#also going back to the name thing the names are supposed to be like [first name] te [middle name?] [last name]
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There was something I wanted to add as i saw people arguing back and forth (and this might be against my better judgement): but I believe the first post I saw referenced Bell Hooks, and then I later saw someone else say that the use of her quote was bullshit. The quote had to do with being compassionate towards men, and then the person responding said that wasn't what the quote is about (iirc, it's been a few days and my sense of time is not great) but having read The Will to Change (which I believe the quote was taken from), that's exactly what it was about.
[adding a read more because this became much longer than I intended it to be]
The book discusses how the patriarchy hurts not just women, but ALSO men, and how it's so much harder to rehabilitate men from it because: they think they stand something to gain from cramming themselves into the box they're supposed to fit into, and, many of them just have no idea that their life could even be different. That they could be an artist if they want to, they could dance if they want to, they could go into childcare if they want to or grow their hair long or write poetry or paint their nails-- that there are no "boy colors" and "girl colors", that there are no "men's jobs" and "women's jobs", that they could just do what they want because it makes them happy. They don't even know that being happy is more important than filling their sociological niche that someone else has carved out for them. It reminds me when I learned the story of Siddhartha Gautama when I was little, and that he had no idea that poverty, sickness, and suffering even existed because he had never been outside the palace walls and, not that I'm saying every man can achieve nirvana in an afternoon (or even in a lifetime), sometimes someone who knows what's outside the walls has to let you know that there is even something beyond the walls.
Which is also not to say that women need to be doing all the work for men. I spent ten years trying to disabuse a man of the "things he has to do to be manly" and it ended with him breaking up with me and joining a trad christian cult.
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Some men (like my ex) are just extremely resistant to change because change is terrifying, but they also have this sense of Sunk Cost Fallacy, where if they were doing this thing the whole time and it's not working, then what were they wasting their time on?? (I feel like you see this with a lot of evangelical/trad Christians as well, where the idea that they might have been wrong is so scary that they double down on their beliefs in the hope that it will work out for them.)
But, there are also men like a book reviewer I was watching a few days ago (whose name I don't know), who admitted that he really had no idea women were catcalled as much as we say we are, until he was grocery shopping with his girlfriend and she went into the next aisle (literally like five feet away, just with the wall of food between them) and he heard a man catcall her. Like, the second she walked away from him and she no longer obviously belonged to him (in the mind of horrible men like her catcaller) she was suddenly fair game to be harassed in public. And he said that he never didn't believe his girlfriend, but to witness something makes it so much more real. To use my "wall" metaphor another way: he and so many men are still inside the palace, experiencing what they think is the same life others experience, while women are outside of the walls, struggling. The incident of hearing his girlfriend (who is an adult women and who shouldn't need him constantly around as protection from horrible men) being treated like an object while she's by herself was like someone grabbing his hand and pulling him outside the walls without even asking if he wanted to go, showing him a truth that can only be experienced by someone who is not him.
Back to Bell Hooks because there was something I wanted to add: yes she does say that it is at least partly the job of feminists to help to deprogram men. Men, as a group, have been brainwashed to think that they have to be The Provider, The Protector, The Leader, and not all of them are good at providing, protecting, or leading. Maybe some of them want to do the things I mentioned before like care for others (in the way we would describe as "maternal" and attribute to women), maybe they want to create art or do crafts or other things not considered "traditionally masculine", and that's not even taking into account that the "traditional idea" of a man is to be constantly wanting sex, and that men could never be sexually assaulted because they're in a constant state of wanting to fuck (obviously this is a lie; anyone can be sexually assaulted, and not everyone wants to fuck). You can't just take a dog who was taught only to fight and put it in a house of children, it won't know how to act around them and might attack them: it needs to be rehabilitated first.
And Bell Hooks does note, that the problem with trying to deprogram men comes from how they're raised. I'd like to submit this video about men and empathy, since I've already typed a bunch:
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When I was reading The Will To Change and I got up to the part about her dad, I realized how different my dad is. And, because you don't get to choose your parents, I consider myself very lucky that my dad has always been unconditional in his love. For a moment I almost found this strange because his older brother was the "golden child" and his younger brother was "the baby", so he should have been somewhat neglected because they always got more affection from their parents, but I think it's because he was the favorite of his four girl cousins who would take him everywhere and fight over him (even now, he's the one they're excited to see and they shittalk the other two lol). So, I have a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he didn't end up shitty like his brothers, is because when he was a child he had four girls who were showing him what unconditional love was like and that you don't need to meet the criteria of your niche in order to receive love.
Which, I have to thank them for, because it's so much easier not having to decide whether or not I want to talk to my own parents as an adult because they've gone Fox News Insane. Both my parents will actually ask me about things they don't understand - like trans rights, queer rights in general, voting (I made them a paper of who/what to vote for for the election since the props always need extra research), geopolitical things - and I've even caught my dad making fun of conspiracy theorists and the thinking that trans women are ruining sports (he's a big sports guy and he mostly watches women's bball because he likes that they actually have to play as a team in a team sport). Life is a lot easier when both parents have empathy and don't have to be convinced to care about others.
And I think that's why the OG post I saw quoted Bell Hooks, because the "we need to rehabilitate men otherwise we can't have the feminist future we want" contingent of feminism never really took off; there was one-- I believe they were originally called "Meninists" as in "men who are feminists" and I've seen a picture of them from a parade in the 70s, but it died out because they were fighting such an uphill battle trying to convince other men to join. So now, we have more women who are independent and who have de-centered men from their lives, but also a bunch of men who were never rehabbed and who don't know their life doesn't need to revolve around "being a man." Being a man means being strong, it means being able to provide, it means being attractive; and the Tates and Fresh and Fits and all the other scam artists of the world sell them this on steroids: buy my book and you WILL be hot, you WILL be a millionaire, you WILL have women who want to fuck you...
Never mind that those guys are probably on actual steroids, they only have that money from scamming other men, and many of them have been found to hire escorts (which, there's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, but there's a difference between selling the idea that you'll be so charismatic that women will throw themselves at you and having to hire a sex worker because your personality is so bad that no one wants to go near you.)
They're selling a false ideal to men who don't even know it's false in the first place.
But going back to Ms Hooks again: she did talk a great deal about how we need to raise our boys (as a society). She talks about how the whole thing of telling a nine-year old "Take care of your mother" is an insane notion, because he's nine and he can't do anything, and she's an adult woman who is actually the caretaker; and about how boy babies are treated so differently even to the point of "baby boys should not cry as much as baby girls". Like, the gender requirements are there before they can even talk, no wonder they're so damaged and hard to convince of anything later in life.
Reads with Rachel and her husband, Carlos, had two really good discussions about masculinity; one about real masculinity vs performed masculinity as they compared two books about being a man:
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As Rachel says after Carlos complained about being made fun of for cleaning his nails after working on his car ("I work an office job and I have cleanliness standards"): "It's not enough for you to know how to work on a car, you also have to be dirty in order to be the manliest man."
The other is in the context of talking about how Patrick Rothfuss isn't the feminist he thinks he is because he still wants the women around him to perform femininity so he can perform masculinity and feel like "a big strong man" before going into a general discussion about masculinity (from about 9:01 to 53:55):
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Together they ask a really good question (pardon me if I don't remember it verbatim): "Why does it take someone acting in a particular role for you to feel like a man?" And it's easier for Carlos to be able to deal with that question, because he started deconstructing from the patriarchy when he was 25 (he said he's 32 at the time of that video). It's something he and Rachel have done together as they learn and grow and live their lives together, him deconstructing from the patriarchy and her deconstructing from her fundamentalist christian upbringing (which is basically just The Patriarchy, but More, and +God.) And they've done this because they came to realize their upbringing was wrong, and they didn't want to raise their sons to be saddled with the same baggage that they both grew up with that made their lives worse.
So yeah, I forgot where I was going with this anymore since finding the one video took so long. The majority of men are resistant to changing their mind and it's because they were raised to be unemotional and not care about others but, sometimes, if maybe you've been friends with someone a while and take the time to explain something in a way they understand, you can change someone's mind. Story time:
I was a mod for a streamer for about a month and a half roundabouts January to February of this year (I ended up leaving because trying to get a bunch of randos to behave was stressful - esp since the streamer's rules weren't clear - and I ended up not really liking the streamer as a person). One person in the discord said that they hated the phrase "It's not my job to educate you" because it was condescending. I defended it as people being tired of having to explain shit to people just because they're black or trans or a woman but a bunch of people latched on and started saying anti-left things, which was weird because the streamer and his discord were supposed to be leftist (it's part of why I left, he was just weirdly antagonistic towards leftist ideals despite calling himself a leftist and he was attracting some *ahem* weird types). Anyway, a day goes by and a trans person comes in and says something like "I don't think I should have to explain my existence to random people on the street just because I decided to go outside," and a bunch of people descended on them, telling them they were wrong, and I'm pretty sure they ended up leaving the server.
[Like, the original group-agreed-upon argument came down to "I shouldn't have to google things or look up books to read or do my own work to discover anything new about the world, I should be able to demand of a random person's time and energy, even though I'm not giving off the vibe of someone who is actually ready to listen" and when I pointed out that people know when someone is and is not ready to listen, the streamer himself asked me how I knew and I was like like "do you think that I, a woman in her 30s, is somehow incapable of being able to discern intent?" Most women and queer folk KNOW who's a bad actor before they open their mouth, the idea that any of us wouldn't was just wildly ignorant.]
I complained to my friend (who I had met in the server) that the streamer was wrong and everyone's reaction was bullshit and, at first, he agreed with the position that a trans person should be prepared to debate people on their own rights if they deign to step outside their home. I countered with "You know, [streamer] doesn't it get it because he's a straight white man. He's the default. Other straight white men already know what it's like to be a straight white man so they have no questions for him. But to be trans or otherwise queer or a woman or any other person outside of a white man, is to have people question whether you have a right to be where you are. Trans women I've known have told me that they've had complete randos ask them if they've had bottom surgery and just-- how is that their business? People act so invasive towards non-straight non-white non-men in a way that no one does towards straight white men that they literally just can't understand what it's like to have your existence questioned just because you went outside. Asking a stranger if they've had bottom surgery is LITERALLY sexual harassment, and no one would ever walk up to someone like [streamer] and ask him like, "How big is your dick?" or something of a similar nature because that's just insane behavior, but when it's a trans person or a woman, it's suddenly okay? Like why do you think that is?" And my comparison to how white men are treated vs everyone else, and my stance that asking a stranger if they've had bottom surgery is sexual harassment (it is, no one needs to know about your genitalia) got through to him and he agreed with me. Awhile later I even heard him saying something similar to someone else about a situation that was similar and taking up the stance that I had given him.
So like... yeah, I probably wouldn't do that for a random man on the internet who is determined to hate me, but I can do it for a friend who I know might be receptive to what I have to say to him, and help steer him away from opinions that could end up dragging him down the wrong path.
As this post's OP said: "it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it!"
It's up to you if you want to try effecting the people around you, but if they've dug in their heels that much then it's okay if you want to leave and not speak to them again. Just know that, it's only so hard for you because they were brainwashed since birth to think the way they think and that's REALLY hard to undo. And that's not a pass, that's just the reason why this is so fucking hard for the rest of us (when they're adults and harder to reason with because they're so invested) and also, the reason why mothers of sons need to maybe rethink how they're raising them. Like, don't raise them with "boy colors" and "girl colors" raise them with "colors." Dance isn't something a girl does, it's something a body does. Women don't cook because cooking is a woman's thing, people cook because they want to eat. And... I'll be honest, I've known a few women who are just so mean to their husbands in a "why can't you be a real man?" way, and I just DON'T see how that makes him want to be a better person, but then again, those woman probably need as much deprogramming as their husbands do since they just keep reinforcing something that (she may not even be aware) is hurting them both.
So yeah, sorry if this was a bit rambling, but seeing people fight back and forth for the past week and seeing people take up some really... Mad Max-ian, like, ultra-anarcho-capitalist positions of "we shouldn't help any man at all, fuck em!" was really weird when it was being said by people who purport themselves as being feminists when feminist ethics is supposed to be more compassionate. There were just a handful of reactions I saw that seemed very "pull yourself up out of the patriarchy by your bootstraps" but like... what if their boots don't have bootstraps? What if they don't even have shoes on? What if they don't even know they could have shoes?
posts about the alt-right pipeline being compassionate towards young men while radical leftists shun and shame them are not fucking saying "the men are becoming violent because feminists are too mean!" and if that is your takeaway you need to get off tumblr until you've better honed your critical thinking skills.
those posts are talking about how effective the language and approach you take in your activism can be. this is literally cult deprogramming 101. if someone is being taken in by a violent or dangerous group, that violent or dangerous group is usually offering them compassion and solace while working hard to convince them everyone else in the world is their enemy. you are under no obligation to coddle or act compassionate toward these men and their violent ideologies, but if you have the means to try, it is something that you can do to make a tangible difference.
radicalized people are often only one loving friend or family member or external voice away from being de-radicalized. of course that is not always the case, but it very often is. a lot of y'all rightfully understand that you do not carry the burden of being that voice, but a lot of y'all also have a lot of internalized ideas about morals and punitive justice and have simply written off these people as deserving of only the worst and not worth saving.
ten years ago, my grandmother was a fox news watching republican who voted red in every election and very well could have fallen down the qanon rabbit hole if not for me and her daughter challenging her compassionately, walking her through hypotheticals that validated her feelings & proving why they were false, & being patient with her despite our extreme division in political ideology. it was frustrating fucking work! but i decided i wanted to do it, because i could see the horizon and i could see me making a difference!
"misogynists have been saying feminists are too mean for years, get new material" that is not the fucking POINT. the point is that you, feminist, can be the compassionate voice that guides your brother, your father, your cousin, your grandfather away from fucking becoming or staying a nazi. you can show them compassion and companionship. you can be the woman they think of when their alt-right bros try to convince them that women are the enemy. and you can choose to crystallize that image of yourself so wholly in their mind's eye as worth protecting that they may very well choose to reject those harmful ideas.
it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it! don't you 'firebomb a walmart' people all love taking change into your own hands? where the fuck is that energy right now, huh?
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Leaving it all behindâ Max Verstappen x Reader
Word count â 30.k
Warnings â 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 donât know why thereâs funky symbols throughout my fic it wasnât in the google doc. Also every thing in ** is supposed to be italics but I donât have the patience to do that.
Beta read/edited by @octavikravecell218 @crispysoup318 @sinofwriting
Summaryâ Max's life had always been planned out for himâa 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 â max verstappen x readerÂ
The city lay dark and restless under the weight of the midnight clouds. Maxâs 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. Heâd 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 couldnât help but wonder if this life was all heâd 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, heâd pulled over, instincts taking over as he slid out of the car. His footsteps were silent, his expression deadly calm as he approached.
âLet her go,â 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 streetlampâs dim glow, he could see the defiance in her eyes she wasnât the type to easily back down. A part of him admired that.
âYou alright?â he asked, softer now, watching her carefully.
She nodded, brushing herself off, her gaze wary but grateful. âYeah I didnât need saving, though,â she said, a spark of pride in her voice.
A small smile tugged at his lips. âI could tell,â he replied, âbut sometimes itâs nice to have backup.â
She huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flickering up to meet him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence was charged and unexpected.
âThank you,â she murmured finally, her voice losing some of its edge. âI donât know what wouldâve happened if you hadnât come along.â
âWell, itâs a good thing I rescued you from danger,â 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. Maxâs charm was disarming, but she couldnât shake the unease she felt in his presence.
âYeah, thank you for that, but I need to go,â 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 didnât 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 heâd met before. And he wanted to know more.
Over the next few days, she lingered in his mind like a melody he couldnât shake. He knew he shouldnât indulge this curiosity, shouldnât look into her life, but he couldnât 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 didnât understand.
When he learned she worked at a little bookstore downtown, he couldnât 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.
âI didnât expect to see you here,â she said, her voice soft but curious.
Max shrugged, feeling suddenly out of place. Heâd been to every luxurious spot in the city, but this small, cozy shop felt like another world. âJust passing by,â 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 familyâs empire wasnât simple; there were loyalties, enemies, and countless secrets that held him captive. Still, when he looked at herââŹâwhen he thought of a life beyond the cityâs corruption and bloodshedââŹâhe 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 heâd ever known.
Max leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the warm glow coming from the bookstoreâs 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. âDid you just stand there the entire time?â
Max shrugged, pushing off the wall as he took a step closer to her. He couldnât help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. âJust enjoying the view.â
She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. âYou need a better hobby.â
He chuckled, falling in step next to her as they began walking. âYouâre my hobby,â he teased.
She shot him a look, the kind that was meant to be disapproving but couldnât quite hide her amusement. âYouâre ridiculous.â
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 himââŹâmaybe it was the loyalty to the life heâd inherited, or maybe it was fearââŹâthat made him hesitate.
They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the streetlights casting long shadows around them.
âHey,â Max said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.
She looked over at him, her eyebrows raised in question.
âCan I ask you something?â
She nodded, her expression curious.
Max took a deep breath, bracing himself. âDo you think itâs possible to change? To make your path, even when you come from a life that feels...predetermined?â
Her expression softened, her gaze searching his face. âI think it depends,â she said slowly. âOn how badly you want it, how willing you are to fight and maybe even lose things along the way.â
Max nodded, her words echoing in his mind, both confirming and intensifying his doubts. Losing things...heâd be losing a lot by choosing a different lifeâhis familyâs legacy, their empire, his fatherâs trust. But even the thought of losing *her* felt unbearable.
âSo what if youâre not sure?â he found himself asking. âWhat if you have feelings you donât quite understand, but you know they wantââŹÂŚmore?â
She regarded him silently, her eyes steady, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Max wondered if heâd said too much, or revealed too much. But then she looked away, a sigh escaping her lips. âThen Iâd say youâre either being braveââŹÂŚor foolish,â she said finally, her gaze returning to his. âBecause love can make you do both.â
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/Nâs day. Theyâd fall into easy conversations, and sheâd tease him about his âterrible tasteâ in books, which he took with a grin, never revealing that heâd never really read much for pleasure before he met her. The darkness of his past and his familyâs 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 familyâs 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 couldnât help but feel a little mesmerized. The way Y/Nâs fingers brushed over each bookâs spine, her expression relaxed, made it look like they belonged here among the pages and stories.
âSo,â he said, his voice barely louder than a murmur, âdo you ever get tired of organizing these shelves over and over?â
Y/N chuckled softly without turning around. âNot when I have someone to complain to about it.â
Max grinned, feeling a spark of warmth that was rare for him. âLucky me, huh?â
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 Maxâs. âYou donât have to stay, you know. Not much entertainment here.â
Max smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. âDepends on what you consider entertainment. Watching you argue with those books as they move themselves? Riveting.â
Y/N rolled her eyes, but Max caught the small, amused smile that slipped through. âKeep talking, and Iâll make you help. Alphabetize the romance section, maybe. Heard youâre a sucker for a good love story.â
He scoffed. âI think youâre confusing me with someone who has a heart.â
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. âYeah? Then what are you doing here?â
Max felt a tug in his chest he couldnât quite ignore, his usual smirk softening. âGood question,â 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 werenât ready to say. Finally, Max cleared his throat, shrugging in that casual, detached way heâd perfected. âGuess Iâm just a sucker for bookstores. Quiet. No one is bothering you. Kind of place you can just be.â
Y/Nâs expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if she saw through every layer he tried to keep up. âThen youâre in good company.â
Maxâs gaze lingered on Y/N, watching the way her face softened in the dim light. He wasnât used to this, the quiet moments that seemed to slip under his skin, settling somewhere he couldnât shake off.
Y/N tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. âSo, whatâs the verdict? Am I decent company for a night at the bookstore?â
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. âI guess youâll do. Iâd say youâre good enough to pass the time, but then your ego might get out of control.â
âOh, please,â Y/N shot back, raising an eyebrow. âYour standards arenât that high. I saw you trying not to laugh at my jokes last week.â
Max scoffed, pretending to be offended, but a small smile betrayed him. âI wasnât laughing. I was horrified. Pure survival instinct.â
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. âHave you ever thought about it? Starting over somewhere? JustââŹÂŚ a different life?â
Maxâs usual mask faltered for a second, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. âStarting over, huh?â He let out a humorless laugh. âI think that ship sailed a long time ago for me.â
Y/N stepped a little closer, their voice gentle but insistent. âMaybe. But you never know.â She paused, searching his face. âI just think you donât have to be the person youâve always been, Max.â
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.
âWell,â he said, forcing a small smirk, âmaybe I like the person I am.â
âMaybe.â Y/N shrugged, giving him a soft smile. âBut I think thereâs more to you than you let on.â
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 couldnât keep the hint of a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Maxâs heartbeat was a little faster, his usual bravado slipping away under the weight of Y/Nâs gaze. He could feel them watching him, and for once, he didnât feel the need to hide.
âCareful,â he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. âYou keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking youâre interested.â
Y/Nâs lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. âMaybe I am. Maybe Iâm waiting for you to figure that out.â
Maxâs throat tightened, the words lingering between them like a challenge, daring him to take a step he wasnât sure he was ready for. He wanted to say something, anything that could brush off the tension, but the usual defenses werenât 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.
âYou think youâve got me all figured out, huh?â he finally managed, his voice rougher than he intended.
Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. âNot all of you. Just enough to know thereâs more to you than you let people see.â 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/Nâs eyes left him raw, and vulnerable, and he found himself wanting to let go, just a little. âSo, if thereâs more to me,â he said slowly, âwhy stick around? Donât you have better things to do than try to figure out a guy like me?â
Y/N shrugged, her voice soft. âMaybe I donât mind a mystery. Maybe I want to see what happens if you let your guard down.â
Maxâs 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 heâd built starting to crumble. He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. âYou might not like what you find.â
Y/N just looked at him, their expression open, unafraid. âTry me.â
The words hung in the air, daring him, pulling him toward something he wasnât 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.
Maxâs life had always been carefully compartmentalizedâbusiness 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 âdisappearancesâ to see Y/N hadnât gone unnoticed.
One afternoon, Jos sat in his leather chair at the head of their estateâs grand dining room. Marco stood nearby, observing him closely. He was loyal to Jos, fiercely so, and heâd known Max since he was a boy. But loyalty to the family meant loyalty to its survivalâand Max was threatening that with his wandering.
Marco cleared his throat, his voice steady. âIâm starting to think Maxâs time away isnât just business, Jos. Heâs distracted.â
Jos looked up slowly, his gaze piercing, as if calculating what Marco wasnât saying. âExplain.â
Marco shifted, choosing his words carefully. âItâs a girl. A nobody who works in some bookstore downtown. Heâs spending time with her. A lot of time.â
A silence fell over the room as Jos leaned back, fingers steepled. A faint smirk crossed his face, though his eyes remained cold. âA girl, you say?â He sounded almost amused, but there was a dangerous undercurrent in his tone. âMax has always been soft-hearted. I warned him about that. But this attachment could be problematic.â
Marco nodded, his voice darkening. âHeâs slipping, Jos. Losing focus. And if he thinks he can just walk away for herâ He didnât finish the thought, but they both knew what happened to those who tried to leave.
Josâ gaze darkened, his fingers tapping against the armrest as he considered the implications. Heâd 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.
âWe need to remind Max of his responsibilities,â Jos said quietly, his voice laced with cold authority. âThisââŹÂŚ bookstore girl has become a distraction. Make sure he understands that she could be more than just a distractionââŹâsheâs a threat to him.â
Marco inclined his head, understanding the unspoken command. They couldnât afford loose ends. If Max couldnât be swayed, the girl would have to go. Marco left the room, a faint grimace on his face. Heâd always respected Max, but heâd be damned if he let anyone ruin everything theyâd built.
It started with a quiet warning. One night, as he slipped into the back office of his familyâs club, one of his fatherâs 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.
âWord around is youâve been spending a lot of time away,â Marco said, his tone almost casual, though there was a hard edge beneath it.
Max didnât flinch, keeping his expression carefully blank. âAnd?â
âAnd,â Marco continued, stepping closer, âyouâve got responsibilities, Max. The family isnât just a part-time job. Your father knew that. I hope you havenât forgotten.â
Max clenched his jaw, but he forced himself to stay calm. âI havenât forgotten. I justââŹÂŚ Iâm handling things in my way.â
Marcoâs gaze was heavy. âYour way better be the right way. People are noticing. Theyâre questioning your loyalty.â
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 didnât seem to mix.
âMy loyalty isnât in question,â he ground out, holding Marcoâs gaze. âI know where my responsibilities lie.âÂ
Marco looked unconvinced, but he didnât 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 nowââŹÂŚnow 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.Â
Maxâs 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 couldnât have her, not in the way he truly wanted. Not unless he was willing to give everything else up.Â
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. Heâd been trying to fight them, to ignore them, but it was a useless battle.Â
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. Heâd 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.Â
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.
âThis is crazy,â he murmured to himself, running a frustrated hand through his hair. âThis is insane.â
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 couldnât let her go, couldnât 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 ââŹâ a thought that both filled him with hope and made him feel like a traitor to everything he knew:
*Sheâs 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 couldnât 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.Â
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.
âYou seem different today,â she said gently, her voice breaking through his troubled thoughts.
Max forced a smile, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. âJust a rough day, thatâs all.â
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 hadnât felt in years.
âYou know,â she said softly, âyou can tell me anything. I donât know much about you, but I know youâre not just the quiet guy who hangs around bookstores. You donât have to hide.â
Her words pierced him, and he felt an ache deep in his chest. He wanted to tell her everythingââŹâthe blood, the secrets, the things heâd done to keep his familyâs empire running. But how could he? How could he shatter the perfect image she saw in him and risk losing the only good thing heâd ever had?
âI know,â he said quietly, his fingers tightening around hers. âMaybe one day, Iâll tell you. But not yet.â
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.Â
She was perceptive and smart, and it killed him that he couldnât be honest with her.Â
The silence between them stretched, heavy with the things he wasnât 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.
âDoes it hurt?â 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. âJust old wounds,â he replied, his voice gruff. The look in her eyes told him she didnât believe him, but she didnât press the issue. She just continued tracing her fingers over his skin, her touch a soft, soothing comfort he didnât 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.
âMax,â she said finally, her eyes searching his face, âpromise me one thing.â
He knew what was coming. The question he dreaded and longed for all at once. He met her gaze, bracing himself. âWhat?â he managed to say.
She took a deep breath, the next word leaving her lips in a rush. âDonât keep shutting me out. I donât know whatâs going on with you, or why you wonât tell me anything. But weâreâŚweâre friends, arenât we?â
The word hit him like a punch to the gut. âFriendsâ. It was such a small word, but it felt so huge, loaded with all the things he wanted and everything he couldnât have. He nodded, his heart clenching uncomfortably. âWeâre friends, yes,â 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 didnât 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 couldnât, or wouldnât, 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.
âDon't want you to catch a cold,â he mumbled, his voice gruff, avoiding her gaze. She didnât comment on his quick retreat, just smiled, a soft, knowing smile. âThanks, Max,â 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 couldnât, not here, not now. So he just stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to conceal his clenched fists.
âSee you later?â she asked, her voice soft, hopeful.
âYeah,â he managed to say, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be. âLater.â
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 familyâs estate, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. He walked through the ornate halls heâd grown up in, feeling a strange sense of detachment as he entered his fatherâs office. Jos sat behind his desk, Marco at his side, both of them staring watching him with expressions of silent judgment.
âMax,â Jos greeted, his voice deceptively calm. âI hear youâve beenââŹÂŚ busy.â
Max didnât flinch, his gaze hard and unyielding. âI know youâve been watching me.â
Joe's smirk didnât reach his eyes. âOf course we have. Youâre a valuable part of this family, Max. Itâs only natural we keep an eye on where your loyalties lie.â
âMy loyalties,â Max said, his voice steady, âare to my own life. I want out.â
Marcoâs face twisted in contempt, and Josâ expression grew darker. âYou think you can just walk away?â Jos said quietly. âThat girl of yoursââŹâsheâs a liability, Max. You canât just abandon everything weâve built for a stranger.â
âSheâs not a stranger,â Max said sharply, his voice filled with a fierce determination. âSheâs the only real thing in my life. And Iâm done living in a cage, following orders, hurting people for you.â
A tense silence settled over the room, thick with the threat of violence. Josâs face twisted in anger, his hands clenching the edge of the desk. âYouâre my son,â he hissed. âYou carry my legacy. If you betray this family, youâll be the one living in fear.â
Max took a steady breath, his heart pounding. âI donât care. Iâll protect her from anything you try, and if you hurt her, Iâll make sure itâs the last mistake you ever make.â
Josâ gaze darkened, but there was a flicker of hesitation. For the first time, Max saw a glint of fear in his fatherâs eyesââŹâa 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.
Maxâs heart was hammering against his ribcage, but he stood his ground, facing down his fatherâs silent glare.
Marco shifted, his muscles tense, ready to attack at a momentâs notice. But a subtle shake of Josâ 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 fatherâs 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.
âYouâd betray us?â Jos whispered, the threat barely contained beneath the surface. A flicker of anger passed over Maxâs face. He knew what his father was asking. *Would you betray us for a woman you barely know?*
âYes.â The word came out firm, without a trace of doubt. Max didnât hesitate, he didnât waver. He stood his ground, staring into his fatherâs eyes without flinching.
There was a note of disbelief in his fatherâs voice, as if he couldnât fathom the idea of Max choosing a person over the empire heâd helped build.
Max didnât back down. He met his fatherâs gaze squarely, his answer clear in his eyes. âYes. For her.â
But Max didnât wait for his fatherâs response. He turned on his heel, his decision made. He would leave, taking Y/N and disappearing from this life. But he knew they wouldnât stop coming. Heâd 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 heâd finally found something worth fighting for and nothing, not even his fatherâs wrath, would stop him now.
Max took a deep breath, the cold air biting into his lungs. Heâd made his choice. Heâd taken the first step towards something heâd never dared to dream of.Â
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 wouldnât 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 didnât 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 couldnât 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/nâs 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 didnât see anything suspicious, but that didnât 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 couldnât 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. âMax, hi,â 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.
âCan I come in?â 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 didnât 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. âEverything okay?â she asked, that note of concern in her voice.Â
He let out a shaky breath. âWe need to talk.â
She studied his face, probably noticing the tension and the anxiety written across it. But she simply smiled, gesturing towards the living room. âOkay, let's go sit down then.â
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 didnât know what he was about to say.
Finally, he found his voice. âYou trust me, right?â
She was taken aback by the question, but she nodded immediately. âOf course I do,â she said, her voice firm, certain.
He was relieved and terrified by her response. He didnât 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. âThereâs something I need to tell you. And you have to promise youâll hear me out, no matter how it sounds.â
There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but she squeezed his hand, reassuring him. âOkay,â she said, her voice calm, steady. âIâm listening.â
âI need you to pack a bag with only the essentials,â Max says. Her eyes widened, confusion clouding her features. âWhat?â she asked, her voice shaking slightly. âWhatâs going on, Max?â
He squeezed her hand again, holding her gaze. âIâll explain. Just please, pack a bag. Now.â
She was uneasy, but she nodded, reluctantly slipping her hand from his grip. âOkay,â she said quietly. âIâll go pack.â
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 heâd imagined.
The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly, the silence in the room like a physical presence. He couldnât 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.
âGot everything?â 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 didnât voice them. *Not yet.*
âCome on,â he said, his voice soft but firm. âWe need to go.â
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 didnât ask any questions.
As they walked out of the apartment, he couldnât help but feel a pang of guilt. This was all his fault. If he hadnât involved her in his life, sheâd still be safe and comfortable in her home. But he couldnât 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.Â
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. âYouâre quiet.âÂ
She looked over at him then, her eyes meeting his. âIâm scared,â she admitted in a soft voice.Â
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. Heâd 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. âI know.âÂ
He reached over, taking her hand in his again. âBut Iâm here. Iâm going to protect you.â
For a moment, she simply held his gaze. Then she nodded, a determined look settling over her features. âI trust you.â
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 couldnât. 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 didnât blame her. There were so many questions, so much to take in. In her place, heâd 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. âWhere are we going?âÂ
It was the first thing sheâd 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. âSomewhere safe,â he said simply.
It was a vague answer, but it was all he could give her at the moment. He couldnât 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.Â
She didnât 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.Â
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. âWe should probably check in.âÂ
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.*Â
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 couldnât, 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 didnât 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.Â
"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.Â
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.
âI never thanked you properly for that night,â Y/N said, breaking the silence. She hadnât spoken about it before, but the memory was still so vivid in her mind. That night had changed everything.
Max didnât look up, his movements steady and mechanical as he worked. âYou donât need to,â he replied, his voice neutral, as always. âI did what I had to.â
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 himââŹâknow himââŹâbut 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 wasnât the same man who had stepped into that alley that night. She wasnât 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?"Â
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 didnât 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 wouldnât 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.
"Youâre 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.
"Iâm not overthinking it," she retorted, her voice rising slightly. âYouâre under-feeling it, as usual.â
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 didnât know any other way. Showing vulnerability was a luxury he couldnât afford.
"And youâre 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.
"Iâm not overreacting," she nearly snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Iâm trying to understand, to get you to talk to me. But youâre just shutting me out... again."Â
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.
"Thereâs nothing to talk about,â he bit out, his voice cold. "Youâre looking for something that isnât there, y/n. Youâre 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 Iâm 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 didnât know how to change, how to be the man she wanted him to be.Â
"You think too much," he tried to joke, but the attempt fell flat, his voice lacking the usual humor.
Y/Nâs 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.Â
"And you donât think enough," she retorted, her voice sharp. "Youâre hiding, Max. Behind those walls, youâve built up around yourself. And theyâre getting taller each day."
Maxâs 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 meââŹâand people like youââŹâsafe."Â
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.Â
"Safe?" she repeated, her voice rising. "You donât push people away for their good, Max. You do it because youâre afraid. Afraid of feeling, of being vulnerable." Maxâs eyes flashed at her words, his temper flaring. Her accusations were like knives, stabbing at his weak spots, exposing his vulnerabilities.Â
"Iâm not afraid," he snapped, his voice hard and cold. "Iâm 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 youâre missing out, Max. Youâre 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 couldnât understand how to make her so emotional, how she could just wear her feelings on her sleeve.Â
"Feelings get you killed, y/n," he repeated, his voice like ice. "They make you weak, a target. Iâd 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 youâre missing out on all of it because youâre too damned stubborn to try."
Maxâs 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.Â
"I donât need your understanding or your compassion," he growled, his hands shaking with anger and suppressed emotion. "Iâm 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. "Youâre not fine, Max. Youâre alone. You always will be if you donât pull your head out of your ass."
Maxâs 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.Â
"Watch how you speak to me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Youâre way out of your depth here, y/n."
Y/N couldnât help but laugh, the sound harsh and dry. "Iâll 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 donât scare me. Not one bit."
Maxâs 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.Â
"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 heâd never seen before. "Iâm not," she replied, her voice steady. "Because I know you wonât hurt me. You may pretend to be this cold, hard killer, but deep down, youâre nothing of the sort."
Y/N couldnât 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.Â
âMaxâ 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.Â
"Donât," he said, his hands coming up to grasp her wrists, to keep her from getting any closer. "Donât touch me. Donât 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 canât I touch you? Why canât 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 couldnât bring himself to do it.Â
"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 meââŹÂŚ I wonât 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.Â
"And what if I donât 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 couldnât resist any longer, the dam he had built up around his emotions was cracking.
"You donât 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.Â
"I know exactly what Iâm saying," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "I want you, Max. All of you. And I wonât 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 donât know what youâre getting into," he husked, his hands finally leaving her wrists, moving to her hips instead, pulling her even closer. "Once I have you, Iâm never letting go."Â
âGod Max you're so dumb if you havenât realized that youâve had me since that night you saved my lifeâ 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.Â
"Youâre 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 didnât. It only made her want him more.Â
"Then take me, Max," she whispered, her hands running down his chest, to the hem of his shirt. "Make me yours, completely."
Maxâs 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.Â
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.Â
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 couldnât 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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 couldnât get enough of her, he needed more.Â
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, Maxâs 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
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 couldnât find the words, couldnât break the spell.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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 couldnât 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.Â
He moved even faster, deeper, his body on autopilot, driven by the primal need to possess her, to claim her completely.Â
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. "Youâre 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.Â
She moved with him, her body responding to his every move, every touch. She could feel the pleasure building, intense and overwhelming.Â
She reached for him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "God, Max," she gasped, her voice breathless, "Iâm 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.Â
He moved even harder, deeper, the need to claim her completely overpowering him. He could feel himself losing control, teetering on the edge.Â
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. "Iâm yours," she repeated, her voice hoarse and breathless. "Iâm 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.Â
He moved harder, faster, deeper, his body and mind completely consumed by pleasure, by need.Â
He found her mouth, kissing her fiercely, claiming her in every way possible. "Youâre 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.Â
She met his kisses with her own, her body moving with his, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.Â
"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.Â
He moved with a frantic pace, his body driven by the need to claim her, to make her fully his.Â
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.Â
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.Â
He was on the edge now, so close to losing himself completely.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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."Â
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.Â
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."Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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."Â
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?"Â
Y/N shivered as he nuzzled her neck, her breath hitching at the feel of his lips against her skin.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
"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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
He wanted to imprint this moment in his memory, to commit her every reaction, every sound, to memory.Â
"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.Â
She'd never experienced anything like this before, this maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, this feeling of being worshiped and adored.Â
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.Â
"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.Â
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.Â
"Just you. I want all of you."Â
Max's eyes darkened at her words, his heart swelling in his chest.Â
He turned his head, his lips brushing over the palm of her hand. "You have me, darling," he said, his voice low and rough.Â
"You have all of me. I'm yours, completely yours."
Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart fluttering in her chest.Â
She pulled him down for a kiss, her lips moving hungrily against his.Â
"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.Â
He broke away from her mouth, his teeth grazing over her neck.Â
"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.Â
Y/n smiled sweetly up at cradling the side of his face âof course Iâll have you max. Iâll always have youâ she says softly before kissing him.Â
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.Â
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. Maxâs pulse barely quickened. Heâd 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 heâd 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.
âClean it up, Max,â Jos said, his voice low but commanding. âWe donât leave a mess.â
Max didnât 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. âYou did good. Youâre ready.â
Max swallowed the bitterness that rose in his throat. âReady for what, exactly?â
Joâs lips curved into a thin smile. âReady to take on bigger jobs. Youâve proven yourself in the field. You understand the power we hold, the loyalty that binds us.â He looked Max over with a keen eye. âNow, itâs time you start carrying out the work that will solidify our familyâs hold over this city.â
Maxâs stomach tightened. He wasnât sure he liked where this was going, but he wasnât in a position to question it. Not then.
Jos stepped closer, his voice lowering. âThis isnât just about muscle, son. Itâs about strategy. Youâll 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.â
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 fatherâs business was expanding, and that meant more jobsââŹâjobs that Max didnât 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 didnât 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, Maxâs body tensed. This wasnât just a simple hit. The man they were after had familyââŹâhis 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. Maxâs 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.
âMake sure the wife and kids know their place. Donât let them forget why this happened.â
Max stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. It wasnât just the manâs life at stake now. His whole family was caught in the crossfire.
But Jos didnât hesitate. He ordered the man to be executed in front of his family, making sure the wife and children witnessed it. Maxâs 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 childâs tear-filled eyes.
Afterward, as they walked back to the car, Jos didnât say a word about the mess theyâd left behind, the people who would now be marked for life. But Max could see the pride in his fatherâs eyes. He had done his job. He had proven himself. But in the silence that followed, Max couldnât shake the nagging feeling that what heâd just done was a step too far.
Max sat alone in his fatherâs 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 wasnât about taking out a rival. This time, it was personal.
âThereâs a traitor within our ranks,â Jos said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. âI need you to take care of him.â
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.
âWho is it?â Max asked, his voice even.
Jos leaned forward, his eyes hard. âYusuf.â
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.
âWhatâs he done?â Max asked, his voice tight.
Jos didnât 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.
âHeâs trying to take control of the business. Heâs planning a coup,â Jos said, his tone cold. âAnd I wonât let it happen. You will take care of it, Max. Iâm counting on you.â
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 fatherâs empire, forever.
But it wasnât just about loyalty anymore. It was about control about power. Max knew he had a choice, but at that moment, he wasnât sure he was ready to make it.
Jos watched him closely, waiting for a response. But Max didnât 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 assignmentâmore 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.
âYou will do what is necessary, Max,â Jos had said. âThere is no going back from this life. Remember that.â
Maxâs 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 thoughtsâonly the task at hand. But that night, when he saw life leave the manâs eyes, something inside him shifted. Something that told him this was the path he had to follow, whether he wanted to or not.
Heâd buried that feeling deep, knowing that he couldnât afford to feel it. Not in his world.Â
âMax?â Y/Nâs 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. âWhat is it?â
She studied him carefully, her expression softening. âI donât know why you keep doing this for meââŹÂŚ But I think I get it now.â
Max frowned slightly. âGet what?â
âWhy do you keep pushing everyone away,â Y/N said, her eyes locking onto him. âWhy don't you let people get too close.â
Maxâs 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.
âI donât know how to be anything else,â 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. âYou donât have to be that person anymore. You donât have to push people away. Not with me.â
Maxâs eyes flickered to hers, and for the first time in a long time, he felt the pull of something warm. Something genuine.
He wasnât sure if he was ready to let go of everything heâd known, but with Y/N standing theres someone who wasnât 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 familyâs interests or eliminate anyone who stood in their way. There was no room for both.
But something had happened. Something Max couldnât explain. When he thought about Y/N the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel like he wasnât just his fatherâs son Max realized that he didnât want to keep living a life based on violence and betrayal.
The night he decided to leave, he didnât say goodbye to anyone. He just left, taking only what he needed. He couldnât 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 moreâlike 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. Sheâd been thinking about the same thing the way their bond had been growing. It hadnât 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. âI never thought Iâd 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.â
Y/N didnât 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 wasnât who he was it was who he had been forced to be.
âI remember the first time my father sent me out on a job,â Max continued, his voice a little distant as the memory surfaced. âI was eighteen. I didnât even know how to feel about it hell, I didnât even know how to kill someone until he told me exactly how to do it.â
Y/Nâs hand tightened around his, but she didnât speak. She just let him continue, knowing that this was something he had kept buried for far too long.
âI did it,â he said softly, his voice full of a haunting finality. âWithout question. I wasnât a kid anymore. But I was still I donât knowââŹÂŚ broken inside. I couldnât feel what I was supposed to. Like, I knew what I had to do, but it didnât feel real. It didnât feel like me.â
Max paused the weight of his words hanging between them. He turned to face Y/N, his eyes filled with something unspoken.
âUntil I met you.â
Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his words. âMe?â
Max nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. âYou changed everything, Y/N. I didnât know it then, but when I pulled you out of that alleyââŹÂŚ you made me feel something real again.â
Y/Nâs 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 wasnât just speaking to her as the man who saved her that nightâhe was speaking as someone who had truly started to care.
âI donât know how to do this,â Max continued, his voice thick with emotion. âI donât know how to be this person I feel like Iâm becoming when Iâm with you. Iâve been a monster for so long that Iâm not sure how to be anything else. But when Iâm with you I donât feel like that anymore.â
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.
âI donât need you to be perfect, Max,â she said softly, her voice steady and warm. âI just need you to be you. Thatâs all I ever wanted. BecauseâŚâ
She stopped herself, the words catching in her throat. Her heart was pounding now, and she knew this was a moment they couldnât go back from. She had to be honest, even if it terrified her.
âBecause I love you and you're my best friend,â 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 couldnât breathe. He wasnât 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.
âI love you, too,â he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. âI think I have been for a while now. But I donât know what this means for us, Y/N. I donât know if we can escape the world I came from. And I donât know if I can protect you from it.â
Y/Nâs eyes softened, her thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. âMax,â she said, her voice filled with quiet resolve, âmaybe we canât 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.â
Max let out a deep breath, feeling a weight he didnât 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. âThen letâs choose this. Together.â
And in that moment, as their lips met for the third time, everything else faded awayââŹâthe past, the danger, the uncertainty. There were only them.
But even as they shared this moment, the danger was still very much alive. Marcoâs 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, Maxâs mind went back to the life he had left behind. Marco wasnât someone who would let his sonâs disappearance go unanswered. And his fatherâs wrath was never far behind.
âI wonât let anyone hurt you,â Max vowed, his voice low and fierce. âNo matter what happens, Iâll protect you.â
Y/N met his gaze, her expression determined. âI trust you, Max. And Iâll fight with you. I donât want to run anymore.â
The resolve in her voice made Maxâs 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 Marcoâs 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."
âI know who you are Max,â 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.Â
"You knew?" he says, his voice a low rumble.Â
He was not sure what he was expecting from her, but this wasnât 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.Â
She reaches up, placing her hand on his chest. She can feel his heart beating fast beneath her fingertips.Â
âIâve known for a while,â she admits softly. âI saw some things. Heard some things. I put it together.âÂ
Max just stares at her for a moment, processing her words. He wasnât 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 didnât you say anything?"Â
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.Â
Y/N steps closer, her hand sliding up to press against his cheek. She looks at him with a mixture of understanding and concern.Â
âI didnât want you to think I was judging you,â she says, her voice gentle. âI know I know what youâve been through. What youâve done. But I also know that youâre more than your past, Max.â 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.Â
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 doesnât know how to process the range of emotions running through him.Â
âYou should hate me,â he mutters, his voice hoarse with raw emotion. âYou should be afraid.â
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.Â
âI donât hate you, Max,â she says quietly, her voice quivering slightly. âI love you. okay Max I love you and I donât know how much longer we have together but as long as Iâm with you Iâll keep reminding you that.â Maxâs heart clenches at her words, his grip on her tightening. He hadnât dared hope that she would say that. Not after everything he had done, everything he had been.Â
He pulls back slightly so he can look into her eyes. Theyâre glossy with unshed tears, but her gaze is unflinching, her determination clear. âI donât deserve you,â he whispers, his voice rough. âYouâre too good for me, too pure. Iâll just end up hurting you, or IâllâŚâÂ
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.Â
âYou donât get to decide whoâs good enough for me,â she tells him firmly. âAnd I donât care if you think youâll hurt me. I can handle it. Iâm choosing to be with you.âÂ
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.Â
âYouâre the most stubborn woman Iâve ever met,â he mutters, unable to hide the hint of affection in his voice.
Y/N laughs softly, the sound a sweet melody to his ears. âYou love it,â she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.Â
Max snorts, his lips curving up in a wry grin. And despite the danger lurking on the edges of their happiness, he knows sheâs 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.Â
Until the sound of footsteps outside the room shattered the fragile peace they had created.
Marco had never liked Max. Marco hated Maxâs very existence. The tension between them had been palpable for years, even when Max had been under his fatherâs 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 Marcoâs fury that had been unleashed first. Jos, while angry, had been more patient, biding his time. But Marco? He wanted revenge.
Marcoâs first move was to send out his men to track Maxâs movements. He had no intention of letting Josâ son walk away unpunished. Maxâs 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 Marcoâs resources were vast, and his men were killed.
After days of searching, one of Marcoâs men finally got a lead. A rumor, a whisper, a sighting. It wasnât 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.Â
He knew right where to find Max, and once he had him, there would be hell to pay. That night, a group of Marcoâs 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 didnât 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.
âWhat is it?â she whispered, her voice betraying her fear.Â
Max didnât 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.
âY/N,â he said quietly, his voice urgent. âGet up. We need to go, now.â
She didnât 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. Marcoâs men had found the entrance. Maxâs body tensed even further, his jaw clenching. They had seconds if that. Max turned to Y/N and held out his hand. âYou first,â he said, his voice a low growl. Y/N didnât 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.
âStay close to me,â Max muttered, gripping Y/Nâs arm. He started to move, keeping to the shadows. They had to reach the woods and the car before Marcoâs 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 Marcoâs men shouting, their footsteps loud and aggressive.
Max and Y/N moved cautiously through the woods, their steps light but deliberate. Theyâd been on edge for days, the tension between them rising with every passing hour. Max kept glancing over his shoulder, scanning the tree line.
âThis isnât good,â Max muttered, his voice low. âWeâre too exposed out here.â
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. Marcoâs men were on their tail.
âTheyâre here,â Max said, his voice tight. âWe need to move. Now.â
Y/Nâs eyes widened. âHow many of them?â
âAt least five,â Max replied, his voice steady despite the rising tension. âMaybe more. Theyâve got us pinned down.â
Marco wasnât 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 didnât like what heâd heard.
In his mind, she was a weakness. A liability.
âFind her,â Marco had commanded his men, âand bring her to me. Iâll deal with Max myself. But if sheâs as important to him as I think, sheâll be the key to getting him back.â
Marcoâs obsession with control meant he couldnât 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 couldnât afford to let it consume them. They had to outsmart Marcoâs men and get to safety before they were cornered.
Max knew the woods like the back of his hand, but this time, it wasnât 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.
âMax! I know youâre out there.â It was Marcoâs voice, smooth and menacing.
Max froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldnât let Marco get to them. Not now, not ever.
He turned to Y/N, his face grim. âRun. Iâll hold them off.â
Y/N grabbed his arm, her grip firm. âWe run together, Max. Iâm not leaving you.â
Max met her eyes, seeing the fear and determination in her gaze. He knew she wouldnât back down, but they didnât have much time.
âWeâll fight our way out,â he said, his voice steady. âTogether.â
Sure, letâs continue the scene with Max and Y/N facing Marcoâs 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.
Maxâs 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.
âMax!â Marcoâs voice echoed again, closer this time. âI know youâre out there. You canât hide forever!â
Y/Nâs 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 Maxâs steady presence beside her kept her grounded.
âStay close,â Max murmured, his voice low but firm.
They moved quickly through the trees, but the sound of crunching leaves underfoot told them they werenât going unnoticed. The pursuit was relentless.
Max knew they didnât have much time. He had to think fast if they tried to run, theyâd 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.
âOver there,â Max said, his eyes locking with Y/Nâs. âWe can make it to that cabin. Stay low. Stick to the shadows.â
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.
Maxâs pulse quickened. He could hear the men behind them, their voices now loud and clear as they gave chase. Marcoâs men were skilled, and they werenât going to stop until they had Max and Y/N in their grasp.
âDonât stop!â Max urged, his hand gripping Y/Nâs 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.
âThere they are! Donât let them get away!â
Max spun around just in time to see two of Marcoâs men burst from the trees, guns drawn, closing in on them.
âShit,â Max muttered under his breath. He didnât have a choice anymoreâhe had to make a stand.
He grabbed Y/Nâs 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 hadnât seen them yet, but they were getting closer.
Y/Nâs 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 didnât hesitate, immediately returning fire.
Max dove behind the cabinâs decaying wall, pulling Y/N with him. The bullets whizzed by, but they were safe for now, at least behind the cover.
âStay down,â Max hissed through clenched teeth. His mind raced, looking for a way out. He couldnât keep fighting here it was a losing battle.
Y/Nâs eyes flicked to the gun in Maxâs hand, and she nodded. âWhatâs the plan?â
Maxâs gaze shifted toward the trees behind them, calculating his next move. âWeâre going to make a run for it. On my mark.â
But before he could finish, he heard the unmistakable sound of boots crunching the leaves behind them. Maxâs pulse surged in his chest. He wasnât sure how many men Marco had sent, but he knew they couldnât stay here much longer.
He turned to Y/N, his voice quiet but urgent. âWe move in three, twoâ
The words were cut off by a voiceââŹâcold and commandingââŹâthat sliced through the night.
âYou think you can run from me, Max?â
Maxâs 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 didnât flinch. âMarco.â
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.
âYouâre making a mistake, Max,â Marco said, his tone almost pitiful. âYou canât escape who you are. Youâre mine, boy. Your fatherâs not here to protect you, and now youâre mine to deal with.â
Maxâs grip tightened on his gun, but Y/N moved to stand beside him, her body rigid with fear, yet unwavering. She was ready. âNo,â she said, her voice strong. âHeâs not yours, Marco. Heâs his person now. You donât control him anymore.â
Marcoâs eyes flickered toward her, a dark glint of amusement crossing his face. âAnd you do you think youâre going to change that? A woman? How sweet. But youâre just as much of a liability as he is.â
Max stepped in front of her, his face hard. âYouâll never touch her, Marco.â
Marcoâs smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. âYou believe that? You think I wonât do whatever it takes to bring you back? To make you remember who you are?â
Maxâs jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his gun. But he didnât lower it. Not yet.
He knew what Marco wantedââŹâto break him, to remind him of the life he had walked away from. But Max wouldnât give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not when Y/N was by his side.
âYou can try, Marco,â Max said, his voice low and steady. âBut weâre not going back.â
Marcoâs 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 Maxâs eyes told Marco that this time, things were different.
âYou think youâre untouchable?â 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. âYouâre still my blood. Youâre still bound by everything Father taught you. Taught me. Donât pretend youâve forgotten where you came from.â
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.
âWhat do you mean by blood?â Max asked as far as he knew he was Josâ only son but he also wouldnât have put it past his father to have affairs with other women before or after he was born.Â
âThe old man never told you?â 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.Â
Maxâs expression hardened, his mind racing. âWhat are you talking about, Marco?â he demanded, his voice tight.
Marcoâs grin only widened, a mocking glint in his eyes. âPoor little Max, the golden child, left in the dark.â He tapped the side of his head again with the gun, clearly enjoying himself. âOld man Jos never told you he hadââŹÂŚ extracurriculars?â
Maxâs stomach twisted as realization began to creep in. âWhat are you saying?â
Marco chuckled, lowering the gun slightly as he leaned in closer. âIâm saying, dear brother,â he spat the word with bitterness, âthat Iâm 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.â
Maxâs jaw clenched, anger flashing across his face. âYou think I wanted any of that?â
âOh, Iâm sure youâd rather be in your cozy little bookstore, playing at a normal life,â Marco sneered, âbut blood is blood, Max. And whether you like it or not, Iâm here to claim my piece.â
Max held Marcoâs gaze, searching for any sign that this was some sick joke. But the anger in Marcoâs eyes was real, years of resentment boiling to the surface.
âYou think youâre entitled to something just because of blood?â Max shot back, his voice cold. âJos barely treated me like a son. Whatever you think he gave me, it was a curse.â
Marco laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. âOh, you poor thing. Life in the big house, daddyâs 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 shouldâve been yours?â
âNothing about this life was a gift,â Max replied, his voice low and dangerous. âAnd if you think Jos would have done any better by you, then you didnât know him at all.â
Marcoâs expression darkened, his grip tightening on the gun. âMaybe not. But I know one thing: you donât deserve to walk away from all this. To pretend you can just leave and play house with your little bookstore.â He spat on the ground. âI clawed my way here, Max. Everything I have, I earned. And Iâm not leaving empty-handed.â
Max took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. âSo whatâs the plan, Marco? You think you can just waltz in, wave a gun around, and take whatever you think I owe you?â
âOh, I think I can do a lot more than that.â Marco smirked, stepping closer. âYou may have walked away from Josâ empire, but that leaves it wide open for someone else to take over. Maybe Iâm not here for revenge, Max. Maybe Iâm here to make you an offer.â
Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. âAn offer?â
Marcoâs grin was almost feral. âYou and me. We take whatâs left of the empire, rebuild it, make it ours. All that power, that legacyââŹâitâs in our blood, Max. Think about it.â
For a moment, the weight of Marcoâs words hung between them. The idea was tempting in a dark, twisted wayââŹâa chance to take control of the very thing that had once controlled him. But Max shook his head, breaking the spell.
âI left that life for a reason,â he said firmly. âIâm not going back, and I sure as hell wonât do it with you.â
Marcoâs smile faded, replaced by a look of cold fury. âThen youâre a fool, Max. And if you wonât help me, youâll wish you had. Because one way or another, Iâm taking whatâs mine.â
Y/N stood at Maxâs 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 wasnât the man Marco thought he could control anymore. This was a different MaxââŹâa man who had chosen his own path.
Marcoâs 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 MaxââŹâhis priorities, his mindset, his resolve. Marco would never allow that.
âYou think youâre going to protect her?â Marco laughed coldly. âYou think youâre going to keep her safe from me? From us?â
Max took a step forward, narrowing the distance between himself and his uncle. His jaw clenched. âI wonât let you touch her, Marco. Not now. Not ever.â
Marcoâs smirk faltered for just a moment, his eyes scanning Maxâs 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.
Maxâs mind worked at lightning speed. He wasnât 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 Marcoâs men who had started to raise his weapon. The shot echoed through the night, a violent reminder of the stakes at hand.
âMove!â Max shouted at Y/N, grabbing her arm. They couldnât stay here. Not now.
She didnât need any further encouragement. She followed him, her legs pumping as they sprinted toward the trees. Marcoâs men were still firing, but Max kept them off-balance, shooting at the trees to force them back.
âKeep running!â Max barked.
They ran as fast as they could, the sound of gunshots ringing in the air around them. Y/Nâs 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 couldnât let Marco win. Not now.
As they ran, Maxâs thoughts briefly flickered back to the life he had once knownââŹâthe life his father, Jos, had dragged him into.
The world of the mafia wasnât 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 questionââŹâjobs he didnât 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 fatherâs orders without a second thought.
Then there had been the night heâd been forced to take care of a traitorââŹâa 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 fatherâs vision for the family until the day he realized it wasnât 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 heâd saved her, it was as if a new path had opened before him a path that wasnât dictated by bloodlines or mafia codes. A path that was free of Marcoâs 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 didnât have much time. He had learned to read the patterns of Marcoâs menââŹâhow they moved, how they searchedââŹâbut 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.
âMaxââŹÂŚâ she said softly, her voice breaking through the silence. âI know youâre scared. I can see it. But you donât have to do this alone.â
Max froze, his back stiffening. He didnât 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.
âYou donât get it, Y/N,â he said, his voice low and rough. âIâve spent my whole life doing things I canât take back. Iâve hurt people, ruined livesââŹâall for my family, for the empire. But none of that matters now. All that matters is you.â
He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for understanding. âIf anything happens to you, I wonât be able to live with myself. I donât care about anything else anymore. I just want you safe. Away from this mess.â
Tears welled up in Y/Nâs eyes as she stood up, closing the distance between them. She could see the inner turmoil in his eyesââŹâthe battle he was fighting between the man he had been and the man he wanted to be. She reached out, touching his cheek gently.
âYou donât have to carry this burden alone,â she whispered, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down his face. âIâm here, Max. Iâm not going anywhere.â
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 hadnât stopped to let her in. But now, in this moment, with Marcoâs men closing in, he realized something.
He couldnât 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. Maxâs 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. Marcoâs men were closing in, and they had to keep moving.
Y/N stayed close to him, her breath shallow as she clutched onto Maxâs jacket, her face pale but resolute. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. Sheâd never seen him like this beforeââŹâso focused, so fierce. He wasnât 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.
âMax we canât keep running like this,â Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. âWe need a plan. We canât outrun them forever.â
Max didnât 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 werenât just after him anymore. They were after both of them. And the only thing standing between Y/N and them was Maxâs desperation to keep her safe.
âWeâll figure it out,â Max finally muttered, his voice strained. âJust trust me, okay?â
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 thisâso different from the man she first metâtugged at her heart. She wanted to believe they could escape this life, but the more she saw of Maxâs world, the more she realized how deeply entrenched he was.
âMax, please,â she urged, her grip tightening on his arm. âWe need to talk. Youâre not just running from them. Youâre running from yourself.â
Maxâs heart clenched at her words, but he didnât 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 darknessââŹâMarcoâs 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/Nâs breath caught in her throat as she stepped back, realizing the time had come.
Max turned to face her, his face hardening. âStay behind me,â he ordered, his voice steely. âNo matter what happens, donât move.â
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.
âWell, wellââŹÂŚ Max,â Marcoâs voice dripped with disdain. âI was hoping we could do this the easy way. But it looks like weâre doing it the hard way, after all.â
Max didnât flinch. He stood his ground, his eyes never leaving Marcoâs. The gun in his hand was steady, though the tension in his body was anything but.
âThis ends tonight, Marco,â Max said, his voice low, but his words cutting through the air like a blade. âYouâre not going to take her from me. I wonât let you.â
Marco chuckled, a mocking sound that echoed in the cabin. âYou really think you can stop me? Youâve been running from your past, Max. You canât outrun the family. You canât outrun me.â
Maxâs jaw clenched, his hand tightening around the gun. âI donât care about the family anymore. I donât care about the empire. I care about her. And if you think for one second that Iâll let you destroy thatââŹÂŚ youâre wrong.â
Maxâs heart pounded as he faced off against Marco, his fatherâs enforcer and the one man who had haunted him for years. Marcoâs 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 oneââŹâespecially not Josâ sonââŹâcould turn his back on the family.
âYouâve always thought you were better than this life,â Marco sneered, circling Max like a predator sizing up its prey. âBut youâre a fool if you think you can escape it. Itâs in your blood, Max. It always will be.â
Max held his ground, his body tense. âIâm nothing like you, Marco. Nothing like my father.â
Marcoâs gaze darkened, his voice dripping with contempt. âThen why are you still here, trying to protect her?â He nodded toward Y/N, who was still hidden in the shadows, her eyes wide as she watched the scene unfold. âIf you cared about her, youâd know youâre putting her life on the line.â
Maxâs grip tightened on his gun, his jaw clenching. âI am protecting her. Iâm protecting her from people like you.â
Marco laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. âYou canât protect her from this world, Max. You were born into it, and now, so is she. Youâve made her a part of this, and thereâs no escaping it.â
With a slight nod, Marco signaled his men to close in, their weapons raised. Maxâs 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.
âStay back, Y/N!â Max called over his shoulder. He didnât dare take his eyes off Marco, but he could feel Y/Nâs gaze on him, her fear mixed with determination.
But Y/N didnât listen. She stepped out from behind the crates, her eyes flashing with defiance. âIâm not leaving you, Max.â
âY/NââŹââ Max started, but it was too late.
Marco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. âLook at thisââŹâloyalty. Almost touching, isnât it?â
Maxâs patience snapped. He lunged forward, his fists colliding with Marcoâs chest as they grappled. Marcoâs 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 Marcoâs henchmen. The man staggered back, momentarily stunned, giving Max a moment to break free of Marcoâs grip.
âRun!â 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 couldnât hold out forever, but they had to try.
Marco, recovering quickly, let out a snarl. âYouâre just delaying the inevitable, Max. Weâll hunt you down. Both of you.â
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.
Maxâs heart stopped. In that split second, everything slowed down.
âNo!â 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 didnât stopââŹâhe couldnât. He pushed Y/N toward the door, his vision blurring as he fought to stay conscious.
âGo, Y/N!â he gasped, his voice hoarse with pain. âGet to the car!â
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 driverâs 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/Nâs hands gripped the steering wheel, her face a mixture of fear and worry as she glanced over at him.
âYouâre hurt,â she whispered, her voice breaking.
Max forced a faint smile. âIâll live.â
But the truth was, he didnât know how much longer they could keep running. They were in deeper than heâd ever anticipated, and Marco wouldnât stop until he had them both.
âMaxââŹÂŚâ Y/Nâs voice was barely a whisper. âWhy did you do it? Why did you risk everything for me?â
Max met her gaze, his expression softening despite the pain. âBecause youâre worth it. BecauseââŹÂŚ because for the first time in my life, I have something real. Something worth fighting for.â
Y/Nâs 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. âWeâre going to get through this, Y/N. I donât know how, but we will.â
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 himââŹâand worse, he had escaped.
Josâ voice echoed in Marcoâs head, a reminder of the familyâs 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.
âSpread out,â he ordered his men, his voice cold and unwavering. âFind them. And bring them back alive. I want Max to see what happens to those who betray the family.â
Marcoâs 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 didnât deserve. But he also knew he couldnât let her go.
âY/N,â he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. âIâm sorryââŹÂŚ for everything.â
Y/N looked up, her eyes fierce. âDonât you dare apologize, Max. You saved me. Youâve protected me. And I chose to be here with you.â
Maxâs heart swelled, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. âWeâre going to have to disappear. Go somewhere Marco and my father canât find us.â
Y/N nodded, her expression resolute. âThen thatâs what weâll do. Weâll leave all of this behind.â
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 behindââŹâthe 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.
âY/N,â he said, his voice filled with a new resolve. âItâs time to end this.â
She looked at him, understanding in her eyes. âWhat are we going to do?â
Max took her hand, a spark of determination in his gaze. âWeâre going to take down Marco. And then weâre going to be free.â
Max and Y/N knew they couldnât 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 fatherâs 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 wasnât just in this to survive; she was ready to fight back.
âI know someone who might be able to help us,â Max said, breaking the silence.
Y/N looked up, curiosity in her eyes. âWho?â
âAn 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 Marcoâs reachââŹâand take him downââŹâitâs him.â
Y/N nodded, hope sparking in her expression. âDo you think heâll help us?â
Max hesitated, memories of Victor flashing through his mind. Theyâd gone through a lot together, but things had soured when Victor left, realizing he couldnât stomach the violence or the lack of control over his own life. Max had respected him for it, but heâd stayed behind, tied by his loyalty to his father.
âHeâll help us,â Max said finally. âIf he knows whatâs at stake, heâll come through.â
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. Maxâs 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 immediatelyââŹâVictor, looking older but just as intense as he remembered.
âMax,â Victor greeted him, his tone cautious. His gaze shifted to Y/N, and he raised an eyebrow. âAnd you must be the reason Marco has been tearing the city apart looking for him.â
Y/N managed a faint smile. âI guess you could say that.â
Victor let out a dry chuckle, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. âYouâve stirred up a lot of trouble, Max. Marcoâs men are everywhere. And JosââŹâwell, heâs none too pleased with his son running around with a civilian.â
Maxâs expression hardened. âI donât care what he thinks. Iâm done with all of it. Weâre here because we need to end this.â
Victor studied him, his expression unreadable. âYouâre asking for a death wish, Max. Going after MarcoââŹâgoing after your father, no lessââŹâthatâs no small feat.â
âI know,â Max said, his voice steady. âBut I canât keep running, Victor. They wonât stop coming after us unless we make it impossible for them to do so.â
Victorâs gaze softened slightly, and he nodded. âAll right. If youâre sure about this, Iâll help. But you need a solid plan, one thatâll keep you two alive.â
Y/N stepped forward, determination in her eyes. âWeâre ready to fight. Just tell us what we need to do.â
With Victorâs 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 cityâone that had been abandoned for years and was seldom monitored. It was isolated enough that Marco wouldnât 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, theyâd 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. âThis is going to take perfect timing. If Marco suspects anything, heâs going to lose it. He's like a rabid dog with a bone you have to make it believable.Â
âOh itâll be believable alrightâ Max says and the two exchange an handshake.Â
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 Marcoâs men would likely enter. They positioned themselves near the shadows, hidden but ready.
Max and Y/N exchanged a tense look. This wasnât just about surviving the night; it was about putting an end to Marcoâs 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. âIâll 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. Heâll be looking for you, Max.â
Max nodded. âWe just need to make sure he doesnât walk out of here. This ends tonight.â
Y/N placed a hand on Maxâs arm, her eyes soft but determined. âWeâre ready. Whatever happens, we do this together.â
Max gave her a small smile, his gaze steady. âTogether.â
It didnât 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 theyâd 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 Marcoâs men.
Victor caught Maxâs 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 Marcoâs 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 factoryâs dim interior.
âSpread out,â Marco ordered, his voice cold. âTheyâre here somewhere. I want them alive.â
Max held his breath as Victor pressed the first detonator. A loud explosion rocked the factory, and smoke filled the air. Marcoâs 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.
Marcoâs voice cut through the chaos. âYou think you can take me down, Max?â he shouted, his tone mocking. âYouâre just as foolish as your mother. Youâre weak.â
Max clenched his jaw, the mention of his mother igniting a fury heâd kept buried. He stepped out from the shadows, his gaze locked on Marco.
âNo, Marco,â Max said, his voice steady. âIâm nothing like you. And Iâm ending this.â
Marco laughed, a cold, twisted sound. âGo ahead, Max. Letâs see if you have what it takes.â
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 Marcoâs 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 Maxâs 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 Marcoâs 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.
Marcoâs gaze held a glint of something unsettlingâa confidence that sent a chill through Max. âYou really think you can escape your fatherâs shadow? That you can just walk away from this life?â
Maxâs grip tightened. âWatch me.â
Just as Marco started to pull away, Victor tossed Max a knife, and with one swift motion, Max drove it into Marcoâs side. Marcoâs eyes widened in shock, the fight draining from him as he fell back against the floor, his breathing ragged.
âYou could have been great, Max,â he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. âYou were always meant for this.â
Max knelt beside him, his expression hardened. âIâll be great, Marco. Just not in the way you or father wanted.â
Marcoâs 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 Josâs 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 wasnât overânot 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 didnât 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 Maxâs hand, her fingers lacing through his. âWe did it,â she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and relief.
Max squeezed her hand, a faint smile crossing his face. âYeah, we did.â
With Marco gone, they had a chanceâa real chanceâto live the life they wanted. And though Josâ 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 Maxâs 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 didnât know he could have. For once, they felt safe, wrapped in the peace of anonymity.
But the shadows of Maxâs past werenât so easily left behind. The tension, the feeling of being watchedâit crept back slowly, chipping away at the calm theyâd 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 hadnât seen that car in years, but he knew itâone of his fatherâs old vehicles.
Y/N noticed his change in demeanor. âMax? Is everything okay?â
Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice steady. âLetâs get back to the apartment.â
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.
âDo you think itâs your father?â Y/N asked quietly.
Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. âI donât know. But if heâs found us here, weâre not safe.â
Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a number he didnât recognize, but something told him to answer. He took a deep breath, lifting the phone to his ear. âHello?â
A familiar voice spoke, low and menacing. âMax. You didnât really think you could run forever, did you?â
It was Jos.
Max felt a chill run through him. His fatherâs voice was calm, calculating, as if this were just another business call.
âWhat do you want?â Max asked, his voice tense.
Jos chuckled softly. âWhat Iâve always wanted, son. I want you to come back. Iâll forget your disloyalty, if you return now. But this womanâsheâs distracting you. Sheâs a weakness.â
Maxâs grip on the phone tightened. âIâm not coming back, and Y/N is none of your concern.â
Jos sighed, his tone turning cold. âYouâre making a mistake, Max. Youâre my blood. And blood never betrays family. But if you insist on keeping her, you know what happens to liabilities.â
With that, the line went dead.
Max lowered the phone, his heart pounding. He looked at Y/N, who watched him anxiously. âIt was my father. he knows weâre here. And heâs not going to stop.â
Max and Y/N knew they had to leave the town immediately. But this time, they couldnât 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 fatherâa 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 Maxâs arm, her voice soft but strong. âNo matter what happens, Iâm with you. Weâll get through this.â
Max pulled her into an embrace, his voice steady but filled with determination. âIâll keep you safe. No matter what.â
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. âLooks like you two could use some suppliesâand a new plan.â
Max ran a hand through his hair, exhausted but grateful. âYou have no idea. My father heâs found us. Heâs not going to let us go so easily.â
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. âThis should buy you some time. But you need to move fast.â
Y/N thanked Victor, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. âYouâre risking a lot to help us. We wonât forget this.â
Victor gave her a small smile. âMax was there for me when I needed it. Just consider this payback.â
Before they left, Victor placed a hand on Maxâs shoulder. âOne more thing âyou need to think about how far youâre willing to go. Jos isnât going to stop. You might have to consider taking him out.â
Maxâs expression darkened. He had known, deep down, that his father would never let him go. But hearing it out loud made it real.
âI understand,â he said quietly. âThank you, Victor.â
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 couldnât shake Victorâs words. The idea of facing his father felt impossible, but he knew that eventually, theyâd 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, Josâ men kept finding them, each encounter a reminder that they were never truly safe.
Finally, they received a message from Victor. âHeâs coming for you himself, Max. Itâs time to end this.â
Max looked at Y/N, his heart heavy but resolved. âItâs him or us. I canât keep running from him. Weâll make our stand here.â
Y/N placed her hand over his, her eyes fierce. âThen letâs end this together.â
In a darkened alleyway that night, Max and Y/N waited. They heard the footsteps, the unmistakable sound of Josâ 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. âItâs over, Dad. You canât control me anymore.â
Josâ expression was a mix of anger and something almost like disappointment. âYou were always my successor, Max. But you betrayed me. And for what? A woman?â
Max shook his head. âFor freedom. For love. For a life that you never gave me.â
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 Josâ 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 Maxâs shoulder. âItâs finally over.â
Max took her hand, a quiet smile crossing his face. âYeah. Weâre finally free.â
They didnât know what the future held, but they knew one thing: they would face it together, no longer haunted by the past.
One year laterÂ
In a small, sunny coastal town far from the chaos of their past, Max and Y/N settled into a new life together. Theyâd both embraced the quiet simplicity of itââŹâthe kind of life neither of them thought theyâd 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 displaysâjust 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 familyâs 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 heâd truly left his past behind, pouring his energy into being the father heâd 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 workâit was honest, straightforward, and gave him a sense of satisfaction heâd 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 resurfaceâan unexpected noise, a strangerâs 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 theyâd 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 theyâd 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 wasnât just a new beginningâit was redemption. Heâd 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.
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I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them
It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and Iâm hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just donât be a dick about it, Iâm not engaging in any discourse.
Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and Iâm aware that this is because I donât have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.
First and foremost, Iâm⌠wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktorâs arc. So first the negative, and Iâll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I donât need to be beating that particular dead horse.
Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasnât. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed werenât as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, itâs real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. Itâs very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a characterâs story arc when they themselves donât feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but Iâll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktorâs whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, Iâm not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really donât think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone elseâs invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Skyâs journal)⌠Iâm sorry but no. This was Viktorâs idea, Viktorâs genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.
Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that heâs hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that itâs the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it âateâ her, and we have seen it âmanipulateâ him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Skyâhe barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether itâs because heâs gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasnât enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think itâs supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. Iâm not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all itâs the second most popular ship in this show and itâs been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. Iâm asking for the bare minimum hereâthat itâs left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.
Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I donât enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole âordained by a higher powerâ thing is just⌠stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktorâs original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that theyâre going to end said Jesus arc the way youâd expectâwith him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story âdisabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.â Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.
Sorry, I know I said Iâd keep the negatives brief, and that was⌠not. My bad. But moving on!
Iâm not saying I didnât enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesnât ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.
Jayce.
Jayce.
Jayce.
Iâd have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. Heâs caring, heâs devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldnât stand the thought of losing him!
And heâs funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that âthis is ironicâ face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested âso this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcaneâ:
GOD that shit was great. Jayceâs personality just shined, and maybe itâs too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, itâs now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.
And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I donât think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionallyâI dunno, vacant I guessâsounded so lost and scared when he said âwhat am I?â For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: âwhat have you done to me?â And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasnât left this damn lab except to go to Cassandraâs memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesnât want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he ârecovers.â And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasnât lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that âJayce will not understand.â I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just⌠Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought heâd never get to say to ViktorââIâm resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.â
And⌠the hug itself. I know weâre all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else seesâthere is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But itâs gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.
There is something there, itâs just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say âI want this, I have wanted this for so long.â But then he realizes something, something I donât think weâre meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesnât feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesnât. Or perhaps itâs something more along the lines of âitâs too late.â Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows heâll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe heâs fighting against it, or maybe heâs fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)
Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz itâs turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think theyâre extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he âcuredâ Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldnât have been âjoyousâ at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things heâs trying to do in her memory. He wouldnât crave that validation, that vindication from her. So Iâm hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing Iâm clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. âHeâs still in there and I have to save him.â And that maybe itâll start to work.
#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane season two#arcane s2 spoilers#jayvik#jayce talis#arcane viktor#viktor arcane#asks#ace answers
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Hellooo! Your writing is sooo fun to read that I've been rereading it multiple times nowđ¤đ¤đ¤ sooo I kinda wanted to request another post about reader fighting back against the bullies with crowe this time if that's okay, and take your time!
(ps, it's also okay if you ignore this, i hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night! â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸)
GUARDIAN ANGEL
KYAAA THANK U SM GIGGLING TWIRLING MY HAIR KICKING MY FEET âĄ!! I LOVE CROWE SO MUCH BROO!!! Did u know my first fic ever posted here was supposed to be with Crowe but I changed it to Sol instead cz I thought ppl wouldn't like it sobsob
â: "Someone is creeping you out while hanging out with Crowe, surely you should teach them a lesson, no?"
â
: Crowe x gn!reader
â: Contains: Baddie reader yurr !! Downbad Crowe, creepy dudes, post friend group plot, mutual pining I need to breed him
The bell's ring echoed throughout the entire school, indicating lunch time as students hurriedly pack their things to rush towards their friends and eat at the cafeteria. You were calmer than your unruly classmates, screaming and yelling in excitement as they rushed to their groups and cliques. "Its like they've never experienced the lunch bell go off"
You mused to yourself, happy enough to know that you at least have one friend in your school. Yet he still hasn't shown his pretty little face in your classroom yet, usually he'd pick you up and walk you to the cafeteria, but it seems that isn't the case this time.
"Yo, (Name), I usually see your boyfie pick you up at this time, wonder why he isn't here" your seatmate puts his arm on your head, practically using you as an armrest, making you groan and push him away with red dusting your cheeks "Can it! He's not my...boyfriend.."
Your heart rate picked up as you muttered those words as an evident flush on your cheeks got redder, gaining you a knowing stare from your seatmate as a laugh escaped his throat, smacking your back playfully "Yeah. Sure. And I'm the president of the United States," he marked sarcastically, waving his arms dramatically.
You scoffed, standing up from your seat, and walked your way out of the classroom door, ignoring the cheerful yells and encouragements from your seatmate. "Get yo mans!" He echoed out to you, which promptly made you walk faster in embarrassment.
It didn't take you too long to notice him standing by a vending machine. Taking your chance, you tiptoed your way behind him and gipped his shoulders. "There you are!" You yelled, making him flinch in surprise, snapping his head towards you. His shocked expression made you laugh at his dismay.
He merely sighed and shook his head with a small smile on his face, "You're such a tease, (Name)" his voice was smooth as honey, eyes glinting in nothing but adoration. Oh how you looked divine when you laughed.
"Says you! It's not nice to keep me waiting for that long, you know! Hurt my feelings a bit.." you playfully sulked as a joke, but Crowe seemingly took it too seriously, brows furrowing as an apologetic expression dressed his face "I didn't mean to, there were just some things I had to do before going to you"
Seeing his obviously saddened face made you panic a bit "Noâ! It was a joke, don't worry! I didn't mind looking for you anyway. " You were quick to reassure, trying to ease his worries a bit, but he simply shook his head. "Still, I shouldn't have made you wait so long. You deserve only the best, (Name)"
His voice is so genuine, and how he stared at you sent shivers down your spine. He's always like this, always putting your needs before himself, always putting you on his first priority before anything else. Curse him and his prince-like behavior!
But before you could ask what he was up to, you felt a random hand hit your ass, laughter, and whistles could be heard as you snapped your head towards the source in anger.
A group of sloppy looking men with dirty uniforms and rolled up sleeves showing their tattoos chortled and snorted at you, as if their making fun of you getting angry with their disgusting actions. "Aww, what's wrong, doll? Wasn't hard enough? I can be more rough if you like"
The main, blonde guy leaned in closer to your face as you winced at the strong smell of his breath. Your expression made them laugh harder, giving each other high fives and fists bumps as if making you uncomfortable is an achievement.
"What do you think you're doing...?"
A hand protectively held your shoulder, making you look up. Crowe's eyes were nothing compared to what you're used to. Eyes that were once filled with love and softness were now filled with pure, raw anger. Yet, he was still gentle with you, carefully maneuvering you to stay behind him, protecting you like a shield.
The boys took one glance at him and scanned him head to toe, judging his every move. The blonde whistled and clicked his tongue, staggering towards the taller male "Watch it, golden boy. You may be class rep or whatever bullshit title they gave you. But these parts are my territory, so I make the goddamn fuckin' rules here." He practically spat out, his lackies cheering him on with vulgar words and descriptions.
If Crowe is pissed, then you're seething.
You hated being insulted, yes, but you hated it even more when people belittle those you care about. So without thinking, you stepped forward and faced the blonde head on, catching Crowe off guard.
"My territory! blah blah, you pissed on this school and claimed it yours like a dog then?"
A sound of surprise was heard from the blonde, even gaining a gasp from their lackies. Clearly, they weren't expecting you to fight back. Crowe got worried, fearing that you might be in danger now. "(Name)â"
"You think you're so fucking funny?"
Without knowing, the blonde grabbed you by the collar and slammed you against the vending machine. Hard glass hitting the back of your head made you groan. Yet you still managed to stare at your attacker dead in the eyes, not running away from a fight you intend to win.
He mocked you with a laugh "Doll, you look so cute when you're angry, but one more goddamn word from your mouth and I'm bashing your fucking skull inside this machine" he threatened, his spit sliding onto your face.
"Yeah? 'Cause I'm about to get real fuckin' adorable"
You raised your foot and kicked him between his legs. A pained groan could be heard as he instinctively dropped you back onto your feet, groveling in pain. But before he could fight back, you grabbed his hair and smashed his head so hard onto the vending machine it broke through the glass. Knocking him out.
You dusted yourself off before turning to the two, shivering lackies, huddling together in an attempt to look smaller and hide from your view. "Who's next?" A malicious smile etched your features, making them scream and run away with their tails between their legs, yelling out apologies and pleads for mercy until they disappeared.
You stood still for a moment, taking in a deep breath to ground yourself. Turning your head to look at the blonde's unconscious body and winced "Yikes...didn't mean to hit him that hard" you played with his arm, lifting and dropping it like a toy.
"Yoo, check it out, Crowe! He's now aâ"
"Why did you do that?!" You glanced at him in confusion, eyes locking onto wide and worried ones. "Ehh? They were talking smack about you! I had to do something!" You responded with crossed arms and a pout on your lips. "The least you can do is say thank yoâ"
Suddenly, you felt arms wrap around your body in a tight hug. You stood there, not fulling processing what's happening. "You're so reckless..." His voice was a whisper, not daring to speak any louder, not daring to let you go. You didn't know that your actions affected him this much. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his gently.
His breathing eventually calmed down a bit as he let you go. Once again, there's this softness in his eyes, staring right at you as if you held all the stars in the world and placed it all in your eyes, tracing constellations in your gaze. You felt his hand cup your cheek with the same gentle motion, treating you like divinity.
"You don't know how worried I was about you, (Name). Really..." he leaned his forehead onto yours, his other arm wrapping onto your waist, pulling you two closer than before until your bodies are touching so close you could hear each other's heartbeat. And his was racing.
You scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck. Both of you are in a daze of adrenaline to even process what the two of you are doing, but what mattered right now is each other's company and comfort. "My fault, didn't know I was such a diva" you made light of the situation, earning a sigh from him as he pinched your cheek.
"More like a trouble maker than anything," he retorted, which earned an offended gasp from you and slapped his chest in mock play. "How dare you insult your guardian angel! Oh woe is me. I am so pitiful!" You dramatically leaned back with the back of your hand on your forehead, he laughed at your playfulness and pulled you in closer to spin you around like a waltz dance and dramatically dropped you, his arm supporting your body as his eyes are solely focused on you.
He gently held your other hand and kissed your knuckles with a smile. "Thank you, angel.." he whispered so softly that it was barely audible. Your cheeks flushed as your teasing words died on your throat, rendered absolutely speechless.
You quickly stood up straight and pushed him away in embarrassment, looking away from him as you tried to calm down your beating heart "...That's cheating" you muttered and kicked the cement, glaring holes onto the ground in an attempt to make it seem your unphased by his shameless flirt.
A laugh was heard beside you. Feeling his hand take in yours again as he wordlessly walked you away from the ugly sight you left at the vending machine. Though he is class representative, and it is his job to keep everyone in check, he finds himself making exceptions for you. No matter how brutal you might get. If anyone from his class would have caught him right now, they'd blame him for favoritism.
But what's more shocking is that he doesn't seem to have any need to deny it.
Silently picking up the paper bag he left nearby, leaving you still unaware of what he's holding, Lazer focused on calming your heart. And oh, does he find that absolutely adorable.
Perhaps he will just slip the snacks and drinks he bought for you from the vending machine under your table once you need it.
Chat imma be fr here, lowkey hated this LMAO yrgghh felt like I could've done better but my class starts at 6 and it's already 5:37 HELPPP
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Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog
ââHey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!
Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!
While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...
To just this!
As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!â
You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)
Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)
When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!
Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)
Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ
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COD 141 and beauty spots that you can nibble. Hrmph...inspired by a beautiful man with a beauty spot I wanna nibble on every time I see it. This wasn't supposed to be this long, but I guess I'm yearning to give out some love bites so it is what it is.
Gaz's beauty spot is somewhere just above his top lip. Adorable, just like every inch of the rest of him. It sits closer to the corner of his mouth and you remember it being one of the first things you noticed on his lovely face when you met him at that sandwich place near your workplace. While you've started aiming your little pecks (and licks) there as a habit, Gaz is now trained to present that beauty spot to you first when you go in to give him his kisses. He deserves every single one. You were also kind enough to let him know he had a matching spot hidden away elsewhere. He particularly enjoys when you kiss that one, oh how his eyes glow when you do.
Johnny's beauty spot sits right on his left cheekbone and you swear it's just as animated as the rest of his face is. It catches your attention when he's annoying you in bed first thing in the morning. He really leaves you with no other choice but to go in and bite the apple of his cheek (affectionately) to discipline him, but the moment he feels your teeth press down gently he can't hold his laughter. Then you're both laughing and the kisses start, and then the tasting starts and before you know it he's filling you so good. Why? Because you're his sweetest girl. His one and only. Bite him all you like, bonnie.
Simon's scarred face is so beautiful and sacred to you. When he first revealed it to you, several months into your relationship, you were thrilled to see a faint sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose and spread across his cheeks. Your man is so big, it's hard to give each freckle the love it deserves often. So when you have him on his back, and he's holding your hips so you can ride him properly, you give them their attention then. You make sure to lean over, pressing on him skin to skin and you kiss each one. Naming them as you go, of course. Delighting when his big body shakes with his adoring chuckles underneath you.
John's beauty spot is usually hidden by his beard, but when he comes home one day having been forced to shave to receive treatment for a wound, you catch sight of it. You coo over it, over him, babying him and dragging him down on top of you on your couch so you can both watch the HGTV show you had on. You begin to scratch your nails lightly over his scalp, ignoring his initial huffing and puffing. He soon falls asleep stretched out on top of you, his heavy head cradled on your chest. Some time later that night, you wake to him carrying you up to your bed. He then lays you down and proceeds to make love to you so tenderly, you don't know what to do with yourself by the time he gets you off for the last time before spilling inside of you. Both of your groans bounce off the walls of your bedroom, and as you wind down and the silence of a late night envelopes you both, you tell him the secret you'd been waiting to share with him since he'd come home.
Fast forward a year and a half, there's a chubby baby with a beauty spot on his face in the exact same spot as his father, gurgling happily in your arms. You press tender kisses on his beauty spot, savouring his fresh baby smell and those precious giggles. Then you turn to his father, and press a kiss on the same spot because it's all you can reach if you're both standing. Unless you ask him to bend over (not in that way, you complain rolling your eyes), of course. And he huffs a laugh, kissing your forehead with a tenderness that (to this day) makes you want to cry. It's just so good.
#cod 141 x reader#cod 141 daydreamin'#i had to throw in some daddy!cod 141 because well yes#call me the Grand Fluffmaster#i'm about that fluff life#run-on sentences bay-bee#you get to choose who is daddy#the domesticity of it all#kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader#johnny 'soap' mactavish x reader#simon âghostâ riley x reader#captain john price x reader#magicallydelicious4me writes#dividers by cafekitsune
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cw: selfship-coded. part 2 of a sort to this meet-ugly. reader is a doctor and knows nami from her past.
âSo what you mean to tell me right now is that youâre calling me when the medicine floor is full to bursting to admit a⌠reindeer to the hospital?â
You keep your voice neutral and professional as you talk through the transponder snail, who has picked up the characteristic protruding ears of one of your closest friends and coworkers.
âItâs complicated.â
You grimace.
âI���m not a vet, bestie, and neither are you.â
Your friend pauses on the phone for a moment, and you can tell the full force of the ridiculousness of the situation has finally hit him, but there was desperation in his voice, so you bite your lip, waiting for his response before you agree to go see his patient. Hopefully, it wonât take too long, you think, given that youâre alone managing the unit for the rest of the day.
Out of kindness, you sent your intern home early about an hour ago, thinking that today would shape up to be a quiet Sunday, possibly a piss poor decision. Things are still relaxed however, and as you gather up your things to leave the workroom, you listen intently to the rest of your friendâs report before you formally take a look at the purported animal patient.Â
âIts friends say that it apparently has a more human form, even if it looks the way it does today?â
Human form? âYou think itâs Zoan Devil Fruit maybe?â
Youâre marching down the stairs, almost tripping on the last two, when he replies, âTypically they revert to their human forms when theyâre sick though, this looks like the opposite.â
âHumans are animals, too, I guess,â you muse. He doesnât answer immediately, and you hear a sudden commotion in the background.Â
âShit, gotta go,â he offers and heâs immediately off, and you watch the Transponder Snail stop responding. Setting it down at a nurseâs station in the emergency department, you locate the bay you were told to check in and find a bunch of people huddled, but not resuscitating, a few nurses clearly idling and chatting.Â
Pushing through gently until you can introduce yourself, you give your name,Â
âHi, Iâm Dr. ___â-
And before you can even pull back the curtain, the first person you see is not the reindeer that is sprawled out, eyes closed but still breathing with a steady, stable rhythm, but one of the most memorable people from your childhoodâs striking tangerine hair, and you lose your breath temporarily.Â
âNo fucking way,â she says, rising, and you, also shocked, in her all the memories of the past you try so hard to erase in your day to day, rushing back, until she throws her arms around you, and you throw your arms back around her.Â
Sheâs supposed to be in disguise, and later sheâll admit to you that itâs because she has a terribly large bounty on her head, but you donât forget a face, especially around the eyes.Â
Even if itâs been years and years.
Sniffling, you pull away and thank her, before turning your attention to the bonafide reindeer - admittedly the cutest one youâve ever seen - with a high fever sitting in front of you.
âHey, Nami⌠tell me everything you know about him,â you say, your voice warm and thankful. âAnd letâs catch up later.â
â
âYou know, part of me always wondered what became of you.â Nami states, once the three of you have been situated in a proper hospital room, an IV drip started by a somewhat reluctant nurse while other floor nurses and staff peer curiously through the window. You smooth the wrinkles in your scrubs and smile at her again, taking in the fact that the last time you saw each other you were just on the verge of turning 14, and youâd been trying to help her store a load of jewels sheâd swiped from a jewelry store.
It was the second to last time you ever used your Devil Fruit powers for wrongdoing, and you try not to think about the true last time.Â
âI didnât really imagine youâd become a doctor after all that,â Nami teases.
âItâs in my blood apparently,â is your simple response, one that warrants elaboration in the future. You tap the tubing of the IV and take another look at the young deer-man before you, who Nami says is named Chopper, pressing a finger to his calf to check for leg swelling briefly, then look back at her. âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm a pirate now.â
You blink.
âI thought you hated pirates.â Your voice has softened into a whisper.
Nami smiles, the kind that seems to hold back a story that is far too grand to share all at once.
âAnd I thought you were a drug smuggler,â she says, with a wink. Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, and you say nothing else. Now is not the time really to explain how you got out of that situation, the least of all reasons because there could be prying eyes.Â
Changing the subject quickly, and also due to curiosity, you sit down ahead of her and ask for her to share to avoid having to spill your own dirty laundry, and your scheme works, as Nami recounts her years since the two of you parted ways and the pirate crew sheâs grown to know and love.
And you hear one name more frequently than all the rest.
â
You take care of Chopper for three days and match a few more names to faces - Sanji, who somehow manages to toe the line of sexual harassment with all the nurses but never actually tips over it and Usopp who you wish would talk less and listen more. You have to admit that thereâs a charm to the two of them that complements Nami well, even if she seems to be yelling at them half the time, and your talks with Chopper during rounding are fascinating as soon as he gets better. After the initial shock of a talking animal, you find that he is highly intelligent (probably more so than you), very susceptible to praise and also very kind.Â
Linking the four together is that same quality, kindness.
â
âDonât you think maybe youâre trusting me a bit too much?â you muse, your thumb running the rim of a cocktail while Nami sips on her own drink, and Chopper a glass of freshly squeezed juice. âYou do have insane bounties on your heads and I might not be the same person you met years ago.â
âI doubt youâve changed,â Nami says somewhat confidently. She looks around at the tavern, and with the lack of wanted posters on the walls anywhere and the relative reclusiveness of this town, her guard is down. She leans in. âUnless youâve set us up already, and in that case perhaps Iâd have to kill you.â
Thereâs a short pause, and the two of you burst into laughter, even if Chopper for a moment looks between the two of you with a mild concern.
âIâm glad you came with me today though, because I havenât been here in a week since thereâs a weird guy Iâve been trying to avoid here and I was starting to miss the food.â
Namiâs eyebrows raise.
âOh, what does he look like?âÂ
âLike average height, dressed like itâs summertime, and-â you pause and duck.
Speak of the devil.
âUgh, heâs here,â you whisper from practically under the table. Nami takes a look back, and to your horror she waves.
And her illustrious captain and your meet ugly collide into one person with a big wide smile.
âGreat to see you again!â
It finally occurs to you that the names were the same - Luffy.
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So Tragic and Rare
"Taste Your Silhouette" (pt. 11)
a/n: the first full fic of this universe! and I can reveal to you all that every fic is going to be told from Andrei's POV. I grew attached to the idea that you don't really know who Keely is and are forced to learn about her through outsider observations/opinions, her interactions with Andrei, and of course, her music and lyrics. anyway, here's the story of their first meeting!! It's wild, it's a bit messy, but it also is a whole lot of fun - if I do say so myself.
word count: 9.9k warnings: Andrei being awkwardly endearing, me basically rewriting last seasons All-Star game and smut! [oral (f receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, and a handjob]. masterlist
There were many things an NHL player could do over All-Star Break. A majority of players chose to fly to a tropical location, enjoying the warmth and sunshine in the middle of February and take a moment to relax before the season kicked up again.
But not Andrei Svechnikov. At least, not this year.
Instead, he was sitting on one of the many benches lined up in the middle of Scotiabank Arena in Toronto, watching the lights flash around him, listening to the crowd milling about in the stands. While he awaits the start of the NHL All-Star Draft, clad in his Canes jersey, his feet kicking gently.
Let it not be confused that he was ungrateful. Sure, it was colder in Toronto than it was in Raliegh and definitely colder than it was in any of the numerous beaches he was sure his teammates were currently on. But, no matter how much of him wished he could join them in their vacation, he took pride in representing Carolina at the All-Star Game. And he wouldnât deny that the title of All-Star sent a bolt of cocky confidence through his body.
So, yes, while he was sitting in rink-side instead of poolside, he had never been happier. This was his place. This was where he belonged.
The amplified music cuts through his reverie, his gaze now moving towards the stage where the hosts of the evening stood. He listens to their welcomes and the explanation of how the draft would work, before the music build and the introductions of team captains begin.
The music shifts with each introduction and after Team Matthews is announced, the sound of a recognizable bassline pricks at his ears. He knew the melody from practice, the song often pulsating through the locker room speakers thanks to Seth Jarvis. The hosts call the names of captain Nathan MacKinnon and assistant captain Cale Makar â names that deserve their own cheer â but all he can focus on is the dark blonde hair of the other person walking up to the podium next to them.
âAnd the celebrity captain: Boston singer and songwriter, youâll see her as our headline performer on Saturday, give it up for Keely Halloran!â
The cheers flow through the stadium â not as many as Toronto-based Justin Bieber received but that was to be expected. Andrei swears that he hears some boos as well, his eyebrows furrowing at the sound. He remembered Jarvy mentioning some prior drama in her career, back when he info-dumped about his favorite artist one night over dinner, but it seemed ridiculous to Andrei that people would boo her for that.
Perhaps their vocal dislike was based off her being a Boston native and therefore probably a Bruins fan. That made more sense to him.
He redirects his gaze back to Keely, standing on the stage in her own yellow All-Star jersey, talking animatedly to Cale and Nathan.
She was really pretty.
Jarvy didnât explicitly mention her looks that but Andrei shouldâve known. Yes, Seth liked her music but it would be idiotic to think that there wasnât some attraction woven into his admiration.
But she was really truly beautiful, the spotlight shining down on her. She seemed so at ease, under the lights, in front of the crowd, and Andrei supposes it came with the territory. She made her living on the stage and even though this was a much different circumstance than she was probably used to, it probably didnât phase her at all.
The draft starts and Andrei canât take his eyes off of Keely. There is a need flowing through him, a desperate desire to be on her team. Although, if asked, he wouldnât be able to concisely say why.
It couldâve been the fact that her team was captained by Nathan MacKinnon and Cale Makar â two powerhouse players that anyone would be lucky to play with. It couldâve been because he promised Jarvy that heâd get a picture or autograph for him and being on Keelyâs team would make that task easier to accomplish. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that he found her attractive.
Whatever the reason, he wanted to be hers. Her player â on her team, that is.
He watches as her, Nathan, and Cale look at their options, talking each pick over. He sees her disappointed face and hears a small sound of disappointment leave her lips when David Pastranak gets chosen by Team McDavid, confirming his assumption that she was a Boston fan. He listens to her voice, cheerfully greeting and shaking the hand of each player that skates up: Crosby, Georgiev, Kaprisov. All he can do is wait and hope for his name to be called â hopefully by her.
When Robert Thomas gets chosen by team McDavid, the host jumps back to Keely, ready to announce the next pick of Team MacKinnon.
âAlright Keely, your team is up. How much power do you have in these draft choices?â
âIâd like to think I have some but theyâre the professionals so Iâm trusting them,â Keely laughs, tossing her hair back. âWe were looking at all the names here, and Iâm going with the guys on this one. Weâre going to select⌠Andrei Svechnikov.â
His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears and he lifts himself off the bench, skating over towards the third of the small podiums lining the stage. He can faintly hear the voice of the announcer praising his game but that all seems irrelevant to the sight of those blue eyes trained on him.
He skates up, first clapping Nathan on the back, before his eyes connect with Keely. She has that smile on her face, a camera-ready smile but one that also seemed entirely genuine.
âHey,â she says to him, her voice still lifting with the edge of her laughter as she holds out her hand to him. He accepts it, shaking it gently before moving to Cale, taking the All-Star jersey from his hands.
It isnât until he is settled down on the MacKinnon bench, lined up next to his new teammates, do his eyes return to Keely and notices her staring at him. And it is only then does he realize he never said a word, not even a hello, to her.
A strange feeling of embarrassment runs through him, his eyes darting down, pretending to be absorbed in unfolding the yellow jersey. God, she mustâve thought he was an asshole or something. What a great first impression. He throws the material over his head and only afterward does he allow himself to look back up towards the podium where Keely stood.
He continues to watch and listen to her aid in the building of Team MacKinnon. And every time she speaks, he notices more things about her, aspects the draw him in even deeper.
He noticed her playfulness when Jeremy Swayman was selected by Cale, laughing at the incredulous âalright?â that escaped Keelyâs lips, clearly not agreeing with the defensemanâs choice of adjective concerning the goalie.
Andreiâs laughter soured quickly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy thrum through him when Jeremy skated over and shook Keelyâs hand, the rockstar clearly overjoyed that he was selected. It was an odd thing to be jealous about, he realized, and he shook off the feeling, focusing back to the rest of the draft.
He noticed her welcoming warmth when she selected Elias Lindholm, newest member of the Boston Bruins, traded from Vancouver just before the All-Star game.
And when there were only four players left and each of the leadership teams came up onto the main stage, he listened intently when he heard her name fall from the mouth of one of the hosts.
âI wanted to talk to Keely Halloran for a moment here. You have a big performance coming up on Saturday. How do you feel?â
âIâm so excited,â she replies, her words and her smile seeming nothing short of genuine. âGrowing up in Boston and growing up a Bruins fan â dangerous thing to admit in Toronto, I know, but â it really made me fall in love with hockey. My dad is coming in tomorrow and heâs just super excited.â
âWell, since you mentioned being a Bruins fan, are you happy you got a few Bruins on your team?â
âYeah, of course. I mean, kind of disappointed we didnât get the full set with Pasta but I like the team we made up and I know that at least me, Jeremy, and Elias will bring some of that energy and power that I always feel in TD Garden.â
âWell, weâll be feeling the energy and power during your performance on Saturday, Iâm sure,â the host says, turning away without acknowledging the laughter and confirmation that falls from Keelyâs lips.
The draft wraps up after the final selection, each team being filled. A cheer goes up from the crowd as the rosters are announced, followed by a reminder of the skills competition tomorrow and the All-Star game the day after that. After the final cheer, the bright lights of the stadium come back up, the production crews and behind the scenes personnel milling about. One of them stands in front of the Team MacKinnon bench, a quick explanation falling from their lips.
âAlright, guys, weâre gonna take a team photo for social media and then you are all free to go, sound good?â
Andrei nods his head, standing up to be positioned for picture. His eyes scan the stadium before landing on Keely again, slowly walking down the steps of the stage, trailing behind Cale and Nathan. He sees her slow shuffling across the ice, her eyes trained on her feet. A jolt of confidence plus a need to redeem himself from their first interaction runs through his body and without hesitation, he skates away from the team bench, towards her. With a small hiss of his skates, he pauses beside her, holding out his arm.
âWould you like help?â he asks. He can feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest when she looks up at him, her bright blue eyes connected with his brown ones.
âIs it that obvious that Iâm not the strongest at walking on ice?â she laughs, still shuffling across the surface.
âItâs amazing you havenât fallen yet,â Andrei replies. One of Keelyâs eyebrows pops up and Andrei realizes that his words sounded more than a little patronizing. âI mean, in those shoes,â he elaborates, gesturing down to her heels, trying to mitigate whatever damage he may have inflicted.
âYeah, not the smartest decision,â she replies. âI would love some help. Falling on my face wouldnât be very good publicity for me.â
Andrei nods, relaxing in her easy-going attitude, re-extending his arm towards her. She takes it, her hand curling around his bicep. Andrei starts to slowly move back toward the group of yellow jerseys, attempting to keep a steady pace, focusing more on his skating in this moment than he had in ages.
The two of them reach the bench and Keely murmurs a soft thank you. His only reply is a nod, skating behind the seat and smiling for the camera. As soon as the photo is snapped, Andrei is ready to immediately return to Keelyâs side, offering his help again. But he is beaten to it by the true Canadian gentleman Sidney Crosby.
With a sigh, he watches as she walks off with Sid and Nate before he skates over to the tunnel, ready to head back to the hotel. He still wasnât sure if he was going to go down to the hotel bar or stay in his room, getting some necessary sleep before tomorrow. But his decision is made for him when he spies Keely glance back over her shoulder, locked gaze with him and sending a soft smile in his direction.
He would do anything if it meant that she would look at him that way again.
~*~*~*~
The hotel bar was crowded, filled with players, their significant others, and a few members of the media, eager to get every snippet of content they could.
Andrei knew it might have been best for him to stay upstairs, what with the skills competition coming up tomorrow â a competition that Andrei had a spot in. But it was the All-Star game and he was the only Carolina Hurricane here. He should represent his team as much as he could, in as many places as he could; let his face be seen and captured by the cameras around. He promised himself only a beer or two before leaving and he was making good on that promise. Although, he would admit that he was distracted looking for one person in particular.
It wasnât until he was at the bar, ready to grab his second beer did his eyes finally locate the now familiar dark blonde hair of Keely Halloran.
She was sitting a few seats away from him, her back against the wooden bar-top as she talked with Nathan, Cale, Sidney, and Mitch Marner, her laughter bouncing through the air, cutting through the smooth jazz echoing through the speakers. Sheâs nursing some form of cocktail â Andrei canât tell what â and intently listening as each person talks, seemingly interjecting with her own additions and obviously some humor considering the chuckles that fall from the men surrounding her.
He wanted go over there, join the conversation and insert himself into the circle, but a small part of him said to hold off. He didnât want to overwhelm Keely with too many people, too many stories. She seemed connected to Nathan and Cale considering they were the two people that she had most likely interacted with the most. He didnât want to force her to entertain an even larger group of almost complete strangers, which is exactly what he was.
Instead, he strikes up a casual conversation with the bartender, with every person that walks up next to him at the bar. He bides his time, his brown eyes occasionally darting over towards Keely, feeling his heartrate rise as the group surrounding her dwindles from four, to three, to two. And then she is alone.
Andrei takes a deep breath and another swig of his beer, willing whatever courage the amber liquid could provide to flow through his body, before picking up the bottle and walking over.
She is absorbed in her phone, texting someone, laughing gently at the words on the screen. The sight of her smile makes Andrei falter for a moment, the thought of her texting a boyfriend flashing in his brain. However, that voice is silenced when Keely looks up from her cell, her blue eyes connecting with his â seemingly aware of his presence â and the smile that was on her face does not fade. In fact, it seems to shine brighter.
That is the last bit of encouragement that Andrei needs to take those final steps, sliding his large body onto the adjacent chair and turning towards Keely.
âHey again,â he says, his voice a little breathless and still a little uncertain.
âAh, thereâs my prince charming,â Keely smiles, looking up at him through her darkened eyelashes. The combination of her words and her stare has Andrei faltering once more, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
âPrince charming?â
âFor helping me across the ice, of course,â she lightly explains, her lips wrapping around the straw of her drink.
A light chuckle falls from Andreiâs lips as he tries to brush off his confusion, attempting to copy the bold and confident attitude that the woman sitting across from him displayed.
âRight, of course. Well, I guess Crosby â I mean, Sidney â would also be your prince charming.â
Keely hums, her head moving to glance behind her, towards Sidney, now talking with someone else a few paces away. Andrei takes Keelyâs momentary distraction as an opportunity to let his gaze rake down.
With her head turned, he could see that the baseball cap perched backwards on her head was a Boston Celtics cap, her city loyalty on full display. The leather jacket that had previously been thrown over her shoulders was now draped over the back of the chair, revealing the rest of her all-black ensemble. The corset top that highlighted her chest and waist, a highlight that most other men wouldâve been eyeing shamelessly. Andrei wouldâve joined in but his eyes had drifted lower, to the skirt/short combo that seemingly had a built-in buckled garter, stretching across her upper thigh.
A gentle clearing of a throat causes Andreiâs eyes to snap back up, his face flushing when he sees Keelyâs eyes glued back to him.
âHe is gentleman, thatâs for sure,â Keely speaks, continuing the prior conversation, blissfully not responding to Andreiâs blatant stare. That is, until her own eyes shamelessly rake up and down his body. âBut Sidâs not nearly attractive enough to be my prince charming.â
While being caught red-handed threw him off-guard, Keely outright giving him some of the most seductive bedroom eyes that Andrei had seen in his life threw him entirely off-kilter.
âWhat?â he said, not being able to stop his bewilderment at â what seemed like â the sudden turn of events. Keelyâs laughter makes his cheeks flush again, her leaning back in her chair, her legs stretching out causing Andreiâs eyes to dart back to that damnable garter.
âWhatâs the matter all-star? Never had a girl flirt with you?â
âN-no. Iâve had lots,â Andrei stutters out before his brain registers how bad his response sounded. âI-I mean⌠umâŚâ
His fumbled words were once again cutoff with a gentle laugh from Keely, her body leaning towards him again. This time, her expression is soft, a slight smile on her face that looked amused but not at all condescending.
âYou arenât very good at this, are you?â
âNot when itâs a celebrity, like you. And not when I feel like Iâve made a mistake every time Iâve opened my mouth,â Andrei confesses, his own lips quirking in a soft grin.
âThatâs actually one of the things I like,â Keely replies, silencing Andreiâs fears but bringing forth more confusion. The question is clearly painted on his face because Keelyâs explanation continues. âDo you know how many men try to act all suave and basically lie through their teeth to get close to me? Itâs nice to see something genuine â even if you may not have intended it.â
âGlad to know I havenât messed up that bad.â
âNot at all.â
The initial awkwardness evaporates as fast as mist in the morning sun, the conversation between Keely and Andrei now flowing seamlessly. She asks about his life, details which he gladly offered up and he asks hers, the details she gave a little vaguer. But Andrei found that he didnât really care.
He knew enough about who she was â a celebrity that probably had every aspect of her life splashed on front pages and over social media, whether she agreed to it or not. He was more than willing to let her tell him what she wanted to. Regardless of what she decided to tell him, he sat, enraptured. Her stories only made him admire her more: her passion, her drive, her unapologetic attitude concerning everything.
âI wish I could be that confident,â he says in reply to her return to the public eye.
âAndrei Svechnikov, all-star hockey player, wishes that he could be more confident?â
âI guess, more off the ice. I know who I am as a hockey player but when I donât have skates on, I feel⌠not as bold.â
âMaybe I can help.â
Andreiâs eyebrows once again jump up in a question, every word that falls from this womanâs mouth intriguing him more.
âIâll ask you some questions, and you respond with the honest truth,â she explains, her eyes sparkling with a sense of mischief that Andrei wanted to uncover.
After a moment of pondering, he responds with a small nod. His acceptance makes Keely smile and she leans back in her chair again, her blue irises staring him down.
âWhatâs your favorite lunch?â
âReally?â Andrei asks, her first question catching him off-guard once again â another tick mark to add to the mystery of the woman in front of him.
âHave to keep you on your toes.â
âChicken and pasta.â
âDogs or cats?â
âDogs.â
âFavorite thing to do in your free time?â
âFishing.â
âPerson you trust the most?â
âMy brother, Evgeni.â
âGirlfriend?â
The question draws Andreiâs attention, his brown eyes connecting with Keelyâs blue. He can see the seriousness of the question within them. And, even deeper, the flicking of mistrust lurking in the aquamarine pools. That spark, that glimmer, hits Andrei squarely in the chest. He knew very little about Keely, not even the tabloid version, but that hesitation⌠it told him that she had been hurt, deeply. And in response, a fire flickered within him, one that vowed to make sure he never gave her a reason to distrust him.
âI donât have one,â he replies, his voice steady and serious, hoping that the intensity of his feelings was matched by his voice.
Judging by how Keely relaxed back in her chair, it seems as if he got his wish.
âWhyâd you come over here, Andrei?â
It was another challenge, another chance for him to be bold and tell the absolute truth. And this time, he didnât wait for the best moment, didnât dance around the words. Instead, he took a deep breath, met her gaze, and spoke the truth he was thinking the minute she stepped onto the stage at Scotiabank Arena.
âI think youâre beautiful. And⌠Iâd like to spend a night with you.â
A slow smile twists across Keelyâs face, taking in the sight of him sitting in front of her; maybe still a little uncertain but at least solid in his convictions.
âThere you go. Confidence,â she says, the words slow and seductive.
There is a brief pause, the air between them thrumming with electricity before Keely breaks the spell, sighing and stretching her arms over her head before glancing down at her empty glass.
âWell, I was planning on going to bed once this drink was gone and it is. So, I guess Iâll head out,â she explains, her voice breezy and casual. She slides off the chair, grabbing her jacket and tossing it over her shoulders.
Andrei watches, a flash of confusion fliting through him as she reaches into her pocket, sliding out a thin card â presumably a credit card. However, that thought is disproved when she boldly takes a hold of his wrist, turning his hand palm-side up and placing the cool plastic into his hand.
âTop floor, room 15C. Donât keep me waiting too long.âÂ
Those statements and the cherry of her perfume was what she left him with as she swiftly turns and waltzes out of the hotel bar. Andreiâs eyes stay on her until she is out of sight and only then does he glance down at the card placed in his hand.
Keely had slipped him a copy of her hotel keycard.
The invitation is clear. She was offering the key to her room for him to use if he desired â if he truly wanted the things he said he did. But it was also another challenge for him to be bold and honest and maybe a bit brash.
The decision was entirely his.
And he wasnât going to say no. He was going to see Keely. He was going to take full advantage of the night and of the opportunity she presented him.
He just needed to wait, just long enough as to not draw suspicion. He was under more of a microscope up here in Toronto than in Raleigh. But Keely had eyes on her no matter where she went. He wasnât about to bring more drama into her life.
So, for the second time that night, he lingers. He chats to the people around him, give some quotes to the media, does as much as he can to make it seem like this was a normal night during an All-Star Weekend. He pretends that he canât feel the weight of the keycard in his pocket and the ticking of the time.
Finally, he deems it long enough and, after paying for his drinks and giving the bartender a healthy tip, he extricates himself from the hotel bar. His sneakers barely make a sound as he crosses the plush carpet of the lobby, taking a direct route to the elevator. He is thankful that no one stops him, thankful that the elevator doors seem to open as soon as he presses the up button and thankful that he is alone in the space. Andrei hits the button emblazoned with 15 and watches the numbers on the LED screen rise, flying past the fourth floor (his room) towards his true destination.
The soft ding of the elevator sounds, the doors sliding open with a whoosh and he steps out. There is only one hallway stretching out in front of him, two doors on either side. Andrei steps out slowly, eyes locating the plaques with the room numbers next to each door.
His mind repeats the number that Keely gave him like a mantra, passing one door and then the next before stopping in front of room 15C. He stands in front of the entrance, the wood looking exactly like the doors around him, looking exactly like the door to his own room. But insideâŚ
A myriad of images sprung into Andreiâs head, fantasies of what was waiting for him, each more intoxicating than the last. If there was any hesitation still lingering in his body, it was burned away but the hot flash of need and desire that surged through him. He slips the plain black keycard from his pocket, holding it over the doorknob until the light above turns from red to green. The door handle, cool in his hand, turns and he steps in.
And the sight that awaits him makes him stop in his tracks.
Every image that he had conjured up in his mind was nothing compared to what was now in front of his eyes: Keely, lying in bed, her hair splayed over the pillows, wearing nothing but an oversized band shirt, the hem scrunched up around her waist, and her hands between her open thighs.
Her soft moans hit his ears and Andrei cannot help but stare as her elegant fingers trace over her folds, glistening in the low lamplight of the bedroom. He watches the way her back arches when she presses the pads of her fingers against her clit, a whine emanating from her throat as she gently rubs the bundle of nerves before her hands slips back down. It is her middle and marriage fingers that plunge into her center, her head lolling to the side as she lets out a satisfied sigh.
Andrei feels like he is in a trance, helpless to do anything but let the scene in front of him unfold. His eyes trail up Keelyâs body to connect to her face, taking in the bliss so clearly displayed. It isnât until that moment do her eyelids flutter open, those electrifying blue irises connecting to his frame still lingering in the doorway. A cheeky smile tugs at her lips, even while her hands never cease their movements.
âAre you going to join me or just stand there with the door wide open?â
Her words snap Andrei out of whatever reverie he was in, his body moving at a speed that even he canât comprehend. The door is kicked shut behind him, the force of it making the wood vibrate on its hinges. Andrei doesnât seem to notice or even care. Of course he didnât care. How could he worry about anything else besides the woman in front of him?
There is no hesitation in his body, no uncertainty any more. His hands move to tear his grey t-shirt away from his body, feeling his confidence only grow at the soft moan that falls from Keelyâs mouth, her eyes unabashedly raking down his muscular frame. The only response he gives is a small grin, before kicking off his shoe and sinking down to his knees, his eyes now directly focused on the soaked space between her thighs.
He drinks in the sight of her fingers still buried in her folds, like something out of one of his wet dreams or a porno made just for him. He watches as she slips the slender digits from her core, her soft skin glistening with her arousal, acting like a silver webbing between her fingers as she runs them across her cunt.
âDo you need more of an invitation?â Her voice echoes through the room, the words twinged with a tease but also with a desperation that makes Andreiâs dick twitch in his jeans. âYou kept me waiting long enough. Gonna make me wait some more?â
She was right, of course. While watching her was surely something he never thought he would experience, it wasnât as if she was on a screen or miles away, untouchable. She was right there, almost begging for him. Who was he to refuse a superstar?
His body lifts, strong hands wrapping around each ankle, guiding her legs over his broad shoulders. Andrei can hear the whine that vibrates from her throat, her hips lifting as if to entice him further. Her knees hook over the muscle of his shoulders and he allows himself the chance to press a kiss onto the supple skin of her inner thighs.
The heat that emanates from her stokes the fire that burns within him and he slowly descends, wanting to savor every second even though he can hear the way Keely whines, clearly impatient. Finally, finally, he lets his lips connect to her drenched center.
There is nothing in the world that could stop the moan that rumbles from his chest as his tongue makes contact with her slick, the sweetness that pours from her core tasting as heavenly as ambrosia. He hears her satisfied sigh from above, feels one of her hands tangle into this hair as a gentle encouragement for more â a silent request he is all too willing to oblige.
His tongue moves, tracing every crevice, lapping every bit of nectar that floods his tastebuds. He wanted to devour her, wanted to be able to taste her even when this weekend was long over. His mouth rises slowly, finding her clit nestled at the apex of her folds and wraps his lips around it, suckling. The way her fingers tighten in his hair, her hips bucking up is all the confirmation he needs that heâs doing something right and he is more than happy to continue.
One of the hands that had been keeping a tight grip on her upper thigh moves to join his mouth, retracing the places that his tongue had previously been. His fingers circle her entrance, collecting the wetness practically pouring from her before one of them plunges into her core.
Their mutual moan fills the room and Andrei still canât believe that this isnât a fantasy. But judging from the way her cunt is clenching around his finger, he knows itâs not. She is warm and wet and real and all those things has Andrei pumping his wrist, coaxing even more of those intoxicating sounds from her mouth.
Heâs slow at first, wanting to give her time and as much pleasure as he could. But when Keely raises her hips to meet his hand, he reads her desperation with ease and slides another finger inside. He works her open, each languid thrust met with more of those desperate noises, each buck of her hips just pulling him deeper. His tongue never ceases its movements against her clit, each suckle and flick releasing more of her sweet arousal which he greedily laps up like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His brown eyes watch her, registering which moves makes her head fall back, exposing the pale column of her throat, and which has her body trembling. He wanted to memorize everything â the way she sounds, the way she feels, the way she tastes.
It was only when he gently curled his fingers does her already strangled moans turn staccato gasps, her pussy fluttering around the thick digits. The smile that twists on Andreiâs lips is devilish as he moves again, his lips wrapping around her clit and suckling in time with the movement within her. It only takes three instances of the dual combination for Keelyâs orgasm to hit, her body trembling with the force of it, her mouth wide in an almost silent moan.
The sensation of it, of her squeezing his fingers, of her release flooding his mouth makes Andrei groan in kind, his tongue busily working to lap up every drop, not wanting any to go to waste. It is only when he is satisfied with his work does he allow his fingers to slip from her core. His eyes dart up to connect with hers, eyelids heavy with lust as she stares down at him.
âWell,â she says, her voice breathless. âYou might not know how to talk to a celebrity but you sure know how to make her come.â
The chuckle that rumbles from his chest at her words melds with her own breathless giggle. Andrei lets a moment pass before he presses his lips against her inner thighs, sliding her legs off from their perch on his shoulders and lifting his body upwards until his frame is hovering over the entirety of her.
âWant to do it again,â he murmurs.
âConfidence,â she replies, echoing her words from earlier, her eyes flashing with the same amount of desire as he was sure was reflected in his own pupils. A sly grin twists on her face. âI like how it looks on you.â
He wants to kiss her. God, does he want to kiss her. That desire had been brewing since he first saw her, but now; with the flush of her cheeks, her hair creating a halo on the pillowcases, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, her eyes looking up at him⌠he needed to kiss her.
But before he could even think of leaning down to press his lips against hers, Keely once again surprises him by hooking a leg over his hip, knocking one of his hands out from under him and using his falling momentum to her advantage, successfully flipping him over so it was his back that was now pressed against the hotel sheets.
A giggle falls from Keely at the bewildered expression on Andreiâs face and he gladly lets his initial shock morph into insane wonder at the woman he met only hours ago. Any words that he thought about uttering, any praise that may have fallen from his lips was silenced as Keely peels the cotton of her oversized shirt away from her body, exposing the entirety of her to him.
She was always beautiful but now, sitting naked above him, she was drop-dead gorgeous. She had a great body, that was obvious, but he was sure she knew what she was doing when she got the bejeweled tattoo that stretched across her abdomen and curved around her chest. The green jewels truly seem to glitter and only highlight her breasts even more, enticing him to reach towards her, his fingers tracing the design before moving over the soft skin of her breasts, teasing over the pebbled nipples. She arches to his touch, her hips moving against him and he canât stifle the moan that falls from him at the friction of her soaked core against his still clothed cock.
âHow many times do I have to tell you to fuck me, Andrei?â she questions from above him, her hips grinding against him again. He wants to give in right then and there, her body feeling so good against his already and he wanted to find out how good she would feel around him. But he also wanted her to voice her own desire for him. Not as a hot random stranger that she chose out of a dozen, but him alone.
âMaybe just one more,â he replies, his hands falling from her chest and tracing down the curves of her body. âBeg for it.â
âOh,â Keely laughs, clearly taken aback by his demand. But that surprised huff turns into a softer more desperate gasp when Andrei grips her hips and deliberately grinds her core against his, the more intense friction against her still sensitive core causing her to shudder. Â
âOh fuck,â she quietly curses, her hands planting onto Andreiâs muscular chest as she attempts to drag herself against him again. But this time, his strong hands hold her in place, denying her. Her blue eyes dart up to him, the pure lust displayed there making his own resolve falter. Until he hears what he had been waiting for fall from her lips.
âPlease.â
That single syllable word is all Andrei needs.
His hands fall from Keelyâs hips, darting between her thighs to hurriedly undo his jeans. Keelyâs soft hands join his, twisting underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers and aiding him in shoving them down his legs, his hard cock bobbing up. Andrei tries not to preen as Keelyâs tongue flicks over her lips at the sight before her gaze flits up to meet his again.
There are no words spoken between them, nothing verbally exchanged. Instead, Keelyâs palms return to Andreiâs chest, steadying herself before lowering her body. Andrei grips himself, squeezing the base gently, willing himself to not finish the very moment she sinks onto him. His free hand returns to her hip, guiding her down, running the head over her folds a couple of times before aligning with her center.
The sensation of her heat wrapping around his length causes Andreiâs head to fall back, a guttural groan leaving his chest as she sinks lower. The feeling must be just as pleasurable to Keely, her own whispered curses hitting his eardrums as she shifts until their hips are flush against each other.
There is a stillness; no movement but the rise and fall of their chests, no sound but their heavy breathing. Andrei wills his eyes open and reconnects his gaze with Keely. The sight of her above him is a vision, her looking more like an angel appearing in a dream than something real. Hell, part of him still wasnât 100% sure he wasnât dreaming.
But when Keelyâs hips move, grinding against him, any doubt is erased from his brain. Even in his darkest deepest fantasies, he could never imagine something this good.
It is a dance, a sensual tango. Her hands are poised on his chest and his hands tight against her hips as she moves her core against him, each press of her along his length as sinful as the last. Andrei wants to keep his eyes open, wants to memorize every miniscule detail: the way her hair falls in her face, the roll of her hips, the shadows that are cast across her skin. But it is hard to do anything but lay back and let her ride him, let her take whatever she wanted from him, anything and everything that he could give.
Keely shifts slightly, a gasp falling from her and Andrei picks up on her reaction, thrusting his hips upward to meet the same spot. Another gasp sounds from her and is about to turn into a moan when Andrei sees her bite her lip, stifling the sound even as she desperately chases the sensation once again. One of Andreiâs hands lifts to cup her jaw. The feeling of his calloused skin against her porcelain cheek causes her eyes to open, gazing down at him.
His thumb stretches across her jawline, the tip of it pressing underneath her lip, gently pulling the flesh from between her teeth.
âWant to hear you,â he groans. âWant to hear the pretty sounds you make.â
She laughs, the sound wavering a little as their hips never stop moving against each other.
âHave to save my voice so you and everyone else can hear how pretty I sing,â she attempts to explain.
âYou have a whole day. Want to hear how pretty you sound just for me.â
âJust for you?â
The question isnât meant to be cruel and yet, Andrei can feel the bite of it. He knows, intrinsically, that he is not the only man that Keely has allowed into her bed and â considering their circumstances â he certainly wouldnât be the last. But he lets that sting fuel him, drive him.
Initially, he wanted to kiss her. Now, he wanted to make sure that she knew no one else could make her feel the way he does.
The hand that was on her cheek descends again, taking time to carefully caress every ridge and dip of her body, paying close attention to the places that make her shudder and her movements on top of him falter. Slowly, almost painstakingly so, his hand returns to her hip, holding her tight and stopping her movements. He gets a small whine from her in response, a whimper that makes his lips curl in a smirk.
âI want to hear how good its feels,â Andrei says, his voice thick and low. âHow good I make you feel.â
Keely is about to laugh again â that breathless teasing giggle that Andrei had come to know â but the sound is cut-off as Andrei thrusts his hips up, his thumb stretching to press against her clit. She moans, unabashedly now, the noises she makes crystal clear and as melodic as any song that he had ever heard. Andrei continues his pace and his movements within and against her, his eyes never leaving her, committing the sight into memory, something to get off to once this weekend was over and she was back to being a celebrity on his phone screen and a voice through his radio speakers.
He watches the way her body trembles, feels her nails dig into the muscle of his chest, and hears those beautiful noises falling from her mouth become shaky. He doesnât stop, not until she is clenching around him, a jumble of curses and moans and â even more exquisitely â the sound of his name falling from her mouth as her orgasm rushes through her. It is maddening, the feeling of her pussy fluttering around him as she comes down.
It takes every modicum of Andreiâs self-control not to come undone as well, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he worries there would be bruises the next day. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply, his own eyes closed with a focus that he had only ever displayed on the ice. It is Keelyâs soft laugh and the feeling of her lips pressing against his jawline that has him returning to the moment. The feeling of her kissing his skin blissfully distracts him from the sensation of her lifting off him, his still rigid cock slapping against his equally hard stomach.
He groans, his own desperation getting the better of him as his hips lift to chase her but she stills his movements with the grip of her soft hand wrapping around him. It isnât nearly as good as her cunt but he is too far gone to complain.
âWant me to take care of this for you, all-star?â she whispers into his ear, delivering a slow languid stroke to emphasize her words. Her movements bring forth a moan from his own mouth, as well as a desperate nod of his head. He didnât care how or what she had planned, he just needed her.
âNow itâs your turn to show me how pretty you sound,â Keely continues, her lips descending to kiss his jawline. And when she starts to slowly pump her hand, Andrei complies.
Even if he wanted to, he could not stop the moans that fell from him, the muttered Russian curses, the way his hips jumped up to meet her hand. She truly had him wrapped around her finger and he didnât care. All he cared about was her: the feeling of her body pressed against his side, the touch of her hand against his cock, the sensation of her lips sucking hickeys onto his throat.
It is a twist of her hand coupled with a nip of her teeth against his skin that finally has his own orgasm hit, his body stilling as his cum paints his abdomen in thick creamy lines. Keely doesnât stop her hand until he is spent, a soft hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.
She releases his cock, her fingers trailing up his body, collecting his release. Andrei opens his eyes just in time to see her seductively run her fingers over her lips before plunging them into her mouth, moaning at the taste of him on her tongue. He feels his dick twitch with renewed interest, now needing to know how those plush lips would look wrapped around him.
Releasing her fingers with a wet pop, Keely smiles at him, either blissfully unaware of the power she held or happy to wield it as casually as possible. Whatever it may be, she curls back into his side, her head coming to nestle on his shoulder as her legs tangle around his. He stays there with her, his own hand running up and down her side gently, content to bask in the golden glow of the moment.
Eventually, the sensation of dried sweat and slick become uncomfortable and Andrei moves, carefully departing from Keely. He didnât want to, of course. If it was up to him, he wouldâve quit his job to fly around on private jets and be backstage at all her shows if it meant spending more nights with her in his arms. But that wasnât what this was. He knew that.
âHeaded out?â Keely asks, her voice drowsy with a combination of sleep and exhaustion.
âNeed to get back to my room. Get some sleep for tomorrow,â he explains.
âProbably for the best,â come her reply, understanding the situation as well as he did. âBut you are welcome to use my shower before you leave.â
In his mind, he knew that he would be able to ride the elevator down to his floor in mild discomfort and clean up in the privacy of his own room. But something made him nod in agreement. Perhaps he wanted to spend more time in Keelyâs presence, maybe the offer allowed him to look more into her world. Whatever the reason, he walks around the bed to the bathroom and switches on the lights.
He is greeted with the exact same layout as his own bathroom but with some slight differences, things that were distinctively Keely.
The makeup bag spilled open on the counter, the red candy bar shaped perfume bottle, the small ceramic dish that held a necklace and a ring with two hands holding a crowned heart, and a candle that was still burning, releasing the smell of eucalyptus and lavender in the air.
Andrei smiles at the small glimpses of her personality before stepping into the shower, letting the water wash off the remnants of their tryst. He debates using the body wash sitting in the green bottle but defaults to the complimentary bar of soap, cleaning himself before turning off the water.
After drying his skin with the plush bath towel and blowing out the candle on the counter, he returns to the bedroom to find Keely curled up under the white covers, her breath slow and steady as she sleeps. Silently, Andrei moves around the room, picking up his clothes and returning them to his frame. He sits down at the desk to tie his shoes and once again debates whether he should scribble his number down on the pad of paper perched next to him.
He wants to be bold and confident, like Keely liked, but without her gentle smile encouraging him, everything felt like he was walking a tightrope and one wrong misstep could ruin it all. So, he plays it safe. The only thing that he allows himself to indulge a kiss pressed against her temple before he slips out of her hotel room.
~*~*~*~*~
When Andrei walks into the locker room on Saturday, a sigh of relief whooshes from him when he sees Keely, decked out in the yellow of her own All-Star jersey, standing next to Nathanâs stall, listening to him and Sidney talk, a smile on her face.
It had been a little over twenty-four hours since he had left her hotel room and this was the first time he saw her again. She wasnât around during the Skills Competition the day prior which Andrei found odd considering that the other celebrity captains were wandering around the ice. He had soothed the panicked part of his brain with the rational of her hanging with her family or rehearsing for her performance, instead of immediately assuming it was because of him. But he wouldnât be certain until he could talk to her again.
He glances in her direction, hoping to catch her eye. Her head eventually turns towards him, their eyes meeting and once again, Andreiâs heart skips a beat when she smiles at him, her eyes bright. It feels like a sign that they would both be able to get through today without it being terribly awkward.
He tries to focus, let his body go through the muscle memory of his pre-game ritual â no different than he does every Carolina Hurricanes game. Occasionally, he still glances in Keelyâs direction, watches her mill around and take a few pictures for media, noticing that he hasnât heard her voice. The answer as to why hits his ear a few moments later â vocal rest for her performance â and a part of him deflates at not being able to hear her cheer or celebrate.
Eventually, everyone makes it to the bench and the first round of the All-Star game starts, Team MacKinnon against Team McDavid. Andrei lets himself be lost in the familiar feeling of the ice gliding beneath his skates, the music of the puck being passed from stick to stick. He only momentarily gets distracted by the smell of a familiar cherry perfume behind him, causing images â images that were entirely inappropriate to be thinking about during a hockey game â to pop into his head. He manages to pull them out of his brain but Team MacKinnon were unable to pull out the win, losing in a shootout to Team McDavid.
He doesnât let the loss shake him too bad, knowing that it doesnât mean anything except the inability to win more money â something that he feels he has too much of already. Instead, he lets himself strip back down to the sweatpants and branded hoodie combo that he arrived in, content to sit and watch for the rest of the day.
After Team Matthews overtakes Team Hughes in another shootout, Andrei finds himself wandering onto the ice, a stage now set up in the center and a smaller one to the left. He finds some of the benches that were previously used for the draft pressed against the penalty boxes and takes a seat, joined shortly by some other players like Marner, Swayman, the Hughes brothers, and Wilson.
The lights dim, the cheer from the crowd going up as the bassline emanates from the speakers and Andrei watches as dancers file out before being followed by Keely herself. Gone is the bright yellow of her All-Star jersey, now replaced with a black bodysuit that shimmers under the spotlight, highlighting every curve.
If the world faded when she stepped out onto the stage, it all but vanished completely when she started singing. Andrei leans in, listening, intent on picking up every detail that he could. And what he hears makes his heart ache.
It isnât the first song that catches his attention (although he would agree that he had never met a girl like her before) but the last three songs that cleared some lingering questions in his mind.
You have more pieces of me than the desert has sand & I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand.
You were my everything and all that you did was make me fucking sad.
Iâll play the villain in your life â whatever helps you sleep at night.
He didnât follow celebrity gossip, didnât make note social media headlines, but here, right now, it felt like Keely herself was telling him everything: a story of heartbreak and betrayal. It felt as if he could see her for exactly who she was; someone who had every pain inflicted upon them and still carried those feelings with them, despite the front she presented to the world.
Andrei feels like he is cheering the loudest of them all when she strikes her final pose, the spotlights shining down. She smiles to the crowd, giving a small bow and a wave to the stadium around her before turning and heading back down the locker room tunnel.
It takes Andrei a few minutes of wandering through the tunnels of Scotiabank before he finds Keely again, this time leaning against the wall in a nice shirt and casual jeans, a glass of white wine perched in one hand and her phone in the other.
âHey,â he says, walking those final few paces towards her. The sound of his voice causes her head to lift, a smile appearing on her lips when her eyes land on him.
âHey, yourself.â
âI, um⌠I wanted to say that you were really good. Performing, I mean.â
âOh. So, I wasnât good Thursday night?â Keely teases, taking another casual sip of her wine, no doubt relishing the sight of Andreiâs cheeks turning pink as those images return easily to his mind.
âNo, you were⌠you were fucking fantastic that night,â he says, watching as Keelyâs own smile grows.
The two of them stand there in silence, the space between them feeling as much of a contradiction as their own connection. What did it mean to know someone in such an intimate way but also be so detached from each other in every other possible aspect? The rockstar and the hockey player: a pairing that no one would have guessed.
Andrei hated it â hated the distance between them that would only widen after this weekend. But he didnât want to lose Keely, even though all logic stated that he should forget about their tryst and not pursue her further. But his desire to have her close overwhelmed his rational mind, which had his next words falling from his lips.
âListen,â he begins, his voice still a tad uncertain. âIâm not sure what your life looks like right now â I know mine is only going to get busier â but I really enjoyed being with you. Not just in bed but in general. And if you want to connect later, Iâll be available.â
Andrei waits, studying her face and every miniscule expression that passes over her. He doesnât pry, doesnât backtrack, doesnât do anything except let the silence linger between them as Keely thinks. He watches as her blue eyes lift to meet his and for the first time since he spoke to her, he can see a vulnerability glimmer in those sapphire pools, the sight of it making his heart ache.
âWould you wait for me, Andrei?â she asks, her voice quiet and he can feel the weight of that question rest on his shoulders. How many badly had people hurt her? How deep was the betrayal that she experienced that made her this uncertain? Whatever the answer was to those questions, he knew the resounding answer to hers.
âI would.â
Keelyâs lips lift in a small smile, clearly able to hear the conviction in his voice.
âConfidence,â she whispers, echoing the words from that first night once again. She takes a sip of her wine and Andrei watches as her demeanor shifts back into the savvy rockstar that he had known. âWell, then⌠I might take you up on that offer.â
He doesnât say anything, just smiles brightly. He is content to give her a nod, turning away from her and ready to walk back down the tunnel. But then a thought nags at the back of his brain, yelling at him in the same tone as an annoyingly familiar voice. Andrei spins and returns to stand in front of Keely, an adorably amused but somewhat confused expression on her face.
âI have one last favor to ask you,â he says, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his phone. âCould you make a video for my teammate Seth? Heâs a huge fan.â
The sound of her laughter echoing down the hallway at his request makes Andrei smile, slightly chuckling with her.
âNot what I thought you would say but of course. Anything for a fan,â she replies, the bright lilt in her voice matching her laughter. âSeth? Thatâs his name?â
Andrei nods and holds his phone up towards her, watching through the screen as she places her wine glass down on the ground and turn towards him. A small nod of her head gives him the go-head to start the recording.
âHi Seth. I heard from someone here at the All-Star game that you were a big fan. Itâs wild to think that my music is listened to by professional hockey players and who knows, maybe I have you to thank for getting me to Toronto. Maybe next All-Star game, Iâll see you here.â
Keely ends the video with a wink and even a cheeky kiss blown in the cameras direction before waving goodbye. Andrei stops the recording, saving it to his photos and he feels Keely slide up next to him. His fingers hit the play button and they both watch the video back. Keely hums softly and he looks down at her, an embarrassed grimace on her face.
âThat last bit might have been too much,â she explains and Andrei drags the play-bar back, watching the video of Keelyâs wink and kiss. And looking at it again, he can see that her eyes are not trained at the camera lens but at the cameraman â him. It makes his heartbeat increase at the sight of her so boldly flirting with him but he also understands her hesitation. Seth would surely notice and ask questions and Andrei did not want⌠whatever was happening between them, to leak before they even had a chance to discover what it all meant.
âDo you think you could edit it out?â
âSure,â he replies. Â
Andrei is quick to nod his head, even faster to open the editor and cut that small section out of the video. He pauses over the save button, the app asking if he wants to save the new video separately or replace the old one with it. His eyes flick back to Keely, her own blue irises sparkling up at him, seeing his hesitation.
âMind if I keep that last bit for myself?â he questions. The proposal brings another smile onto Keelyâs face and he can almost see the quiet laughter in her eyes.
âNot at all. It was meant for you anyway.â
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#nicole writes#so tragic and rare#andrei svechnikov fic#andrei svechnikov imagine#andrei svechnikov x oc#carolina hurricanes fic#carolina hurricanes imagine#nhl fic#nhl imagine#hockey fic#hockey imagine
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Reader fails at flirting - Mihawk, & Crocodile
Content: SFW content, clumsiness, ranting, & bad pick up lines
Notes* Thank you for your patience while I struggled through my writerâs block! This was a request from a looong time ago but I no longer have that ask to reply to it seems. I believe Smoker was also supposed to be here, but Iâm just going to upload this and take it easy while I get back into the writing spirit :)Â
Mihawk
Not the type for talking, attempts at flirting with Mihawk usually end up with long, awkward silences that you feel the need to fill, which makes you sound even more awkward as you bounce from topic to topic
He was always the first to show up at the Warlord meetings, and since you worked in the building, it gave you an opportunity to chat him up as you pour the champagne for each guest
He only barely glances at you every now and then as you try to get his attention, ranting on about whatever comes to mind in the moment and asking him questions that he doesnât respond to
You always end up feeling defeated at the end of the day. Always left with the heavy feeling that he just doesnât like you, no matter what you say
Eventually you decide that you canât keep pestering him. Next time thereâs a meeting, you decide not to shoot into chatter with him when he arrives
You keep your head down, silence in the room. You can feel his eyes on your back as you walk around, watering the plants and doing whatever you can do to stay in his presence without having to talk to him
And then,
âIs something wrong?â
Youâre embarrassed by how fast you look back at him. Itâs the first time heâs addressed you. You, stuttering like mad, tell him that nothing is wrong
âYou didnât greet me today.â
He sounds⌠Disappointed. You ask him why he never responded, adding that you thought you had been annoying him, and that you werenât even sure he knew who you were
Then he says your name- your full one. He starts to repeat information youâve told him about yourself, a mix of information that you had thrown at him over all the different times youâve met him. It touches your heart that he remembers it all
âI know who you are very well, actually. If you gave me a moment to think of my answers, I would have been able to share. You speak too quickly.â
He explains it so bluntly, but now that you think about it- you didnât really give him much time to think before you moved on to the next subject. So the awkward silences were just Mihawk trying to put his words together
He urges you to take a seat beside him, that way he can finally give you the responses you were looking for
âYou should try to let the other person respond if youâre going to flirt with them.âÂ
He says it almost scoldingly, but heâs smirking at you
Crocodile
As a citizen of Alabasta, Crocodile was someone that many people looked up to. But only you were in semi-regular contact with him
Every now and then, he would come dine at your workplace and every single time, you were his server. Your co-workers were always too intimidated to potentially get something wrong- the man was intimidating, after all -so that meant that anytime he was in, you were the one to face him
He always ordered the same thing when he came, which made it easier after a while. Youâd already be walking up to his table with the wine he liked while his food was in the oven before heâd even made his order
The problem was that your ridiculous crush on him made you clumsy as hell
The first few times you were safe- the tripping over your feet and dropping plates had only happened out of his view, where it was your co-workers that would laugh or chastise you for not being careful enough
But then it had caught up to you in the worst way
You were taking the wine to his table and, as always, you engaged him in some casual conversation. Something about the weather or asking how his casino was doing
He would always answer shortly. Something of a grunt that either sounded positive or negative, or a short answer of âgoodâ or âehâ
You were too busy staring at him and waiting for an answer to notice that you were completely missing the glass as you poured his wine
And in turn, he was too surprised at your new, sudden carelessness to answer
Eventually youâd noticed as the wine started to spill onto the floor. Crocodile got up from his chair as you scrambled to get the spill contained to just the tablecloth, but also trying to be careful of all the glass on the table
The white tablecloth would be stained for sure
Crocodile just watched the whole time, holding his cigar between his fingers
The next few times went similarly. Youâd bring the wine, serve his food, and give the bill- and every time, you would do something wrong.Â
Forgetting his silverware, serving him the wrong plate, etc.
At least he always tipped you nicely. That never changed
Youâd been so determined to make sure everything went right that the next time he walked in, you tried to be extra careful. You brought him his wine and paused, noticing his hand covering his glass.
âJust water today.â
Three simple words that threw you off. Why? What was wrong with the wine? Was it you?
Your on your way back from getting his ice water when a co-worker steps back, bumping into you from behind and sending you off balance, tipping the serving tray and sending Crocodileâs ice-cold water all over him
Your co-worker all but bails out of the dining hall, leaving you slack jawed, staring at Crocodileâs ruined suit. You canât even muster up the bravery to apologize to the man as the ice cubes slip off of him and onto the floor
Then he laughs. Itâs a loud, booming laugh that seems even louder while the room is dead silent. Youâre sure youâre going to die there either from embarrassment or his wrath
âIâve never seen someone trip over themselves so much just to get my attention. Itâs flattering.â He says, smirking down at you while youâre still frozen in place. Then he asks you what time your shift is over, and you answer that youâre done in an hour
He tells you to make sure youâre here in 3 hours, that way he can dry off and have a proper conversation with you
Youâre left there, confused, wondering if itâs going to be a date or a murder when he returns
#one piece#harleywritesop#hwop#sir crocodile#crocodile x reader#op crocodile#crocodile one piece#op mihawk#mihawk x reader#mihawk one piece#hawkeye mihawk#dracule mihawk
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hey sweethartfemme/puppycatfemme/femmesunbream/ earthfairyfemme whatever the fuck is back and going by bloodlustgf now jsyk đđ ik u have that thread u update
lol yeah ive gotten enough of these now to confirm it! if anybody who had this gross loser danger to our community blocked before (full thread here, used to go by sweethartfemme/earthfairyfemme/lesbunnyfemmebatdollyfemme/saturnfemme/dollheartedfemme/sunkissfemme/stemmefawn/femmesunbeam the list goes on đ) for their absolutely vile actions before including but not limiting to racefaking, catfishing the butch they were dating for 2 months, catfishing using MULTIPLE girls photos who they did not have permission for, catfishing using a girls photos after she'd asked them to stop multiple times only to have her and all her friends blocked, catfishing using photos of that girl as a 14 YEAR OLD MINOR on her NSFW ACCOUNT next to posts talking about in depth r*pe fantasies and other kinks (again after this girl had already begged her to stop using her photos), sexualized this girls photos and talked about nsfw situations with them, said that their ex butch @ursaius deserved to be catfished and lied to bc hes white, impersonating @toothfairyfemme (pretending/telling people they were them, claiming to have the same first and last legal name, stealing photos, pretending to be mexican/filipino), pretending to be an adoptee from mexico, and gaslighting n harassing n sending sooo much hate to toothfairyfemme for speaking up about it. this person is dangerous and harmful to the butchfemme community and has shown no signs of maturing since they keep trying to hide this shit and act like it never happened âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸
"a femme who's done nothing but apologize to the internet again and again over shit that was never that fucking serious to begin with"... right. bc were supposed to believe youve learned so much from ur actions and grown and changed when ur saying THAT. đ how tf are we supposed to take you seriously or believe you're changing when youve barely apologized to anybody and keep changing your names/spellings/blogs every other week to avoid accountability!!! any time this subject comes up u stil act like u are in the right here and everyone else has been harassing u for things so minor and small and u dont deserve any of this. to this day you are STILL telling ppl that all u did was "copy someones bio" when asked what u did wrong. like dont be shy tell ppl what really happened bc ACTUALLY PEOPLE ARE MAD AT U FOR POSTING PHOTOS OF A 14 YEAR OLD TO UR NSFW ACCOUNT AFTER SHE ASKED U NOT TO..... PPL ARE ALLOWED TO BE UPSET ABOUT THAT STILL like log the fuck off its over!!! 3 months going by while u double down on ur actions not being that big of a deal does not suddenly make everything fine and what u did ok đđđ
ive said it before but ill say it again "making your whole personality about loving and PROTECTING butches after you catfished a butch you were dating with a strangers photos you were asked to stop using several times is fucking INSANE btw. not to mention a lot of those photos being of a literal 14 year old and being posted to your NSFW ACCOUNT. and catfishing several other minors as an adult for like 3 years. insane."
also so sick and twisted how theyre like "oh it was only two months of catfishing" as if ANY catfishing is okay and as if ursa hasnt said before PUBLICLY how that was one of their biggest fears and said he mentioned it to you multiple times. you took advantage of that poor butch!! receiving fallout for your nasty actions for longer than your relationship lasted means nothing when those actions were so beyond vile! not to mention everybody else you hurt and catfished for YEARS pretending to be other people... like we have LOST THE PLOT!!!
anyway if u had this person blocked before under their old usernames be sure to block again bc this is a NEW account! would recomend blocking because they change their username all the time. they are a master manipulator and are rlly good at hiding the truth and rewording what they did to make it seem like not that big of a deal. i think everybody who wants to avoid interacting with this person has a right to know that this new account is them. plz rb this if u can to help spread the word we cannot keep letting them get away w this đđđ
#blocklist#please rb this to help spread the word#tagging w community tags to help spread this#lesbian#lesbian community#butch#butch appreciation#butch bait#butch lesbian#stone butch#butch dyke#lesbianism#femmebutch#femme lesbian#femme4butch#femme4masc#femme bait#high femme#butch femme#masc lesbian#masc4femme#dyke#nonbinary lesbian#sapphic#wlw#butchfemme#butch4femme#butch4butch
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in a small room in the earth king's palace, someone groans and sits up. he presses a hand against his head. it feels... groggy for some reason. he can't quite remember where he is, and how he got here. he must not be fully awake yet. he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and slowly, he recalls himself.
...oh. right.
his name is lee. he's... earth kingdom, born and raised in ba sing se. his mother died in a house fire when he was thirteen. his father works as an assistant to a minor minister in the earth king's palace. he lives in the middle ring of ba sing se with him. he works as a tea server. he still doesn't quite remember...
...oh wait. yes he does.
he'd... he'd been in the earth palace with his father for some reason, though he couldn't... wait. he remembered now. he'd been given the chance to serve the minister he worked for tea. it was a rare opportunity...
...oh. he'd fainted.
lee groans and covers his face. at least that explains the headache. he must have hit his head on the way down.
there's a knock on the door, and moments later, his father enters. for a moment lee just stares at him, before he exhales in relief. his father smiles at him and tells him he's glad to see him awake. he already had the healers look you over. it was just a case of exhaustion. you didn't sleep at all the night before.
...yeah, he remembers that now. he'd been too excited. too nervous.
after all, the earth palace belonged to princess azula now. the fire nation had taken over in a coup, deposing the earth king. it's scary to think about, but it has very little to actually do with lee. he's just a commoner from the middle ring.
he apologizes to his father for making him worry. his father just laughs and squeezes his shoulder. he tells him to go wash up- and that if he's feeling up to it, there's someone else who has requested his services while he's here. it turns out the minister was so impressed with his service, that he'd praised him within earshot of ba sing se's new ruler.
...he's going to serve the princess of the fire nation tea.
it's an odd feeling. his heart clenches with anxiety. with fear. with... anger? he tries to shake it off. he also feels extremely honored. enemy nation or not, princess azula is still royalty. this is the chance of a lifetime. now that he started thinking that way, a bud of excitement slowly formed in his chest.
he let his father guide him to a small washroom, where he splashed water on his face. he paused, looking at his reflection in the mirror and tilting his head. strange. it... almost felt like this was the first time he'd ever seen his face. he huffed. there was no way that was true, of course. he'd only lost vision in the one eye after the fire, not both.
he brushed his hair, trying to get as much of it to cover his burn as he could. it was getting longer, but it wasn't quite long enough yet. he smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothing, taking in and letting out a deep breath. he steps back, and takes in his appearance in the mirror once more. he's wearing his finest robes, of a deep forest green. he hopes it will be passable enough for the princess. they're made of a heavy material, but...
...he feels... light, he suddenly realizes.
his father smiles at him when he exits. you look like you're in a good mood, son. lee nods. he... is, actually. he doesn't know how to describe it. it's almost like... like some burden has been lifted off of him. he feels... free, almost. which is a strange thing to think, he admits, when they're now under fire nation subjugation.
"hm," his father strokes his beard thoughtfully, "-i suppose you are happy, then."
lee blinks. happy?
...he is, he realizes. he's... happy. why wouldn't he be? he's been invited to personally serve tea to royalty. it's something he never even would have dared to let himself dream of. his father gives his shoulder another fond squeeze, before leading him to where the princess is waiting for him.
his sister the princess is sitting in one of the palace gardens, with two other fire nation girls. he does not recognize them, but for some reason he feels his fingers twitch. they are staring at him. the princess looks up at him with a smile, and his left eye twitches. he and his father bow to the princess and her companions.
"i've been told on good authority," princess azula says, "-that you're quite a skilled tea server. i simply had to see for myself."
"you honor me, your highness," lee says, "-i swear i will not disappoint."
"no," she smiles, "-i don't believe you will... lee, was it?"
"yes, princess," he says, "-my name is lee."
(a strange feeling washes over him as he says that. yes, he thinks. he's lee. he has always been lee.)
#lee from the tea shop#going back to beginning for a hot minute. tweaking some early concept ideas.#goodnight zuko. see you again in two years i guess buddy#it's okay! you're going to have a great time as lee!#sorry about the brainwashing tho
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What Best Friends Are For
Request: Yes / No
Donât be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night
Spencer Reid x Fem!ReaderÂ
Word count: 1332
Warnings: Mentions of someone dead and being caught up in shady shit
Y/N: Your NameÂ
Prompt(s): I did this based on this post!
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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
I stood in front of Spencerâs door, my heart pounding harder than it ever had. I could feel the cold creeping through my bones, but nothing compared to the chill of fear gripping me inside. I wasnât sure heâd even recognize me after all this time, sure we talked all the time, but itâs still been so long since weâve seen each other. But I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe, nowhere I trusted. Just Spencer.Â
When the door opened and I saw him standing there, I couldnât help but see a rush of relief wash over me. His face softened and his familiar, warm eyes widened as he looked me over. I saw concern flicker there almost immediately, but he just stepped aside and invited me in.Â
The warmth of his apartment was a stark contrast to the icy night outside, but it couldnât chase away the dread that had settled deep in my chest. I felt his presence at my side as he followed me to the couch. It took everything in me to not break down right then and there. Instead, I forced a small smile and sat, clasping my hand tightly in my lap.Â
âDo you remember when we were little, and I asked you if weâd always be friends?â I asked, looking up at him. Spencer smiled that gentle smile that I remembered so well. My heart ached as I waited for his response.Â
âI said you could murder someone, and Iâd still be your friend.â The warmth of the memory was fleeting.Â
âHow well has that aged?â I asked, trying to hide the shake in my voice, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a broken whisper. His smile disappeared and his eyes filled with concern as he searched my face.Â
âWhat happened?â I looked down at my hands, trying to gather the corsage to say it. It was the whole reason I came here, wasnât it? To tell him. To ask for help. I just didnât know if heâd still look at me the same way again.Â
âI⌠I didnât know where else to go.â I managed, barely about to keep my voice steady.Â
âSomething happened, Spence, something bad. And Iâm⌠Iâm scared.â His hand covered mine, his touch grounding me like it always had.Â
âYou can tell me anything, Y/N.â He said and I felt his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. I forced myself to look up at him and I could feel my throat tightening with the words I was about to say.Â
âItâs just⌠things got complicated. I made some bad choices, got mixed up with the wrong peopleâŚâ I felt a tear slip down my cheek and I looked away, ashamed.Â
âAnd now⌠now someoneâs dead because of me.âÂ
The silence that followed felt like a thousand pounds on my shoulders. I couldnât bring myself to look at him. I couldnât bear to see disappointment or horror in his beautiful eyes. But instead, I felt his hand squeeze mine, pulling me out of my thoughts.Â
âTell me everything, Y/N.â He whispered, his voice softer than Iâd ever heard it.Â
âWeâll figure this out, together.â I felt another tear escape and this time, I didnât hold back. I turned my hand under his, squeezing it. The tears came harder, all the fear and guilt Iâd been holding back finally surfacing. But Spencer didnât let go. He just kept his hand in mine. I took a shaky breath, trying to piece together where to even start.Â
âIt was supposed to be simpleâŚâ My voice was barely above a whisper.Â
âA couple of new friends and I got caught up in this scheme, Spence. At first, it seemed harmless, a quick way to make some money. But things spiraled so fastâŚâ I looked down ashamed.Â
âI didnât know what they were really planning and by the time I realized⌠someone was already dead.â Spencerâs grip on my hand tightened. His gaze was fixed on me, his face still calm, but I could see the concern in his eyes deepening.Â
âWho are these people? Are you in danger?â I nodded, feeling my stomach twist.Â
âThey know I want out now. I think they suspected I might talk, and I was scared to go to the police. I thought⌠maybe I could just come here. Youâre the only person I trust.âÂ
He took a deep breath and I could see him processing everything, analyzing every word I said. Spencer was a genius, that I knew. Heâs probably already pieced together more than I could even say. Yet, he didnât rush me. He let me speak at my own pace, his steady gaze holding me in place.Â
âYou were right to come here.â He said softly.Â
âWeâll handle this. We can go to the police together and Iâll make sure they know youâre not involved the way theyâll think you are. Youâre safe here, okay?â The certainty in his words made my heart ache differently. All Iâd done was run to him, and yet, he was willing to risk everything just to help me.Â
âThank you, Spence. I-I donât deserve this kindness.âÂ
âYou donât have to thank me, Y/N.â His tone was gentle, but firm.Â
âIâd do anything for you, I always have.â He brushed a strand of hair from my face. I noticed just how close heâd gotten. The world outside, the danger, faded away. It was just us, like when were were kids, the two of us finding safety and understanding in each other. I loved him then, in a way I didnât fully understand, but now there was no denying what it was.Â
âSpencerâŚâ I started, not knowing where to go with the words, but he seemed to understand, like always. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper.Â
âWe can figure the rest out tomorrow, but tonight, just know Iâm here and Iâm not going anywhere.â I closed the space between us, pressing my forehead against his, feeling his warm breath fan my face.Â
âI love youâŚâ I whispered, and before he could say anything, I pressed my lips against his. He didnât hesitate to kiss me back.Â
âI love you too, Y/NâŚâ He said when we pulled away.Â
âBut, if you needed money, why didnât you come to me?â He asked, his voice gentle but I could hear a bit of hurt. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. Shame and guilt clawed at me, knowing Iâd chosen the riskier, more dangerous path instead of just talking to him.Â
âSpencerâŚâ I whispered, looking down. My fingers were fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve.Â
âIâŚI didnât want you to think less of me. I didnât want you to see me like this⌠Desperate, needing help. I was afraid youâd think I was weak.â He shook his head, squeezing my hand gently.Â
âThatâs not true and you know it.â He said, a hint of frustration in his voice.Â
âI would never have thought less of you. I would have done anything to help you, make sure you didnât have to go through this.â His voice softened.Â
âYouâre my best friend, Y/N. Thatâs what Iâm here for, to help you.â I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and he brushed it away.Â
âI thought I could fix it myself. I didnât want to be a burden.â I admitted, my voice trembling again.Â
âYou could never be a burden to me.â He said softly. A shaky breath escaped me, and I felt his arm slide around my shoulders, pulling me into a gentle embrace. I melted into his warmth, letting him calm me down.Â
âIâm sorry, Spence⌠Iâm so sorry.â I muttered against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my cheek. He held me tighter, his hand brushing through my hair.Â
âThereâs nothing to apologize for. Youâre here now and thatâs all that matters. Weâll get through this together.â He whispered.
Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101Â Â @reidssmile @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @mggstyles @satans-0-spawn @emofairygay @thesoftestwarlock @liz-owlÂ
#fanfic#prompt#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds spencer reid#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer x reader#spencer x fem!reader
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Great additions, thank you. That is the core of my issues with the route probably, the predetermination... And instead of subverting or playing with it the game just goes 'yep so anything you do is in line with what you must do, you will succeed in fulfilling your destiny either way, good job man' like alright. Does he really care about anything except for his mission? Unclear.
What DO you hold dear my dude... The only thing I disagree with is that the Haruspex feels obliged to hold an inferior position in comparison to the Bachelor - I don't think he does? They definitely have a transactional relationship and the Haruspex keeps responding to the Bachelor's letters by turning up - but only while they have a common goal in creating the panacea (this is why I especially liked an early side quest where Grief is menacing Notkin's bunch and asks Artemy to bring him the Bachelor... and the latter acquiesces for the sake of the children, not to gain something from it... just felt nice, wish we had more of that). Then Daniil has to be like 'maybe the tower is your udurgh!' to keep Artemy coming back to help him out in a mutual exchange bc by then Artemy started going to Aglaya and Oyun instead... Yeah still looking for other people to tell him what to do, but in a vaguely exploitative way. It's difficult to tell who was the first one between them to assume that each favor needed to be beneficial to them both or returned in another way but I suppose it fits the nature of the Town, always trading things back and forth. ...I did love that the Bachelor gets really mad if you don't tell him about your Abattoir adventures at one point pff.
'Whatever,' As for the address, Daniil is a doctor and a bachelor, so that's what Artemy keeps calling him, only alternating the language he's doing it in. Some manner of oynon, oynon Dankovsky, the Bachelor. There are npcs who address Artemy himself as 'oynon' so it applies to them both (although I could swear there was a dialogue where he was explaining that he doesn't count as one before taking on his father's inheritance fully and yet I couldn't find it so hm maybe mixed it up with smth else.. either way he def became one after inheriting yep). Also, there was this line of dialogue towards officer Longin (in Russian it's about the tu-vous difference but either way it reads as a refusal to submit to non-Kin social structure, same way he bristles against Olgimskys' attempts to bring him to heel).
So I feel like not switching to first-name basis is more about his colder personality? It's not that he distrusts Daniil, one of the first things he says about him is that he could immediately tell that the Bachelor is an extremely honest kind of person, but hmm... His friendship with Rubin seems much better off even despite their initial misunderstanding and he switches to calling the Inquisitor by her first name almost immediately, so my interpretation is just that he always operated under the assumption that Daniil's goals would diverge from his own sooner or later (again that predetermination streak), and that was already enough for him to stay on guard despite the supposed 'friendship'. A lot of his later game dialogue options after knowing where the Bachelor stands are straight up mean, not very friendly or submissive if you ask me.
He talks with the same derisive forwardness in the Bachelor's route when it comes to Aglaya, somehow he just doesn't seem to relate to him at all (even though I think he should have, what with Oyun jerking him around in similar enough ways). So if anything it is the Bachelor in Haruspex route who is doing his best to ingratiate himself at least a little, just like Capella said... @the-invisible-foe but mentioning the Bachelor in unrelated journal notes is interesting, I didn't even pay attention to that but yeah, that's something at least!
how to get into your man's head by sending him letters daily 101 ...eh honestly there are also so many moments when one of them starts getting upset about being perceived as dumb by the other too now that I think about it... it def feels like a case of fragile male ego for the haruspex for sure at least, just kinda a need to prove himself to this educated capital man while also establishing that his way is fundamentally 'better'... trying to impress each other and then getting mad about it, idk yeah there's something there maybe, and p2 also explored that sort of thing...
Okay finished the Haruspex route of Pathologic Classic! I need to play Clara's route to see the whole picture but I'm already fascinated by the differences between P1 and P2 in terms of characterization. I think I like Pathologic 2 even more now considering how they improved on Artemy's route, I am sorry to say I didn't like it at all in classic... This is all just my personal impression after first playthrough ofc. Ramblings about both Artemy and Daniil â I think what bothered me about Haruspex was mostly just his attitude and his messiah plot. Once the first day is out of the way it's all smooth sailing for him, a bit too much so?? The only personal conflict he has is figuring out his father's exact wishes for him and choosing a sacrifice. Killing anyone is treated as fair or something that needed to happen and the Haruspex is always shrugging it off... And either option, Aglaya & the Town or Polyhedron... It just doesn't seem like he is that attached to either? So it doesn't feel like he is sacrificing much personally? Like sure he wants to save the Town because of his messianic qualities, but that's again more about fulfilling his 'role' rather than genuinely wanting to save lives, or at least it read that way to me. I'm sure it's meant to be both and P2 makes this far more apparent, but in P1 it elicited a rather squinty reaction from me. Plus well yeah, getting rid of Polyhedron is pretty much just ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ, like yep he sure didn't care about that thing lmao so getting rid of it isn't such a difficult choice at all. The suggestion that the Polyhedron could be his Udurgh is kind of useless because the Town and Earth are far better candidates and fit with Kin beliefs better, which in this game Artemy pretty much doesn't doubt at all. Maybe this is why the Bachelor is so present in his route? Daniil did say he'd commit suicide if he lost, maybe we'd want to think twice about pushing him towards it... But again! Does it seem like this guy cares ahhh haha... The dialogue option that is actually engaging with what Daniil said is pretty much there to make it clear to the player what the Utopian ending is and what it would be like.
Ngl at first I thought he was meant to be the 'sacrifice' until they said it's a woman. Every time Artemy learned something about the Bachelor's motivations he'd write down in his diary like '...if it matters' since the player can always choose what ending to go with I guess. I also find it curious that he can say that they are friends but still always writing only 'the Bachelor' in his diaries while Daniil switched to 'Artemy' and 'Burakh' during the final stretch. The one-sided yaoi................ đ¤ At least Artemy doesn't get mad at him for ordering to set the mythic bull on fire, I guess their friendship did mean something to him after all at that point. Also when Capella tells him that he should ask the Bachelor for help with getting into the Polyhedron since the Bachelor 'fawns upon you a lot anyway' the Haruspex just goes 'oh yeah! ok' fjdghdjg... Now that I think about it I DID like the Haruspex route for what it did with the Bachelor hahah, his dialogues and letters are just so good sometimes. Like wow, I felt this.
Very cool, if i was Artemy I'd totally abandon my weird murderous calling for this. Tangentially related... P2 had one moment that I remember from my last replay when Rubin, if kept alive, falls into a deep deserved sleep in his home, and Artemy just starts emotionally monologuing at him.
Like, P1 Artemy would never, but also it goes to show that he's still very much a repressed man here too, buying into toxic masculinity ideals who can't just talk to his friends about his feelings directly... The same character, but more complex. I want to make it clear that I DO like him and his motivations in P2 actually, and his personal conflict being more about the future of the Kin makes that game much more powerful to me than what his classic route was. I heard that initially he was planned to be far more violent and dark, so maybe he could have been sort of a villain protagonist and this was changed later and this is why it feels a bit bland? Hmm... Idk this is fun to me because meanwhile the Bachelor didn't feel that different to me in both games lmao. A highly stressed educated guy who is just trying to prevent the spread of epidemic the 'right' way and then clinging to the only chance he has left to preserve both his ideals and his life. He is a bit less polite in P2 at first (while still very much helping by warding off Rubin) but then rather quickly becomes more cordial to Artemy and vice versa (and wow it sure is nice when Artemy can actually be polite and friendly..). And the moment when he explains some of his personal deal to Artemy feels rather similar in both iterations mood-wise.
I liked his route in P1 a lot, surprisingly so, and I now understand why so many people liked him before P2 came out and afterwards too... There's just something very real about how he is the intelligent Capital doctor but with an extraordinary dream to combat death itself, possibly given to him by the Powers That Be due to these children trying to cope with people dying around them. And instead of favoring him for it they hate him! They leave him with nothing but this final chance to fix things, even if that means destroying everything and rebuilding anew. Daniil's desperation feels very real and thus more compelling, plus like... I mean it's pretty much confirmed that it's not just the Polyhedron and that the soil itself is 'rotten' (literally in the meta real world and through blood beneath the earth in the Town itself) and the decease could return again, sooo his ending doesn't look that bad comparatively. I also appreciated how Maria (or uhh was it Nina talking through her here as well?) explained how their Utopia doesn't actually mean a 'perfect' place, more so just an impossible dream.
The Bachelor doesn't mind this at all, a detail I loved.
...Hmm that said maybe P1 makes it a little too easy for him to kinda ignore the Kin issue, he is only mad about their circumstances when it comes to Vlad choosing to doom thousands of the Kin workers inside the Termitary (which is just his doctor ethics). I mean it is realistic for him to ignore the implications of representing the imperialist side, he does mention his father was a military man too at some point I think... Still, he is very quick to accept the Kin's unique beliefs as something that has obvious merit, trusting the Haruspex with that side of things in both of their routes, and he doesn't make much of a distinction between them and regular Town people when it comes to patient treatment. If anything it's probably a sign of how the writers weren't thinking that hard about this worldbuilding aspect at the time... even if I appreciated them showing the downsides of the Kin's society, I think those were done better than in P2 purely because it was a bit more realistic (I am talking about sexism mostly, such as selling their own daughters and not respecting their autonomy, plus the mention of Kin politics and different ruling clans rather than the hive mind situation implied in P2). Like, it is more obvious in P1 that wholeheartedly embracing the Kin's return to tradition isn't such a good solution for them either, but one that will likely happen anyway with Artemy and Taya as their new leaders. And it could get trickier in Pathologic 3 I think, especially since most of us really appreciated the portrayal of colonization in P2 and would expect it getting addressed again in future games of other character routes, but we'll see I guess! Either way I look forward to that game a lot now.
#pathologic#artemy burakh#daniil dankovsky#sorry for such a long addition these characters just make me think a lot of thoughts i guess#especially since p2 was my first game so it is fascinating to see the roots and how the narrative developed over the years#almost the same team and the same creative lead in charge but at least in p2 his power fantasy guy is like#written more as an actual fictional character#which i appreciate...#altho the projection is still there ofc#text#long post
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Maybe draw Ganondorf from your au?
i was sincerely hoping someone would bring up sof so i could show off all the designing ive been doing in my free time LMAO here's ganon as of rn :)
#design subject to change but not for much longer because im almost at the point where i have to make him appear in the comic lol#asks#loz: sword of fate#also he's just ganon in sof not ganondorf! dorf as a suffix is. well it's used for villages in german according to my very brief research#but yknow japanese writers i will cut them some slack. anyway since he's the first ganon i thought removing the suffix would be appropriate#like it was added onto the name in later generations or something. you get what im saying. this makes sense#anyway design things i want to point out. the mask gets flipped after link cuts it open during a miniboss fight which serves as the first#reveal that ganon is like. his age. a kid. + by the time link sees him next he's put it back together upside down.#the flipped shiekah eye is a symbol in itself obv but the 3 dots r also supposed to sort of evoke the triforce when it gets flipped#hence why the one on top (power) is white while the others are fully filled in!#and the horns when flipped are supposed to resemble boar tusks a bit irt later incarnations lol#color symbolism in his design also--as the story goes on he becomes more generally desaturated and the hair turns bright red which becomes#his dominating color. one of the first things to go as he begins to spiral are the blue elements of his outfit bc he's losing wisdom!#anyway. i put too much thought into this LMAO <3#skribbles
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I am once again begging online shop payment processing companies to allow me to enter a separate name for shipping and separate name for billing!!
It's the same address, I'm just trans and have not legally changed my personal name, but I still prefer to receive mail as my preferred name! Like it's literally my professional name, I do business as my preferred name.
Annoying as fuck, and I don't want to chance my bank rejecting the payment (though I'm sure someone at my bank has put a note to allow it on my account by now, since I've contacted them a couple times before when I realized too late that the billing section didn't let me input another "address/name" section, and they said the payment was fine in those cases.)
Anyway, legal name changes should be free and non-advertised for everyone. Tbh, you should get a free name change every time you file your taxes on time as an incentive for good citizen behaviour. Once I am elected pres-
#i think the one i just used didnt even have a separate billing address option which makes no sense#guess they dont want anyone giving any gifts making the buyer pay twice for shipping like that#maybe it was a fault of the mobile browser but i highly doubt it since many desktop sites look like mobile browsers these days#just so fucking frustrating. what if i lived somewhere where my legal name would out me? (im in the closet rn so doesnt matter)#i dont want to fucking see my legal name. im already forced to see it everywhere else.#i dont wanna ruin my mood on a day when im supposed to be getting a package which should be a happy thing yknow#vent#transphobia#speaking of like i would change my name but i dont want to and cant afford the fucking ridiculous price for it#and i dont wanna advertise it in a newspaper either! shits expensive as fuck on top of the hundreds to file the court paperwork!#i already tried to do it once with money in hand and the receptionist told me that even tho it was for gender identity i could not...#...avoid the newspaper thing unless i also changed my legal gender marker. and i had to back out bc i have reproductive health problems#i dont want a gender marker change to fuck with my getting healthcare#(i did change the gender letter on my ID card later tho which only took a signature on a paper no hassle with anything)#it really really fucking sucks how all these little things add up all the time#especially when im closeted while living w family who wont even use my preferred name#the real kicker is that. both my dad and his dad used preferred names. my dad used his middle name#and i use part of my middle name. yet my dad even in death still gets the dignity of being called his preferred name and i dont#sexism at its finest#reasons why i dont even hint at being trans around my moms side bc i already got bullied by them for wanting to use my middle name#ive literally been asking them to call me my mid name since i was 12. and theyve been acting like im trying to be someone else#its the same middle name on my birth certificate they gave me. i dont understand why they wouldnt want me to use it#but yeah i stay closeted bc i dont wanna deal with the name drama amplified exponentially for gender#prob get kicked out too cuz theyre queerphobic as fuck and i cant work rn and dont have a car#id have to just go full feral and live in the woods with the lizards where i belong#Cori.exe#Post.exe#fuck lol just looked it up and u cant change ur first name if u get married. i cant avoid the fucking fee man. let me be cori#literally why is it cheaper to get married than change ur first name! bullshit! marriage has so much more legal implications#transphobic queerphobic aromanticphobic privacyphobic poorphobic shit ass fucking state ive literally been cori most of my life ffs cmon
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entering to panthers pulse does go pretty hard luosty yeah
Luosty Cup Day | 8.5.24 (x)
#eetu luostarinen#florida panthers#so at least i dont have to tag this we are the champions#silver linings in everything i suppose#you know what should be studied? cats fans relationship to panthers pulse#hey remember in the offseason when they revealed we no longer we're gonna have solo goal songs we were mourning#and then they revealed it was this fucking song and there was so much outcry#even i remember the way my face cringed hearing it for the first time#attending 2 games multiple watch parties and a stanley cup win later i think i would die without her#you can't take panthers pulse away from me i love her shes dear to me I WOULD DIE WITHOUT HER#my opinion on the song has changed a lot the more positive memories are associated with jt#but really i credit that drunk guy next to me in the nosebleeds that took a swan dive in the row ahead of us#during a lundy goal at the famed yotes game where i was busy singing along to the song like a maniac because it was the 5th goal we scored#while my mother very worridely tapped my shoulder to go check on the guy (it was her first hockey game) and i went oh a guy fell? really?#when? and she was like JUST NOW DID YOU NOT SEE HIM??? and i went oh why would i pay attention to the guy next to me WE'RE 5-0???#(dw he was fine he just tipped over and was immediately back up and started hollering for the goal like we all were except my mother XD)#(one of the good things to come of this is my abuela agreed with me she went we're here to watch hockey so we're going to watch hockey)#(my poor mother outnumbered by sports fanatics; my abuela who named all my uncles after boca junior players she liked XD)#(also her first game and she got the full hockey experience and loved it but she absolutely backed me up on everything love her so muchhh)
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