#i wonder if he watches it sometimes when he's alone

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Leaving it all behind— Max Verstappen x Reader

Word count — 30.k

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

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

Beta read/edited by @octavikravecell218 @crispysoup318 @sinofwriting

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

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

Leaving it all behind ” max verstappen x reader 

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

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

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

That was when he saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, her expression curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*She’s more important.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a dangerous, foolish, insane choice.

*And he loved every second of it.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just you. I want all of you." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max frowned slightly. “Get what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Until I met you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, he saw them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max fired first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think you can run from me, Max?”

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

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

Max didn’t flinch. “Marco.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep running!” Max barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then came Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Victor knelt beside them, going over the plan one last time. “I’ll handle the detonators for the traps we set by the entrances. It should keep most of his men occupied, but Marco will be harder to take down. He’ll be looking for you, Max.”

Max nodded. “We just need to make sure he doesn’t walk out of here. This ends tonight.”

Y/N placed a hand on Max’s arm, her eyes soft but determined. “We’re ready. Whatever happens, we do this together.”

Max gave her a small smile, his gaze steady. “Together.”

It didn’t take long for the sound of approaching vehicles to echo through the empty factory. Max felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the headlights piercing through the darkness outside. Marco had brought more men than they’d anticipated, but it was too late to change the plan. He and Y/N exchanged a tense look as they heard the doors slam and the muffled voices of Marco’s men.

Victor caught Max’s eye and nodded, signaling that he was ready. He held the detonator for the traps they had rigged by the entrances, ready to trigger them as soon as Marco’s men entered.

From their vantage point, Max and Y/N watched as Marco strode in, his expression steely and focused. He was flanked by several armed men, their gazes scanning the factory’s dim interior.

“Spread out,” Marco ordered, his voice cold. “They’re here somewhere. I want them alive.”

Max held his breath as Victor pressed the first detonator. A loud explosion rocked the factory, and smoke filled the air. Marco’s men were thrown off balance, some of them stumbling backward as the entrance filled with dust and debris.

Using the distraction, Max and Y/N moved silently down a side staircase, making their way closer to the ground level where Marco was recovering from the blast.

Marco’s voice cut through the chaos. “You think you can take me down, Max?” he shouted, his tone mocking. “You’re just as foolish as your mother. You’re weak.”

Max clenched his jaw, the mention of his mother igniting a fury he’d kept buried. He stepped out from the shadows, his gaze locked on Marco.

“No, Marco,” Max said, his voice steady. “I’m nothing like you. And I’m ending this.”

Marco laughed, a cold, twisted sound. “Go ahead, Max. Let’s see if you have what it takes.”

Marco raised his gun, but before he could fire, Y/N moved in from the side, aiming and pulling the trigger. The shot hit one of Marco’s men square in the chest, sending him sprawling. Max took advantage of the moment, lunging forward and tackling Marco to the ground.

They grappled fiercely, years of anger and resentment pouring out in each punch. Marco fought back with a strength that took Max by surprise, but Max’s resolve was unbreakable. He was fighting not only for himself, but for Y/N and the life he wanted to build with her.

Victor took down another one of Marco’s men, shouting to Max and Y/N to fall back as more reinforcements arrived. But Max refused to let go of Marco, his hands clenched tightly around his collar.

Marco’s gaze held a glint of something unsettling”a confidence that sent a chill through Max. “You really think you can escape your father’s shadow? That you can just walk away from this life?”

Max’s grip tightened. “Watch me.”

Just as Marco started to pull away, Victor tossed Max a knife, and with one swift motion, Max drove it into Marco’s side. Marco’s eyes widened in shock, the fight draining from him as he fell back against the floor, his breathing ragged.

“You could have been great, Max,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “You were always meant for this.”

Max knelt beside him, his expression hardened. “I’ll be great, Marco. Just not in the way you or father wanted.”

Marco’s gaze dimmed as he breathed his last, his reign of terror finally ending. Victor, catching his breath, nodded to Max and Y/N, signaling that it was time to go before any more of Jos’s men arrived.

As they ran through the factory, the weight of what they had just done hit them. They had defeated Marco, but Max knew that his father would come looking for them eventually. This fight wasn’t over”not entirely. But for the first time, he felt hope.

Max and Y/N drove through the night, the reality of their escape sinking in as the city faded in their rearview mirror. They didn’t know what the future held or where they would go, but they knew they were finally free.

As dawn broke over the horizon, Y/N reached for Max’s hand, her fingers lacing through his. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and relief.

Max squeezed her hand, a faint smile crossing his face. “Yeah, we did.”

With Marco gone, they had a chance”a real chance”to live the life they wanted. And though Jos’ shadow still loomed, Max was prepared to face whatever came next, as long as he had Y/N by his side.

For now, they would drive until they reached a place where no one knew their names, where they could start fresh. Together, they would forge a new path, one free from the violence and darkness of Max’s past.

The road stretched out before them, endless and full of possibility. And for the first time, Max felt at peace, knowing that he had finally broken free.

Max and Y/N eventually found themselves in a quiet coastal town, a place with winding streets and charming old buildings nestled near the sea. It was far enough from the city and all the memories that came with it. They rented a small, modest apartment overlooking the water, where they hoped they could finally start fresh.

The first few weeks were quiet, filled with long walks on the beach, lazy mornings over coffee, and late nights spent talking about dreams and regrets. It was a life Max had never thought possible, a life he didn’t know he could have. For once, they felt safe, wrapped in the peace of anonymity.

But the shadows of Max’s past weren’t so easily left behind. The tension, the feeling of being watched”it crept back slowly, chipping away at the calm they’d built.

One night, as they were walking back from a small restaurant by the shore, Max noticed a familiar black car parked just down the street. His stomach knotted. He hadn’t seen that car in years, but he knew it”one of his father’s old vehicles.

Y/N noticed his change in demeanor. “Max? Is everything okay?”

Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let’s get back to the apartment.”

They made it back to the apartment, locking every door and window. Max peered outside, watching the car until it finally disappeared down the road. Y/N was by his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, grounding him in the present.

“Do you think it’s your father?” Y/N asked quietly.

Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But if he’s found us here, we’re not safe.”

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but something told him to answer. He took a deep breath, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

A familiar voice spoke, low and menacing. “Max. You didn’t really think you could run forever, did you?”

It was Jos.

Max felt a chill run through him. His father’s voice was calm, calculating, as if this were just another business call.

“What do you want?” Max asked, his voice tense.

Jos chuckled softly. “What I’ve always wanted, son. I want you to come back. I’ll forget your disloyalty, if you return now. But this woman”she’s distracting you. She’s a weakness.”

Max’s grip on the phone tightened. “I’m not coming back, and Y/N is none of your concern.”

Jos sighed, his tone turning cold. “You’re making a mistake, Max. You’re my blood. And blood never betrays family. But if you insist on keeping her, you know what happens to liabilities.”

With that, the line went dead.

Max lowered the phone, his heart pounding. He looked at Y/N, who watched him anxiously. “It was my father. he knows we’re here. And he’s not going to stop.”

Max and Y/N knew they had to leave the town immediately. But this time, they couldn’t just run blindly. They needed a plan, something that would allow them to disappear for good. Max realized they would need help to outsmart his father”a network, a way to stay hidden and off the grid.

That night, they packed their bags, taking only the essentials. Max reached out to Victor, sending him a coded message asking for help. They arranged to meet in a secluded spot, a few miles away, where Victor would bring supplies and information.

Before they left, Y/N placed a hand on Max’s arm, her voice soft but strong. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. We’ll get through this.”

Max pulled her into an embrace, his voice steady but filled with determination. “I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”

They drove through the night, finally arriving at a remote gas station where Victor was waiting. He stood near his car, a heavy duffel bag by his feet, watching the road with caution.

Max and Y/N got out of the car, approaching him. Victor gave them a nod. “Looks like you two could use some supplies”and a new plan.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, exhausted but grateful. “You have no idea. My father he’s found us. He’s not going to let us go so easily.”

Victor handed Max the duffel bag, filled with burner phones, fake IDs, cash, and a list of contacts who could help them along the way. “This should buy you some time. But you need to move fast.”

Y/N thanked Victor, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You’re risking a lot to help us. We won’t forget this.”

Victor gave her a small smile. “Max was there for me when I needed it. Just consider this payback.”

Before they left, Victor placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “One more thing ”you need to think about how far you’re willing to go. Jos isn’t going to stop. You might have to consider taking him out.”

Max’s expression darkened. He had known, deep down, that his father would never let him go. But hearing it out loud made it real.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Victor.”

Victor nodded, watching as Max and Y/N got back into their car, their new identities hidden in the duffel bag. As they drove off, Max couldn’t shake Victor’s words. The idea of facing his father felt impossible, but he knew that eventually, they’d have no other choice.

For weeks, Max and Y/N kept moving, using new names in each town, keeping to small motels and out-of-the-way diners. They became adept at disappearing, slipping into the background of each new place. But as careful as they were, Jos’ men kept finding them, each encounter a reminder that they were never truly safe.

Finally, they received a message from Victor. “He’s coming for you himself, Max. It’s time to end this.”

Max looked at Y/N, his heart heavy but resolved. “It’s him or us. I can’t keep running from him. We’ll make our stand here.”

Y/N placed her hand over his, her eyes fierce. “Then let’s end this together.”

In a darkened alleyway that night, Max and Y/N waited. They heard the footsteps, the unmistakable sound of Jos’ voice. This was the final confrontation the moment when Max would either free himself or be bound to his past forever.

As Jos appeared, flanked by his men, Max stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “It’s over, Dad. You can’t control me anymore.”

Jos’ expression was a mix of anger and something almost like disappointment. “You were always my successor, Max. But you betrayed me. And for what? A woman?”

Max shook his head. “For freedom. For love. For a life that you never gave me.”

In a swift movement, the fight began. Max and Y/N fought with everything they had, each strike a testament to their will to survive. And as dawn broke, they stood victorious, finally free from Jos’ grip.

In the end, Max and Y/N left the city, driving toward a new horizon. They had endured more than most could imagine, but they had come out of it stronger, bound by trust and love.

As they drove into the distance, Y/N leaned over, resting her head on Max’s shoulder. “It’s finally over.”

Max took her hand, a quiet smile crossing his face. “Yeah. We’re finally free.”

They didn’t know what the future held, but they knew one thing: they would face it together, no longer haunted by the past.

One year later 

In a small, sunny coastal town far from the chaos of their past, Max and Y/N settled into a new life together. They’d both embraced the quiet simplicity of it—the kind of life neither of them thought they’d ever have.

Max and Y/N married in a small, private ceremony, just a handful of close friends gathered to celebrate. There were no grand gestures, no lavish displays”just the two of them, standing hand in hand, promising to share a life of peace and devotion. For Max, it was the ultimate vow of freedom, a declaration that he was no longer bound by his family’s legacy.

Over time, they built their own family. They had two children, a boy and a girl, who became the center of their world. Max was a devoted father, often surprising Y/N with how patient and tender he was with their children. Watching him with them, she knew he’d truly left his past behind, pouring his energy into being the father he’d never had.

To make a living, Max chose a career that allowed him to use his skills for good. He became a mechanic, running a small garage where he fixed cars and occasionally helped neighbors with any odd jobs. He found he enjoyed the work”it was honest, straightforward, and gave him a sense of satisfaction he’d never known before.

Max had always been good with his hands, and he took pride in running his business ethically, treating each customer with respect. In a way, his garage became a place where people came not only to fix their cars but to catch up with him and Y/N, who would often stop by with their kids. Their life was simple, grounded, and filled with small joys.

There were still moments when the shadows of their past would resurface”an unexpected noise, a stranger’s lingering look. But Max and Y/N had learned to hold each other close during those times, grounding each other with gentle reminders of the life they’d built.

Their children grew up knowing nothing of the dangers their parents had faced. Max and Y/N wanted it that way; they wanted their kids to live without fear, surrounded by love and stability. They spent weekends by the shore, watching their children play in the sand, building castles and laughing freely.

In the quiet of those moments, Max would look at Y/N and feel a deep gratitude for the life they’d created together. It was a life free from the violence and tension that had once defined him, and he knew he had her to thank for giving him the courage to embrace it.

As the years passed, Max and Y/N continued to build their lives in the small town, becoming a beloved part of the community. They hosted neighborhood gatherings, watched their children grow, and celebrated every milestone, no matter how small.

For Max, this life wasn’t just a new beginning”it was redemption. He’d found a purpose beyond survival, a love that had healed his old wounds. And in the warmth of his family, he had finally found peace.

[urdreamydoodles]

Hi!!!

May I request something a little angsty to sweet?? 😈

An X-men x teen!reader with that one trope where it’s like:

“You’re not my dad/mom!”

“I know that, do you?”

With characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Storm, Beast, Magneto, and gambit

X-Men x Teen!Reader

You tell them that they are not your dad/mom during an argument

In the heat of the argument, the words slip out—sharp, hurtful. Their faces fall, stunned and wounded, but there’s a quiet pain in your own heart too, because you know the truth. Later, in the stillness, you find yourself beside them, whispering apologies, and they hold you as if to say: family isn’t only blood, it’s chosen.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Wade Wilson

Ooh, you little evil spawn... I love this prompt, and I hope I have reached your expectations <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan’s temper is legendary, but he’s always managed to keep it in check around you, knowing you need stability. However, the moment you shout “You’re not my dad!” during a heated argument, he feels a pang of anger and hurt. He’s spent years looking after you, guiding you in his gruff way, and in that second, it stings. Without missing a beat, he snaps back, “I know that, kid. Do you?”

- There’s a cold silence afterward, and Logan storms off, muttering under his breath. He knows he’s not technically your father, but you’re family to him. As he sits alone, drinking and stewing over the argument, he wonders if maybe he’s failed you somehow. He thinks back to the times he’d pulled you out of trouble or taught you some hard-won survival lessons, realizing just how deeply he cares.

- That night, the silence weighs heavy, and you feel a growing sense of regret. Logan has been the one constant in your life, a steady (if rough) presence who’s always had your back. You think about all the times he’s risked himself for you, the moments he’s tried to be there in his quiet, sometimes awkward way. It dawns on you that, without Logan, your life would be far lonelier—and that he truly has become a father figure.

- The next morning, Logan’s in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon, trying to act like everything’s normal. When you finally muster up the courage to apologize, he doesn’t make it easy. He just grunts, flipping the eggs with a rough edge to his voice, not looking up. But he listens. After you tell him how much he means to you, he lets out a long sigh, and with a gruff but softer voice, he tells you, “Kid, you drive me crazy, but you’re family. You know that?”

- Later, you notice Logan starts going a little easier on you, keeping the snark to a minimum and checking in a bit more often. The bond between you grows even stronger, and while he’ll never be openly affectionate, you sense the quiet pride he has in you. If anyone tries to mess with you, Logan’s first in line to make sure they regret it.

- From then on, whenever you call him “Logan” instead of “Dad,” he just smirks and raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to say what you really feel. In his own way, he’s let you know that titles don’t matter—he’ll always be there, watching your back like only a true family member would.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy isn’t exactly the “strict parent” type, so when you start an argument with him, you’re used to his laid-back attitude. But this time, he gets serious, which shocks you enough to yell, “You’re not my dad!” Remy’s face goes still for a moment, then he raises an eyebrow with his usual calm demeanor, saying softly, “I know, cher. Do you?”

- Remy’s response hangs in the air, and he turns on his heel, leaving you to stew in the aftermath. You’re left alone, staring after him and feeling a pang of guilt. Remy has always treated you like family, his warmth and charm making you feel safe and wanted. You remember the countless times he’s been there for you, offering wisdom and laughter, even when you’ve messed up.

- That night, you can’t shake the look on his face—calm, yes, but with a hint of sadness. Remy’s always seemed so self-assured, but in that moment, it felt like he genuinely wondered if he’d overstepped. You begin to realize just how much he’s done to make you feel like you belong, without ever asking anything in return.

- The next day, you find Remy in the Danger Room, practicing. Nervously, you walk up to him and mumble an apology, explaining that you didn’t mean what you said. He turns to you, an understanding smile softening his gaze. “S’alright, kiddo. I know you got fire in you. Just remember—blood don’t make family.”

- After that, Remy’s even more of a constant presence, always ready to talk, laugh, or lend a hand. He starts making a point to remind you of your strengths, pushing you to see the best in yourself. Whenever he sees you slipping into self-doubt, he’ll casually throw in a story of one of his own mistakes, just to remind you that he’s been there too—and that he’ll always be there for you.

- Over time, you come to see Remy not just as a mentor, but as family, someone who chose to be in your life. He might not have the official title of “dad,” but there’s no question about the bond between you two. Remy’s heart is as big as his charm, and he’s shown you that family is something you build, piece by piece.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s patience seems endless, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, the words shock you as much as they shock him. He’s silent for a moment, then replies gently, “I know, but are you sure?” He’s hurt but gives you a sad, understanding look before stepping away, giving you space to cool off.

- Afterward, the guilt eats away at you. Kurt has been nothing but kind and supportive, teaching you about acceptance and resilience, even when things are tough. His faith and positivity have been a guiding light in your life, and the thought of hurting him like this twists at your heart.

- You remember moments when he went out of his way to include you, especially when you felt like an outsider among mutants. Kurt has always been there, understanding what it’s like to be different and offering comfort when you needed it most. It hits you that, despite not being your biological father, he’s filled that role with all the love and patience he has.

- The next day, you find Kurt alone in the library, reading. You approach him, nervous but sincere, and apologize for what you said. He listens quietly, and when you’re done, he gives you a warm smile, saying, “It’s alright, mein freund. I will always be here, no matter what.” His forgiveness is immediate, his kindness knowing no limits.

- After that, Kurt becomes even more of a confidant, someone you know you can turn to for wisdom and understanding. He makes a point of reminding you that love is a choice, and he’s chosen you as family. Whenever you’re down, he’ll tell you stories of his own struggles, showing you that strength comes from within, even when life gets hard.

- The bond between you two only deepens, and Kurt’s gentle presence is something you come to cherish. He may not be your dad by blood, but he’s family through and through. Kurt’s unwavering faith in you becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that you’re never truly alone as long as he’s around.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is used to being responsible and disciplined, so when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” during a heated disagreement, he doesn’t take it lightly. He stands there, tense and quiet, then responds, “I know. But do you?” before walking away, clearly hurt but too proud to let it show.

- That night, you can’t stop replaying the argument in your head. Scott may be strict, but he’s always had your best interests at heart. He’s spent countless hours training and guiding you, doing everything in his power to prepare you for the dangers of the world. As you think back, you start to feel the weight of what you said, realizing how much you’ve taken him for granted.

- You begin to understand that, in his own quiet way, Scott has been a father figure to you, even if he doesn’t say it outright. Every stern lecture, every training session—it was his way of protecting you, showing he cared. The guilt eats at you, and you know you need to make things right.

- The next morning, you approach him in the War Room, nervous but determined. You tell him how much his guidance means to you, how you didn’t mean what you said. Scott listens carefully, his expression softening as he nods. “We’re a team, and that means we’re family,” he says firmly. “I’m here for you, always.”

- From then on, Scott’s support becomes even more evident. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but he makes it clear that he’s in your corner, no matter what. He starts opening up to you more, sharing his own struggles with responsibility, letting you see the weight he carries as a leader and mentor.

- Over time, you come to appreciate Scott’s steady presence, realizing how lucky you are to have him as a father figure. He may be tough, but his loyalty is unwavering, and he’ll always have your back. In Scott, you find a kind of steadfast strength that reminds you every day that family isn’t defined by blood—it’s built on respect, care, and unwavering support.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean’s kindness is boundless, so when you shout, “You’re not my mom!” during an argument, her expression drops, a mix of shock and sadness. She takes a deep breath, her voice calm but strained, and says, “I know, but I care about you just the same. Do you know that?” With that, she steps back, giving you space to cool down, but the sadness in her eyes lingers.

- In the quiet that follows, you feel a pang of regret. Jean has always been there for you, her gentle support unwavering, guiding you with both warmth and patience. You remember the countless times she’s been there to comfort you, a soothing presence who never hesitated to make you feel loved. The memory of her expression, the way her shoulders slumped, makes you feel worse.

- That night, you find yourself replaying the argument over and over. You begin to realize how much Jean’s presence has shaped your life, that she’s been more than just a mentor or friend—she’s been like a mother, even if neither of you ever said it out loud. Each memory fills you with gratitude and a growing need to make things right.

- The next day, you find Jean in the garden, tending to the flowers with her usual care. Tentatively, you approach her, stumbling over an apology. She listens, her eyes soft as she pulls you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I know these things aren’t easy. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Her forgiveness is instant, her hug comforting, as if she understands all you can’t say.

- After that, Jean becomes even more of a mother figure, offering a patient ear and a shoulder to lean on whenever you need. Her kindness is a quiet strength that you come to lean on more and more. You notice she checks in on you more often, making sure you know she’s there, even when words don’t need to be said.

- Over time, you come to cherish her presence even more, recognizing her as your found family. With Jean, you feel safe, loved, and valued, and her quiet guidance reminds you every day that family doesn’t have to be by blood. It’s in the love you choose to share, and Jean’s love is as steady as the rising sun.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo’s calm strength is like a force of nature, but when you yell, “You’re not my mom!” it’s as if a storm has passed through her eyes. She doesn’t lash out, doesn’t even raise her voice, but she looks at you with a steady gaze and says, “I know that, little one. Do you?” Her words are gentle but piercing, and she leaves you to ponder them.

- That night, as the weight of your words sinks in, guilt gnaws at you. Ororo has always treated you with kindness and respect, guiding you through life’s challenges with wisdom and care. She’s been your rock, the person who’s grounded you, and you feel ashamed for taking her love and protection for granted.

- You think back to all the moments Ororo has been there for you: teaching you about the world, sharing her culture, and encouraging you to be true to yourself. You realize that she’s been more than a mentor—she’s been family. Her quiet strength and unwavering love have been like the rain, nourishing you and helping you grow.

- The next day, you find Ororo on the rooftop, gazing at the horizon. Gathering your courage, you apologize, explaining how much she means to you. She listens, her gaze as steady and calm as ever, before she gently places a hand on your shoulder. “I forgive you,” she says with a small smile. “Family isn’t always about blood. It’s about the bonds we choose.” Her words bring you a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

- After that, Ororo takes on an even more motherly role, gently guiding you and always offering wisdom when you need it most. You start spending more time together, finding solace in her presence and strength in her words. She reminds you of your own resilience, always making you feel capable and valued.

- Ororo’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense. Her support is unwavering, her guidance is steady, and with her, you find the sense of belonging and family you never realized you craved. She’s a mother figure, not by title but by choice, and her love fills a space in your heart you hadn’t known was empty.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles rarely shows disappointment, but when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes. He looks at you thoughtfully, his calm, composed demeanor intact, and simply says, “I know that, but are you sure?” before quietly excusing himself. His voice is soft, but the weight of his words lingers.

- As the reality of your words hits you, a wave of guilt follows. Charles has dedicated himself to making you feel safe, offering guidance, structure, and endless patience. He’s been more than just a mentor—he’s been a father figure, the one who’s always there to listen and guide you without judgment.

- You begin to reflect on all the small gestures he’s made to show he cares, from teaching you with kindness to offering you advice when life felt overwhelming. Charles has seen potential in you from the start, treating you with respect and compassion, and the thought of hurting him leaves a knot in your chest.

- The next day, you approach his study, nervous but determined to apologize. Charles listens, his usual calm presence enveloping you in a sense of safety. He smiles gently, nodding as you express your regrets, and simply says, “I understand, and I forgive you.” His forgiveness feels like a weight lifted, and he reminds you that love and family are choices, not just obligations.

- After that, you feel even closer to Charles, and he continues to be your steadfast supporter. He encourages you to pursue your strengths, guiding you with wisdom and patience, and you start to see him as a father figure you can truly depend on. His calm understanding becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that family can be chosen and built on mutual respect.

- Charles’s influence becomes a grounding force in your life, his guidance always there to lift you up. With him, you find a sense of belonging and love that goes beyond mere words. He may not be your biological father, but he’s family in every way that matters, and his unwavering belief in you becomes a constant source of strength.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is not known for his patience, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” it’s like a slap to the face. His eyes harden, his voice cold as he responds, “I know, but perhaps you don’t.” With that, he turns away, his pride wounded but his expression betraying a flicker of sadness. For Erik, family is sacred, and your words cut deep.

- That night, guilt starts to creep in. Erik has been harsh, yes, but he’s always shown you the value of strength, resilience, and conviction. He’s taught you to be bold, to stand up for yourself, and though his methods are tough, he’s been there for you in ways that no one else has. You begin to realize how much you owe to his guidance.

- Memories flood back of times when Erik’s fierce loyalty protected you, his dedication ensuring you never felt alone. He’s been like a father to you, albeit a strict one, and as the guilt weighs on you, you see that his rough edges have been his way of showing love, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

- The next day, you approach him with an apology, your voice shaky but sincere. Erik listens, his piercing gaze softened by something like understanding. He accepts your apology, and in his own stern way, he reminds you that strength is born of struggle. His words are harsh, but his forgiveness is there, hidden beneath his rough demeanor.

- From that moment on, Erik’s presence becomes even more of a steady force in your life. He challenges you to be your best, pushing you to embrace your potential, and though he rarely shows open affection, his actions speak louder than words. He’ll protect you fiercely, his bond with you deepening as he takes on the role of a mentor and protector.

- Erik’s influence makes you feel strong and capable, and while he’s a difficult figure to love, you know that he’s chosen you as family. His pride and determination inspire you to believe in yourself, and even if he’ll never say it directly, his loyalty is proof that you’re family to him, forged through fire and unbreakable.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank is rarely one to raise his voice, but when you blurt out, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, he freezes. For a moment, he’s quiet, his face clouded with hurt before he gives you a calm but serious look. “I’m aware of that. But I’ve always tried to be here for you, haven’t I?” His voice is gentle, yet his words sting in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Without another word, he leaves, giving you the space you both clearly need.

- As you cool down from the argument, guilt quickly sets in. Hank has been nothing but patient and caring, always offering you understanding and support when you needed it most. His gentle presence has been a source of comfort, and the memory of the sadness in his eyes makes you realize how deeply you’ve hurt him.

- Reflecting on all the times Hank has been there for you, you remember how he would stay up late to help you with your studies, his voice soft and encouraging as he shared his vast knowledge. His kindness was never forced; he genuinely cared, and you start to see that he’s been like a father figure all along, even if neither of you ever put a name to it.

- The next day, you find Hank in the lab, engrossed in his work as usual. Hesitantly, you apologize, struggling to find the right words. Hank stops what he’s doing, looking at you with that familiar, gentle expression. “I appreciate your apology,” he says, his tone warm and forgiving. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel better; his soft smile is enough to lift the weight from your shoulders.

- After that, Hank is still there for you, but the bond between you feels stronger. He seems to make an effort to check in on you more often, even gently guiding you through life’s challenges with his usual wisdom and warmth. You realize how much you’ve come to rely on him as a steady presence in your life.

- Hank’s compassion and patience become pillars of support as you grow, and he becomes more than just a mentor—he’s family. His encouragement and gentle guidance make you feel valued, and you start to understand that family isn’t just about blood; it’s about those who choose to stand by you, even when things get tough. With Hank, you’ve found a father figure in the truest sense.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you yell, “You’re not my mom!” in a heated moment, Wanda’s eyes flash with pain. She takes a deep breath, her voice steady but laced with hurt as she responds, “I know I’m not. But I’ve always tried to be there for you, haven’t I?” Her voice is soft, a mix of sadness and disappointment that lingers in the air as she turns away, giving you the space you clearly need.

- Guilt settles over you like a weight as you recall everything Wanda has done for you. She’s been a constant source of love and protection, going out of her way to create a safe space for you in a chaotic world. Her kindness has been unwavering, and the memory of her hurt expression leaves you feeling remorseful.

- You begin to remember all the times Wanda has comforted you, her gentle presence like a soothing balm when the world felt overwhelming. She’s always known what to say, her intuition guiding her as she wrapped you in warmth and reassurance. You realize how much her presence means to you, that she’s been a mother figure even if you never said it.

- The next day, you approach Wanda, the words of an apology on your lips. She listens, her eyes softening as you explain how sorry you are. She pulls you into a gentle hug, murmuring, “It’s okay. I understand.” Her forgiveness is immediate, her embrace warm and reassuring, and you feel the weight of your guilt lift as you lean into her.

- After that, Wanda continues to be there for you, her love as constant and unwavering as ever. She’s more protective, always ensuring you know you’re loved and valued. Her presence feels like home, a reminder that family is more than just titles; it’s the bond you share and the love that endures even through difficult moments.

- Over time, Wanda becomes even more of a mother figure, her guidance and love anchoring you as you grow. With her, you find a sense of belonging, a family built on mutual care and understanding. Wanda’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro has always been quick to defend you, so when you shout, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, his face falls, his usual bravado replaced by a flicker of hurt. He hesitates, then responds with a hint of vulnerability, “I know I’m not. But I care about you, and that’s not going to change.” He doesn’t say much more, leaving with a hint of frustration and sadness.

- Your heart aches almost immediately after the words leave your mouth. Pietro has always been a constant in your life, fiercely protective and ready to do anything to keep you safe. His loyalty has been unwavering, and the memory of his hurt expression weighs on you, leaving you feeling guilty.

- As the regret settles in, you begin to think back to all the moments Pietro has been there for you, his fast-paced life slowing down whenever you needed him. His protectiveness might come off as overbearing, but it’s always been rooted in love. You realize how much you mean to him, that he’s been like a father figure, even if neither of you put it into words.

- The next day, you find him in the training room, going through a series of drills. Nervously, you approach him with an apology. Pietro pauses, listening intently, and his usual cocky grin returns as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, kid. Family fights sometimes.” His words are light, but there’s a warmth in his tone that makes you feel forgiven.

- From then on, Pietro is still as protective as ever, though he seems to make an extra effort to remind you that he’s there for you. He includes you in his adventures, always finding ways to bring laughter and excitement into your life. His loyalty is fierce, and you find comfort in the way he’s chosen to stand by you.

- Pietro’s support becomes a source of strength, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s there for you in ways that matter, his love loud and unfiltered. With him, you’ve found a father figure who’s more than willing to face the world at your side, his loyalty a constant reminder that family is chosen as much as it is given.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade’s never been the most conventional parental figure, but when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” he goes silent. It’s rare to see him at a loss for words, but the hurt that flickers across his face is hard to miss. After a pause, he says, “Hey, I know that, but... I kinda thought we had something here, y’know?” He tries to play it off, but the sadness in his voice lingers as he gives you space.

- Almost immediately, regret starts to settle in. Wade has been your protector, your friend, and even if he’s unconventional, he’s always made sure you’re safe. He’s taught you to laugh, to find humor even in dark situations, and the thought of hurting him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

- You think back to all the times Wade has made you feel cared for, his offbeat sense of humor a constant source of comfort. He’s been like a father in his own chaotic way, always finding unique ways to show he cares. The memory of his hurt expression haunts you, and you feel a strong need to make things right.

- Finding Wade isn’t hard; he’s at the usual hangout, cracking jokes to mask whatever he’s feeling. You approach him, offering an apology, and he listens, his face breaking into a goofy grin. “Oh, kid, you can’t get rid of me that easy!” he teases, pulling you into a bear hug that’s both ridiculous and comforting.

- After that, Wade goes back to being his usual chaotic self, but he’s even more protective, throwing around jokes about being your “self-appointed, totally unofficial, slightly psychotic dad.” His antics make you laugh, and you come to appreciate his unique way of showing love, realizing he’s been there for you all along.

- Wade’s love may be unorthodox, but it’s real, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s the loud, unpredictable presence you didn’t know you needed, his humor and loyalty bringing you a sense of belonging. With Wade, you’ve found a father figure who’ll stand by you, his love chaotic and unconditional in every way that matters.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Family Matters

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Thor Odinson

Summary: your new husband's brother surprises you with a visit.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The doorbell rings again and you barrel so quickly down the stairs, you nearly topple off the bottom step. You catch your breath and grab the post at the bottom of the banister to steady yourself. It’s a splendid house but you told Loki it’s too big for just the two of you. He didn’t like that so you didn’t mention it again, even though it feels empty with how much he’s not around. 

You let those worries slake off of you and hurry to the door. It could be another surprise! Loki hates leaving you for so long so he tries to fill the void with gifts. Sometimes, they make you feel better, other times, you’re just sad. You’d rather have him there. 

It’s not a courier but a familiar face. Your brother-in-law. It’s official as of one month ago. You’re family. 

“Oh, hi,” you deflate, trying not to show your disappointment. You’re not upset it’s him, you just hate being the one to say, “Loki’s not in.” 

Thor smiles. He’s rarely unhappy. “Ah, that’s unfortunate. Where is off to, then?” 

“Work,” you grumble the repetitive explanation. “Important project or something.” 

“Important enough to leave you alone?” He wonders. 

“I... guess,” you try not to mope. Loki says it make you look childish. 

“Well, I am much in the same boat. Alone,” he laughs hollowly. 

“Oh, yes, I... how are you doing?” You ask. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for coming to the wedding. Really, I know it must’ve been difficult.” 

“I couldn’t miss my brother’s special day,” he shakes his head. “It was a day for love. Wasn’t your fault mine decided to leave...” 

Your heart breaks for him. The day you were married, Frigga told you what happened. A hug fight right after your rehearsal dinner. Jane left before the morning. Despite all that, Thor didn’t show a hint of grief at the wedding. 

“It’s too bad. I liked Jane.” 

“Needless to say, I did too,” he smiles thinly. “Well, I hope I didn’t disturb you very much. I suppose I could come calling tomorrow and hope my brother isn’t too busy for the likes of me.” 

Your heart rents for him. Here you are, a new marriage, a husband to long for, and he lost his girlfriend of five years. You don’t have much else going on, it would be nice to have someone there. 

“Did you wanna hang around for a bit?” You ask. “Not much going on but... this place is eerie when you’re all alone.” 

“Hm, did Loki say when he would return? Wouldn’t mind waiting around a bit,” he suggests. 

“I hope soon but he didn’t say,” you shrug. “Yesterday he wasn’t home until midnight.” 

“Midnight? He would make you wait so long? A lovely young wife like you?” He scoffs. “Well, that is just terrible. I will not commit the same crime as my brother. I’d love to come in.” 

“Alright,” you smile. “I... we could put something on? I was going to watch the new season of the true crime show.” 

“Ha,” he enters as you step back to let you through. “That wouldn’t help being alone, would it?” 

“I guess not,” you giggle. “We could watch something else. A comedy. I’ve been rewatching Friends. For the hundredth time.” 

“Whatever you like,” he slips his shoes off and puts them on the mat. “The only words a woman like you needs to hear, eh?” 

You laugh again, “do you want snacks? I got some caramel corn and gummy bears.” 

“My brother let you bring those in his house?” He wonders. 

“It’s our house,” you face him with a pout as you stand in the broad archway to the front room. 

“Yes, you are correct. My apologies,” he follows. “You know, he only hates those sugary treats because he is weak to them. Be sure to hide them well or you might find some missing.” 

“No, he never wants any,” you continue into the front room. 

“So he wants you to believe,” Thor counters. 

“How about drinks? We got a bunch of wine from the wedding. Some scotch?” 

“I only really indulge in lager and I'm not of the mood for it,” he assures. “I could help with the snacks.” 

“No, no, sit,” you grab the remote and hold it out to him. “Find something to watch. I’m so indecisive I just flick through the menu for an hour.” 

“I will do my best,” he accepts it. His hand dwarfs you own as his fingers brush across yours. Loki’s hands are long, but not as thick. 

You push your shoulders up and spin around to flit off to the kitchen. You scurry away and slide into the kitchen. You go to the cupboard and take down the bag of caramel corn. You pour some in a bowl then grab the package of gummy bears and a box of cream cookies. 

As you come back to the living room, Thor leans forward to set the down the remote. You put the treats on the glass table and sit on the other end of the couch. You only realise then how awkward it is. You’ve never really been alone with him. 

“Thank you. So sweet of you to have me,” he says as he twines his fingers together. “I feel as if everyone has been avoiding me since Jane. I fear I might be a bit... melancholy.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you glance at the TV as it plays an intro to a show you don’t know, “well, how can anyone blame you? You’re going through so much.” 

“I’m an adult, these things happen,” he says. 

“Sure, they do, but I mean, it still hurts. It’s not easy,” you insist. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.” 

“Ugh,” he puts his elbows on his legs and cradles his head. “I don’t mean to bring my dark cloud in here.” He rubs his temple. “Truly, I think I’ve been trying to outrun it but... what else can I think of with only an empty home to go to?” 

“Oh, Thor,” you sidle closer on the cushions. You gently touch his arm. His bicep is a lot bigger against your hand. “It’s okay. You can’t hold it in forever. It's good to feel these things. Once you get through that, you can move on and I’m sure you’ll find the right one.” 

He sniffles and you flinch. He quakes against your touch and your chest knots. You never imagined him crying. Especially not a man his size. You don’t know what else to do but comfort him. You rub his shoulder and he huddles over further and wipes his face. 

His long blond locks conceal his tears as he mops his sadness away with his knuckles. You hum and get even closer, your hand trailing up his back. 

“Thor, I'm sorry. It feels so cruel, I know. Especially the timing of it--” 

He startles you as he leans against you. You let out an ‘oop’ as he turns to embrace you, curling his shoulders and hunching to put his head on your shoulder. You have no choice but to let him. 

“Oh, it’s been awful,” he snivels. “I’ve been so lonely.” 

“Shhh, let it out, that’s okay,” you rub his back and stare at the wall. You certainly didn’t expect the night to go like this. 

He holds you tight as he cries against you, his body heaving. You know Loki isn’t the best for these sorts of things so you’re happy at least he trusts you enough to listen. That’s about as much as you can do. 

“You won’t believe how cruel she was,” Thor rasps. “She just yelled and yelled. She shoved me and—she just kept accusing me.” 

“Accusing you? Of what?” 

He’s quiet for a moment. He lifts his head to look at you, his arm across your back. “Of wanting another.” 

“Oh?” You blink in surprise. 

“I told her no, no, I did not, but she kept saying “I see it! I see it in your face!” And I swore to her, no, no,” He wipes his face with his other hand, “but now I’m afraid she might have been right.” 

“She... who?” You frown. 

His arm wraps around you, his fingers dipping into your side and in a moment, the couch shifts beneath you. You cannot resist as surprise paralyses you. Thor lifts you easily onto his lap, turning you and sliding you to sit on his thighs. 

“Woah, uh, whaat--” You press your hand to his chest. “Please, Thor, you’re emotional--” 

“She was right, kitten, you are so soft, so gentle, and I could not look away. She caught me--” 

“No, no, you can’t-- Loki--” 

“Loki leaves you alone. He would rather work than stay and adore his precious wife,” He cups your chin and forces you to look at him. “He would abandon you...” he leans in as his eyes fall to your lips, “and leave you unkissed.” 

You try to pull back but you’re trapped in his embrace. He squeezes you close and crushes his lips to yours. You squeal and struggle against him, finally turning your head so his mouth smears across your cheek. 

“Untouched,” his hand trails down your neck and you clasp onto two of his fingers, straining to keep him from going lower. “Unloved--” 

“Thor, stop, let me go--” 

He leans over so your back is on the cushion, his arm beneath you as your legs are folded up over his. He is on his side next to you. His large hand comes back to frame your face and he squeezes to keep you from squirming. You tug as his shirt and whine. 

“Thor, please, stop. We can forget--” 

“I can’t forget,” he growls and nuzzles your nose. You whimper and push against his chest again. He is stone, he is unmoving, and you know you cannot stop him. “I will never forget how you feel against me, kitten.” 

[gilbertscurls]

Treat You Better ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt could treat you better than your current boyfriend. he's sure of it.

It’s raining, of course.

Matt pulls his hood tighter around his face, eyes cast down as he trudges through the wet pavement on his way to class. The rain isn’t that heavy, just a slow drizzle, but it feels heavier with every step, like the sky is mocking him. The world around him feels gray, blending into the dull ache he’s been carrying for weeks now, ever since you started dating him.

Matt clenches his fists in his pockets, trying to shake the thought away, but it clings to him, relentless. It always does.

He imagines you now, sitting in his car, laughing at some joke as the two of you drive to class together. He picks you up every morning, without fail. The perfect boyfriend.

And Matt? Well, Matt walks alone.

He can picture it so clearly: the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like you don’t have a care in the world. He can almost hear your voice, light and carefree, filling the silence of the car, a sound that he’s only ever heard from a distance.

Because you’re not his.

In his head, though, you are. In his daydreams, in the moments when he allows himself to think about you—and God, does he think about you all the time—you’re his. You’re sitting next to him, your hand in his, your head resting on his shoulder as you talk about everything and nothing. You’re his, not some guy who doesn’t even seem to appreciate what he has.

Matt kicks a loose rock down the road, watching it skid along the pavement before it disappears into the gutter.

He hates that guy. Not just because he’s your boyfriend, though that’s a big part of it. But because Matt knows—he knows—that he could treat you better. He knows that when you’re feeling down, he’d be there for you in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t let you hide your pain behind that brave smile you wear so well. He wouldn’t just brush it off like it’s nothing, the way your boyfriend seems to do.

Would he hold you when you’re feeling low?

Matt shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts that are starting to spiral. It’s not his place. It never was.

He stops at a red light, watching the cars pass by, and his heart sinks when he sees a familiar car pull up to the intersection. Your boyfriend’s car. And there you are, sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the window with that same distant expression you sometimes get when you think no one’s watching.

Matt bites his lip, hands tightening in his pockets. He knows he should look away, should keep walking, but he can’t. Not when you’re right there, so close yet so far away.

As the light turns green, your boyfriend’s car pulls forward, and Matt watches as you disappear down the street. The rain continues to fall, soft but unrelenting, and he’s left standing there, alone again, wondering how he ended up here.

He doesn’t even remember when he started falling for you. Maybe it was that day in biology class when you partnered up for a project, or maybe it was when you started hanging out more with his brothers and him, laughing with Nick and Chris in a way that made Matt’s heart twist with something unnameable.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now.

Because you’re not his.

But, God, if it were him, he would love you in a way that would make you feel like you were the only person in the world. He’d hold you close when you felt like everything was falling apart, he’d be there for the big moments and the small ones. He’d make sure you never had to feel alone again.

Matt swallows the lump forming in his throat. He’s never been good with these kinds of things—feelings, emotions, letting someone in. But with you, it’s different. With you, he wants to try. He wants to let you in, to show you the side of him that he hides from everyone else, the part of him that’s terrified of rejection but even more terrified of missing out on something real.

If only you weren’t with him.

Would he say he’s in love?

Matt snorts bitterly to himself. He doubts it.

Sure, your boyfriend’s got the car, the looks—everything Matt doesn’t. But does he love you the way Matt would? Does he even know how lucky he is to have you?

Matt kicks at another rock, his heart heavy in his chest.

You deserve more than someone who treats you like a prize to be shown off. You deserve someone who looks at you like you’re their entire world, someone who holds you when you’re feeling low and doesn’t just brush it off.

And if it were him, Matt knows he’d do all of that. He’d love you with everything he has.

But he’s not him. He’s just Matt, the guy who walks to class in the rain while you ride in a car with someone else. The guy who’s stuck on the outside looking in, constantly playing a game he’s destined to lose.

Reality ruined my life.

The thought hits him hard, sinking into his chest like a stone. Because no matter how much he dreams about what could be, no matter how many times he imagines you being his, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re with someone else. Someone who, for whatever reason, has what Matt wants more than anything.

But Matt keeps walking. He always does. Because that’s all he can do. Keep moving forward, even if it feels like the weight of unspoken words and missed chances is dragging him down.

Would he treat you like I would?

The answer is no.

Matt knows that. But you don’t. And that’s what hurts the most.

With a heavy sigh, he turns the corner, his mind still spinning with thoughts of you and what could have been, the rain falling around him like a reminder of all the things he can’t control.

And he keeps walking.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1472

Chapter 42:

The boy was gone, having gotten what he wanted from the road, and now he was free. The lights above you flickered again, few remaining alive; a sign that your time was almost up.

Agatha looked at the place where Billy was as she leaned back, thinking of his question. "No, Billy. Sometimes... boys die."

You parted your lips but remained silent, feeling that those words were not just directed at Billy but also to herself.

Pieces fell into place in your mind, now a clear picture formed that filed the blanks you had.... that answered almost all of your questions.

"Is this you forgiving Rio for taking Little Nicky?" You dared to ask, your voice soft and empathic.

Agatha finally looked at you, surprised by your deduction. You were good with those things, but she did not remember you being that good.

"How did you find out?" She asked.

You offered her a weak smile, the topic as sensitive to you as it was to hers. Perhaps little more, considering this was a talk about the relationship Agatha developed with Rio... who might had become your replacement if things had turned out differently.

"I did keep wondering what Rio had done to you, to cause such rift... unexplained rift that didn't fully justify your feelings for one another."

Immediately, Agatha felt guilty.

"Sugar -" You did not let her finish.

"It's okay, Ags," you gave her a pained smile. "I mean, Nicky did look a lot like Rio while growing up... and I have come to peace with it. When I left you... I never made anything clear, and it would be wrong of me to expect something from you." You took a deep breath. "Considering who Rio is, it finally clicked that it was his passing that divided you."

Agatha did not comment, unsure what to say. She could thank you for your understanding and passive forgiveness. She could try to justify Rio and Nicky... but she realized it would change nothing.

Things had been set on stone, and they could not be changed. What could be changed, though, was your chance to get out of this road and return to your free solitary life... to finally be free from the curse thar seemed to follow Agatha and was affecting you.

"Okay, sugar. It's time for you to get what you want from the road and get out of here, " she said, changing the topic as she pushed some of her hair above her shoulder.

"But I have already gotten what I want," you explained, shocking her for the second time. She watched you move to sit right in front of her, taking her hand and holding it with both of yours. "What I wanted was for a chance to join you, Agatha. To truly help you find what you are looking for, not to watch you go alone while I stay back; never to join you. "

Agatha was once again speechless at your sweet confessions, at your unyielding loyalty to her. Even after all those centuries, even after all those times she walked away; you remained.

You did not lose faith in her. You didn't stop caring and worrying for her.

You never stopped regretting every time you turned down Agatha and lost the chance to join her.

She didn't know that, and in that moment of revelation, a single tear escaped her left eye.

You moved one hand to wipe it away gently before it could roll down her cheek, and you offered her a sweet, comforting smile; beaming with light and love, unmatched by anything else... except for the look Nicky would give her when he was alive.

"I told you. I am with you until the end." You reminded her and squeezed her hand in reassurance.

Agatha used her free hand hand and cupped your cheek, every move done with outmost care; as if you would break into thousands of pieces with a wrong move.

"This might be the end, sugar." She admitted, slowly accepting the fact that she was not going to survive the road the second time.

"Then I will be happy to know I made it so far with you. If it means dying, I don't mind as long as I am in your arms. "

Agatha was the first to pull you into a hug this time, her arms wrapping tightly around you; passively seeking comfort and also trying to get control of her emotions... of her mind and her heart.

You returned the action without hesitation, squeezing her in your arms with all your might; as if she would disappear into thin air if you dared to let her go.

You buried your neck into her thick curls, eyes closed as you fought back tears; both getting emotional over the confession while accepting more and more that this could be the end... for both of you.

Another flickering light above you reminded you of the time that was left, but it was not your concern anymore.

Slowly, you pulled back but kept your hands interlocked; never letting the other truly go

Agatha looked at you with care, and she chose to open up one last time. "You know... I am not ready to confront him yet." She confessed.

"Little Nicky?"

She nodded. "I... he was not meant to be born, Y/N... Rio gave us time, and I paid her back with the bodies of other witches I drained... and it all worked fine for 6 years, until the night... the night he asked me not to go after the witches... the night Rio had to take him back."

You squeezed her hands, seeing how misty her eyes were becoming as she relieved those dark memories that overshadowed the good ones she had with him.

And you could see it because you knew it was what Agatha did in such situations. Dark moments were the only things she truly remembered, letting them consume her heart and make her forget the good ones that existed at the same time.

So, you chose to change that.

"He was a brave boy, Agatha," you started, making her focus on you. "I can still remember how mesmerised he was, when we told him we survived the Road... and how proud he was of that... of us..." Agatha let out a mix of weak chuckle and sob while your heart ached with each beat as you remembered the sweet and innocent face of the boy you had come to love as your own. "And I remember how persistent he was to learn of the Ballad, wanting to go down that Road as well... and when we told him no, he just made up his own Ballad... and each time you would visit, you two would have finished another part of it. "

Agatha sniffed, and you swallowed a lump down your throat, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes; threatening to escape and roll down your cheek.

Your breathing was difficult as you tried to keep down the sobs, the memories happy but also painful; a reminder of a brighter time in your life, a time that would never be able to be replaced.

"I remember," Agatha said weakly with a faint smile, your retelling reminding her of the sweet moments you were talking about.

"I don't think he will ever judge you, Ags. He loved you too much," you reassured her.

With shaking hands, Agatna pulled away from your grip and went to unclip her amulet; Evanora's brooch with the triple Goddess, a steady item of her wardrobe.

She slowly opened it, and from inside, she gently held a short patch of hair; neatly tucked inside for safekeeping.

"I have kept it with me all this time... to never forget him, " Agatha confessed and placed the hair close to her heart, wishing deeply that she could feel and hear Nicholas' heart beat one last time.

You could only watch as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, the moment too precious and heavy to be interrupted. This was a deep point in your relationship and even deeper in Agatha's trauma with the loss of her son.

Agatha, with teary eyes, was about to put the lock back into the brooch when she noticed something... something that she swore was never there before.

She placed the hair back and took out what seemed to be a dried up seed/petal of a dandelion. So weak, small and tiny... unable to ever grow.

As your eyes landed on it, sowmthing clicked inside your mind; just as the lights flickered, and now you were left with only one.

"Agatha, the dandelion!" You exclaimed. "That's the key to this trial!"

[v3nusstardust]

How close can best friends get?🫶

|| Beomgyu x Reader ||

Genre : fluff 🤍

Warnings : none ho

You had a long rough day , but your bestie beomgyu came to the rescue! Long story short.. after work you called him crying about all the stress and pain you’d been keeping in for a while.

He’s always there to listen ,he always has been there. That’s what made him so special to you. He wasn’t just your best friend but.. he was also your crush.. somewhat. You loved him like a best friend but also like a lover ..

It had been a tough day…. work was overwhelming, and everything seemed to be falling apart. You felt exhausted and lost, like the weight of it all was too much to carry alone. So, you did what you always did when you needed someone, you called your best friend Beomgyu.

When you called him, he picked up right away. You could barely speak through the tears, but Beomgyu didn’t rush you. He just listened, his calmness making you feel safe enough to let everything out.

“I’m sorry, Gyu,” you cried, your voice shaking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything just feels like too much.”

“It’s okay.. Don’t apologize for the way you feel y/n .. I’m here to listen, Im not going anywhere, Kay?” Beomgyu’s voice was steady and warm.

You told him about the stress from work, the pressure you’d been feeling from life in general, and the weight of everything you’d been keeping to yourself for so long. It felt good to say it all out loud, even though it was hard. Beomgyu listened through it all. He was always so patient with you. That’s what made him so special.

Beomgyu has always meant so much to you. It’s hard to ignore the truth but.. you’ve always had feelings for him. Just a little.

You’d always been so careful not to blur the lines between friendship and something more. Beomgyu was your best friend, the one who could make you laugh when you felt like crying, the one who would listen to your rants late into the night. But over time, those feelings had deepened into something else. You’d tried to suppress it, to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he laughed, or how you always found yourself thinking of him when you were alone.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you," you whispered. "You’re always there when I need you... m-more than anyone else. I just don’t know how to say it.” Your voice was shaky with emotion.

He was quiet for a moment, the silence almost deafening. You worried for a second that you had said too much, but then you heard his soft and gentle laugh.

“You don’t have to say anything, really. I get it,” he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. “I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

“I’m so glad you’re in my life,” you said. And for a moment, you wondered if he felt the same way too.

"Hey, why don’t we hang out tonight?" he suggested. "I don’t think it’s good if you’re alone with your thoughts tonight y/n… I know how you can get sometimes.. I can come over, we can eat snacks, and watch some movies. What do you say?”

“I’d love that,” you said, the exhaustion in your voice mixing with a bit of relief. “That sounds perfect, Gyu! But.. it’s like 1 am right now”

"I know," he said . "I'll be there in 20 minutes, okay? Get comfy, we're doing a full movie marathon.”

—————

You sighed and leaned back in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts still spiraled. The rattling sound of the wind outside was oddly comforting.

You were grateful for Beomgyu, though. He always knew how to show up, even when you didn’t ask for it. He never pushed when you needed space, but he also never hesitated when you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t alone.

|| 1:47 am ||

You continued to just zone out for a while , until you heard a knock on your door.

You put on your cute slippers and fixed yourself a little as you made your way to the door. You took a deep breath in before opening the door.

“Hi gyu “ you gave him a warm smile. Beomgyu stood there, a bag of snacks in one hand, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He grinned as soon as he saw you, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making you feel a little lighter. “Hey, Y/n,” he said. “Got you some chips, candy, and..” He paused, holding up a cup of (your fav drink).

You smiled a little wider, stepping aside to let him in. “Ugh gyu you’re literally the best. What would I do without you” you sighed as you both made your way to your room.

“Sorry about the mess.. ha..” you chuckled nervously. You forgot to pick up a bit before he came , but whatever he’s your best friend. He didn't comment on it though, just tossed the bag of snacks onto your bed and flopped down next to it.

“Movie marathon?” he asked, reaching for the remote. "I'll pick the first one, and no falling asleep during the movie! " he teased.

“I never do!” You giggled as you took a seat beside him on the bed.

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not buying it. “Mhm.. sure y/n” he replied. You laughed.

“What movie do you wanna watch? “ he asked while scrolling with the remote.

You thought for a moment before answering, grinning a little. "How about (your fav movie) ?" you suggested, the one movie you could watch over and over again without ever getting bored.

“Ahh good choice,” he said before clicking play on the remote. You leaned back into the pillows, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders as the opening scene began.

As the movie played on, you found yourself not really paying attention to the plot, but rather.. Beomgyu's presence. The lighting was dim in your room .. and it just made him glow. His side profile was gorgeous and his beautiful blonde mullet was the cherry on top.

You found yourself staring a little longer than you should, trying to pinpoint what was making your heart race in a way that felt unfamiliar. The warmth of his presence was always comforting, but this felt different.

His blonde mullet, slightly messy , framed his face so delicately . The dim lighting of the room made him look almost ethereal… like something out of a dream. You blinked again, trying to snap yourself out of it.

What’s going on with me? You shifted uncomfortably on the bed, maybe it’s because how close you were to him

You told yourself it was just the exhaustion of the late hour, the cozy atmosphere, or maybe just how close the two of you were that made everything feel a little too... intimate.

But… he was your best friend. You’d always felt safe with him, always had fun with him. You could talk about anything, and he always knew exactly how to make you laugh. There’s no way this could be anything more, you thought, trying to rationalize it. Right?

You glanced at the clock—3:56 am. A yawn escaped your lips, and you tried to stifle it, but it was no use. The tiredness was finally catching up with you.

Beomgyu caught onto it. "Tired, huh?" He smiled at you . "Told you , you wouldn’t last."

You rubbed your eyes and let out a small laugh. "I guess so..." Your head felt heavy, your body sinking deeper into the bed. Maybe I was a little more tired than I thought.

You rested your eyes. and then.. you fell asleep.

————————

|| 8:41 am.. ||

Your mind was still foggy from sleep, and for a moment, everything felt like a blur. The soft rays of morning light filtered through your window, but it wasn’t until you felt the warmth next to you that you realized something was off. you felt something or other.. someone beside you. Your mind was still hazy from sleep. You froze for a moment.

Wait, what? You thought, suddenly very aware of the weight on your shoulder and the arm draped gently across your waist. Beomgyu. You could tell by the soft breathing that he was still asleep.

You carefully shifted, but Beomgyu’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer in his sleep. He picked up his leg and draped it over yours. Oh my god, you thought, panic rising. This is so not how I imagined waking up. You tried to remember how you’d ended up like this. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep, your eyes getting heavy and then… but how did he end up so close beside you?

You were tangled up with him, literally and emotionally, and you had no idea what to do with the sudden rush of warmth flooding your chest. You carefully tried to shift your body away from his.

This made it so much worse.

Beomgyu scooted closer to you. Resting his head on your chest and cuddling you like a little teddy bear. His warm breath tickled your neck as he scooted even closer. You felt your face flush at the closeness. You bit your lip, trying to calm your racing heart. For a moment, you simply laid there, his warmth against you, listening to the soft sound of his breathing. Maybe you could just stay in this moment forever, pretending everything was fine, pretending you weren’t questioning everything about your feelings for him.

The way he fit so perfectly against you, his body pressed up against yours like he belonged there. You had never felt this kind of closeness with him before, and it was making everything inside you feel... confusing.

This isn’t right. He's just my best friend. He’s always been my best friend, you tried to remind yourself, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the way his body felt against yours. The beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the way he seemed so at ease with you...

You shifted slightly, trying to adjust without waking him. But Beomgyu stirred, his head moving against your chest, and then he murmured your name in his sleep. “Y/n…”

You froze again, your heart skipping a beat.

You glanced down at him, his messy blonde hair falling across his face, his features soft in sleep. For a second, you just stared at him, wondering if he could feel the same pull you felt. Could he?

You shifted slightly again, carefully, and Beomgyu's eyes fluttered open, barely. He blinked lazily, then mumbled, “Hmm? Are you okay?”

You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat, your mind still spinning. “Yeah,” you whispered, voice barely above a murmur. “Just... tired.”

He hummed in response, snuggling deeper into you, as if THIS was perfectly normal. “Good,” he whispered, then relaxed back into his position, his head resting on your chest again. You could feel his breath, slow and steady, against your skin.

“Are you sure you’re okay y/n? Your heartbeat is very fast..” he said with a concerned tone.

“Maybe... maybe I’m just... overthinking,” you said quickly, your voice was shaky.

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look directly at you.

“Y/n… If you’re not okay, you know you can tell me, right?” His voice was gentle, filled with understanding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… just tired, like I said.” You continued to lay straight on your back, staring at the ceiling.

Beomgyu didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he didn’t push any further. Instead, he just gave you a soft smile and laid back down. This time he laid closely next to you. His body turned to face yours. His fingers traced every strand of your hair.

"You're not usually this quiet," he said after a while, his voice softer now. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I just don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want things to change between us."

“Y/n, nothing’s going to change,” he said quietly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light, gentle, but the way it made your skin tingle only made your heart beat harder. "You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. No matter what.”

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the slightest doubt would shatter the fragile moment between you. You turned your head to face him, your breath catching when his eyes met yours again.

Beomgyu smiled, his gaze gentle but filled with sincerity. "I’m sure," he said. "I’ll always be here, Y/n. Nothing’s going to change that."

But as you stared into his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder… what if it already had?….

(a/n : my bad for not writing the last several months. I had a bf but he treated me like shit …🗿 butttt now I’m back fr 🌜 also sorry for mistakes I never reread ts after im done writing fr)

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Hi forgive me if this has been addressed before! I'm a little new to your fem!stan stuff (I saw your ask reblogged by Boston and snuck out of the back of their foodtruck to send this) but I love the idea and was wondering does stan pretend to be Stanford when he falls in the portal? (If that is the route that's taken in the au at least) because it would be really interesting to see if constance would enjoy the freedom that comes with being a man but at the same time I think it would drive (incel) ford up the wall if he came back and saw his sister running a successful business out of his house. There would be this extra layer of tension as ford has to grapple with his own learned misogyny. Though I also imagine exploring the multiverse and seeing the way gender is explored or even ignored in other worlds would probably force him to have some realizations before hand but whether or not hed really allow himself to internalize those realizations is another story. Bros got an easy excuse to not analyze his own sexism since hes trying to hunt down bill

And then when he comes back and sees his sister is doing just fine would probably wound his pride a little bit. All those fantasies and unfair expectations of their roles hes built in his mind are forced to come crashing down once again

I'm also just kind of obsessed with the idea of constance finally learning how to be /stan/ in gravity falls because she never had the freedom and safety to do so before. I'm sure a large part of rejection of any femininity whatsoever came from not having the option to do so in the past. But then she watches the kids over the summer and sees mabel embracing makeovers and grappling hooks hand in hand. Dipper is insistent on being a "man" but never once tries to tell mabel she needs to be a "woman"

This ask is all over the place sorry I think i had a point to the start of this and now I'm just rambling about your own au to you lmfao

Anyway love the concept (and your art!!)

-🐶

Hello! Thank you for passing by and sending me such a nice message, sharing your own ideas with me! and many thanks for the compliments too, of course ❤ That said, I'm afraid my answer will be a tad disappointing. Because, the fem!Stan I enjoy to imagine is cis, and I can't imagine a cis woman being able to consistently pretend to be a man for thirty years, without losing their mind (in the same way it's detrimental for most trans people to supress their true identity for a lifetime, non?). Especially, in the same way canon Stan is very masculine (with a sprinkle of femininity, despite his shame about it), I like to imagine Constance as a lady who is very proud and comfortable in her womanhood- despite her loud voice and direct and somehow brash manners. Even in her younger years, when she was classified as a tomboy by most, she loved girly things- dresses, make up, gossip magazines, etc. without issues. I think of Stan in her 60s wearing tacky jewelry, lipstick, and hair-curlers at night, tbh. That's why, in this AU, my mind skirts around the part were Ford gets stuck into the portal.

For example, I sometimes imagine 30s Ford simply having a change of heart and dismantling the portal, and (now former) Drifter!Constance living with him from that point on (and, of course, I elaborated this one up until Stan and Mabel get into the picture, but for the sake of brevity I'll stop here). Or, I bend canon a little, making up that the people of Gravity Falls only heard of some researcher who was gonna build and live in a shack in the forest, but they never actually got to see them, let alone find out if it was a man or a woman. It's a version were the chaos Ford caused in town while posses by Bill either never happened or he did it without getting caught by police or getting seen. And, about the name on documents and stuff-- Constance was a marinated and resourceful conwoman at that point, she simply found a way to make things work. Hell, they have the same last name- maybe this time she registered Ford as deceased, passed herself as his wife, and inherited the Shack and the rest of Ford's possessions. I know many, reading this, would think it's heartless of Stan, but to me this trick is fucking hilarious. Especially, I'm grinning like a maniac imagining how mad and appalled Ford would look as he realizes the trick Constance pulled- not only because what a fucking ASSHOLE she's been, to use his "death" to appropriate his stuff- but also!! secretly!! because WHAT the FUCK- he often fantasized about Stan being his wife, but this is the most cruel and ironic monkey paw situation EVER!! To reconnect back to your speculations about sexist!Ford being humiliated and mad about Constance running a business independently: I like it! it's fun to read! But, I have to go deeper. I usually think of Ford's sexism toward Constance to be the outside layer, so to speak. I think deep down Ford always knew Stan had the potential to be strong, resourceful and independent, despite what their ma, pa, teachers and other people said. Ford grew next to her, he knows what this girl is capable of, how determined she is. And that's the point...What he really dreads, what he really hates, is the idea she doesn't need him, at all. That's what would make Ford actually upset about Stan running a business: knowing that, hadn't she brought him back, she would had been fine, without him. Sexism would be the mental shield Ford uses to protect himself from this painful acknowledgment: He's just mad because his fraud of a sister thinks she's being successful, but all she accomplished was using her physical appearance and womanly ways to seduce and manipulate. That's all, really. I roll my eyes at him, here, which is a good indicator I got him in character, if I can say so myself. The last scene you shared, with Stan realizing her nephew and niece aren't as oppressed by gender roles as she herself used to be- and bypassing them, even- is SO sweet 🥺 I have absolutely no doubt in my mind: one thing that does NOT change in either the canon universe and the genderbend one, is that Stan would love and adore Dipper and Mabel- and learn a lot from them ❤ PS: is the puppy icon your anon signature? it's so cute! 🐶 look at this fine boy. Great choice.

[andorianminingconsortium]

(This text contains talk about my dad who passed away of a brain tumor, and talks about watching Star Trek Picard relating to that. It's a bit of rambling. I wanted to put my thoughts somewhere.)

I watched Star Trek Picard for the first time about a year or so ago. My dad recommended it to me. Soon after he recommended it, he got sick. My mother and I cared for him until he passed away about half a year later. So I watched the series during the time of his illness, when he was in the hospital and mom spent the night there and I was alone at home to take care of our new cats. Dad got them for us. It was the last thing he gave while he could still think clearly. Anyway the series always gave me peace. Picard is to me always so gentle and caring. He embodies peaceful human qualities but he is also just an old man coming to terms with the passing of time and his own mortality I think.

I'm rewatching Star Trek Picard now and I keep starting to cry. Because the themes of the show deal with becoming older and forgetting and not knowing yourself. And they do it so elegantly and calmly. It reminds me of my dad who died of a cancer in the brain. And my dad, just like Picard, was very gentle and caring and wise. Dad was my hero and I miss him a lot.

While he was sick, at some point he couldn't get out of bed anymore so he would watch a lot of TV. He watched a lot of Star Trek. DS9, Voyager, Discovery... He and mom introduced me to Star Trek. Dad liked all of the shows. I wonder who his favourite captain was. I think it was Picard or maybe Kirk. Maybe he recognised himself in them. I recognise my dad in them.

So no matter if sometimes some of the newer Star Trek is disappointing or different, I take comfort in knowing my dad would have loved it and I will watch everything :) He loved Discovery, he loved Picard. So for me Star Trek Picard will always have a special place in my heart. I'm going to rewatch episode two now.

(Thank you for reading)

[vyl]

This reminded me so much of the way Neil got ahold of his keys and how he traced them again and again because it meant he belonged somewhere. Jeremy getting Jean that first shirt was proof he didn't have to conform anymore. He had someone to rely on. Y'all I'm crying

[shewhoeatssand]

they are similar

[huntersapprentice]

I just watched like some of the episodes of the German spin-off of VeggieTales and honestly. it's kinda cute!

the full body suits are also cute in a weird way

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[ohmygraves]

simon who came back really, really late at night and was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. he was out for a really tiring mission and returned to his spouse sleeping soundly on the bed, didn't even bother showering and just stripping his clothes down because it was just god awful nasty after being marinated in it for days. he was out in seconds, on his side of the bed, likely flopped his arms and legs over his spouse too without realizing.

he was awake like twelve hours later, still so tired and didn't even notice that he was alone on the bed. his old clothes were gone from the bedroom floor, he's got some water on the nightstand and his nasty, dirt-crusted phone is clean and charged next to it (you could only clean so much of it, that thing is likely beyond dirty but he refused to get a new one unless it died on him).

taking a long swig of the water, he heard faint chopping sounds from the kitchen, and a nice tasty smell wafting through the air. it smells really good, you're likely in the middle of cooking something, and he already missed work anyway.

he went to grab his old t-shirts (likely the one you were wearing sometime before he came home) and walked towards the kitchen, following the yummy scent. he didn't even check the time, but he was so hungry that time is no concern of his at this point.

there he sees you, standing over the counter chopping some vegetables, and he was instantly transported to his childhood home. watching his mom cook from the doorway to the kitchen, hearing that chopping sounds from the wooden cutting board, and something tasty boiling over the stove. some soup, maybe?

you didn't notice him, you were too busy trying to cook something, dropping some of that vegetable into the pot and letting it boil, and only noticed him when you turned around to grab something from the fridge. simon didn't even approach you, just standing there staring at you, and you're wondering if everything is okay. he was usually quiet but this was odd seeing as somehow he seems like he's got his mind somewhere else.

"simon, i didn't even hear you come in." you sighed, trying to calm your racing heart when he spooked you, "sorry, food will be ready in a bit, just wait for a moment."

simon snapped out of his daydream, shaking his head as he approached you, hugging you from behind. he didn't say anything, just hiding his face at the crook of your neck.

you're not sure what's wrong with him for being so quiet, but you could assume the gist of it as you felt his tears dropping against your skin.

[shuafiles]

making the bed [c.sc]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | you and seungcheol’s marriage is hanging on by a thread. separate rooms, broken conversations, and barely any contact, it's clear that what you once had is slipping away. desperate for a second chance, you both turn to couples therapy, but when intimacy—or the lack of it—becomes the topic of conversation, everything changes.

PAIRING | husband!seungcheol x afab!reader

CONTENT | nonidol!seungcheol, angst, bad relationships, miscommunication, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

WORDS | 4.9k

A/N | quick disclaimer i know nothing about therapy sessions, so there may be inaccuracies. i loooved writing this ! i hope u enjoy it as much as i did, pls pls pls leave feedback if u can. ty <3 not proofread !!!

you woke up to yet another feeling of cold sheets beside you. the sun peeking through the curtains, the cool breeze of air conditioning meeting your skin. you shivered at the sensation. you patted seungcheol’s side of the bed, knowing you would be disappointed yet again. your eyes fluttered open, the sight of neatly tucked sheets on the opposite side of the bed made your heart heavy. as if he hadn’t slept there at all.

for months now, your marriage had a cloud looming over it. love that was once warm had grown cold and silent, reduced to taking care of household necessities and meaningless small talk. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt comforted by your husband of three years. and even if you did, the memory wouldn’t bring any comfort.

seungcheol’s career was at its peak. he was a few steps closer to getting promoted to a higher position at the firm he worked at. of course, along with this almost promotion, he had to sacrifice spending time with you. he was never home most days of the week. and if he were home, he would instead be resting and catching up on whatever sports he watched on tv.

needless to say, you were getting tired of that routine. you felt lonely. you tried to keep yourself busy with work or even joining a pilates class, but every corner reminded you of how much you missed your husband. the sight of other wives being picked up from work or how some husbands would join their wives for workouts. the feeling was gnawing at your chest.

you and seungcheol didn’t fight. in fact, you barely even talked. you resorted to cooking his favorite meals–which were mostly piling up in the fridge because he was never home–and steaming his suits for him. the silence that gathered in your home was louder than any argument could ever be.

it was strange, living together, yet he felt farther than when he went on his business trips.

you loved seungcheol. you were so in love with him that the thought of losing him terrified you. but sometimes you wonder if love alone was enough to hold your marriage together. you often thought about what went wrong, questioning if you ever did something to make him lose interest in you.

you sighed, pulling the covers off you to prepare for the day. after showering and brushing your teeth, you headed to the kitchen to make lunch. the silent air greeting you as you walked through your shared apartment. you decided to make coffee for your husband, even if deep down you knew it would just grow cold. you wanted to show your affection for him somehow.

you took a sip of coffee from your cup, the bitterness lingering longer than usual. you glanced at the clock, seeing it was almost time for your therapy appointment.

it was your idea to attend couples’ therapy, seeing it as a last resort to salvage your crumbling marriage. when you first suggested it to seungcheol, he was hesitant and weary about the idea of running to another person about your problems. but seeing that it would mean a lot to you, and he didn’t want to put up a fight, he agreed to give it a try.

you hadn’t seen seungcheol since the previous morning when he hastily left for work. bidding you goodbye with a tired smile when he left you alone in the kitchen. a small part of you was worried he had forgotten about the appointment, not wanting to be disappointed, so you decided to send him a text.

wifey <3: hi, just wanted to remind you about our appointment at 2 pm

you stared at the screen, fingers dancing anxiously as you awaited his response.

cheolie <3: yea, i'll meet u there

that was it. no greeting, no apology for not coming home the night before. you pursed your lips at his response. feeling somewhat disappointed with his nonchalance. you convinced yourself that he was preoccupied with his career, too busy to send you a proper response. but nevertheless you decided to brush it off, tucking your phone in your bag as you got ready to head out.

when you arrived at the clinic, you couldn’t help but glance around the waiting area to find a glimpse of your husband. but to your dismay, you were the first one to arrive. you took a seat in one of the empty chairs, scrolling mindlessly through your phone in an attempt to ignore the tightening feeling in your chest.

exactly a minute before the clock struck 2, the doors swung open, and seungcheol walked in. his hair was messy, bags surrounded his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. he looked like hell, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was affecting him more than it was affecting you. his eyes landed on you and he made his way towards you, sinking in the seat beside you.

“hey.” he said softly, eyes barely meeting yours. hearing his voice reminded you how much you missed him.

“hi.” your eyes scanning him. you heart fluttered at the proximity between the two of you. you weren’t sure whether you were just touch deprived or you just missed your husband too much–it was probably a mix of both–but the thought of having him close to you made your head slightly dizzy. your mouth opened to speak but decided against it. you wanted to tell him that you were glad he made it and how much it mattered to you. but words felt too heavy to speak, so you enjoyed the silent company he provided instead.

the therapist’s door opened, and a nurse emerged, calling his and yours’ last name. you both stood up, walking inside the room side-by-side, hands almost grazing each other.

you and seungcheol settled on the couch in front of the therapist. she offered you a soft smile, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“hi, mr. and mrs. choi. how are you two feeling today?” she asked, her tone gently with a hint of curiosity.

your eyes shifted to seungcheol, wanting to see if he would speak first. he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “it’s been… a busy week.” he let out, eyes glancing between you and the therapist.

your lips formed into a frown, fingers fiddling with each other. “it has been tough. recently i’ve been feeling like we’ve been living separate lives despite sharing the same space.” you forced yourself to speak, the words falling out of your mouth before you could even comprehend them. “i’m afraid that if we let it happen for too long, we might lose each other in the process.”

you could feel seungcheol’s gaze on you, his once tired eyes growing soft from taking you in. he could tell you were extremely upset, your lips quivering and your hands playing with one another–which you only did when you were visibly upset. he wanted to reach for your hand, to provide you with comfort. but his cowardness was taking over him.

she leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. “i see. this must be incredibly difficult for both of you.” her eyes flickered between the two of you. “if you both want to reconnect, we need to address the emotional and physical barrier forming between you.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at her words. you glanced at seungcheol only to find him staring at you. his expression was guarded and unreadable. you felt tiny under his gaze, not used to the intensity of his eyes on you.

the therapist cleared her throat, drawing both of your attention to her. “the effort you two took to meet me today is a sign that you both want to save this relationship, but it seems that there’s a lot of distance–both emotional and physical.” you shifted in your seat at her words. you couldn’t deny the truth; it had been a while since you had a proper conversation with seungcheol, let alone a moment of intimacy. “when was the last time you two… shared a moment of true closeness?” her question was left open. still, you and seungcheol know her meaning was leading to one thing.

your cheeks burned slightly at the thought of it. it had been months since you last shared a bed, weeks since he last held you close; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex. you glanced at your husband, wondering if he felt the same embarrassment or if the thought of this issue would bring him back to you.

seungcheol let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a hand rummaging through his hair. “i-i don’t know, it has been a while.” he admitted, voice so soft you barely caught on to what he was saying. “i’ve been too caught up with stuff at work, i don’t think we’ve shared a bed in a while.” hearing him admit your problems made your heart ache. he was capable of acknowledging his mistakes, yet he made no effort to correct them.

she gave you both a sympathetic look. “it’s not uncommon for couples under this kind of strain to lose touch emotionally and physically. often, intimacy is the first thing to slip, but it’s also one of the most important bridges to reconnecting. i’d like to encourage you both to try spending time together, maybe even share the same bed, and just… see how that feels.”

the suggestion lingered in the air. silence erupting from the two of you as you processed her words. glancing at seungcheol, whose gaze was fixated on the floor while it seemed like he was in deep thought. seungcheol lifted his head, facing you briefly, his eyes filled with vulnerability for the first time in a long time. you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding at your therapist while sending her a soft smile.

the session ended with an agreement to try. hoping that the words you heard today were a head start to fixing your crumbling marriage.

seungcheol mentioned that he had to return to work but promised to be home early. without having a choice, you went separate ways and decided to go home. your heart was heavy on the drive home. you weren’t sure how he took the session today and all you wanted was to talk to him, to hold him, for him to remind you that everything would be okay and that he loved you.

as the afternoon turned into evening, you couldn’t help but pace around the apartment. you already tried everything to keep your mind off of what happened today, but it was nearly impossible. your habit of cleaning every surface took place, every inch of the house spotless as you awaited your husband’s return. even catching up on your favorite series couldn’t help you keep your mind at ease.

you found yourself checking your phone every so often, the time taunting you as it nearly reached 7 pm and there were still no signs of seungcheol. you sighed, feeling a twinge of disappointment form in your heart. not wanting to feel the empty space of the house any longer, you decided to get ready for bed.

after taking a shower and doing your skincare, exhaustion begins to seep through your body. you felt stupid, stupid to think that seungcheol wanted it to work as much as you did. you started to accept that maybe he no longer needed you, no longer felt the same affection he had for you when you first started going out.

you lay in bed, going under the covers as tears escaped your eyes. the memories of you and your husband’s early days haunting you, wondering where it all went wrong.

you hadn’t noticed that you cried yourself to sleep. the sound of rustling around awoke you from your slumber. with heavy eyes, you tried to make out the source of the noise.

“fuck.” seungcheol whispered as he dropped his phone that had his flashlight on as he tried to navigate the room in the dark.

“cheol?” you mumbled, hand rubbing your eye as you sat in bed. seungcheol turned to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“y/n!” he said, surprised, guilty that he had woken you up. ���did i wake you? i’m sorry, i was trying to find a change of clothes.”

you leaned over the bedside table, turning on the lamp to provide light for him. eyes secretly glancing at the time, seeing that it was only 8 pm. “don’t apologize, this is your room too.” you said, but it felt more like a reminder than a statement; it had been so long since he slept here with you.

without saying a word, he stepped towards the bed, sitting on the edge while his back faced you. his shoulders were tense; you could tell he had much on his mind.

you watched with worried eyes as he sighed before he turned to face you. “i’m sorry, y/n.” his gaze was soft, lips dry as he mustered up the courage to speak to you. you inched towards him in bed, sitting directly in front of his body that was turned to you. “i know i’ve been… absent these past couple of weeks, months even. and your head was probably filled with thoughts about what was going on, and i-“ he gulped, tears forming in his eyes. it had been so long since he opened his feelings to you since he looked at you with warm eyes and honesty. the nights you spent alone and mornings waking up next to an untouched bed flashed before you. “i was trying to prove something… to myself, to you.” he admitted, his eyes filled with shame and regret. still, you listened to his words intently. “i thought that if i kept my head down and focused on work, i could finally give us this picture-perfect life that you deserve. and i-i thought you’d be okay with waiting.”

you took a moment to register his words. your fingers absentmindedly fiddling with one another–which he caught. you hadn’t been okay. the loneliness swallowed you these past few months, and his physical distance from you only made it worse. you missed him. you missed his scent, his touch–his hand on your back as you slept, the feeling of his arms around your shoulders, the way he pulled you close in his sleep. you missed the feeling of his soft lips, the feeling of his hands on your body. it had been so long since you felt good.

“you have no idea how hard it’s been, seungcheol.” you started, voice almost trembling as you spoke. “going to bed alone, having no clue if you’d even come home to me. i felt like i was losing you, little by little.” 

“god, no.” for the first time in forever, seungcheol reached for your hands instinctively. comfort rushing through your body by his touch. he held your hands tightly, his eyes pleading. “i thought i was doing this for us, y/n, but i was being so selfish. i pushed you away. i pushed us away.” his voice cracked, pain written all over his face. “i missed you. i missed everything about you. i missed us.” he admitted, his thumb gliding over your hands in an attempt to provide solace. “i didn’t want to fail you, y/n.”

his eyes shut, a tear slipping down his cheek. you reached out to cup his face, your thumb wiping away his tears. you felt him lean against your touch, making your heart ache. you couldn’t remember the last time he had been this vulnerable with you. you could see how deeply he felt the loss, even if he had hidden it from you.

seungcheol’s eyes fluttered opened, his voice barely above a whisper. “i promise i’ll make up for the lost time. i want to show you that i’m here and i’m sorry. you’re not losing me.”

his words impacted you harder than you had expected, providing you with both comfort and hurt. it felt silly to be so relieved by his simple promise. but after longing for him for so long, you couldn’t help it. it was exactly what you were waiting to hear. the assurance from him was more than enough to give you ease.

instead of saying anything, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. he exhaled softly at your touch. god, you missed him. it meant everything to you that he was here. actually here.

“cheol.” you mumbled, eyes shutting. “i missed you so much.”

you felt him nod lightly. “i know, angel.” hearing his pet name for you flooded you with warm memories. “i missed you, too. more than you could imagine.” his hand slid to the back of your neck. you pulled away from his forehead, eyes staring up at him as he rubbed the skin. slightly shivering at his touch as it reached down into the parts of you that had felt cold and empty for so long. “let me make up for the lost time.” his voice was deep as his gaze on you darkened.

your eyes fluttered open, gaze falling to his lips. you let your hands slide down his shoulder, almost pulling his body close to you. he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your face, lips brushing against yours. you melted into his touch as he connected his lips with yours. your hands finding their way to his chest as the kiss deepened, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. it reminded you that he was actually here, and you weren’t alone as you had felt for all those months.

seungcheol wrapped his arms around your waist as he laid you on the bed, your back meeting the soft sheets as he climbed between your legs. his thigh rubbing against your core that was growing warm with his every touch. feeling the tension between you dissipate with each kiss and touch. the gap between the two of you shrinking as he showed you just how much he missed you.

his fingers made their way to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from your lips to tug the fabric off your body, leaving your upper half naked. he groaned at the sight of you, reminding him how much he missed seeing your body. “god, i missed you.” he whispered before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. moaning when his hand slipped between your legs, hand cupping your pussy that was growing wet at his mere touch. your body craving him more than you anticipated.

“cheol, i need you.” you whimpered against his lips as his fingers traced over your clothed core. desperation lacing from your voice made him grow hard against his suit. feeling his hard-on against your thigh. your hands reached up to undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. he hovered over you to give you more access, sliding the shirt off once you were done. you shamelessly checked him out, running your fingers over his chiseled chest. you almost forgotten how much you loved his body.

seungcheol hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and underwear. sliding them down your legs, feeling your arousal sticking to the fabric. in a swift movement, he inched his body down the bed until his head was in between your thighs, face dangerously close to your throbbing pussy. he took a whiff, your familiar scent welcoming him. “you smell amazing, baby.” his arm hooked around and over your thigh, pulling your body close to him. bringing two fingers up to your entrance, collecting your arousal, and spreading it up to your clit. “so wet and needy for me.”

you moaned at his touch, hips bucking upwards as you tried to get more friction but his grip around you prevented you from moving. he softly smiled at your state, wasting no time in pressing his tongue against your clit. you gasped, hand flying down to grip his hair.

seungcheol ran his tongue up and down your folds, lips sucking on your clit, occasionally flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. the sudden movements had your back arching off the bed, hand gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue lapped your hole. “f-feels so good.” you whimpered.

his free hand snaked around your body, his thumb circling your clit while his tongue fucked your entrance. the sensation driving you crazy as you let out curses. he knew your body all too well. he knew exactly how to push you over the edge even after all these months.

“my pretty girl. i bet your pussy was waiting for me, hm?” he hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending shocks throughout your body. you lifted your head to meet his gaze, his eyes flickering to yours. maintaining eye contact, he slipped his fingers down your core, abruptly inserting two of them inside you. you could barely let out words once you felt his digits curl inside you. he beamed once he saw you writhe beneath his touch, glad that you weren’t that disconnected from each other in every way.

seungcheol pressed his mouth against your clit, sucking on the bud as his fingers relentlessly fucked your hole. thrusting them in and out of you in addicting movements. your hips jerk up from the overwhelming pleasure. toes curling as you felt a knot form in your stomach.

“p-please, cheolie, i want to cum.” your voice shaking as he continued his movements. your hand reaching up to your breast, squeezing them as you felt your orgasm forming.

“let it out, angel.” he whispered against your clit, sucking on it harshly to the point tears fill your eyes. without warning, you came undone with his fingers in you, cursing his name. your insides clenching around his digits as his movements slowed down. you head thrown back against the mattress as you let out shaky breaths.

seungcheol detached his mouth from your clit, pulling his fingers away before entrapping them with his lips. savouring your cum to account for the many months that went by without tasting you. “my good girl.”

seungcheol kneeled between your legs, his cock hard against his stomach–you hadn’t even noticed he took his pants off. you lifted your head to face him, mouth watering at the sight. nearly forgetting how big and thick his cock was. you wrapped your fingers around his length, pumping it lightly before stroking it. his hips inching towards you as he leaned into your touch. your thumb running over his tip that was leaking with precum. you looked at him through your lashes, but his eyes were already dark and focused on you.

“fuck, baby.” he grunted once you jerked him off, but his hand reached for your wrist to prevent your movement. “stop teasing, princess. i need my cock inside your pussy.” his confession made sparks shoot throughout your body and onto your cunt.

seungcheol positioned his body between your legs, gripping his cock in one hand, aligning it with your entrance. you couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips as he glided the tip of his cock along your folds, spreading your wetness before sinking into you. you gasped at the size of his length. your fingernails digging (careful not to hurt him) into his shoulders as you adjusted to his size.

“i know, baby.” his voice soothed you, hushing you as tears threatened to escape your eyes. fuck, you forgot how his dick felt inside you. “you’re taking me so well, angel.” he pressed kisses all over your face.

once he was balls deep in you, he stayed still for a moment. letting you get used to the sensation, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“m-move, please.” your voice barely a whisper. “you’re so big, cheolie.”

seungcheol growled at your words, slowly starting to move his hips. “missed your pussy, baby.” you felt every inch of his cock in you, insides splitting from his size. your insides burning, but it felt so fucking good. you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts.

he took this as a sign to gradually increase his speed, his hips rocking into you faster. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, scared that if you let go, he’ll disappear again.

the proximity allowing him to bury his cock deeper into you. in a swift motion, he pulled his cock out before slamming his hips against yours. sounds of skin slapping filling the room, along the moans that emit from you and the groans that escape his throat. he buried his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses against the skin.

“you feel so fucking good, shit.” his hand sneaked to your breast, taking your nipple in between his fingers, circling the sensitive bud. the rough pad of his thumb and index adding to the overwhelming pleasure. “fuck, i’m never leaving you alone ever again.”

you don’t know if it was his words or the pleasure from his cock that brought tears to your eyes. he pulled away from your neck, towering over you as he held eye contact with you. “my pretty wife, i love you so much.”

“i-i love you, cheol.” you breathed out, feeling him twitch inside you from your confession. the words felt foreign from your lips, but the feeling was reeling in so many memories. he picked up his pace again, relentlessly fucking you as if to remind you that he’s here now.

seungcheol leaned forward, capturing your lips with his. the kiss was more passionate and needy, his taste leaving you intoxicated. his hand inching down to your clit, rubbing circles on the nub. the stimulation building your orgasm even more. he knew you were getting close when you clenched around him, driving him to fuck into you deeper and harder.

“are you gonna cum for me, angel?” his voice deep as he watched you squirm underneath his touch. he latched his lips to your chest, sucking on the skin softly, enough to surely leave a mark. the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was providing was enough to drive you insane. the coil in your stomach begging to be released. “cum all over my cock, baby, let me feel you.” with the encouragement of his words, you released all over his cock. stars clouding your vision as you ride out your high. “s-shit, baby.” the sight of you cumming on his cock was enough to send seungcheol over the edge. with a few final thrusts, his warm seed burst inside you, painting your walls white, groans filling the room.

seungcheol slowly retreated his cock from you, his cum spilling from your pussy. you winced at the sticky feeling. he pressed a quick kiss on your forehead before he disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a towel which he ran under cold water. he returned and immediately nursed you, dragging the towel up and down your entrance which made you giggle.

“thank you.” you mumbled as he went to return the towel in the bathroom.

“anything for my beautiful wife.” seungcheol grabbed a shirt from the closet, handing it to you because he knew how much you loved wearing his shirts to bed. even helping you slip it on your body. your heart warmed at the sight of him taking care of you. you barely noticed that he climbed into bed and pulled you close to his chest. “i told you, i’ll make it up to you, my love.” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.

you could only nod at his words, feeling slumber take over you. hearing him whisper how much he loved you before falling unconscious.

-

you woke up to the warmth of a body shifting beside you, feeling the familiar weight of your husband’s arm around your waist. the soft morning light greeted you as you opened your eyes. you glanced at his sleeping figure, taking in the sight of his relaxed face, lashes resting against cheeks and lips slightly parted. he was still here. your heart was pounding so loudly that you were sure he'd hear it if he were awake.

your hand reached up to brush away the strands of hair falling onto his face. but before you could do so, his eyes fluttered open, a soft smile forming on his lips as he focused on you.

“g’morning.” seungcheol mumbled, voice deep and husky, still laced with sleep.

“good morning.” you responded, unable to hide the chipper in your voice. you rested your hand on his bare chest, rubbing the skin comfortingly, slightly scared that you were in a dream.

his hand fell to your back, pulling your body close to him. “i meant it, you know.” he whispered, his thumb rubbing circles along your back. “i don’t want us to fall apart again.”

your chest tightened at his words, but this time, the ache was different–it was hopeful. “neither do i.” leaning your head against his neck, softly kissing the skin.

“you have me forever, baby.” he said, a promise that felt as grounding as his touch on your body.

you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace engulf you. comfortable silence taking over as you lay there in each other’s arms. you both knew this was just the start of finding your way back to one another.

[elizzsush]

Fae Courting Rituals | TWST

Diasomnia Dorm X Reader

Lilia X Reader, Sebek X Reader, Malleus X Reader, Silver X Reader

---- Fae are typically taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 3/3)

Note: Was going To add silver to this list. (I know he isn't a fae, but he was raised by one) but was too tired to write for him)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Octavinelle Ver

Sebek:

He starts following you around for some reason.

Seriously, one day he just woke up and decided to not leave you alone. It helped that you guys shared a bundle of classes together.

You had no clue how you befriended the green hair boy. You weren't complaining though, in this school, where everyone is so set in their ways, you liked having the extra layer of protection that was the loud half fae: Sebek.

He was loud and denies it however, whenever you point out he follows you. He claims to not having even realized he was doing such a thing. "I would never follow around a mere human!" He shouted out his claims with a red face.

It could be true. He did get somewhat spacy sometimes if you'd believe it.

He had a packed schedule, or so he claimed, yet he always found time to be around you. It made a warm feeling blossom in your chest, well, of course before he used this time to rant about Malleus. "Wakasama is the most kind and fit ruler of-" He'd ramble, you'd sigh; put your face in your hand and lean a bit closer to him. You enjoyed hearing him so passionate, even if it was... constant.

He didn't have an off switch, that didn't have to be a bad thing.

Plush, you didn't hate his voice. Not that you'd be as loud about your likes as he was for his.

Though you were pretty positive your friends... and most of the students at NRC were in fact sick of his voice. People have also noticed he is more vocal around you.

Which is… a good thing?

The oddest thing happened once. At one point when the two of you were relaxing in ramshackle. A bag of popcorn and a shitty TV you got on sale at Sam's shop. He wasn't being loud for once in his life, instead his attention was focused on the screen.

You two were sitting pretty close together when, he had grabbed your hand and laid his head on yours. Was he... cuddling you?

You couldn't help but smile and continue to watch the movie. You didn't want to comment on it, you knew if you did, he'd probably get up, make a huge deal out of it (with a red face), and leave.

He started rubbing his forehead against yours before he finally pulled away like it never happened. It was oddly affectionate.

You didn't even think he knew that he was doing it.

He began to do these affectionate things while he was focused on something else. Either it be a show at the movie nights you organized with him, or if he was studying a bit to hard with you.

Your friends wondered how you even managed a movie night with the loud boy but you just shrugged.

Eventually, you had to face it: You really like Sebek.

You really liked this brash boy with a thick skull.

You knew however, even if he did like you back. He'd never admit it, let alone go out with you.

It left you with this odd feeling. A dull pain that ranged from a small ache to feeling like Throns were wrapping around your heart, piercing the organ in your chest.

You tried not to let that get you too down. Instead, you watched him across the lunchroom as subconsciously he blew bubbles into his drink, his green eyes finding yours...

So yes, you'd listen to his rants. You'd go out of your way to hang out with him, you'd enjoy his company while you could.

Because you knew, sooner or later, he'd realize it too. The same reality you had to face. And...

well...

He wouldn't face it.

He'd probably turn you away and never speak to you again. And you'd be fine with that. Even if you didn't want to be because you...

Well, let's save that for another day.. "Hey Sebek, lets hang out!"

"I suppose I can make time for you, Human!"

Lilia:

He was out to get you.

You noticed it. Almost everybody noticed it. You just didn't know what you did to him! He'd pop up everywhere and scare you! Right before disappearing away.

This counted as bullying, right?

You were starting to get... slightly paranoid.

You enjoyed Lilia's company, you really did. But you were tired of constantly looking over your shoulder. So, you started to avoid him, just a bit.

Your own personal revenge for the paranoia.

Now, Lilia has lived a long life. He knows what he's doing and is just having fun. He liked you, he did, but he probably isn't going to be that serious about this. He's in it for the vibes.

So when he see's you avoiding him... he well... He serenades you from outside ramshackle.

He makes his intentions very clear with a love song!

A boombox in Sebek's hand, and a tired Silver who followed along because... well Lilia was making Sebek hold a bomb box and traveling in your direction.

Lilia song his heart out for you. "Everybody loves somebody sometime!~ And although my dream was-"

"It is 2am!! The perfect will go out with you tomorrow!" Grim shouted out the window with a grogy done with it tone. After you threw a pillow at them.

NOTE: Sorry this one is short but I have a hard time writing for Lilia

Malleus:

What do you mean? You started courting him first. Very brave of you indeed child of man. He had even commented on it while you handed a piece of treasure!

That was... well, it was a cheap polished rock. It was well... shiny...?

It started very small. He accepted your gift and was expecting a bit more to be honest. Not even he was exactly sure how this courting would work out; he was prepared to be the one to pursue you!

Initially, he sat back and relaxed. Enjoyed the small sense of harmony you two already had and assumed you guys were dating.

Why would he not? He accepted your courting gift, he assumed their were more to come, the next step up to this would be marriage and he wasn’t sure you were ready for that.

However, you noticed this. You were so confused. He’d began to call you “beloved.” Which was a 180.

When did you two…? Huh??

He’s also been more clingy. Not on the sense he’d follow you around but in the sense of a mountain of handwritten letters and the actual sense that he’s in your personal space when you two do hang out.

So… the two of you are just dating now? “Beloved, you haven’t been responding to my letters. Did I do something?”

“Oh, sorry I just haven’t… quite finished all of them.” You glanced at a room that was empty at one time. Now it held a pile of letters.

This was an exaggeration, they’re were a lot but not a whole room full… yet.

Extra??? Silver:

It started like most seedlings of love, with a dream. A simple one, you were sat beside him, the two of you quiet and happy in each others company. The birds sang as you hummed beside him. The boy was content, more so then he had been in his life.

Then, like it was second nature to both of you. You two shared a kiss, and then he woke up.

Usually, he tried not to lose himself to sleep. But tonight all he wanted was to go back to the dream world and hold you. As soon as the realization crossed his mind however, he woke up even more. Had he ever been this awake? “Am I in love…?”

He, not knowing what to do. Went to Lilia, whom was enthusiastic with this news.

You know when parents find out their four year old has a crush? That’s Lilia, except Silver isn’t four. Every time they see you Lilia shoos Silver off too hang out with you. Sadly, with no prior love life to speak of, silver goes along with it.

Though he is embarrassed about it, he hides it well enough.

“Does Lilia think you like me?” You asked all to happily once, hiding your own happiness behind a giggle at the absurd situation he found himself in.

“Uh, yeah…” he’d just smile at you, his head laying on the lunch table as he was about to go to sleep. he loved to see you laugh even if it was somewhat at his expense. However, Sleep tends to escape him when he was near you. Not that he didn’t feel tired, but he didn’t feel as tired. He couldn’t feel angry about it, in fact he was happy about this. It was like you were some temporary cures for his illness.

Lilia would also insist that Silver gift you things. To show he can provide for you, the Silver hair male couldn’t disagree. So, he’d find things that might fancy you.

His bird and squirrel friends also helped him in his venture to gain your affection. Often leaving flowers at your doorstep and small shiny things.

One day you saw the birds and Squirrels run up to your doorstep, one flower at a time, make a gorgeous bouquet.

You made sure to thank him and his animal friends after that.

In return you'd try and make things for him, find things around he or the animals would like. Nuts for squirrels, seeds for the birds, and a deep red rose you plucked from Heartslabyul during the end of an unbirthday party.

He stayed awake for longer than he ever had that night, staring up at the rose in the dark while his dormmate slept. A smile on his lips as he examined every detail of it.

Ace would call it cheesy. The relationship between the two of you was something out of a romance movie he'd say in a more teasing way. Something like, "Is it Tuesday or Wednesday he's going to chase after you to an airport?" and then roll his eyes. You tell Ace to shut up while looking away with a face as red as riddle's hair.

It was after a test, you pulled your test paper out of your bag ready to check your score after preparing for disappointment when a blue bird swopped down and took it!

You cursed and chased after the bird, rushing past students and looking crazy, eventually you ended up in the forest next to the school.

You were sure you looked ever crazier than you had been running in the school halls, because now you had leaves in your hair, and your shoes were all muddy now...

Eventually, the birds placed the test paper, face down on a certain boy's chest. "Silver... Are you asleep?" You smiled and knelt beside him, a small smile on your face. Rolling your eyes at the perpetually sleeping boy. You sat beside him for a moment taking a deep breath before you grabbed your test.

You almost preferred it this way, to have him here, even if he wasn't fully here. It helped your nerves somewhat. An even bigger smile graced your face as you turned the paper, and a large B was printed at the top.

Standing up, you gifted your friend a small kiss on his forehead and wandered off back to school.

Well, you were stopped by a small, sleepy voice. "Y/N...?"

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Note: It was this or clean my depression room... Anyway, I want to expand on Sebek's small scenario because I know if it was its own imagine I could make it really good.

Would ya'll enjoy that...?

ANYWAY, these small series is competed! (Unless...?) Thank you for reading them and thanks for reading the note. Not a lot of people do that. Myself included.

I have a hard time writing for Diasomnia...