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my baby | l.n.
synopsis: in which you bring your son to his daddyâs first ever race
a/n: based on this request!! i changed things up a little and only made it fluffy, hope you like it!!
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Ever since your son was born, you and Lando had had multiple talks regarding exposing him to the world and bringing him to the paddock.
He was still so little, being only a few months old, so there was a lot of discussion between the two of you about when would be a good time to finally introduce your son to that part of Landoâs life.
You debated a lot about firstly which race would be the best one for him to attend, finally settling on Silverstone. It was a very special race for the both of you, it was Landoâs favorite race weekend, his whole family would be coming and would be able to eagerly help, should any situations arise during the weekend, you were close to your UK home.
It was honestly the best decision in that aspect.
McLaren had been so kind as to send you some little T-shirts with Landoâs name and number on the back, some headphones so you could protect Noahâs ears. He was all ready to go, all clad in his papaya shirt and little cap.
However, as much as Lando had been looking forward to finally having the both of you in the paddock since Noahâs birth, he was suddenly feeling more anxious as youâre about to leave the house and go to the track.
You noticed the frown he had on his face and how deep in thought he seemed to be, walking over to him with Noah right on your hip, sucking on his pacifier in silence.
âWhatâs wrong? Are you okay?â you asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it affectionately.
âYou agree this is a good idea, right? Weâre not rushing him into this, itâs completely okay and safe to bring him with usâ he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.
Looking at him so desperate for reassurance, you remember your first days as a new mom, worrying about every single thing that Noah would do, what you should do with him and what you shouldnât, calling your mother and Landoâs mother every half an hour with another question.
Itâs normal for new parents to be anxious, and Lando was now feeling the protectiveness that came with having a baby of your own and bringing him out into the world.
âBaby, weâve talked about this. We have it all figured out. Your family is going to be there if anything does happen, we have your whole team there who are more than eager to help with anything. Weâll be fine, this little guy will have the time of his lifeâ you said, smiling at the quiet boy in your arms and bouncing him in your arms, chuckling alongside Noah as he started to giggle and wave his arms in the air.
Lando smiled, looking at Noah like he was the center of his universe, like nothing could ever measure up to how much love he had for his son.
He was ready, so there was no reason why Lando shouldnât be ready. After all, he had you by his side.
He didnât need anything else if he had you.
âAlright, letâs get going thenâ he declared, sitting up and taking Noahâs bag from you, determined to carry everything to the car by himself.
You chuckled, shaking your head as you adjusted little Noah on your hip.
âLetâs go and bring daddy some good luck, shall we?â you cooed at Noah, admiring his little smile and clap when he heard the word âdaddyâ in a sentence.
Such a daddyâs boy.
âĄâĄâĄâĄâĄ
âDo you want me to turn the car around and just take you guys home? Iâm sure nobody would mindâ Lando said as soon as he parked the car in his designated spot.
You looked at him confused.
âWhy? Did something happen?â you asked, keeping an eye on Noah who was currently too busy playing with his feet to pay attention to the two of you.
Lando sighed, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes.
âI just think weâre rushing into it. Heâs still young and Iâm worried that something could happen to him while Iâm in the carâ he confessed, and you let out a knowing sigh.
âI know youâre stressed out and worried, but you have nothing to worry about. Iâm going to be with him the entire time and your entire family is going to be with me. He literally canât be more taken care ofâ you said, joking a little at the end to help him breathe a little.
Lando smiled, chuckling a little before twisting around to look at you in the backseat.
His eyes naturally gravitated towards Noah, who was happily playing with his McLaren teddy bear the team had gifted Lando when Noah was born.
âSometimes I wish we could keep him away from all of this for the rest of his lifeâ he said, his eyes focused on his son.
"I know, but right now, you don't have to worry about him. You know I won't let him out of my sight" you said, making Lando smile at the thought of you going all mama bear on your son.
"Alright then, off we go" Lando unbuckled his seatbelt, exiting the car and opening your door for you.
He made quick work to grab the diaper bag and all of his essentials while you lifted Noah up from his car seat and settled him on your hip, cooing at the smiley little boy.
"Ready?" Lando asked as he came to stand next to you, putting his arm on the small of your back and leaning down to press a kiss on Noah's head.
"Are you ready to see dada race?" you cooed at Noah, tickling his tummy lightly, which prompted him to burst into giggles.
âMy lucky charmsâ Lando whispered, looking at the two of you with so much love.
He truly couldnât have asked for anything better in his life. The trophies, the wins, the losses, they didnât compare to this. To you, to your son, nothing could ever compete with how much Lando cared for his family.
As you started walking towards the paddock entrance, your passes clutched in Landoâs hand, you kept Noah close to you, trying to shield his face from the cameras as best as you could.
You softly maneuvered his head so his face was buried into the crook of your neck, which Noah immediately complied with because he loved it when you held him close.
âIâll do my best to hold them offâ Lando whispered as he scanned your passes and already noticed the hoard of paparazzis that were waiting for him to arrive.
You nodded, smiling politely at the cameramen as Lando quickly walked with you towards the McLaren hospitality.
Clicks and flashes could be heard all around you, every single one trying to get a glimpse of your baby boy, but Lando was having none of it.
âLando! Over here!â
âIs that your son?â
âCan we see him? Just a pictureâ
Every single word fell on deaf ears as Lando continued to lead the three of you away from them, thankful when the shouts ceased and there was nobody around you anymore.
âThey sure know how to try and get what they wantâ you said, letting out a big breath that you hadnât realized you had been holding in.
âItâs an invasion of privacy, they should have some respect, especially when they can see Iâm with my familyâ he grumbled, his jaw muscles clenched.
You slowed down your walk until you came to a halt, resting your hand against his cheek.
âHey, weâre okay. Calm down, weâre both fine, okay?â you said, waiting for an answer as Noah started squirming in your arms.
âYeah, Iâm goodâ Lando replied after finally feeling himself calm down a tad, resuming your walk towards the hospitality.
When you arrived and entered the building, the first thing that you saw was Landoâs family eagerly chatting amongst themselves, clearly waiting for the 3 of you to finally arrive.
You didnât even get to think about anything before Noah was taken from your arms by Landoâs sister, Flo, cooing at him and beaming at the smiley boy.
There was nothing more pure and warming than seeing the bond between Landoâs family and your son. He was also the first grandchild on your side of the family, so that little boy was as spoiled as one could be.
âHow are you doing, dear?â Cisca snapped you out of your thoughts as she came to stand next to you, Lando having gone to his driverâs room to unpack his things.
âIâm okay, a little tired from the jet-lag, but doing alright. A little nervous to have Noah here with me, but you all being here puts mine and Landoâs mind more at easeâ you said, giving your mother-in-law a side hug.
âWas he terrible when you were talking about coming with Noah?â she asked, smiling knowingly.
You laughed, shaking your head affectionately at how well she knew Lando.
âHe freaked out about 4 times before we even got out of the carâ you said, making the woman laugh.
Lando emerged into the room again, immediately frowning once he saw that Noah was still not back in your arms.
Both you and Cisca watched as his eyes searched the entire room for him, finally settling on the boy happily babbling to his auntie Flo, Lando immediately going over to them.
And as you all sat there with each other, both you and Lando realized what a great support system you had and what a perfect family you have built together.
His win, of course, only solidifying his saying that you were both âhis lucky charmsâ.
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#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#lando norris blurb#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x y/n#mclaren#lando norris mclaren#lando norris drabble#lando norris one shot#dad!lando norris#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 mcl#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#lando norris
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dealer!chris n innocent!bff!reader who eventually have sex ...
â . . . chris is so so sweet <3 gently coaxes you into believing that it's okay. that it wont ruin your guys' friendship at all, even though he knows once he hits he'll want to come right back. he'll be damned if he lets his best friend go fuck some other guy.
â . . . chris ends up taking your virginity when hes high. you were slightly tipsy from a few drinks, crawling all over his lap and giggling like some puppy. he couldn't exactly help the hard-on he got, y'know? hes a man. you couldnt blame him.
â . . . the two of you were just talking, truthfully. after chris had finally managed to get you to loosen up a little you were so smiley and squirmy, accidentally rubbing against his cock without even realizing. tipsy giggles left your lips every second he said something, his mind feeling all fuzzy and not quite there.
â . . . the topic of sex came up. chris isnt sure how, or why. "you've never been fucked?" "no..? s'that a problem?." "no, no.. jus', you're missin' out." chris is chuckling and staring at you like he wants to devour you, and you completely miss it. "m'parents always told me to wait until marriage" and he nearly starts cooing at you with how adorable you sound, tugging you closer as his hands cup your cheeks.
â . . . fast forward and he's lazily grinding up against you with his hands planted firmly on your hips to help you roll them against his clothed dick. "ohh, i know.. feels good? huh?" the prettiest little whines are sounding from your lips that have been bitten raw, eyes glancing down to where you repeatedly hump against your best friend. "chris..." his name sounds so good in that whiny tone, said in a low mewl as you grasp at his shoulders.
â . . . you dont know fully why you feel like this, all hot and eager for chris to continue helping you rut against him. then again, it isn't all sunshines and rainbows for him either. chris is fighting back the urge to bust in his pants, holding you close and letting your body move slowly on its own.
â . . . soon enough, he's breathing heavy as his cock strains against his jeans. staring at your nervous face as you tug your panties down and he has to stop himself from grabbing you and sitting you down on his dick until his tip hits your cervix. he knows it'll hurt. and chris just happens to be so kind to his best friend, he's letting you sit down in his lap with both of your legs thrown across his.
â . . . your head leans back, his chin resting on top of your head as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. "fuck, oh.. look at you. s'cute, baby" "chris.." you just sound so pathetic to him, as he hushed you gently. his other hand is wrapped around your stomach, holding you close and keeping your thrashing to a minimum.
â . . . your gasp turns into a moan when chris eases another finger in, the squelching sound of your own cunt echoing in your earsâmaking heat spread up your neck to your face. it just feels so... weird. your hips twitched gently and yoh didn't miss the chuckle that sounded from your best friends mouth, his free hand sliding up gently to squeeze at your tits.
â . . . when you start shifting around more and your hand grabs at chris' wrist to try and slow the sensations down, he knows you're close. a soft hush comes from him as he continues with his ministrations, ignoring the way you whine and cry about how you feel weird. "jus' let it happen. s'not a bad thing, baby.. c'mon, cum for me. theere you go" the wave of pleasure that washes over you is almost heavenly, your body tensing then going slack a few seconds after, lips parted in heavy gasps of air.
â . . . you think you would be done honestly, until chris is tapping the side of your hip with two of his fingers. "up, c'mon. gotta help me now" and when you shakily lift yourself up from his lap, you hear the sound of a belt buckle and fabric being slid off skin. chris' hands are looping around your stomach gently to pull you backâordering you gently to close your eyes. "trust me, i got you. you trust me, right?"
â . . . of course you trust chris.. which is why your eyes fall shutâletting the brunette pull you back and sink you down slowly onto his dick. except your eyes fly open the second his tip is nudging into your entrance, a shaky gasp falling from you as your hands grip at his wrists. "chris.. thatâthat hurts, y'know." except he ignores you, clicking his tongue in his mouth and slowly sinking you down further. maybe he should've stretched you out a little more, but god, he was so hard to the point it hurt.
â . . . once chris is fully sheathed inside you, he lets you adjust for as long as you need. he knows he's big, and he knows you've never had sex. you were gulping in big gasps of air like you were dying, even though it was fine... chris' hands rub comfortingly up and down your sides, rolling his eyes at how dramatic you were. "s'kay kid.. stop doin' that," "no, i feel full..."
â . . . when chris was finally able to move without you throwing a fit over how much it hurt or somethingďżź, he's thrusting up gently and cursing under his breath. you've turned around just so you could hide your head in his shoulder if needed, and you doâburying your head into the crook of his neck and letting his hair tickle your skin.
â . . . chris isn't sure how long it's been but when you squeeze around him he knows you're cumming without you having to say it, and he almost busts his own load right then and there. biting down on his lower lip, he urges you off him when he's sure your orgasm had washed over youâshoving your shoulders down to get you on your knees between his legs.
â . . . chris knows you aren't on birth control or anything, so he opts for a quick lesson teaching you how to bob your head up and down his length until he cums over your pretty lil' face. surprisingly, for someone who's never sucked dick before, you were damn good at it. fitting whatever you could in your mouth and then wrapping your hands around whatever else was left, just like chris had told you.
â . . . he isn't the best at aftercare. you guys took a shower and he seemed so awkward, because normally the girl he just banged would be out the door in a few minutes. but you're his best friend, so he just pats the bed and you two watch a movie or something. cuddling always felt too intimate for him, never been one to initiate it or entertain it.
â . . . you don't complain much. sure, it would've been nice. well, it would've been really nice, but you were a little too scared to ask chris to hold you like you guys were dating. were you two dating now? probably not. you've never really seen chris with the same girl for more than three days straight, and he's told you a bunch how he hates labels. huh. so why is that pit of longing still stuck in your chest?
â
ur girl wrote this with a vicious nosebleed. i lowk need to write for matt more so some stuff for him is comin soon hopefully !!! after i finish all the reqs i got tho
@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx
Šeph3merall 2024
#áśťz eph3merall#ŕł dealer!chris#ŕł innocent!bff!reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo drabble#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#the sturniolo triplets#the sturniolos#sturniolo triplets#sturniolos#sturniolo smut
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ââ homie hoppinâ ( lhs, pjs, sjy, psh ) Öź đ
â đ
ŕš Heeseung never wanted to believe the rumors about you around campus, to him you could never do wrong and he sees you as nothing less than an angel. But when his friends begin telling him about their nightly escapades with some âmystery girlâ that sounds awfully familiar, he grows more suspicious of your true intentions youâve been hiding all along.
pair: hyung line ă
f!reader, college au | warnings: pwp, smut, angst (kinda ??), hook-up culture, yn is the biggest fuckgirl omg (but sheâs sooo cuntyy), humour, slut-shaming (not from the boys), daddy kink, oral (m + f. rec), mentions of running a train but it doesnât happen lol, lots of s.x flashbacks, yn is so unbothered by everything đ´, unprotected s.x (yikes !!!) | teaser wc: 857
thanks to @leeechin & @pshbites for enabling this idea LOL, couldnât have done it without them frfr. also hereâs a silly little preview of whatâs to come (it gets real MESSY in this sfdsfsd)
⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . âŚ
heeseung was never really the type to ever engage in gossip or drama going around campus. heâd rather simply mind his business and keep it moving, it was useless to entertain it anywayâ most of the rumors held zero truth or any proof to back them up. what does seem to grab his attention however, is your name being constantly brought up in almost everyoneâs mouths. you were the talk of the whole school and it wasnât anything good that was being said about the girl heâs been sleeping around with on and off for the past few months or so.
âoh you know about y/n? isnât she the one whoâs always bouncing from one friend group to the next ? i wouldnât trust her around my man even for a second..â
âdidnât she let leehan hit it at that party last night ? that girl needs to be stopped, sheâs always messing around with different guys..â
âwasnât she just with eunseok last week ? he was telling me all about how him and sungchan took turns on her.â
he couldnât believe half the stuff that was being said about you. not only was it just plain disrespectful, but it was also disgusting how some people could spew such fabricated nonsense as if you werenât a real human being with feelings. heeseung knew you two werenât exclusive but youâve been seeing each other more frequently, which made him think he might have a chance to make things official. at least he thought so, until he saw you talking with one of his close friends, jaeyun in the library. you both were way too close for comfort and the way you were giving him those same bedroom eyes that youâd always flash at heeseung, made his whole body fill up with an unimaginable amount of rage.
you were quite popular and well known around campus, your charming persona and pretty face was the perfect combo to get anyone to fall head over heels for you. everywhere you went youâd turn heads, all the boys would be breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of you. the tiny skirts youâd always wear had their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, which only made the other girls seethe in utter jealousy. the way you could command an entire room without even trying was a superpower in itself, you didnât need to put in the extra work to get all the attention on you because everyone gave it to you automatically.
it wasnât until heeseung began hearing more about his friendâs sex lives that heâd grow more suspicious of whatâs really going on. he usually zones out and doesnât really listen much whenever they talked about it, but since the movie they were watching wasnât all that interesting, he began shifting his attention to his friends. jaeyun and jongseong were always bragging about how much pussy theyâd get but they seemed to hyperfocus on one particular girl that seems to get brought up a lot in their conversations. jaeyun would say how she gave him the âmost life changing headâ heâs ever received, meanwhile jongseong was describing how some girl he fucked a few days ago rode his dick like a grade A pornstar.
heeseung wasnât adding much of his input into the conversation, and neither was sunghoon as he tends to keep that part of his life more private. but, what made him suddenly wanna jump up in his seat was when jaeyun was telling them how hot the girl looked when he fucked her from behind, she had a back tattoo and he thought that was the sexiest shit ever. he never specified exactly what the tattoo was, but he remembers that you also had one too. maybe heâs just reading too much into it ? could it really be you they were talking about ? nah.. thereâs no way. heâs sure thereâs plenty other women with back tattoos walking around campus, it simply could be an eerie coincidence. he knows he isnât the only one that youâre sleeping with, but to mess around with his friends would be a new low for him. he wouldnât know what heâd do if he were to find out that happened..
his worries would only worsen when he catches sunghoon smiling and faintly giggling at his phone about something, to which jongseong asks him whatâs so funny. sunghoon simply shrugs it off and says itâs nothing, quickly locking his phone before he lifts up from the couch to announce that heâs going back to his dorm. they all exchange their goodbyes and wish him a safe walk back to his place. but when he left, he was walking in the direction completely opposite of his dorm, he was heading the exact same way it took to get to your building instead. now heâs really starting to overthink at this point. thereâs absolutely no way youâre actually fucking all of his friends and he doesnât have a single clue about it. heeseung may be quite oblivious at times but he isnât that stupid. heâs probably overreacting. again, could just be a very weird coincidence⌠right ?
just leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist á(ââ¸âźâś)á
#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#heeseung smut#heeseung x reader#jay smut#jay x reader#jake smut#sim jaeyun smut#jake x reader#sunghoon smut#sunghoon x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#kpop smut
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Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant.Â
A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)
Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesnât stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time.Â
In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether heâs there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted.Â
When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her âfluâ, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks âwhat's wrong babygirl?â. He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. Itâs news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John.Â
Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly sheâs staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it.Â
Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump.Â
John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.
That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled itâs crazy).Â
#john price#task force 141#john price x reader#mae writes đ#price cod#price x reader#task force x reader#john price call of duty#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#141 x reader#baby daddy#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#x reader#john price fluff#head canons#captain price
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If I Could Never Give You Peace
( bllk boys when your secret relationship is leaked by paparazzi)
a/n â wrote this on a whim after listening to peace by taylor swift
content â some nsfw but not explicit, fem! reader, cursing , all characters are 18 or 18+, slight ooc maybe?, some characters are repeated
synopsis â what happens when your relationship is leaked?
â.ËâŽđ§âŽË.â ' i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best ' â.ËâŽđ§âŽË.â
âŠâË.ââžââşâ⧠the... ' everyone thought you'd broken up '
listen, you knew dating a good soccer player in high school was a big deal, but you didn't realize how big of a deal it really was when he went pro.
this was the same boy ( now man) that you'd been dating since you were 14, so nothing really changed your views on him. if you could love him through his awkward phase, and he could love you through yours, there was no way you'd break up.
again, you didn't realize that your relationship was such a big deal. it wasn't that the two of you were a secret, it was more of a 'private not secret' situation.
so when the two of you woke up in your shared bed because of just how many notifications the both of you were getting, you knew something was up.
and low and behold, something was wrong. when you opened any social media the first thing you saw was a strangely amazing photo of you and your long-term boyfriend kissing. really, if it wasn't a paparazzi photo, it would be your lock screen.
"aren't we just the cutest?" he asked you, phone thrown back onto his bedside table as if he didn't have a care in the world. (and he really didn't, not in this case)
truly, the only thing that may make him angry in this whole situation is the fact that he got woken up far earlier than his usual routine by all the commotion.
but of course, as he was dozing back off, you were reading the comments, as any loyal significant other would.
soccerluvr45: omg is that is gf from high school? i thought they broke up
okay, yeah. he had a rather public instagram account in high school that his rabid fans had found that had pictures of the two of you, but you'd never broken up?
reading through the many comments, it was like everyone had collectively decided the two of you'd broken up.
"mhm...just ignore it. the pr lady will deal with it." he mumbled as he grabbed your phone from your hands, laying it beside his before wrapping his arms around you.
"go to bed, 's too early to deal with all this."
his fans were silly, if they could see you with this bed-head man right now, they'd see there was no way the two of you would ever break up.
âŠâË.ââžââşâ⧠NAGI SEISHIRO, yo hiori, NIJIRO NANASE, hyoma chigiri
âŠâË.ââžââşâ⧠the... ' pr nightmare '
anyone who knew your boyfriend knew he was...a little extreme.
and unfortunately for you, this also applied when your relationship became public because of a slight slip of focus from the two of you. it wasn't that you were trying to keep your relationship a secret, you'd already been together a year now, but you also weren't trying to out yourselves.
yet, one singular minute when the two of you slipped away to the bathroom together at a soccer banquet...well lets just say a paparazzi was scarily ready to snap someone, anyone's, photo.
so here you were, sitting in a terrifyingly big office with your boyfriend and almost his entire management team.
"do you know what this could do to your reputation?" his manager asked. "it's just two adults doing adult things, they should've been in that bathroom! that would've gotten themâ"
"okay, sir..."the pr woman cut him off, ever too enthusiastic to be talking about your private lives.
"you just need to ignore all of this until it goes away, alright? no press interviews after games anymore," she sighed as if this was basic comprehension. (your boyfriend wasn't the smartest but he also didn't need to be treated like an idiot.) "and no posting on any social medias for the time being. do you understand?"
"yeah, yeah. no talking to the grown men after games. and..."he grimaced at the thought of his next condition. " c'mon is posting on my socials that bad? i don't post about us anyways."
"at. all." and the room felt as icy as the pr woman's stare.
"yeah, no, okay i got it. no social media."
after another thirty minutes of this, with them saying basically the same stuff to you (even though you had no real social media presence anyways), you guys finally left.
"no fucking posting? what if i have to talk about a game coming up?" "i'm sure she knows how to do her job, love." you soothed your boyfriend as you got in the car the company arranged to have you two taken up with.
"yeah, well whatever. give me your hand," and who were you to say no to your boyfriend?
he took your hand and placed it on his neck, a place where you could see a few bites and hickeys if you really looked hard enough.
before you could protest he took a picture, posting it on his VERY public account with the caption...
' i love my woman ;) '
before turning off his phone completely.
"let's see them try to get ahold of me now."
âŠâË.ââžââşâ⧠RYUSEI SHIDO, tabito karasu, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku
âŠâË.ââžââşâ⧠the... ' what picture ? '
how do two chronically offline people realize their relationship is now under scrutiny by the entire world?
the simple answer is...they don't!
you've never been interested in social media the way other girls your age had been. really, you'd rather just watch a video essay on every little topic that interests you than sit and watch six second videos then scroll all day.
to say the least, fast and forever changing social media just wasn't your thing.
and your boyfriend? he hardly even used his phone. unless it was for business or you, the thing was practically shoved away somewhere he couldn't care less about.
he would rather be reading or spending time with you out on a date...which is exactly the predicament the paparazzi put you in earlier this week.
the two of you were photographed having a little picnic and reading date at a small park that was pretty far out of town, assuming no one there knew, or even cared, enough to take a picture, but alas, someone did.
you and he had spent the rest of your week in pure, relaxed bliss. he had a game on saturday, so besides him going to practice and working out, the two of you stayed inside almost all week to prepare for the rather hectic weekend.
to say the game was a nail biter would be the understatement of the century. after two additional times, it was your boyfriend who scored the winning goal.
of course, you cheered the loudest, not noticing plenty of fans eyes on you unlike how many used to just chalk you up as an ecstatic fan.
as the post game interview came for him, you decided to stay closer to the door just incase it ran short. sometimes it was a one and done for him and others the questions went on for at least fifteen minutes, it just depended on his mood.
of course, the first question was about his game winning goal, but the second one threw him and you for a loop.
" what do you have to say about the photos of you and your reported girlfriend that have come out this past week? "
"...huh? what photos?"
eventually, the two of you did see the pictures, and all you could do was laugh because...how had you two not found out about this?
and you also made the picture your phone lock screen, but he didn't have to know that.
âŠâË.ââžââşâ⧠RIN ITOSHI, reo mikage, SAE ITOSHI, chigiri hyoma
â.ËâŽđ§âŽË.â ' but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ' â.ËâŽđ§âŽË.â
[ + your faves ! ]
i wrote this in about an hour, and i think it shows but i had to get it out of my brain :))
likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!
#airy posts#airy writes for blue lock#bllk x reader#bllk x female reader#nagi x reader#hiori x reader#blue lock#blue lock x reader#nanase nijiro#chigiri x reader#shidou ryusei x reader#karasu x reader#eita otoya x reader#oliver aiku x reader#rin itoshi x reader#reo mikage x reader#sae itoshi x reader#x reader#female reader#blue lock x female reader#bllk fluff#fluff#blue lock fluff
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Do you think you might update the Adopted Son Au soon, maybe ?đ¤ i just can't with that cliffhanger, i need to know what happened next.
Plz
Dick trying to figure out how he is going to escape from his cell when the door opens again. This time, it's not Drake but a group of children who walk in without saying a word.
They surround him, and Dick prepares himself for some torture when one of them presses a button on a controller, releasing him from the retrains, keeping him trapped in the chair.
The metal slides off his wrists and ankles, allowing him to flip up from his seat and away from the group. He wobbles a little, having gone a few weeks without much exercise or movement due to his bad mental state.
He can still take them to the ground, but he won't be at his best, which irks him fiercely. It will also make this fight a lot more dangerous. Surprisingly, the children don't react to his flip or fighting stance.
They stare at him with blank expressions, the single light swinging back and forth as Dick had anciently hit the edge of it with his hip. Four of them are cramped into the surprisingly small room, but none look like they are there for a fight.
Dick frowns. "What's going on?"
" You didn't have Danny, "the oldest one, the boy the Parkers had apparently been taking in, says. "We have no reason to keep you."
"What, you going to let me go? Just like that?" The disbelief drips from his words as he tightens his fist, searching for the surprise attack that will surely come.
"Just like that." The boy agrees, clapping his hands. A little girl throws a bag at Dick, who catches it in an instant. The thing is heavy, but it doesn't feel like a weapon. The teenager claps again, and suddenly, the ground underneath him vanishes.
Dick is free-falling before he knows what's happening. The rush of the wind nearly drowns out his screaming as he tumbles downwards. He watches the apparent cargo plan hangar close as the children stare at his descent.
Twisting around and trying to get his wits about him, Dick realizes he doesn't have a lot of time to figure out what to do because he is far above the ground. He will not survive hitting it. The bag in hand beeps before it springs open.
Wire cords warp around his torso, yanking him to the side so the bag can rest on his back. Another beep goes through before a loud whoosh can be heard, and Dick's body jerks again as a parachute bursts to life from the bag.
He gasps as it catches the wind once it fully opens, stopping his free fall into a gentle flouting. Dick's heart is hammering away in his chest, even when he starts the breathing exercises Bruce taught him to keep calm. He glances up at the plane, but it shimmers out of sight once a clocking device is activated.
He can only guess which direction it ran away in. It must be one of Crowne's inventions.
A few minutes go by when he falls some clouds- and it stings to feel the water bit dig into his skin.- before he finally realizes where he is. Drake had him thrown right over Wayne Manor. The little shit.
Carefully testing the turning cords, Dick realizes that they are much simpler to drive and directions his landing towards the ground behind the Manor. He is nearly there when a flash of red races out of the window, aiming right for him.
"Dick!" Kori shouts, wrapping her arms around him. He sighed gratefully and said she was mindful of the parachute. His friend tucks him into her arms, one hand under his knees, the other on his upper back, and flies him safely back down. "You're okay! We were so worried when you vanished."
"How long was I gone?"
"Just one day. What happened?"
Wow, Drake doesn't mess around. It was alarming that he could not only take him from his own room but return him without any of the Bats being the wiser. "Let's get everyone grouped up. This is going to need some explanations."
The two fly through the same window Kori was excited about. The minute Dick's feet touch the floor, the bag beeps and unclips, yanking the fabric up his parachute back into the little bag as it slides off his shoulders.
Crowne would be so excited that it works so smoothly. He thinks almost wistfully.
"Dick!" Jason yells, racing forward to throw his arms around Dick's middle. Not far behind, Damian joins them though he seems more willing to hold onto Jason rather than Dick.
"Hey guys." He mutters, bending down to hug back. "Sorry about the scare."
"Dick," Bruce's baritone voice has him snapping his head up. There, he realizes his family and the teen titans are all sitting around a conference table, papers scattered in front of the relieved people. A large screen was sitting behind Bruce, displaying the latest news in the Crowne trial. "What happened?"
Dick takes a deep breath, locks everything that man him, the fun circus child, in a tight box inside his chest. When he opens his eyes again, all that's left is Nightwing.
"Let me tell you," And he does
A while later, Dick learns that while no one had known where he had gone, they had all been able to find enough proof that Dick was taken. It had left everyone in great unease, especially Bruce, who had always been proud of the Manor's defenses.
They were in the middle of discussing Timothy Drake's new danger level when the noise of the reporting news anchor cut off mid-sentence. The image changes from a business street of Gotham's police headquarters, where Daniel Crowne is said to be held, to a dark room with a person wearing a glowing green skull mask.
The person is sitting at a table, the angle getting them from the chest up. They wear a hood that does not hide their black wavy hair, curling around their ears. As the camera focuses, the figure plays with a piece of it.
Everyone at the table tenses up as the person speaks. They use some voice modifier that disrupts the words, making it sound robotic -it's hard to tell whether it's a boy or a girl. The body shape, however, points to them being young. "People of Gotham. I have taken control of this and every screen within the city to speak to you about Daniel Crowne. Many of you have cheered the last few days over his imprisonment, unaware of the hero he was. Tonight, I wish to enlighten you. Watch and repent."
"Where is this broadcasting from?" Bruece demands at once. Babs is already tapping away on her Crowne laptop, attempting to track down the signal.
"I don't know. It's bouncing from all over the city." She huffs.
On the screen, the stranger continues. Dick thinks he knows who that is. He recognizes the mindless habit of playing with the hair near the right side of his neck. "That's Drake."
At his words, everyone tenses even further.
"It's true Crowne broke the law. He took it into his own hands when CPS failed to protect the children they claimed they worked for, much like a specific group of Bats." Drake continues, tapping one finger on the surface of his table. "Unlike them, Crowne kept a record of everything he's done. I will present it all to you."
The screen changes to show documents, videos of abuse victims, and some testimony of missing children. For an hour, every screen showcases everything Daniel Crowne has done since he appeared from his adoption. The Waynes and the Titians are left in awe by the sheer amount of evidence that showcases.....Crowne saving children.
Dick legs give out under him some time around the proof of the Foster system failing children and how Crowne had personally swooped in to save them. None of it is legal, but no one cares.
Not when Heather Gobb's case is shown that she has been locked up in juvie for years for being a poor orphan. Not when her neighbors' old video of them pleading with the public to find information on her is shown, as they had thought she had gone missing five years ago and were still looking for her today.
Not when Max Smith- the same one that released him- case of being a human traffic victim was rescued and given to the Parkers. The Parkers had been rejected five times as foster parents due to their age. But the Martinez another case shown here- was even after three different girls reported sexual assault.
Every contact. Every move. Every single street kid is given a home. All of it was shown here, even the way he did it. Daniel Crowne was a hero.
"No," Dick gasps, watching the proof of Danny secretly busting trafficking rings and helping the victims find their way home. He had worked on one of those cases. Cindy, a fifteen-year-old girl, had been secretly rescued when a tip came through. Among her bags was a map of the rest of the cages that she claimed she had never before seen.
Crowne- Danny- had planted it.
The tears are rolling down his face, blurring everything in sight, but Dick can't look away. His chest feels like it's caving in as memory after memory plays behind his eyes.
Memories of the man he betrayed.
Drake, in his eerie glowing skull costume, returns. "That was who Daniel Crowne was. I speak in the past tense because his body had been discovered earlier today. He was found stuffed into a waste bin near Gotham's dump. A funeral will be held for the public in a week within Gotham Park at this same time, open casket, and he will be buried with honor somewhere no one can reach him. It will be the only time to say goodbye."
Dick feels like his world has shattered. The room starts to spin; multiple people are speaking, but he can barely hear them over the roaring in his ears.
He can only see Drake's green glow as the boy continues. "Lastly, I have a message for Officer Lucas Black of the 99th. We know what you did, and as much as I want to end you, he wouldn't have wanted that. Instead we will send you a gift. She was found in the last ring Crowne managed to track down. Protect her well this time. And never forgive yourself for what you did to her savior."
The screen cuts. Dick turns to the side, throwing up until nothing but acid comes out. His friends and family gather around him, trying their best to offer him comfort, but they can do nothing.
Danny is dead. He's gone, and he never even knew it was Dick that helped kill him.
_________________________________________________________
Life is a blur, worse than when he had Danny arrested. Dick isn't even sure he's alive. Bruce and the rest of the police have managed to verify all of the presented evidence. Crowne had legally kidnapped children, but no one could claim him a monster.
It was like the city was collectively drowning in guilt and mourning. Not even the rest of the Rouges dared to cause trouble. For the first time in centuries, Gotham was experiencing a cease-fire, and peace fell upon the civilians.
It hadn't stopped raining since Danny's death, almost as if Gotham herself was sobbing for the loss.
Dick had never felt this empty before, not even at the lost of his parents. He had nothing, no one to be angry at as Drake had covered every track of Danny's killer.
A single letter with a glowing green ghost circled around the familiar D arrived at Wayne Manor the day following the broadcast. All it read was You will never find out who took him. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered.
Bruce was working non-stop to bring Danny's killer to justice, but there was even less to go on than the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
Somehow, he finds himself getting dressed for Daniel Crowne's funeral. Jason and Damian help him walk out of his room, wearing black, and into the car. Bruce is riding in the passenger seat while Alfred is driving.
They had forgone the expensive vehicles and instead rode in a small black car. This was not an event that needed a showy entrance.
The drive is long and silent. Pity and pain make him almost choke, as none of the other four seem to know what to say. They only glance at him, looking torn up.
Bruce is the worst. He likely blames himself for the whole honey pot plot, and Dick wants to blame him, wants to lash out and rage against his father, but he can't.
He had agreed to the plan. Dick had been the one who went to Danny's office, the one who held him and spoke to him. The one that stole kisses and whispered sweet nothings.
The one that falls in love with the person he destroyed.
Dick stares out the window, wishing he was sobbing like he had been just a few days ago. He wishes he could feel the headache of dehydration from all the tears he cried. Anything other than this numbing pain that rests on his chest and keeps him from feeling anything.
His eyes have remained dry since he heard the news of Danny's passing. What kind of monster did that make him?
"Dick..." Bruce tries, but his words fall short. With a start, the first Robin realizes they are at the park. The car had been parked, and everyone was outside waiting for him.
He unclips his belt, stepping out and ignoring the hand Bruce offers him. All of Gotham has come for Daniel Crowne. There are so many marching by in black clothing. Some are sobbing, others are whispering, but all Dick sees is a sea of strangers that once cheered for his death.
Who are you? He thinks as his family walks into the park. Did any of you even know him?
A nasty voice sneers in his mind. Did you know him, Grayson?
Jason's warm palm slides into Dick's, helping him to the front where some seats had been put aside for those that were personally saved by Danny. Drake wanted them front and center; he had sent a message with a confused Sparrow.
Damian now seemed to regret presenting the letter as he held Jason with getting Dick to sit.
The coffin was surrounded by flower arrangements and shoesâthe ones from the people he had saved. Some adult sizes were mixed in, but the majority were of childrenâit didn't seem real.
None of this does.
But Danny is gone, and Dick can not cry.
Next to the Waynes sits Officer Black, who is sobbing so hard it sounds like his chest is being cut apart. His sister is holding him, crying into his shoulder and whispering assurances.
The Ghosts- a new group that has risen in place of Crowne's fall- had delivered her home mere minutes after the Broadcast. She had received free treatment in one of Crowne Corp's hospitals outside of Gotham. She, along with seventeen other victims, had been personally rescued by Daniel Crowne only a month before.
Dick was happy for them. After years of being apart, the Blacks were finally whole once more.
Phantom- the head of Ghosts- walks up to a podium. His glowing green skull mask hides his expression from the crowd, but Dick can see how hard it is for Drake to stand there and speak.
"Gotham is no stranger to tragedy. We live with grief and joy. We dine with hope and sorrow. We walk with fate and death. In the five years since his arrival, Daniel Crowne had done everything he could to protect Gotham without asking for anything in return. He was deeply devoted to those he loved, and though not religious, he believed in Gotham." Drake says, addressing the crowd. "He found the flame of hope in the darkness of Gotham's streets. He stood tall when others lay broken by her crushing weight, bearing the burden of her attention. His mind illuminated that darkness, his heart warmed those in the cold wind, and with every fiber of his being, Danny fought for the betterment of mankind. His inventions saved thousands and have carved history with a chisel of his own making. We say goodbye to our cherished brother, friend, and noble son stolen from us far too soon. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered. Daniel Crowne may no longer be able to walk with us, but his spark will forever live within us."
Drake pauses, turns to the coffin, and places a flower inside of it. "May you find the peace you were searching for, Brother."
Dick bows his head feeling tears gather in his eyes, but none spill over as Drake encourages everyone to pray in whatever belief they hold and allows people to go up to offer their own flowers, stones, or gifts. His line is the first to go up, but he can't move. His legs feel like lead, shaking his head when Bruce whispers his name.
Officer Black passes him, clutching his sister's hand as they walk to Danny's coffin. To his body. It's odd.
Danny is of that wooden stature, but nothing is in itâit's just a box. Officer Black placed his badge inside, whispering that he was leaving the force. Dick is close enough that he can hear his sister adding a ring that Danny had given her when he visited her during her recovery and wonders how bright Danny's smile might have been to see the siblings together again.
The funeral continued, with a long queue of people wishing to say their final goodbyes. Dick sat through the whole thing, aware of time passing but not entirely sure what was happening around him.
All too soon and not fast enough, the service ends. The Phantom claps his hands. A significant plane shifts into view, and its cloaking device falls. It lowers a platform as some Ghosts carefully lift the coffin.
The pallbearers march onto the plane's platform as a haunting melody bleeds into the air. With a start, Dick realizes it's an instrumental cover of their song, the one Danny and he used to dance and sing to. Danny had been playing it the day they were unpacking his home before Dick had found the journals that same night.
Drake really wants him to suffer, doesn't he?
No one speaks as the group rises into the air, taking with them Daniel Crowne. The plane vanishes from sight once more, and slowly, everyone tickles home. Gotham's rainâabsent for the funeralâreturns just as the Waynes manage to get into their car.
The drive home was even shorter than the one to the event. His family tries to speak to him, but Dick hears nothing. He merely walks up to his room and crashes on his bed.
Exhaustion, one deeper than his very bones, drags him under. He's out before Bruce can find the courage to enter his room.
_________________________________________________________
He's not sure if it's a dream or not, but the next thing Dick knows, he's blinking his eyes open to a soft white glow. His eyes are drawn to the bottom of his bed, where a figure sits on its edge, hunched over and staring at its hands.
His breath caught in his throat, causing the person to turn towards him. He looked different. His green eyes were glowing like a light was lit behind his eyeballs. His hair was snowy white, and his body seemed nearly transparent, but there was no denying who it was.
"Danny" The name is spoken like a gospel.
The love of his life smiles at him in that same adoring way. It feels like a slap and a hug all in one. "Hello Darling"
He stares, unsure of what to do, until he blurts, "You're dead."
Danny throws his head back in a familiar, impish laugh. It's the one, only Dick, had been privy to, as his boyfriend had always been so regal laughing loudly seemed to be against his very image.
Danny crawls from the bottom of the bed, still laughing, until he lays right next to Dick, who can't stop staring at him. Once he settled, the two were mere inches away, staring into each other's eyes as if they could drink each other's features.
"Yes," Danny's voice is soft as freshly fallen snow. "I'm dead. I never thought about that happening. A part of me always hoped I wouldn't form a complete ghost when my time would come. It's rather silly when you consider Dan."
"Ghost?"
Glowing green eyes soften just a bit as a cold- never will it be warm again- hand wraps around his own. Dick can hardly believe he can feel the hold as he continues to stare. "Yes, Darling, I'm a ghost."
"I'm sorry," He whispers, and then a sorrow overcomes him. Dick feels his eyes water faster than anything this past week. Silent tears rolled down his face as he choked, "I'm so fucking sorry."
"Oh, Darling." Danny comes, reaching out to wipe his tears away. "I don't blame you. I love you."
"Danny you can't love me. You don't know what I did."
"I do know. You were a honey pot to find evidence of me trafficking children." Danny says as if though nothing. As if Dick hadn't betrayed him to the very core of their relationship. "I'm hurt by it, but I do not hate you for it. You were doing the same thing I was. Trying to protect children; after all, I did make thousands vanish. It looked suspicious."
"If I had been a better detective, I would have found the truth." Dick insisted, self-hate clouding his words.
Danny sighs, tracing the side of his cheek. "No, you wouldn't. Darling, you and Bruce had spent months investigating me without finding anything that could tie me to the case before you had the idea of the Honey Pot. I ensured no one would have found the truth unless they got close. I didn't even tell Tim. He just found out on his own."
Dick's tears flow faster. "I could have done more."
"I could have told you," Danny counters, smiling sadly. But to do so, I would have to tell you about my Halfa status, and I was never quite brave enough to disclose the subject. We both kept secrets, Darling and are both to blame."
"But you're dead." Dick chokes, reaching out his arm to bring his lover to his chest. He lacks the warmth that he once associated with Daniel Crowne. "My secrets lead to your death."
"Maybe. My secret would have led to me leaving your world anyway." Danny confuses.
"What?"
"Since I became Daniel Crowne, I have been working on a way to travel dimensions. It was my goal to get back to my original home. I became so obsessed with it that I did not weaver even years after landing in a world technically behind my own. Not even my love for you or my care for Tim made me give up on that goal." Danny says, eyes staring into Dick's soul, looking so majestic and sad that, for a moment, Dick wondered if he was a painting.
"I told myself that once I figured out a way to travel home, I could come back here to you and live another double life. But that was a lie. A pretty one but a lie. I had to choose one world or another and I would have chosen the other if I had lived."
Danny rests his forehead against Dick's. "I wanted a life with you, Darling, but fate wouldn't allow it as I have been too selfish. I know it's a lot to ask, but can I be selfish a little longer?"
The Gotham vigilante wraps himself around his dead partner, attempting to bury himself in his essence. "As much as you want Darling. Be as selfish as you want."
Neither speaks for long, allowing themselves to feel around each other.
"Daniel Fenton," Danny says after a long while.
"What?"
"My name. It's Daniel Fenton." Danny pulls back to smile at him. "May I tell his story?"
"Yes."
_____________________________________________________________
Dick wakes again to his room curtains gently blowing in the wind of his open windows. The rain has stopped, and a few birds are chirping in the trees outside the glass. The sun shines on the ring that has his name carved into the band, where it rests on his bedside table.
There is no evidence that Danny had been there the night before.
Dick carefully reaches out for the ring, sliding it onto his finger. It's a perfect fit.
He rolls onto his back, holding his hand up to watch the small stones curling around the band gleam. Somewhere in the afterlife, the Ghost King, rightful ruler of the Beyond, is wearing a similar one, and he may wait for the day the two reunite.
Dick Grayson knows everything about Danny Fenton, of how he arrived here in this world, of the one he lost when he flew aimlessly through the Infinite Realms, and of the life he built himself in his effort to get home.
He knows that Timothy Drake will continue to rule over Gotham's underbelly with his trained Ghosts, who will be far more dangerous than any Talon. He will also buy out Crowne Corp, bringing his brother's once titan of a company under his care to continue his work.
He knows Jason and Damian will grow up well, forging their own identities and teams and working hard to improve the lives of the residents of Crime Alley.
He knows that Bruce will continue his war against the crime of Gotham, and for every mistake and stumble he makes, Bruce will bring hope back to the people who cower in their homes.
He knows Lucas Black did not mean to kill Danny and finds he does not hate the man. Danny does not blame him, so why should Dick? He'll dedicate the rest of his life to working at the bakery his sister had always dreamed of owning.
But above all, Dick Grayson knows Danny Fenton still loves him.
For the first time since Danny's death, Dick allows himself to dissolve into sobs. His cries raise in volume, filling the room with their anguish. His bedroom door is flung open by a distressed-looking Bruce, who gathers him in his arms. His baby brothers are not far behind, and Alfred even puts aside his professionalism to join in on the hug.
One day, the family will be much larger than the five. Somewhere out there, a young girl unable to speak is waiting for them. Her brother, who can see the dance of light, is just a little behind. He likely goes to class with a girl in purple who will become Drake's right hand after one too many pushes from her shitty father.
Danny told him there would be more and that he had seen all of Dick's life. Ultimately, he will wait for them to pick up where they left off. The weight of their shared rings will be a companion for the rest of Dick's life.
Dick sobs and sobs until every nasty emotion is finally out of his body. It feels like relief.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#the adoptive son#The End#Angst#Hurt and Comfort#Bittersweet ending#Danny did honstly die#He was never going to go home#He learned the truth the moment he died#He doesn't hate Dick and is very in love with him#Both will wait a lifetime#Tim and Steph will not join the Batfam#Hope you liked the ending and thank you for sticking around for it!#Part 9
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ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students
Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader
Word Count: 9.8k
A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be inđ
ATEEZ MASTERLIST
Hongjoong â Gryffindor
The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously
"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'llâ" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"
The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two yearsâhe'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.
But was he going to stop trying?
Not a damn chance.
Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.
Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.
While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefectâthe one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.
Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.
Today's the dayâI can feel it in my bones.
Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely forâ"
"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"
And there it was againâthe quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just likeâ
"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"
Like you.
Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.
"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."
The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.
"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.
You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"
Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.
You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from youâhow he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.
Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.
The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.
"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on timeâdon't make me disappoint her!"
The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing himâbecause, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.
Seonghwa â Hufflepuff
The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet
"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.
"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrakeâI'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh⌠my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.
Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.
As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.
Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.
"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."
She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelfâplease help yourselves."
"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassingânow she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.
He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."
You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secretâeveryone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.
Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherinsâa surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.
Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his familyâand everyone elseâto see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.
"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.
"You're joking, right? All our friends are thereâ" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."
The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"
Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning backâeveryone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.
With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."
His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.
"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.
In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautifulâa love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.
Yunho â Hufflepuff
The Popular Triwizard Champion
"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"
Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.
"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"
You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.
He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.
"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."
Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"
Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."
With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.
"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"
He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."
Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."
Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts championâthe wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.
He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunhoâthe school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.
For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.
Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"
Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.
"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.
And his predictions couldn't have been more accurateâhe and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.
The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.
You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mindâthe haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."
He had been right.
The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of valueâit was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.
For Yunho, that had been you.
"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.
You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me⌠my hero."
His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every timeâfor you."
The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his armsâthe one person he cared for most.
Yeosang â Ravenclaw
The Annoying Ace
"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this timeâit was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."
The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.
"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.
You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.
The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."
Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"
The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficultâit was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.
The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?
Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like himâalways shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.
"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.
He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back thenâand that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.
That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.
Yeosang is that Ravenclawâthe one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.
No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just himâan enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.
"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.
He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.
"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."
You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."
A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"
You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.
Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."
"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.
He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."
"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."
San â Slytherin
The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie
"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the bookâagain. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.
With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.
A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.
"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."
He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."
You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"
"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"
You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."
He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."
You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.
And you? You were supposedly his rivalâhis female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.
"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.
He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."
"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.
He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."
"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.
San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you triedâand failedâto suppress a laugh.
Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."
You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."
But Hagrid wasn't done.
Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."
San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.
You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.
"Iâuhâyes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.
The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."
As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"
He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"
"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.
The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.
"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.
You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.
As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.
"Did they come back together?"
"Isn't that the Head Girl?"
"Are they⌠you know?"
You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.
When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.
You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"
His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You⌠accept?"
You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"
For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.
"It's a date then, Head Girl."
You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."
The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.
Not when it came to you.
Mingi â Ravenclaw
The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist
"Going somewhere, Song?"
Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"
You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."
He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."
You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."
His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"
You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone'sâand your father'sâexpectations."
He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."
"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.
And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.
For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about himâthe way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.
You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.
Sure, he had the smarts for itâhis insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.
Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, thoughâeffortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).
And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't seeâcarefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.
"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.
He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"
"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.
He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."
With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.
On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.
"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."
His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."
The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.
He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"
You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."
He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."
A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."
His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"
"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.
He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fineâa deal's a deal."
As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.
The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.
He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."
Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.
The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.
"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.
You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.
"Stupid kids sneaking around⌠I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.
Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.
"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.
That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.
He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"
Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.
"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.
He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."
Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."
Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."
You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."
"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.
Wooyoung â Gryffindor
The Talented Quidditch Beater
"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"
The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.
"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.
"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammateâanother Beaterâshouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.
His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"
He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.
And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.
Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had comeâespecially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.
Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar oppositeâa shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.
It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalryâpetty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.
But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritageâand the word "Mudblood" slicing through the airâleft you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.
"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.
From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with youânot even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.
Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.
Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.
You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel aliveâit was impossible not to love him for it.
"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.
"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"
The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.
Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.
Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.
When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"
He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.
You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."
To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."
Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.
Jongho â Slytherin
The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect
"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"
Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.
You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stoppedâright beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.
"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.
Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lipsâso fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.
"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.
"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.
As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mindâperhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.
Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.
And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of himâthough, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.
It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.
But peace was the last thing you found.
A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.
A werewolf.
Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.
You were sure you were doomed.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.
Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.
The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at youâalmost protective.
And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.
"YouâŚ" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"
His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.
You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reelingâit was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.
He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."
Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made senseâit was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.
"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."
His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."
For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.
"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."
He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."
"And you?"
"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."
As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.
From then on, something shifted.
You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.
Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.
There was something unmistakable in his eyesâa quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.
He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.
You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."
His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"
You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."
The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."
Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.
You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"
He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."
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Pumpkin
Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader
Synopsis: Husband!nanami (later father!Nanami) being super domestic during your pregnancy, birth, and arrival of your baby.Â
CW: a smidge đ¤đť of angst but mainly FLUFF, pet names, established relationship, pregnancy, birth, babies WC: 1.9k A/N: this is a sequel to Vitamins but can be read as a standalone if the smut in Vitamins is not your jam. Enjoy this fluffy goodness đĽš
Ever since those two tests had very loudly informed you of your pregnancy, Nanami had not let you lift a single finger to do anything. Not that he had even before your pregnancy â your husbandâs love language was acts of service â but now? He was very hyperactive in taking care of you.Â
âHoney, did you note down the appointment time in the calendar?â
âHoney, did you take your folic acid?â
âHoney, youâve been on your feet too much today. You need to rest.â
âHoney, do you want me to give you a massage?â
âKento,â you sigh, âIâm fine, really. Itâs still early stages.â
âAnd you have to be careful during the early stages,â he notes.Â
âI know. But youâre also treating me like Iâm china andâŚitâs justâŚa bit too much,â you say. You didnât want to tell him this, because you knew he meant well, but you also had to communicate your feelings to him. You were worried heâd be upset when you did, but he looks at you apologetically, seemingly taking it in his stride.Â
âIâm sorry, sweetheart. I donât mean to make you feelâŚsuffocated. I was worried I was being too overbearing, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I want to do as much as I can for you. And the baby,â he explains in one breath. Your eyes soften and you step into his embrace, hugging him tightly, burying your face into his neck.Â
âI do. Iâve always known that. I appreciate everything youâre doing for me, but I would also like to do things myself sometimes.â
âI understand. Iâll be more mindful, my love,â he rubs his hand up and down your back.Â
âThank you, Ken. I love you,â you kiss his cheek and he turns his face to capture your lips with his in a chaste kiss.Â
Every week, youâd made it tradition to take a side profile picture of the bump along with the fruit that the baby was the size of. This was Nanamiâs idea, of course, and he made it creative and fun. Seeing him be so excited for the arrival of your child made your heart swell with joy.Â
Heâd very proudly started to create a scrapbook of all the happenings during your pregnancy which he was eager to show your child when they got older.Â
Interestingly, Nanami did not want to do a gender reveal when the ultrasound technician offered to write it down at one of the scans. And you couldnât fault his logic when he later explained, âItâs silly. Itâs a social construct. Weâll find out when theyâre born, and regardless, even then it wonât matter. Weâll still love them the same.â
Every craving, every need, he provided. Including the need to jump his bones in the second trimester. Damn, did he keep up with you. You knew it was because he found the cute little swell of your belly so incredibly sexy â heâd voiced it on numerous occasions â knowing heâd done that, nothing made him more unhinged.Â
Ever the doting husband and expectant father, heâd started reading up more about babies and often tell you facts youâd have never known. âDid you know that your heart grows bigger during pregnancy?â He informs you while youâre laid back on the couch, on opposite ends, 5 months in.Â
âIâŚdid not know that,â you blink, surprised.Â
âYep. Itâs to help the heart pump more blood to the baby. Babies can also cry in the womb.â
âOh no,â you pout, âI donât want baby to cry.â
âI wouldnât worry too much about that, hon, theyâve been quite gentle so far. You can sing to them, theyâll hear it by now. And talking to them in another language is also beneficial,â he notes and you let out a soft laugh at how heâs rattling off these fun facts.Â
âYour brain truly amazes me sometimes, Ken, itâs like a sponge,â you prop your arm up and rest your chin on your hand.Â
âSoâs the babyâs right now. We should get a Duolingo subscription and get them started on another language already,â he jokes and you let out a hearty laugh, which earns you a little kick in protest from your baby.Â
âWell, your child just said no to that,â you giggle.Â
His mouth falls open and he scoots over and lies between your legs, coming face to face with your bump. âListen here, you little squirt, you will learn another language whether you like it or not.â
âOh, daddyâs setting rules,â you whisper.Â
âAnd in addition to that language, which you will be fluent in, youâll also learn jujutsu,â Kento tells your bump definitively. You laugh at how heâs instructing the baby firmly one minute and then lovingly pressing kisses to your skin the next.Â
He relaxes against you, and you decide to tell him a fact youâd found out recently. âDid you know that eggs can pick and choose whether the sperm gets to fertilise it? For a while, I thought it was just a race of the best sperm to get to the egg. But the egg can reject it if it wants to. Isnât that fascinating?â
He raises an eyebrow in slight surprise and amusement at this newfound knowledge. He wasnât aware of that little detail either, but he finds it very intriguing. âThatâs pretty impressive. I had no idea that they had such power over which sperm gets to fertilise them. Who knew eggs were such shrewd gatekeepers?â
âRight? But my egg was a terrible gatekeeper. Probably a combination of that and your sperm just being overachievers.â
He laughs heartily at your comment, the image of his overly ambitious sperm and your easy-going egg combining to form your miracle is quite the amusing picture.Â
âWell, I do have some pretty strong swimmers, I canât deny that. And your egg must have had a weak moment, letting my little overachievers through. But I'm glad it did,â he smiles warmly at you, his hand gently rubbing your leg.Â
There were moments where you couldnât wait to meet the little one, but you also found yourself getting emotional a few times that it wouldnât just be you and him anymore. When he notices your glassy eyes one day while youâre eating breakfast, he frowns and takes your hand in his. âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart?â
The dam suddenly bursts â darned pregnancy hormones â and you start to bawl, managing to say between breaths, âItâsâ notâ going toâ be justâ you and me anyâ anymoreâŚâ
He has to stop himself from laughing at your sudden realisation and he circles around the dining table, embracing you.Â
âAnd I know how stupid I sound right now, because I wanted this, and still do, but Iâmâ Iâm justâŚscared,â you cry, inhaling shaky breaths. âWhat if Iâm not a good mother? What if parenthood is the complete opposite of what I envision it to be?â You ramble. Â
He rubs your back gently and comforts you, kissing the crown of your head as you rest it on his chest. âI know, honey. You donât sound stupid. Itâs natural to feel nervous. Parenthood is a new venture for both of us but it wonât be vastly different to what we think itâll be. And youâll be a fantastic mother. Iâll be by your side every step of the way, youâll never be alone. Weâre doing this together. Weâll make mistakes together. Clean up messes together. Strive together. Itâll be alright.â
His words of reassurance bring you a sense of calm and you feel the warmth of comfort spread through you slowly, easing your anxieties.Â
He reassured you every time you felt any sense of worry or sadness, provided the love that you needed and more, and was a real anchor to harbouring your emotions.Â
Week 40 arrived before you knew it. With a bright and large orange pumpkin in hand, you took what you hoped would be the last picture for the scrapbook. You both subsequently started referring to the baby as âpumpkinâ that week. Every day that week, he had tried to coax them out with sweet words.Â
âAre you gonna come out today, pumpkin? Todayâs a good day to join us, I think. The weatherâs nice out. You should come see it,â he whispered to your bump in the morning before you were awake.Â
When your baby decided that they were ready to come out, Nanami was there, holding your hand the entire time, not once letting go. You were quite afraid of this final hurdle but with Nanami by your side, you knew youâd be okay.Â
It was a long and tiring 14 hours, exhaustion was settled into your bones, but when you finally, finally give the final push and the baby is out, you cry. From the relief of birth being over, from the new chapter that had just opened, from having sight of the baby that you and Nanami had made.Â
Nanami kisses your head, eyes glassy as he whispers praises of how well you did, that itâs over and that heâs so proud of you.Â
The midwife places pumpkin onto your chest for some skin to skin, placing a blanket on top, the little thing curled up and looking disapproving of being pushed out of the coziness of your womb.Â
Nanami chuckles softly as he peers over and the babyâs rosy lips tremble before they take their first breath and start to cry quietly. You sniffle as you wipe your own tears and look at your husband and he kisses your forehead.Â
You hush the baby gently, speaking softly, âYouâre here, pumpkinâŚhere with us. Iâve got you.âÂ
After they cut the umbilical cord, the afterbirth comes out, and the midwives take the baby to bathe, clothe, take measurements, and bundle them up.Â
âHow do you feel?â Kento asks, holding your hand still as you stand up, ready to take a shower.Â
âI feel a little empty inside, it also hurts. Not looking forward to peeing,â you sigh and he caresses your back gently.Â
âYouâll get better with time, honey,â he guides you to the shower room.
There, he tends to all of your needs, helping you carefully wash up, dry off, put ice and a giant pad on, and then your clothes. You could almost cry from his attentiveness.
You hug him and squeeze gently, gazing up at him gratefully and lovingly. âWhat did I do to deserve you?â You whisper.Â
He smiles sweetly, caressing your cheek and giving you a chaste peck. âYou canât say that after you just pushed our baby out,â he chuckles. You laugh softly and you hold each other for a moment longer, before you both go back into the room.
There, the midwives wheel the bassinet over to you, where pumpkin is awake and looking for something to come into focus.Â
âSheâs very healthy, Mr. and Mrs. Nanami.â
âShe?â You repeat, feeling your heart flutter. A sweet little girl.Â
Nanami smiles to himself, heâs elated. He has a daughter. âSweetheart, come on, look at her lips, theyâre totally yours.â
You give him a small smile, eyes filling with happy tears as you both fawn over your daughter. It was a little early to tell, but you hope she has his eyes. She had a bunch of blonde hair, too.
âHold her, Ken,â you whisper and he obliges, gently picking her up and angling his arms perfectly to fit his little angel against him.Â
Heâs quiet for a minute, just soaking up the feeling of having his daughter in his arms, the warmth of her, her existence setting in.Â
âNow, about those language lessons that you refused to doâŚâ he speaks to her in a gentle tone, and your lips curl into a bigger smile at his jokes, âI donât want to hear another word from you, little miss. Any objections?â
Heâs quiet for a beat and the baby just pouts as she looks up at her father, which you laugh softly at. âGood choice. Maybe start to brush up on some Malay, sweet pea, your mama and I will be taking you to Malaysia one day soon,â he promises to her you feel your heart flutter in your chest at the thought.
The three of you, your little family, in your shared happy place. Something out of a dream, but soon would be reality.
You couldnât wait.
Read the sequel, Pumpkin's First Birthday, here <3
Do not copy or translate my work. Š ashasdiary, all rights reserved. Divider by cafekitsune
#let's pretend the divider is a pumpkin just bc#*cries* PAPAMIN!!!#listen i am pmsing and i am genuinely in tears at the thought of him being a dad because he would be so GENTLE#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento fluff#nanami fluff#nanami x reader#jjk fluff#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk nanami#kento nanami#jjk kento#kento x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#papamin
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okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc
so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.
we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.
then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.
so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.
and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.
we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.
but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.
and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.
he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.
all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.
and then they're back.
and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.
"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"
and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.
"i do. i know how to feel."
"it's one of the things i love about you"
"i'm not going anywhere."
he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.
"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.
so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.
"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."
this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.
so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.
i think it's absolutely beautiful.
#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age veilgaurd spoilers#dragon age the veilgaurd spoilers#dragon age spoilers#datv spoilers#veilguard spoilers#lucanis romance#lucanis romance spoilers#datv lucanis#lucanis x rook#da4 lucanis#dragon age lucanis#lucanis dellamorte#lucanis spoilers
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You know what, yeah, that bell hooks quotation wasn't appropriate, it doesn't say what the person who added it think it says.
But I don't think it's fair to say that that man who everyone is pissing on somehow claimed we had to "hold his hand" or "coddle" him or whatever. Or even that women had to do it.
He never once even mentioned the word 'woman' in that post. I'm not excluding that that what he was implying - it's very possible! - but what he said was "the left", and let's be clear, this is his understanding of what the left is. I saw people saying that a "self-proclaimed leftist" should understand that his answer was still drenched in patriarchal thinking. But he never once proclaimed he was a leftist. Perhaps he thinks he is, but all he said was that he got "out" of the "alt-right". For all we know, that means he voted for the Democratic Party and we, who are on the left, all know that's not the fucking left.
The question that was posed was how do we keep young men from turning right wing, and he offered an explanation. An explanation! Not an excuse! Again something that a lot of people just assumed.
And yes, it was a flawed explanation, and yes he has some things to learn, and yes it was uncritical and terribly phrased.
But can we recognise that not everyone has the necessary critical thinking skills to completely dig their way out of the overarching ideology that fucking rules our lives? Critical thinking skills aren't something that we are born with. It's something that is learned, something that you have to train. It's a never-ending project. And from what I know of the educational system in the US? That's not where you get it.
Speaking of bell hooks, at least she understands this. In that book (The Will to Change) she writes that "most men never think about patriarchy - what it means, how it is created and sustained." She writes how the patriarchy sees men's violence and the one emotion they're allowed to have, anger, as "natural". Understanding the patriarchy is something that has to be learned, and you either figure it out yourself by reading, but most of us probably had someone in our lives who talked to us about it, taught us about it, and then we might have started reading more about it.
What if you don't have someone like that? What if all you hear is that the things feminists tell you is bad is what was imprinted on you as "natural" to you?
Here's bell hooks:
Yet no one talks about the role patriarchal notions of manhood play in teaching boys that it is their nature to kill, then teaching them that they can do nothing to change this natureânothing, that is, that will leave their masculinity intact.
Here's what she says of her own brother:
As patriarchal thinking and action claimed him in adolescence, he learned to mask his loving feelings. He entered that space of alienation and antisocial behavior deemed ânaturalâ for adolescent boys.
She clearly pinpoints the moment of these patriarchal ideas taking hold to be in adolescent, and the question that was posed was, what can we do to stop that from happening? I've seen people say that nothing can be done until we change the material conditions that make it so that men systematically have power over women. And yeah, undoubtedly that is a fight we need to have. But is that truly the only way we can keep (some) boys from falling into the grasp of the (alt-)right? Is there no hope in at least reaching them in the meantime?
I've seen a post saying, "omg of course he goes for misandry" and while misandry isn't real in that men are not systematically oppressed, that doesn't mean that there aren't some out there who express hatred or disgust of men. That's not what the left stands for, obviously, but it is not absent. Here are some comments from the notes on some of these reaction posts (and presumably these are all people who consider themselves leftists):
"you should be hunted for sport"
"makes me want to commit homocide"
"kys right now"
"'leftists constantly said i should die' yeah fucking right"
"we need to double male loneliness and I'm not even kidding"
"I HATE MEN AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. THEY HATE US MORE AND THEY HAVE ALL THE POWER TO DO ACTUAL HARM TO US. Misandry is NOT FUCKING REAL but I wish it was"
"we should kill people who don't get it"
Is that hatred of men (non-systematically)? Not all of it, but some of it definitely or possibly qualifies. And it sure does look like some people (who probably think themselves leftists) think this man (or men in general) are the "scum of the earth" and that they want him/them dead. How else do you interpret some of these phrases?
Now imagine that this is something that you encounter online, and with the help of the stranglehold of the patriarchy, whispers of right wing ideology, confirmation bias, and negativity bias? I can imagine you might end up concluding they "hate you for your immutable traits" (remember patriarchy teaches boys that violence and anger is natural to them) and that they "blame you for everything that's wrong in the world".
Is that the right conclusion? No. But as much as being able to use reason is part of being human, so is not being immune to ideology and propaganda. We wouldn't fucking be where we are right now if that wasn't the case.
How do we teach boys that anger and violence aren't "immutable traits"? How do we educate them about the power of the patriarchy? Well, where does it have to come from if not from the fucking left?
Does it have to be you? No. Does it have to be women? Also no. It's probably good if it's men, and especially men who themselves walked with the right at some point (if someone has already been pulled into the right, rather than catching them before).
It can be a woman though, if there's someone who wants to do it. I don't mind doing it if someone wants to talk about it. Will I be nice? No, I won't hold back and I will tell them if what they're saying is wrong. Will I coddle them? Fuck no. Will I keep trying if someone clearly isn't listening? No. Will I be compassionate? Yeah, I think I will.
Because compassion is really important when you're trying to keep people from falling into the far-right, or even if you're trying to get them out of it (which again, isn't what we were talking about in the first place).
Here's Pete Simi, professor of Sociology, talking about Life After Hate, an American non-profit that tries to help people leave the far-right:
The organization was started by former hate group members who have been doing a lot of outreach in terms of providing testimonials and trainings to schools and law enforcement and other community groups across the country. The focus of their message is the importance of using compassion to inform prevention and intervention efforts and aftercare for individuals who want to change their lives but may need various types of support. I think LAH is a very promising development and I hope it will continue to find the resources that it needs to expand the services it provides.
Being compassionate doesn't mean coddling. It doesn't mean holding their hands and it doesn't even mean being nice to them. It doesn't exclude holding people accountable for their views. It does require patience, though. And I understand that if someone is holding the belief that you are not allowed to exist, that isn't something you can do. And that's fine. It doesn't have to be you.
But somebody has to do it, and it has to be someone on the left.
Now none of that means that the suffering of men under patriarchy, and the fact that this has to be addressed loud and clear, are more important than the suffering that women, and especially women whose oppression intersects with other levels of oppression. I've seen some tags on reaction posts that stated "omg of course centring men in discussions of gender" - but the post was about men. That was the whole starting point!
Because men do suffer under the patriarchy. And it's pushing them to the right, towards misogyny and racism, unless they develop the necessary critical thinking skills to understand their own suffering. And you know who thinks so too? bell hooks.
Often men, to speak the pain, first turn to the women in their lives and are refused a hearing. In many ways women have bought into the patriarchal masculine mystique. Asked to witness a male expressing feelings, to listen to those feelings and respond, they may simply turn away.
Since men have yet to organize a feminist menâs movement that would proclaim the rights of men to emotional awareness and expression, we will not know how many men have indeed tried to express feelings, only to have the women in their lives tune out or be turned off.
It is a form of abuse that this culture continues to deny. Boys socialized to become patriarchs are being abused. As victims of child abuse via socialization in the direction of the patriarchal ideal, boys learn that they are unlovable.
The patriarchal model that tells men that they must be in control at all times is at odds with cultivating the capacity to be responsible, which requires knowing when to control and when to surrender and let go. Responsible men are capable of self-criticism. If more men were doing the work of self-critique, then they would not be wounded, hurt, or chagrined when critiqued by others, especially women with whom they are intimate. Engaging in self-critique empowers responsible males to admit mistakes. When they have wronged others, they are willing to acknowledge wrongdoing and make amends. When others have wronged them, they are able to forgive. The ability to be forgiving is part of letting go of perfectionism and accepting vulnerability. At the same time, constructive criticism works only when it is linked to a process of affirmation. Giving affirmation is an act of emotional care. Wounded men are not often able to say anything positive. They are the grump-and-groan guys; cloaked in cynicism, they stand at an emotional distance from themselves and others. Affirmation brings us closer together. It is the highest realization of compassion and empathy with others. One of the negative aspects of antimale feminist critiques of masculinity was the absence of any affirmation of that which is positive and potentially positive in male being. When individuals, including myself, wrote about the necessity of affirming men and identifying them as comrades in struggle, we were often labeled male-identified. The women who attacked us did not understand that it was possible to critique patriarchy without hating men. Indeed, recognizing all the ways that males have been victimized by patriarchy (even though they received rewards) was a way of including men in feminist movement, welcoming their presence and honoring their contribution.
âin order to create loving males we need to love malesâ means teach boys that they can be themselves without being less of a man. it means being encouraging and nurturing of their emotions so they donât become cold and hateful. it means showing boys, early in their lives, that they have value outside of what our society deems proper masculinity. what it doesnât mean is that itâs our job to handhold men who see women as walking sex toys through the concept of empathy, and maybe if weâre really really nice to them and donât say things that hurt their feelings theyâll stop killing us for saying no
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Any of the boys you want do a challenge where (they aren't dating yet) but they are at a fair and they win a bear or a prize and s/o gives them a kiss on the cheek for how many they win and s/o says if they win 10 or more they will give them a kiss on the lips and spend a week together with just them (maybe show like if some did get the kiss and how they would react?) I thought this was cute lol
This has been sitting in my drafts for like a year so I just figured I would post the parts of it that were done.
Leave it to Crowley and Grim to get you into this situation. âEvery dorm has to have a booth at the fair, prefect! Maybe youâll even earn enough money to make some renovations to that shoddy old place!â
Crowley failed to take into consideration how making a carnival attraction costs money to be any good. Any cafe service would need more money and supplies than you could afford, a show would need more than two people, and a game would need prizes.
Grim is not one for bright ideas, but it would seem there was no other solution that wouldnât cost all your food money for the month. So this is what it came to.
âKnock down all the pins and win a kiss on the cheek from Ramshackleâs prefect! Hit all three targets and heâll give you a kiss on the lips!!!!â
It was probably in your top five most embarrassing moments of your life as your cat basically prostituted you at the top of his lungs. Surely no one would actually be enticed by a prize like that, right?
Trey
"You always manage to find a way to keep things interesting, don't you? For once I'm glad to be at a school mandated event."
Feels bad. Plays anyway.
No hard feelings, right?
He tells you that you have nothing to worry about, he's really a lousy shot anyway (as if he's not the best spelldrive player on Heartslabyul)
He easily knocks down the first two stacks, but misses the third
Maybe he missed, maybe he found it in his heart to show you mercy
He not-so-subtly implies that he's sure he could find a different way to win the "grand prize"
Despite his big talk, he still has a noticeable blush when you give him a kiss on the cheek
He would also keep an eye on your booth for the rest of the day to make sure not too many people are winning
For your sake, of course
Jade
âIt would seem youâve found yourself in quite the situation there, prefect. Please find it in your heart to forgive me if I take advantage.â
This is the funniest shit Jade has ever seen
How stupid do you honestly have to be to get yourself into this predicament?
Of course heâs playing the game. The scowl on your face when he trades in his tickets to Grim for three baseballs fills him with unbridled delight
His aim is a little wonky and you sigh in relief when his first three balls miss the target
He feigns disappointment before handing over another few tickets to the cat and grabbing the balls again
Of course he was hustling you. He let you think that even for a second you would be safe from this menace. For shame
Each ball is thrown with such force that pins from the first stack fly into the other stacks, easily ensuring that Jade clears the game with ease
He calls it beginners luck. Asshole.
Has the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he leans down to your face to claim his prize
Rook
"Mon amour, what a dastardly situation you've been resigned to! Not to worry sweet dame, I shall save you from the beasts at your heels!"
You knew you were in trouble the minute Rookâs gaze happened to fall on your stall
His eyes narrow and he smirks as he makes his way over to the stall
He's visibly holding back his excitement as he trades his tickets in to Grim
His idea of "saving you" is to hog the game- and the prize- for himself
He hits every stack with effortless accuracy, game after game
The second all three stacks have been knocked down, he prances over to you and leans down for his kiss. You can practically see the flower emojis radiating off his satisfied smile
This will continue until Grim gets fed up with him scaring away customers, or Vil comes to drag him away
You got so used to kissing him that you almost do it again the next time he leans down to talk to you
#x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland headcannons#twisted wonderland x reader#trey clover x yuu#trey clover x reader#trey clover#trey x reader#jade leech x reader#jade leech#jade x reader#Jade leech x yuu#rook hunt x reader#rook hunt#rook x reader#rook hunt x yuu
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Unhinged
Jason Todd x Reader
MDNI wc: 0.7K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive themes, no y/n used, actually kind of cringe a/n: my dear friend accidently gave me this idea while spamming me with delicious Red Hood edits (@dollyure), evidence will be shared at the end. enjoy!!
You never thought this could happen. You were so careful to leave your own thoughts to yourself and never let Jason see the things you tell your friend. But of course, nothing really goes your way for some reason.
It took one thing for you to end up in this situation. One thing. And that was leaving your phone unattented on the sofa for a minute. Unlocked.
It was a typical evening as any other, just getting to relax and wind down at the end of the week on your favourite spot at the couch with your roommate. Jason was always pretty quiet but respectful of the shared space, a good friend if you want to wind down together. You rarely get to see him in the evenings but on days like this, when he stays in, it feels like a small reward for you.
Of course he doesnât know about any of this. Doesnât know anything about what your silly texts between you and your friends. You keep it a secret pretty well, so he wonât think you are a complete weirdo.
Well, until that evening. Setting your phone quickly aside to get to your boiling tea kettle, you forgot to lock it. Jason sits at the other end of the fluffy couch and watches how you scurry away to get the boiling water to a stop. With an amused grin he gets back to his book but keeps getting distracted by the bright phonescreen just a little away from him. Glancing over, he sees the outlines of text bubbles but he canât see whatâs written in there yet.
He isnât trying to pry or get into your privacy, but the way the other person spams you non-stop is making him more curious. Whatever this conversation is about, he wants to know if itâs a conflict or some sort of gossip.
Jason checks if you are still in the kitchen and sees you preparing your tea and some sweets. He technically has enough time to snatch your phone while itâs still open and gets to have a look over the texts. Who knows, maybe he will find out some interesting things on there. So, with these weak excuses, he grabs your phone and starts reading through them.
UNTIL YOUR TONGUE FADES COLOUR??? I mean every word I say. Wow. JustâŚ
His brows furrow. What does this even mean? Are tongues even capable of fading colour? With a quick glance to the kitchen, he scrolls up, reading through the older messages.
From the couch, to the shower, to the bed, from the wall to the floor from missionary to cowgirl, straddled on top JUST LET ME HITTT
His jaw drops. Jason quickly composes himself and sits up, clearing his throat. He is sure he will need extra therapy after this. Ignoring the unfamiliar, warm feeling in his lower abdomen, he continues to read through them. Unsurprisingly, he finds a picture of himself in the chat. His profile picture, some random pictures he didnât even you had in the first place.
Until my throat memorises every vein.
Thatâs the last message he sees from you before you appear in his sight again. Tea in hand, some cookies in the other. But most importantly, your flushed cheeks and regretful expression. His hand drops your phone and his cheeks also flush.
You canât look into his eyes anymore. This is the next worst thing thatâs ever happened to you so far. There is no way you can talk yourself out of this situation at all. He knows basically everything now. From the fact that you crush on him to the fact that you literally want to devour him whole.
Silently, he sets your phone back to its original spot and gets off the couch to stand up. Again, he clears his throat and speaks up first.
ÂťIâm gonna pretend I didnât see all this...ÂŤ
And before you could apologise or say something to your defense, he is gone, retreating himself into his own room. Maybe even for the better, you canât imagine how awkward it wouldâve been if you were to sit next to him for the next few hours.
here is the so called evidence ( from my friends perspective)
and this was the final message that made me do this:
hope you enjoyed it somehow(â
âżâ
)
âMASTERLIST
#x reader#drabble#one shot#jason todd#jason todd drabble#jason todd x reader#jason todd fic#batfamily#dc comics#batfam#dc red hood#dc characters#dcu#jason todd fanfic
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will johnny ever punish simon(and how) for playing too rough with you and accidentally hurt you (yk some dog just like that) or doesnt listen to reader or makes reader upset????
follow up question if simon and reader do something and it upset him how will he handle it???
im in LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEE with ur guard dog simon and owner johnny reader
i hope you have a good day and win the lottery â¤ď¸
ă 18+ i'm glad you're liking my guard dog!ghost series! sorry my answer got a little long but a short way of explaining Ghost's dynamic with reader when it comes to punishments is that he's technically submitting, but he's also not really submissive ygm? he'll go through his punishments, but energy is very much this post. that's what im tryna go for at least -> more here
Accidentally hurting you, Soap can forgive. Ghost is always extremely careful not to seriously hurt you. Yes, he'll be rough and leave you sore or with bruises sometimes, but he still behaves much like the scrupulous guard dog he is, listening to your every command and taking care to protect you from real harm.
As Soap likes too remind you, Ghost is very well trained already, and it's up to you to show him that you can take care of him just as Ghost takes care of you. In fact, Soap is a little harder on you if he catches you slacking, reminding you that a dog like Ghost deserves a responsible owner willing to take care of such a diligent dog.
However, in the rare event that Ghost doesn't do his duty as your guard dog and leaves your side, Soap will get upset, but he would actually leave the punishment up to you (since you're technically Ghost's primary owner. Soap is there to teach you how to be a good owner) and act as the enforcer for whatever punishment you see fit.
So if you wanna make Ghost sleep in a dog crate for a week, Soap will buy the crate and Ghost isn't allowed on the bed. If you want to keep Ghost on a leash until you regain trust in him, Soap is gonna do some leash training with Ghost.
For more sexual punishments, Ghost will be kept in a cock cage for a while so the most he can do is mindlessly rut against you, and Soap will be the one to hold the key to his cage. He'll only unlock Ghost if you say so, but he'll also encourage you to keep Ghost locked because he's a shit he wants you to be a firm dog owner and not give in to Ghost's dog brown eyes that you've developed a soft spot for. When that happens, Ghost might bare his teeth at Soap because he knows what he's doing, but won't do much more because he knows Soap would suggest a cock gag next, that fucker-
(also if you wanna spank Ghost, Soap is will enforce that too)
But these punishments are rare and far in between. Ghost is very disciplined, so they don't happen often, but when they do, Ghost will go through them like a good boy, knowing that he messed up. He'll regain your trust and be an even better dog for you.
Now if you and Simon do something that upset Soap, (like for example, exploring a dangerous alley willingly, even though Ghost told you not to go in, but went with you anyway because you told him the 'quiet' and 'heel' command) you'll get the brunt of the punishment since 'dog behavior is a reflection of your guidance, sweets.'
Ghost won't get a harsh punishment, but he'll have to stay leashed to his crate, watching Soap give you your punishment which could range from all sorts of things, but mostly, it'll be Soap treating you like a dog- a puppy- to show you how to be a good owner.
He'll make you wear a tail plug and have you crawl on all fours. Tell you commands like 'sit pretty' or 'bow' or 'come'. You're not allowed to talk, only bark, and If you can't follow his commands, the longer the punishment will go and the more intense it'll become. Hell, if he's feeling generous, he'll unleash Ghost and make him show you how to be a good dog, letting Ghost correct your behavior. They may even tag team you, and you'll be aching for days, but the lesson will definitely stick.
#bangus answers#anon#soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#141 sweet treat <3
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Theo did as she instructed and pressed the shred of blanket to his shoulder, wincing a little and being reminded of where the talon had caught him too. He was disgusted with the room and how he was covered in blood, he could feel it sticking to him and he was so sure that he could smell it too, not just the iron but something else in it, as if it was full of terrible germs, or could that have just been the monster?
Mauve went back towards the monster and Theo shot out his blanket holding hand too late to stop her, wanting to pull her back away from that thing. Whether it was dying or not, he didn't want her to go near it but he was too late and so he sat frozen with his arm stretched out, blanket still balled up in his hand just as she quite viciously and efficiently finished the job. Oh. Well at least she was alright. She fell to her knees and Theo moved to help her, still on his own knees as he got closer.
"You need to wrap up your arm," he told her as he pulled the little bit of blanket along with him, trying to keep it out of the puddle. "Let me help?" He asked as he gently nudged at her injured arm. They were a state but alive at least, which was one step up from the monster. He didn't hear what was happening behind him until too late.
A middle aged orderly stepped into the room, at least not one of the men who had previously attacked them but he had not helped them either. He looked over the scene and then without warning, stepped inside and closed the door quietly. Raising his hands as he looked to the two of them to show he was not armed and was not going to hurt them. "That must have been one hell of a fight," he commented without all that much sympathy though he did at least seem impressed. "What were you both thinking?" Theo bristled beside Mauve though and was sure to once more try and put himself between her and an orderly though this one was doing his best not to appear threatening.
đđđđ & đđđđđđ @multipleoccupancy
Violet tried to check on Theo's shoulder, make sure he wasn't bleeding too much, but it was hard to tell if the blood was his or not. "It bit you too," she countered, ignoring the shooting pain in her arm, or the sting in her flank, where the beast's talon had gripped her. "But I don't think it'll attack us again." It was all curled up in a corner, looking like a dead jellyfish, abandoned on the beach. A giant jellyfish with teeth.
She ripped a bit of her bedsheet, which was lying further away and was still mostly clean, and handed him the piece. "Press this against your shoulder, to stop the bleeding," she said gently. It was lucky that this Theo wasn't bothered by blood, because they were both drenched in it. Not to mention the large puddle on the floor. Everything was stained red.
"We've got to make sure it's dead." And with that, she walked up to the dying monster, and, with the knife in hand, she finished the job. It didn't take too long for it to draw its final exhale and deflate completely. "It won't hurt anyone ever again, now." She fell to her knees, exhausted. Her entire body was shaking, and her face -the parts that weren't covered in blood- was pale.
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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.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x you#f1 x y/n#formula one x oc#formula one x y/n#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen angst#max verstappen smut#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen au#mv1#mv33#mv33 x reader#mv33 fic#mv33 imagine#mv33 x you#mv33 fluff#mv1 x reader#mv1 fic#mv1 imagine#mv1 x you
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this town is only gonna eat you
(buddie) (s8 spec) (1.1k) already wrote some buck-gets-hit-by-a-car spec, so how about some buck-gets-shot? kept thinking about "take eddie [to the laker's game] and die" and uh... here we are. cw: mass shooting/ gun violence (described vaguely), somewhat graphic description of a bullet wound, blood edit: now featuring a companion piece
Buck is smiling when it happens. Grinning at Eddie like he hung the fucking moon as he points out what must be the hundredth interesting play heâs seen on the court tonight. Buckâs smiling.
Eddie registers the screams before the gunfire. He smells the metallic scent of spent shell casings before he sees the shooter. He tackles Buck to the ground before he realizes heâs already hurt.
Buck was smiling, but now his face is inches from Eddieâs and his eyes are wide with pain and panic.
âEds,â he says, and itâs barely above a whisper but itâs still too loud.
Eddie shakes his head, a tiny, sharp movement. Buck takes a shaky breath and presses his lips together. He understands. Eddie hates that he understands. Thank God he understands.
Thereâs something warm and wet slowly spreading between them, and it takes Eddie several wasted seconds to realize itâs blood. Heâs almost completely certain it isnât his, whichâ
God, thatâs so much worse than if it was.
One of Eddieâs hands is still cradling Buckâs head, an instinctive act of protection before they hit the ground. With the other, Eddie slowly begins feeling his way around Buckâs abdomen. His fingers brush against torn fabric and he feels nauseous.
Iâm sorry, he mouths before pressing down hard.
Buck gasps in pain. A muscle in his jaw ticks with the effort it must take him to keep from screaming.
âYouâre doing so good,â Eddie breathes into Buckâs ear. âIâve got you; I promise.â
The bullet caught him somewhere along the fifth intercostal space on the right side of his chest. Eddie doesnât have a way to feel for an exit wound, not without letting up pressure on what he knows is there.
At best, the bullet glanced off a rib and tore through nothing but skin and muscle. At worstâŚ
At worst, Buck is dying beneath him and thereâs not a damn thing Eddie can do, not until the shooter is dead or gone. All Eddie can do is pray. Pray and hope like hell that God has forgiven him for his incomplete confession.
Another spray of gunfire echoes through the arena. Itâs nearly impossible to identify where itâs coming from, but Eddieâs got a vague idea based on the direction people seem to be running in.
Buck takes a ragged, watery breath.
For the first time in his life, Eddie hopes heâs crying. He draws back, just far enough to look Buck in his eyes. His eyes, which are clouded over in pain but free from tears.
Fuck, fucking goddamn it.
Eddie presses his cheek against Buckâs.
âSlow, steady breaths, okay?â he whispers. âYou have to breathe through it, even if it feels like you canât.â
The tiniest whimper escapes Buckâs chest.
âYou have to, Buck, I canâtââ Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. âI just need you to hold on,â he begs.
A single shot rings out, and nearby, something falls to the ground with a dull thump.
âSuspect is down!â someone shouts. âWeâre clear for EMS.â
Eddie carefully extricates his hand from behind Buckâs head. âHear that? Weâre so close, Buck.â He brushes a thumb across his cheekbone, then sits up and raises his hand in the air. âOver here!â he shouts. âIâve got a penetrating chest wound that needs to be on the first ambo out of here!â
Buckâs eyelashes flutter as he fights to stay conscious.
âCome on, eyes on me,â Eddie says.
With his free hand and his teeth, he tears a strip of fabric from his shirt to wad up and press into Buckâs wound. Â The skin there is ragged and torn, almost certainly an exit wound. Eddie curses.
âI need EMS now!â Eddie roars, not tearing his eyes away from Buck for even a second.
âIâm coming to you!â someone calls back.
Buckâs eyes slip shut.
âNo!â Eddie commands, rubbing his knuckles across Buckâs sternum. âYouâre staying right here with me, you got it?â
Buck groans weakly. His eyes flick back open.
âThatâs perfect, youâre perfect,â Eddie babbles. âJust keepâcâmon, Buck, just keep fighting. I needâyou have to be okay.â
Buckâs lips part. âHurt,â he breathes.
âI know,â Eddie says desperately, âI know it hurts, Iâm sorry.â
A pained sound falls from Buckâs lips. He lifts one of his hands just high enough to ghost his fingers along the ruined hem of Eddieâs shirt.
Behind him, Eddie hears a gurney roll to a stop.
âHere!â
Eddie turns and find a young woman, no more than twenty years old, wearing a polo that declares her part of a private ambulance service. He doubts sheâd weigh even a hundred pounds soaking wet.
âAlright,â he says, turning back to Buck. âIâm going to get you onto that gurney. Let me do all the work, okay?â
Buckâs eyes widen. He makes a strangled sound. âHurt,â he coughs out again, fingers scrambling uselessly against the concrete floor of the arena.
âTheyâre gonna give you the good stuff at the hospital,â Eddie reassures. He lets go of Buckâs wound and pulls him into a seated position, then rolls him awkwardly onto his back. âI got you,â he says as he stands.
Eddie staggers beneath Buckâs weight but manages to get him down three rows worth of steps and onto the gurney without the young EMTâs help.
âWeâre staged just outside the north entrance,â she says as she begins to push Buck toward a set of doors.
Eddie nods sharply. âHeâs got a perforating chest wound, probable pulmonary laceration, and a history of pulmonary embolism. Allergic to naproxen,â he rattles off as he pushes the gurney alongside her.
âUm, okay, thatâsâare you a doctor or something?â she asks.
âFirefighter,â Eddie corrects. âWe both are.â
The closer they get to the exit, the harder Eddie has to work to keep pace with the EMT. He must be coming down hard as the adrenaline fades. A few spots cloud the corners of his visions. He blinks them away.
The doors to the outside fling open, revealing two paramedics from the 136.
âDiaz, is that you?â one of them asks.
The best Eddie can do is nod.
âShit, and thatâsââ
Eddieâs ears start to ring.
âDiaz, were you shot?â
No, he tries to say. One of the paramedics grabs him under the shoulders, and the other pushes his t-shirt up untilâ
Oh.
Huh.
He has been shot.
The paramedic in front of him is saying something, but Eddie canât quite understand it. Over his shoulder, the EMT looks blurry and horrified.
The spots in his vision return with a vengeance, and in his last few moments of lucidity, it occurs to Eddie that the bullet in his abdomen is probably the same one that ripped through Buckâs chest.
Then, the world fades to black, and Eddie thinks nothing at all. Â
#apparently i work through Grief and Despair by writing evil little spec fics so here we are#also by doing the dishes but that feels less relevant#911fic#911 fic#buddiefic#buddie fic#911#buddie#fic#911 spec#cw gun violence#abbie writes
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