a bit of disgust painted on her face. "I don't like fish."

"I'm better at making music, don't worry."

Noah, who had been watching the interaction with a grin, suddenly caught himself thinking about Jason. He almost wanted to talk about the situation with the guys again but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Maybe next time.

Luna turned to Noah and gave him a big smile. "Daddy, are you going to draw with me too?”

Noah chuckled. "I think I’m better at making music than drawing too.”

Luna frowned playfully. “I think you can do both.”

Noah smiled softly, already talking a sharpie in his hand. “You’re right. I can do both.”

You talked with Jason for the second time three days later.

The Breakfast Nook was rather quiet, that morning. You were behind the counter, chatting with Noah, who was sitting on the bar stool at the counter, drinking his usual cup of tea.

The bell above the door chimed softly as it opened, and when you glanced up, your heart did a little stutter when your eyes landed on Jason.

He was standing in the doorway, framed by the light that poured in from the street. He was wearing a light brown jacket, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. His blue eyes scanned the room with an almost unsettling intensity, like he was looking for something specific.

Noah noticed him at the same time you did, and there was a sudden shift in his posture, a subtle but undeniable tension in his shoulders. You could see the way his eyes narrowed as he took in Jason’s appearance and the way he moved into the coffee shop.

You turned back to the espresso machine, trying to stay composed, but you could feel the weight of Noah’s stare, the quiet energy between you both, shifting.

"Uh-oh," Grace’s voice cut through the quiet of the shop. Her tone was sharp and knowing as she peered over from behind the register, her eyes already locked onto Jason. “This is gonna be fun."

You shot her a glare, but she was already smirking, knowing that something was about to happen.

Jason moved toward the counter, his gaze fixed on you. As he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your chest. You hadn’t seen him for three days, and now, you couldn’t deny the unease that curled up inside you as he stood there, so close.

“Hi,” Jason said simply, his voice smooth, low. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes held a sort of curiosity, as though he was waiting for something, perhaps for you to speak first.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice steady. You waited for him to order, but instead, he just stood there, silent, looking at you.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Noah, who was staring at Jason now, his fingers curling around his teacup. The air felt thick between the three of you, and it was only a matter of time before Noah broke the silence.

“Hi,” Noah’s voice was surprisingly firm as he stood up, his posture protective, his gaze not leaving Jason’s. “I’m Noah. Her boyfriend.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. You didn't expect that.

Jason’s gaze flickered between you and Noah, a slight raise of his eyebrows betraying his surprise, but he didn’t react immediately. Grace, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a bemused expression, snorted quietly to herself behind the counter, stifling a laugh.

Jason finally talked. “Oh, uh, hi, man. I’m Jason. Yeah, I’ve heard of you,” he said, his voice polite, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze lingered on Noah for a moment before Jason extended his hand, waiting for Noah to shake it.

Noah didn’t move, his hands still firmly wrapped around his teacup, his expression unchanging. Jason’s hand remained outstretched, but Noah simply stayed there, eyes locked on Jason.

“Good,” Noah said finally, his voice low, almost bored. He didn’t offer his hand in return.

You felt like the tension in the air was thick now, almost palpable, as if the room had stopped breathing. Jason just nodded once, like he’d accepted the silent challenge. Then, without a word, he turned his attention back to you, lowering his hand.

“I’ll just have a cappuccino. To take away,” Jason said, his tone casual as if nothing had just happened.

You nodded quickly, your fingers already moving to prepare his order. He was still watching you, and for some reason, it felt like he was studying you, trying to read something in your face.

He paid for his coffee, gave a nod of acknowledgment to Noah—who didn’t respond—and then turned to leave. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air felt charged as he walked out of the door, the bell chiming softly as he left.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Noah’s gaze stayed fixed on the door, a frown tugging at his lips. “I don’t like him,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight. “I really don’t like him. He was looking at you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of unease Jason had left behind. “Well, I work here, Noah. It’s kind of my job to be looked at.”

Noah’s jaw tightened, exhaling a sharp breath as if he were trying to hold back something.

Grace, who had been watching the whole thing with an almost painful amusement, decided it was time to throw in her two cents. “I work here too, sweetheart,” she said. “But he was looking at you.”

You shot her a look that could kill, but Grace didn’t seem to care. She just smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d just witnessed.

“Are you seriously gonna act like that wasn’t weird?” Noah said, his eyes not leaving the door, his fingers drumming restlessly against his mug. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice sharp, trying to deflect the growing tension. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a customer like anyone else now.”

Noah shook his head, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Yeah, of course."

Grace chuckled and you shot her a pointed look, which she ignored again, and tried to focus on the customers coming in.

“Well, I'm going to the studio,” Noah muttered, his hand going to his jacket as if he were about to get ready to leave, but you stopped him with a quick touch to his arm.

“Wait,” you said softly, though you could still feel that knot in your stomach. “Are you... are you mad at me?"

Noah hesitated, but then he sighed, rubbing his temple. “No. No, I'm not. I just don’t like him,” he muttered again.

“I know,” you replied quietly, glancing back to the door where Jason had just walked out. “But it's okay. We're okay. Don't worry."

"Mh."

"Come here."

You leaned over the counter to kiss him before he left and when you felt his little smile against your lips, you immediately felt better.

"See you tonight?"

"See you tonight."

The soft glow of the nightlight flickered in the corner of the room, casting a warm, comforting light across the space. Noah was standing by the side of Luna’s bed, his hand gently brushing through her hair as she settled under the covers.

“Cozy, huh?” Noah said softly, pulling the blanket up over her tiny form.

“Mmhmm,” Luna hummed, snuggling into the pillow, her eyelids drooping. She yawned, then blinked up at her dad, her voice small and sleepy. “Today, Emma was talking about her mom.”

Emma was Luna’s friend from daycare, a year older than her, but that was not the important part of the conversation.. He turned slightly, making sure to keep his voice calm, even though he could already feel the weight of what was about to come.

“Was she?” Noah asked, his voice soft, carefully measured. His stomach twisted.

Luna nodded slowly, her little face tired but curious. “Yeah. She asked me how my mom is like.”

Noah was sure his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed hard, trying to find a way to keep the conversation light. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And what did you tell her?” he asked, though he already knew what the answer was going to be.

Luna shifted in the bed, tucking her tiny hands under her chin, her brows furrowing slightly. “I said... I don’t have one.” She paused, then, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, asked, “But why don’t I have one, daddy?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, Noah’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes stung with something he didn’t want to face. The question was so innocent, but it was also a reminder of what he couldn't keep.

His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed a lock of hair from Luna’s face, trying to steady himself.

Luna’s big eyes were wide now, searching his face, waiting for an answer. Noah’s heart ached at the trust in her expression, the way she needed him to make sense of something that was far too complicated for a little girl to understand.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay steady even though it trembled slightly.

“Look, princess...” he started, his voice a little strained. He paused, taking another breath before continuing, trying to put the words together in a way that would make sense, in a way that wouldn’t hurt her.

“We are a very special family. Your mommy, when you were very, very little, decided not to be with us anymore.” His chest tightened with the words, but he kept going, pushing through the lump in his throat.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you so much, Lu. You’re my world. And I’ll always be here for you, okay? No matter what.”

Luna blinked up at him, her sleepy little face taking in his words, though the understanding wasn’t fully there. She was too young to really grasp the weight of what he was saying, but Noah could see in her eyes that she trusted him. That was enough.

“Okay,” Luna said softly, her voice already drifting off, the sleep overtaking her once more. “Yes, daddy.”

Noah smiled faintly, relief flooding through him, even if the pain of the conversation still lingered in his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly but not too much for Luna to notice.

"Love you too." Luna’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing steady as she finally sank into sleep, her small form finally at rest. Noah stayed for a moment longer, just watching her peaceful expression.

Then, with one last glance, Noah stepped back from the bed, pulling the door open just enough to slip out.

He gently closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing in the stillness of the house.

For a moment, he just stood there, in the dark hallway.

It was when he heard your voice that he realized he was crying.

You were still on the couch when Noah when to put Luna to bed, telling you he would be right back.

You heard him closing the door of his daughter's beroom behind him after a couple of minutes, the soft click echoing in the quiet hallway.

Then only silence.

You waited for a moment, thinking that maybe he stopped in the bathroom but you didn't hear any footsteps, so you stood up and walked towards the hallways, flipping the light switch on to figure out what was happening.

You saw him as he took a couple of slow, heavy steps away from Luna's room, his head slightly down, his posture tense. He wasn’t conpletely facing you yet, but you could tell something was wrong.

You walked toward him instinctively, your heart aching just from the way he was standing even before you realized that a single tear was slowly crossing his cheek.

When you reached him, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Noah. Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond immediately. But then, as if the words you spoke somehow unlocked something inside him, his breath hitched. A shaky exhale left his lips, and suddenly his body wracked with sobs.

Your heart broke. You had never seen Noah cry before—let alone like this. Never had you seen him so vulnerable, so completely shattered. The sound of his sobbing felt like it was ripping through the stillness of the house, and it pierced you deep in your chest. Without thinking, you moved closer, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to hold him together the best you could.

“Baby… what happened?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern.

Noah just shook his head, the sobs coming harder now. He couldn’t speak. The weight of whatever was tormenting him was too much to bear, and you could feel the rawness of it in every tremor that ran through his body.

You held him tighter, trying to soothe him, but his shoulder kept shaking under your hands, and you knew there was nothing you could say or do to stop the storm inside him. You pressed your cheek to the side of his head, whispering over and over again, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You felt the tears against your neck, and your own eyes began to sting as you realized just how much he was suffering. You gently cupped his face, wiping away some of the tears, but his pain wasn’t something you could erase.

All you could do was hold him, let him cry, and be there.

After a while, when his sobs had calmed just a bit, you reached down and took his hand in yours, guiding him to the bed. He followed you wordlessly, his movements slow and unsteady, as if he were in a daze. Once you sat him down, he immediately let himself fall onto the bed, his head resting against your stomach.

You settled under him, pulling the blanket over you both, and began to run your fingers gently along his back and shoulders, trying to calm the trembling in his body. He hid his face in your shirt, his breath still shaky as he tried to steady himself.

His arms wrapped loosely around you, but it was as if he were clinging to you for dear life.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered softly, gently scratching the back of his head, “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

The minutes stretched on, and you felt his breathing begin to steady.

You didn’t rush him. You didn’t push him to talk. You just kept whispering comforting words, running your fingers over his skin and through his hair. You could feel the weight of his fears in every soft exhale, and it only made you want to hold him even tighter.

Eventually, he spoke. “Luna asked why she doesn’t have a mom.” His words trembled as he said them, and you could hear the guilt in his voice. “And… it just... it stirred something in me. I’m always so fucking scared. I’m scared I’m not enough for her. I’m scared of messing up, of not being a good enough dad. I let her mom leave... I should’ve done something. For her. I should’ve—”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing over his hair, softly. “No, baby. You are enough. You’re an amazing dad, Noah. Luna loves you so much. You did everything you could. Nothing that happened is your fault."

Noah’s breath hitched again, and he buried his face further into your stomach, his voice muffled but still desperate. “And I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he said, his words barely audible.

“I know you love me, I know you wouldn’t leave me, but I can’t help it. I’m scared, baby. Every day. Every time I wake up and you’re not next to me, I'm always so fucking scared and I feel it in my chest and I don’t even know how to explain it… and now, with Jason back, I don’t know. I just feel like… like I’m not enough for anyone. Like I'm about to lose you.”

His words almost physically hurt you.

You could hear the rawness in his voice—the depth of his insecurity, the weight of everything he was carrying.  You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hand moving gently along his back.

“Listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle, “You are enough, Noah. I've already said it and I'll keep repeating it. You’re more than enough. You’re an incredible dad, an incredible boyfriend. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And I love you so much.”

Noah took a deep breath, the shaking in his body starting to subside. You continued to stroke his back, between his shoulder blades, your hand moving in slow, soothing circles, trying to ease the tension still gripping him.

His breathing began to steady, and though he didn’t say anything more, you could feel him start to relax under your touch. You could feel the fight slowly leaving him, the fear and the guilt starting to soften.

His hand moved up to rest against your chest, fingers gripping your shirt as if he were afraid to let go. You let him do it.

And as the night went on, you just held him, whispering reassurances, your fingers always gently caressing his back.

Your t-shirt was damp with his tears, but you didn’t care.

You weren’t going anywhere. You wouldn’t let him go through this alone.

Eventually, Noah’s breath grew even, his body still against yours, the last of his tears falling on your shirt. You kept running your fingers over his back for a little longer, ensuring that he was calm, letting the gentle rise and fall of your chest be the rhythm he could settle into. When you were sure that he had finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, you allowed yourself to relax as well.

You stayed there, the sound of his steady breathing the only thing filling the quiet room.

You watched him sleep for a few moments.

And only then, you let a few tears fall from your eyes, that, landing on your shirt, mixed with Noah's.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicolelynn @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog

[msriri030]

Save By Hare Pt 3: Mine to Hold

Mobster!Konig x Docter!Reader

Part 4 :Hasenpfeffer

That night, sleep was elusive. You tossed and turned, your mind racing with thoughts of what to wear, how to style your hair, and what to say after dinner. The anticipation made your cheeks flush, and you buried your face in your pillow, hoping to quiet your racing thoughts. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep, but the flutter of nerves lingered even in slumber.

Meanwhile, in another room, Roche took a bite of his candy bar, focused on repairing his gear from the latest mission. The operation had involved a dangerous covert surveillance of a drug deal orchestrated by KorTac, a rival gang. The silence of the room was broken only by his quiet muttering as he worked, until he finally spoke, his voice casual, though his mind was elsewhere.

"I'm pretty sure she's asleep by now," Roche said, his tone unfazed.

Across from him, Soap sat fidgeting, his leg bouncing restlessly. His eyes flicked repeatedly to his phone, which remained stubbornly blank. He sighed heavily, the frustration evident in his voice. "Maybe you're right... but why König? I just—"

Before he could finish his thought, Roche choked on his candy bar, coughing violently. Soap immediately jumped to his feet, his concern evident.

"You alright?" Soap asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

Roche waved him off, clearing his throat, his eyes widening as he processed what Soap had just said. "König? KorTac's König? Why didn’t I know about this? You need to tell her! If Don Shepherd finds out—"

"He won’t," Soap cut in quickly, leaning back in his chair, his tone firm but edged with frustration. "Ghost and I decided not to tell her. It could put her in even more danger if we push her to reject him. Besides... who are we to make that decision for her?"

Roche raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the guys who want to turn a twosome into a threesome?"

Soap’s face turned bright red. He glared at Roche, but the man only grinned wider.

"What?" Roche teased, clearly enjoying the discomfort. "Your relationship isn’t exactly a secret, you know. You two aren’t exactly quiet during your ‘sleepovers.’"

Soap looked away, his ears burning. "We don’t... it’s not like that," he muttered, his voice softening as he avoided eye contact. "It’s more like... she’s a sister—the kind you’d do anything to protect."

Roche’s teasing expression softened, though his smirk remained. He decided to drop the subject, sensing Soap’s discomfort. Roche turned his attention back to his equipment, but Soap’s curiosity got the best of him.

"What about you?" Soap asked, his tone casual but the question clearly catching Roche off guard. "Do you... love someone?"

Roche paused, his hands stilling over his gear. A faint blush crept up his neck as he avoided Soap's gaze. After a moment, he sighed, setting the piece of equipment aside.

"Yeah," Roche admitted quietly, his voice low. "I love some people, but I don’t think they’ve noticed. So... I'll just leave it alone."

Soap nodded, understanding the sentiment but unsure how to respond. Roche cleared his throat, shifting the subject back to more pressing matters.

"Anyway," Roche said, his voice more focused. "What do you think about Don Shepherd? Ghost still thinks he's up to something big."

Soap’s expression darkened as he glanced at his phone one last time, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Yeah," he said finally. "We all do."

It was finally time. You stood there, your heart fluttering in your chest as the anticipation of the evening settled over you. You paced the room, each step heavy with excitement and nerves. The soft click of your shoes on the floor was the only sound breaking the silence as you adjusted your clothes for the hundredth time, striving to get everything just right—the perfect fit, the perfect look.

What would you say? Would everything go as planned, or would it be awkward? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but there was no turning back now.

You ran your fingers through your hair, once again contemplating how to style it. The evening was important, and you wanted to feel ready, to look your best. You glanced at the clock—time was running out.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. There were so many things you wanted to say, so much you hoped would happen, but it all seemed too overwhelming at once.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and you froze.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was it him? Was it time?

You quickly made your way to the door, every step deliberate, every breath sharp with anticipation. When you opened it, you were met with a smile—a warm, familiar face..

There König, the mafia boss with a reputation that spanned the city’s darkest corners and its highest towers, stood at the door. His presence commanded attention without a single word spoken.

He wore a deep navy suit—almost black in its richness—crafted from a luxurious wool and silk blend. The suit’s understated elegance spoke of power, the kind only those who truly understood wealth could appreciate. It fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong frame. His trousers were sharply cut, breaking just above polished black shoes. The jacket was impeccably tailored, the lapels wide but not exaggerated. Satin accents caught the light as he moved, adding a quiet sheen to his commanding presence. His tie, a dark navy silk, was simple yet perfectly tied, and his crisp white shirt stood out sharply against the dark suit.

For a moment, you wondered if you were underdressed. But as your gaze met his, everything else faded into the background.

König, still wearing his signature mask, reached out and presented you with a bouquet—a stunning mix of red roses, lilies, baby’s breath, sunflowers, and delicate filler greens. The bouquet was as carefully curated as his entire appearance—elegant, bold, and striking.

“Guten Abend, Hase." I hope you like the flowers I picked out,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you took the bouquet. The vibrant colors and delicate petals were perfect, and it made your heart flutter. You brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with appreciation. “Thank you, König.”

As you stepped aside to let him in, your heart raced. His presence was overwhelming, but in a way that made you feel safe, protected. The evening was just beginning, and you had no idea what it would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt certain that whatever happened next, you were ready.

You held König’s hand as he drove you to Diamond Petals, a high-end restaurant nestled on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town. The drive felt surreal, with every turn and mile heightening your anticipation. As the car approached the restaurant, your breath caught in your throat. The place was more breathtaking than you had imagined.

Floral plants cascaded over the exterior, their vibrant colors glowing against the soft, ambient lighting. The building itself was a masterpiece, the marble and stone walls catching the light in a way that made the entire place seem otherworldly. It felt as though you were about to step into a dream, where beauty and elegance existed at every corner.

The soft hum of music could be heard from inside, and as you entered, the first thing that struck you was the dance floor at the center of the space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the twinkling lights above. It was the perfect setting for an evening filled with romance and charm.

As König pulled the car to a stop, he turned to you with a warm, almost teasing smile. “Ready, Liebling?”

You nodded, feeling a flutter in your chest, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Together, you walked toward the entrance, where the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the soft notes of the music from within. It was a perfect evening in the making

The moment you moved toward the entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the crowd. Whispers and curious glances followed you, some filled with intrigue, others tinged with disdain. The people around you were all too aware of König's rare presence, and perhaps even more curious about the person accompanying him tonight.

You blushed, instinctively shrinking into the shadow of König’s towering figure. His presence was enough to shield you, but you could feel the weight of the stares, the curiosity of those around you. It was clear that König was a figure few dared to approach, yet here he was, walking confidently at your side, unbothered by the attention.

The whispers quieted when König shot a cold, sharp glare in their direction. He leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur that only you could hear, “Don’t worry, Hase. They’re just jealous of me having someone so lovely by my side.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and the weight of the stares seemed to fade. His reassurance was enough to ease your nerves, and you stood taller, walking with him toward your table. The faint buzz of murmurs continued behind you, but all that mattered in that moment was the quiet strength and assurance that König exuded, and the way he made you feel—protected, cherished, and entirely his.

When you reached the table, König gently pulled out the chair for you, his actions so graceful and deliberate that you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only person in the room. His care and attention were impossible to ignore.

“Thank you, König,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “This is lovely.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he sat across from you. “Anything for you, Hase. That being said, order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth in his words making your heart flutter. Just as the moment settled, a waiter approached, ready to take your orders. You looked up, meeting König’s gaze before turning to the menu.

“I think I’ll have the steak,” you said, smiling as you felt a rush of excitement at being treated so thoughtfully.

König raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “And what else, Hase? Do you want anything sweet… like you afterwards?”

You burned red at the comment, pausing for a moment before you added, “Maybe the chocolate mousse for dessert?”

The waiter jotted down your choices before turning to König, whose deep, steady voice carried authority as he placed his order. With a courteous nod, the waiter excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet intimacy of your table.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

König leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you, warm and unyielding. “But I want to,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I want this night to be perfect for you, Liebling. Because I hope you’ll enjoy having me around… next time, and the time after that.”

He leaned forward, resting his large hand gently over yours. The warmth of his touch made your heart race. His eyes flickered with a nervous energy, his thumb brushing softly against the top of your hand in a calming rhythm, though you suspected it was more for him than for you.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and unusually vulnerable, “I was terrified when I decided to pursue you. You’re… an angel compared to me.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprise evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, though his eyes held a shadow of seriousness. “You know what I am, Hase. A mobster.” His gaze dropped momentarily to the table, his jaw tightening. “Perhaps more of a monster than a mobster.” He exhaled heavily, then looked up at you again, his gaze searching. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I hope you’ll still want this, want me, even knowing the dangers that come with it.”

He broke eye contact again, his gaze falling to where his hand rested over yours, as if bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart. For a man so strong and imposing, seeing him wrestle with his own insecurities was almost overwhelming.

“König…” you said softly, reaching across the table to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Regardless of the danger, I want this. I want us, because I feel the same way.” You smiled tenderly, your voice steady with conviction. “I love you, König. These feelings… they consume me. You’ve given me a place to feel safe and loved like no one else ever has.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to process your words. Then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes shone with an emotion so raw it made your chest tighten.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with relief. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “But I’m so glad I did.”

Before he could say anything more, a voice sliced through the air like a blade—smooth, deliberate, and unwelcome.

“Don König, I didn’t know you had such a beautiful woman at your side.”

König’s warmth disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. His eyes, once alive with affection, turned icy and detached. He knew that voice.

Don Shepard.

König’s jaw clenched as he slowly stood, his imposing frame radiating a quiet threat. Despite his clear disdain, he forced a tight, polite smile, walking toward the older man with a calculated ease that spoke of years of practice in dealing with people like him.

“Don Shepard,” König said, his tone measured but laced with an unmistakable tension. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The older man’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he had stirred. “Ah, I have a knack for being where I’m least expected,” Shepard quipped, his gaze shifting briefly to you. His eyes lingered just a second too long before König subtly shifted to block his view, his posture protective. “But I must say, König, you’ve outdone yourself. A woman like her? Quite the catch.”

König’s expression remained calm, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Shepard,” he said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

But Don Shepard wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Oh, but it is my business. You’re playing in dangerous waters, König, bringing someone like her into our world.”

König’s smile was razor-thin, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m sure I don’t need you to remind me of the risks,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner to enjoy.”

There was a moment of unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills, before Shepard finally raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course,” he said, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something darker. “Just don’t forget, König—our world doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

König barely acknowledged the veiled threat, giving Shepard a curt nod before turning his back on him and returning to you.

As he sat down, his features softened once again, though a trace of tension lingered in his jaw. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “He’s… difficult.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

König’s gaze softened at your words, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, his tone resolute. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

König’s words hung in the air, a quiet promise wrapped in steel. His hand over yours was firm, steadying you in the aftermath of the brief but tense exchange. His gaze softened, a stark contrast to the cold, commanding presence he had wielded just moments ago with Don Shepard.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, König.”

His expression shifted, relief flickering in his eyes as his thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, Liebling,” he murmured. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

After the warm moment, the waiter arrived quietly, placing your dishes in front of you with practiced precision before retreating with a polite nod. The aroma of your steak and König’s carefully chosen entrée filled the space between you, but neither of you moved to eat right away.

König cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, leaning back slightly, “I hope the food tastes as good as this evening feels.”

You chuckled softly, picking up your fork. “If it’s half as good as your company, I think we’re in for a treat.”

König chuckled too, the low rumble of his laugh warming you from the inside out. It was rare to see him so relaxed, so at ease.

As you both began to eat, the tension from Don Shepard’s interruption faded, replaced by lighthearted conversation. König told you small, guarded anecdotes about his life—safe stories that made you laugh or widened your eyes in fascination. In return, you shared moments from your own life, noticing the way he listened so intently, as if every word you said mattered.

The dinner unfolded like a dream, a blend of laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional touch of his hand brushing against yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, König allowed himself to hope—for a future, for something brighter, for you.

And as the evening progressed, you realized you weren’t just sitting across from a mobster or even the enigmatic König. You were sitting across from the man who had stolen your heart, and for the first time, you felt certain that you’d found something rare and unbreakable.

However there was someone watching beside Don Sherpard from the corner of his eye, Ghost sat down next to Consigliere Price while listening to Don's ideas. He was feared when the Don spoked to König, all he wanted was to keep you safe but it was too late. 

“Ghost? What do you think about capturing the west harbors?” Price asked him to clear his throat as the Don noticed where he was glimpsing at. He smirked devilishly with a plan in his head. 

However, there was someone else watching the interaction from the shadows—beside Don Shepard, seated at a nearby table, was Ghost. Silent and observant, he sat next to Consigliere Price, his imposing figure blending into the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. While Price listened intently to Don Shepard's ideas, Ghost's attention was elsewhere. His sharp eyes flicked toward König, and then to you.

He felt a pit of unease settle in his stomach when Don Shepard engaged König. He knew the man’s reputation all too well. Whatever Shepard was planning, it was never good. Ghost clenched his jaw, his instincts screaming to act, but he knew it was already too late to intervene.

“Ghost?” Price’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. “What’s your take on securing the west harbors? Think it’s worth the resources?”

Ghost cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “It’s a strong move,” he replied curtly, though his gaze flicked back toward König and Don Shepard for a brief second.

Price noticed, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Don Shepard, however, caught the brief glimpse and smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as if a new idea had just sparked in his mind. Whatever he had planned, it was clear that König—and now you—were a piece of his next move.

“She’s pretty—like an angel out of heaven, isn’t she?” Don Shepard’s voice dripped with venomous sweetness as he leaned slightly toward Ghost. His cold gaze locked onto Ghost’s eyes, sharp and unyielding, like a predator cornering its prey. “It would be... horrible... don’t you think? If someone were to use her as bait. Especially if it was someone she trusted. Imagine her being sent back to heaven earlier than expected…” He let the words hang in the air, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist under the table as rage burned through him. His usual mask of stoicism wavered, a flicker of helplessness crossing his features. He hated how powerless he felt at that moment. To disobey Don Shepard was to invite chaos and bloodshed—not just for himself, but for those he cared about. Soap, Roach, and now you—all of you were in more danger than ever before.

Before Ghost could respond, Price interjected, his voice firm and composed, though there was an edge of warning in his tone. “Don, we shouldn’t involve the innocent. That woman has saved countless men, multiple times. She’s earned her place and respect.”

Don hummed, leaning back in his chair as if Price’s words were nothing more than idle noise. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before chuckling darkly. “I suppose... heaven can wait, then. For now. But the devil,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they flicked toward König, “still needs to be put in his place.”

Ghost’s grip on the edge of the table tightened. He didn’t flinch under Don’s gaze, but his blood ran cold. The implications of Shepard’s words were clear. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The Don’s smile returned, almost cheerful now, as if the prior tension hadn’t happened. “Forget the dance, Ghost,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s enjoy the night, hmm? And refocus on what matters—expanding your ‘supple’ house.”

Ghost gave a curt nod, his body still rigid with suppressed frustration. But his mind was already working. He would find a way to keep you safe, even if it meant going against Shepard in the shadows. He glanced briefly at Price, who gave him a subtle, knowing look.

The night had taken a darker turn, and the unspoken tension lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Whatever game Don Shepard was playing, Ghost knew one thing for certain—he needed to stay one step ahead if he was going to protect everyone who mattered to him.

König held the door open for you as you stepped out of the restaurant. The cool night air greeted you, carrying the faint hum of music and chatter from inside. You had hoped to dance with him on the floor earlier, to share an intimate moment swaying together under the soft glow of the chandeliers. But as the crowd thickened, you noticed how König’s posture stiffened, his shoulders tense despite his calm demeanor.

Though he insisted he was fine, you could see the flicker of anxiety in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. It was enough for you to decide—leaving was the better choice. You didn’t want him to endure any more discomfort, not when tonight was meant to be perfect for both of you.

As you waited by the curb, Vault, König’s trusted driver, brought his car to the front. König moved with his usual grace, opening the passenger door for you. His towering frame shielded you from the outside noise as he gently motioned for you to step in.

Once you were settled into the seat, König closed the door with care, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as though he wanted to be certain you were comfortable. The way his gaze softened before he stepped away made your heart flutter. Without a word, he circled to the driver’s side, his movements calm and deliberate, though you could sense the tension lingering beneath his composed exterior.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, König exhaled a deep sigh, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment before he turned to you. “Thank you, Hase… I know you wanted to dance, and I’m sorry we weren’t able to.” His voice was low, edged with guilt.

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, offering him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, love. I understand.”

At your words, König froze, his hands momentarily still on the wheel as his eyes widened. His reaction caught you off guard.

“König? What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head to study him.

He blushed fiercely, the tips of his ears turning pink as he glanced away, unable to meet your gaze. “N-nothing,” he stammered, gripping the wheel again as he started the car. “I wasn’t expecting… that you’d call me ‘love.’”

A shy smile tugged at your lips as his voice trailed off. You could see how much the small term of endearment had affected him, and it warmed your heart.

Clearing his throat, he added hesitantly, “If… if you’re okay with it, I want to take you somewhere special to me. Somewhere we can be alone.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned back in your seat, your heart already full from his sincerity. “Sure, love,” you replied, the term slipping from your lips as naturally as breathing.

He glanced at you briefly, his blush deepening, but the way his lips curled into a small, bashful smile told you how much the word meant to him. The rest of the drive was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet excitement that lingered between you both. Thought raced

When you arrived at your destination, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight—a sprawling sea of shimmering city lights stretching across the horizon, their vibrant colors twinkling against the stark contrast of the pristine white snow that blanketed the landscape.

You stepped out of the car, the crisp night air biting gently at your skin as you gazed in awe. The view was mesmerizing, almost surreal, like a painting brought to life. You’d never been this far from the city before, and seeing it from such a distance, framed by the quiet beauty of nature, left you speechless.

“König…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to him.

He stood by the car, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction, his tall frame silhouetted by the faint glow of the distant cityscape. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly, his voice warm and steady.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s… magical.”

König took a step closer, his presence grounding you amidst the overwhelming beauty of the view. “I used to come here when I needed to think or be alone,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But tonight, I wanted to share it with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s perfect.”

König’s lips curved into a soft smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. His gaze was tender, filled with an affection that seemed to melt the chilly air around you. “You make it perfect, Liebling,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying the warmth of his feelings.

Without another word, he shifted closer, his large hands carefully guiding you. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently into him, while he placed your hand on his broad shoulder, keeping the other clasped in his own. He began to hum a low, soothing tune as he swayed with you, his movements slow and unhurried.

You let out a soft giggle, your cheeks warming as you looked up at him. His towering frame felt safe and steady, his hum vibrating through your chest like a comforting lullaby. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you beneath the vast expanse of the stars.

Feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. His scent—clean and woodsy, with a hint of something uniquely him—surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

König’s hum deepened, the melody matching the quiet intimacy of the moment. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against the top of your head. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispered softly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace. “Me too,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and his gentle hum.

In that moment, there was no danger, no worries—only the two of you, swaying together beneath the stars in a dance that felt as though it was meant to last forever. But then, a selfish thought slipped into your mind, one you couldn’t ignore.

“König,” you began softly, your voice hesitant as your fingers tightened slightly around him. “Can I ask you something… something kinda selfish?”

He tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes as he gazed down at you. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “When have you ever been selfish, Liebling? Go on, ask me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before finally speaking, your tone serious. “I… I want to see your face.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

König stilled for a moment, his large hand cupping your cheek as he gently tilted your face up to meet his. His expression softened, a tender warmth in his eyes as he whispered, “You’re not stupid.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek as he let out a soft sigh. “I understand why you’d want to know what your partner looks like… You deserve that much.” He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and intimate as he added, “Let’s go to the car. I’ll show you there.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart fluttering as he gently took your hand and guided you toward the vehicle, an unspoken promise lingering in the air between you.

As you slid into the back seat, König carefully closed the door behind him, his sharp eyes darting around to ensure no one was watching. The air between you felt thick with anticipation, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. You sat patiently, nervously toying with the ends of your hair, the gesture doing little to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when König gently lifted you onto his lap, settling you so you were facing him. His massive hands, warm and reassuring, gripped your hips as his forehead rested lightly against yours. The steady rise and fall of his chest brushed against yours, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

His eyes, deep and piercing, locked onto yours, scanning your face with a quiet reverence. His arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs tracing slow, nervous circles along your sides.

“König?” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with concern. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted gently, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a quiver of vulnerability in his tone as he continued, “I’m just... nervous. Nervous about how you’ll react to my face, Hase.” The rare fragility in his voice tugged at your heart.

You smiled warmly, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers grazing the fabric of his mask. “König,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I would love you no matter what you look like. The man I fell for isn’t just a face. He’s the one who holds me like I’m made of glass, even though I’m not. He’s the one who protects me, who cares for me so deeply it leaves me breathless.”

Your thumb brushed lightly over his masked cheek as you asked softly, “Ready?”

A beat of silence passed, and then he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes, Hase,” he murmured. “Only for you.”

As you slid his mask off with trembling fingers, your movements slow and deliberate, you gave König every chance to stop you. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on yours, steady yet vulnerable, as if baring his soul alongside his face.

When the fabric slipped away, your breath hitched. Your eyes widened, taking in the striking details of the man before you. His chiseled features, framed by a rugged jawline, were marred only by scars that seemed to tell stories of strength and survival. You found yourself captivated by his piercing blue eyes, which studied your reaction with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tracing the faint scar along his cheek with delicate fingers, marveling at the softness of his skin. He didn’t flinch; instead, his eyes softened under your touch. Your thumb moved to the prominent scar running across the bridge of his nose, your heart aching as you wondered what battles had left their mark on him. Finally, your hand rested on the small scar that kissed the corner of his lips.

Without thinking, you brushed your thumb gently against the edge of his lips before leaning in, your lips grazing his in a featherlight kiss. It was tender, almost shy, as if you were both learning to navigate this uncharted intimacy together.

König let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his hands exploring your clothed waist and back, his touch warm and deliberate. You let out a soft moan against his lips from his warm touch. But as much as he didn’t want to lose himself in the moment, he knew his restraint was hanging by a thread.

“Hase,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “Ich liebe dich.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ich will dich.”

The heat in his voice sent shivers down your spine, your attention fully claimed by the man holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Your breaths grew heavier, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his as the air between you seemed to thrum with a charged intensity. The world outside the car melted away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate, all-consuming moment.

Leaning in closer, you whispered into his ear, your voice soft but laced with desire, “Ich will dich, mein Bärchen… Küss mich.”

The words sent a visible shudder through König’s massive frame. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, his eyes darkening as he gazed at you, captivated. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if savoring the moment and letting your words settle deep into his soul. Then, with a growl low in his throat, he leaned forward, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss was fiery, passionate, and all-encompassing, his lips moving against yours with both hunger and reverence. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The distant glow of the city lights painted the car’s interior in faint hues, casting the scene in a romantic glow as the two of you surrendered to the moment.

König’s kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as if he was pouring every ounce of his love and desire into them. His hands explored the curves of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, making you feel like you were the center of his universe.

“Mein Hase,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, his voice thick with emotion and want. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

The night stretched on, the cool glass of the car windows fogging up from the heat radiating between you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only König, only you, and the unspoken promise of a love that would burn brighter than any star in the night sky.

Part 1: Save by a Hare

Part 2: The Love Doctor