#she's glowing she pulls it off go on the girl

[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 @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @llando4norris @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @jeffs77 @ironcowboycopnickel @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @omgsuperstarg g @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @anedpev @thenerdysimp

Leaving it all behind ” max verstappen x reader 

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

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

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

That was when he saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, her expression curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*She’s more important.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a dangerous, foolish, insane choice.

*And he loved every second of it.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just you. I want all of you." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max frowned slightly. “Get what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Until I met you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, he saw them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max fired first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think you can run from me, Max?”

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

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

Max didn’t flinch. “Marco.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep running!” Max barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then came Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max held his breath as Victor pressed the first detonator. A loud explosion rocked the factory, and smoke filled the air. Marco’s men were thrown off balance, some of them stumbling backward as the entrance filled with dust and debris.

Using the distraction, Max and Y/N moved silently down a side staircase, making their way closer to the ground level where Marco was recovering from the blast.

Marco’s voice cut through the chaos. “You think you can take me down, Max?” he shouted, his tone mocking. “You’re just as foolish as your mother. You’re weak.”

Max clenched his jaw, the mention of his mother igniting a fury he’d kept buried. He stepped out from the shadows, his gaze locked on Marco.

“No, Marco,” Max said, his voice steady. “I’m nothing like you. And I’m ending this.”

Marco laughed, a cold, twisted sound. “Go ahead, Max. Let’s see if you have what it takes.”

Marco raised his gun, but before he could fire, Y/N moved in from the side, aiming and pulling the trigger. The shot hit one of Marco’s men square in the chest, sending him sprawling. Max took advantage of the moment, lunging forward and tackling Marco to the ground.

They grappled fiercely, years of anger and resentment pouring out in each punch. Marco fought back with a strength that took Max by surprise, but Max’s resolve was unbreakable. He was fighting not only for himself, but for Y/N and the life he wanted to build with her.

Victor took down another one of Marco’s men, shouting to Max and Y/N to fall back as more reinforcements arrived. But Max refused to let go of Marco, his hands clenched tightly around his collar.

Marco’s gaze held a glint of something unsettling”a confidence that sent a chill through Max. “You really think you can escape your father’s shadow? That you can just walk away from this life?”

Max’s grip tightened. “Watch me.”

Just as Marco started to pull away, Victor tossed Max a knife, and with one swift motion, Max drove it into Marco’s side. Marco’s eyes widened in shock, the fight draining from him as he fell back against the floor, his breathing ragged.

“You could have been great, Max,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “You were always meant for this.”

Max knelt beside him, his expression hardened. “I’ll be great, Marco. Just not in the way you or father wanted.”

Marco’s gaze dimmed as he breathed his last, his reign of terror finally ending. Victor, catching his breath, nodded to Max and Y/N, signaling that it was time to go before any more of Jos’s men arrived.

As they ran through the factory, the weight of what they had just done hit them. They had defeated Marco, but Max knew that his father would come looking for them eventually. This fight wasn’t over”not entirely. But for the first time, he felt hope.

Max and Y/N drove through the night, the reality of their escape sinking in as the city faded in their rearview mirror. They didn’t know what the future held or where they would go, but they knew they were finally free.

As dawn broke over the horizon, Y/N reached for Max’s hand, her fingers lacing through his. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and relief.

Max squeezed her hand, a faint smile crossing his face. “Yeah, we did.”

With Marco gone, they had a chance”a real chance”to live the life they wanted. And though Jos’ shadow still loomed, Max was prepared to face whatever came next, as long as he had Y/N by his side.

For now, they would drive until they reached a place where no one knew their names, where they could start fresh. Together, they would forge a new path, one free from the violence and darkness of Max’s past.

The road stretched out before them, endless and full of possibility. And for the first time, Max felt at peace, knowing that he had finally broken free.

Max and Y/N eventually found themselves in a quiet coastal town, a place with winding streets and charming old buildings nestled near the sea. It was far enough from the city and all the memories that came with it. They rented a small, modest apartment overlooking the water, where they hoped they could finally start fresh.

The first few weeks were quiet, filled with long walks on the beach, lazy mornings over coffee, and late nights spent talking about dreams and regrets. It was a life Max had never thought possible, a life he didn’t know he could have. For once, they felt safe, wrapped in the peace of anonymity.

But the shadows of Max’s past weren’t so easily left behind. The tension, the feeling of being watched”it crept back slowly, chipping away at the calm they’d built.

One night, as they were walking back from a small restaurant by the shore, Max noticed a familiar black car parked just down the street. His stomach knotted. He hadn’t seen that car in years, but he knew it”one of his father’s old vehicles.

Y/N noticed his change in demeanor. “Max? Is everything okay?”

Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let’s get back to the apartment.”

They made it back to the apartment, locking every door and window. Max peered outside, watching the car until it finally disappeared down the road. Y/N was by his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, grounding him in the present.

“Do you think it’s your father?” Y/N asked quietly.

Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But if he’s found us here, we’re not safe.”

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but something told him to answer. He took a deep breath, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

A familiar voice spoke, low and menacing. “Max. You didn’t really think you could run forever, did you?”

It was Jos.

Max felt a chill run through him. His father’s voice was calm, calculating, as if this were just another business call.

“What do you want?” Max asked, his voice tense.

Jos chuckled softly. “What I’ve always wanted, son. I want you to come back. I’ll forget your disloyalty, if you return now. But this woman”she’s distracting you. She’s a weakness.”

Max’s grip on the phone tightened. “I’m not coming back, and Y/N is none of your concern.”

Jos sighed, his tone turning cold. “You’re making a mistake, Max. You’re my blood. And blood never betrays family. But if you insist on keeping her, you know what happens to liabilities.”

With that, the line went dead.

Max lowered the phone, his heart pounding. He looked at Y/N, who watched him anxiously. “It was my father. he knows we’re here. And he’s not going to stop.”

Max and Y/N knew they had to leave the town immediately. But this time, they couldn’t just run blindly. They needed a plan, something that would allow them to disappear for good. Max realized they would need help to outsmart his father”a network, a way to stay hidden and off the grid.

That night, they packed their bags, taking only the essentials. Max reached out to Victor, sending him a coded message asking for help. They arranged to meet in a secluded spot, a few miles away, where Victor would bring supplies and information.

Before they left, Y/N placed a hand on Max’s arm, her voice soft but strong. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. We’ll get through this.”

Max pulled her into an embrace, his voice steady but filled with determination. “I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”

They drove through the night, finally arriving at a remote gas station where Victor was waiting. He stood near his car, a heavy duffel bag by his feet, watching the road with caution.

Max and Y/N got out of the car, approaching him. Victor gave them a nod. “Looks like you two could use some supplies”and a new plan.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, exhausted but grateful. “You have no idea. My father he’s found us. He’s not going to let us go so easily.”

Victor handed Max the duffel bag, filled with burner phones, fake IDs, cash, and a list of contacts who could help them along the way. “This should buy you some time. But you need to move fast.”

Y/N thanked Victor, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You’re risking a lot to help us. We won’t forget this.”

Victor gave her a small smile. “Max was there for me when I needed it. Just consider this payback.”

Before they left, Victor placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “One more thing ”you need to think about how far you’re willing to go. Jos isn’t going to stop. You might have to consider taking him out.”

Max’s expression darkened. He had known, deep down, that his father would never let him go. But hearing it out loud made it real.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Victor.”

Victor nodded, watching as Max and Y/N got back into their car, their new identities hidden in the duffel bag. As they drove off, Max couldn’t shake Victor’s words. The idea of facing his father felt impossible, but he knew that eventually, they’d have no other choice.

For weeks, Max and Y/N kept moving, using new names in each town, keeping to small motels and out-of-the-way diners. They became adept at disappearing, slipping into the background of each new place. But as careful as they were, Jos’ men kept finding them, each encounter a reminder that they were never truly safe.

Finally, they received a message from Victor. “He’s coming for you himself, Max. It’s time to end this.”

Max looked at Y/N, his heart heavy but resolved. “It’s him or us. I can’t keep running from him. We’ll make our stand here.”

Y/N placed her hand over his, her eyes fierce. “Then let’s end this together.”

In a darkened alleyway that night, Max and Y/N waited. They heard the footsteps, the unmistakable sound of Jos’ voice. This was the final confrontation the moment when Max would either free himself or be bound to his past forever.

As Jos appeared, flanked by his men, Max stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “It’s over, Dad. You can’t control me anymore.”

Jos’ expression was a mix of anger and something almost like disappointment. “You were always my successor, Max. But you betrayed me. And for what? A woman?”

Max shook his head. “For freedom. For love. For a life that you never gave me.”

In a swift movement, the fight began. Max and Y/N fought with everything they had, each strike a testament to their will to survive. And as dawn broke, they stood victorious, finally free from Jos’ grip.

In the end, Max and Y/N left the city, driving toward a new horizon. They had endured more than most could imagine, but they had come out of it stronger, bound by trust and love.

As they drove into the distance, Y/N leaned over, resting her head on Max’s shoulder. “It’s finally over.”

Max took her hand, a quiet smile crossing his face. “Yeah. We’re finally free.”

They didn’t know what the future held, but they knew one thing: they would face it together, no longer haunted by the past.

One year later 

In a small, sunny coastal town far from the chaos of their past, Max and Y/N settled into a new life together. They’d both embraced the quiet simplicity of it—the kind of life neither of them thought they’d ever have.

Max and Y/N married in a small, private ceremony, just a handful of close friends gathered to celebrate. There were no grand gestures, no lavish displays”just the two of them, standing hand in hand, promising to share a life of peace and devotion. For Max, it was the ultimate vow of freedom, a declaration that he was no longer bound by his family’s legacy.

Over time, they built their own family. They had two children, a boy and a girl, who became the center of their world. Max was a devoted father, often surprising Y/N with how patient and tender he was with their children. Watching him with them, she knew he’d truly left his past behind, pouring his energy into being the father he’d never had.

To make a living, Max chose a career that allowed him to use his skills for good. He became a mechanic, running a small garage where he fixed cars and occasionally helped neighbors with any odd jobs. He found he enjoyed the work”it was honest, straightforward, and gave him a sense of satisfaction he’d never known before.

Max had always been good with his hands, and he took pride in running his business ethically, treating each customer with respect. In a way, his garage became a place where people came not only to fix their cars but to catch up with him and Y/N, who would often stop by with their kids. Their life was simple, grounded, and filled with small joys.

There were still moments when the shadows of their past would resurface”an unexpected noise, a stranger’s lingering look. But Max and Y/N had learned to hold each other close during those times, grounding each other with gentle reminders of the life they’d built.

Their children grew up knowing nothing of the dangers their parents had faced. Max and Y/N wanted it that way; they wanted their kids to live without fear, surrounded by love and stability. They spent weekends by the shore, watching their children play in the sand, building castles and laughing freely.

In the quiet of those moments, Max would look at Y/N and feel a deep gratitude for the life they’d created together. It was a life free from the violence and tension that had once defined him, and he knew he had her to thank for giving him the courage to embrace it.

As the years passed, Max and Y/N continued to build their lives in the small town, becoming a beloved part of the community. They hosted neighborhood gatherings, watched their children grow, and celebrated every milestone, no matter how small.

For Max, this life wasn’t just a new beginning”it was redemption. He’d found a purpose beyond survival, a love that had healed his old wounds. And in the warmth of his family, he had finally found peace.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 9

Pairing: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Attempted SA, Angst, language

A/N: So i have like 4 other parts done but i wanted to do more of an insight on Bucky and her relationship, so this is strictly just a chapter filled with Flashbacks!

P.S i do plan on updating my links to my masterlist & masterposts but links arent fricking working for me rn

1 Year ago

It was a Saturday night, and you, Bucky, Sam, and a few others had headed out to one of your favorite bars. The place was packed, neon lights casting a warm, vibrant glow over the tables and booths, music pulsing just loud enough to fill the space without drowning out conversation. After a few drinks, the energy in the room had settled into that perfect, cozy buzz.

You and Bucky were at the bar, leaning against the counter, laughing as you recounted a ridiculous story from your college days. He was right next to you, his arm resting on the bar behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His gaze hadn’t left you, his blue eyes alight with that look he sometimes had—a mix of mischief and something softer, something that made your heart race.

“You’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head with a grin. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

He laughs, his hand brushing against your arm as he shifts closer, his voice low. “Oh, come on. You’re not that surprised. You know I’d do anything for a laugh, especially yours"

You roll your eyes warmth creeping up your neck to your cheeks, trying to ignore the thrill that sparks at the brush of his fingers. “You just like the attention, Barnes.”

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “And you don’t?”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Please, I’m a saint compared to you.”

“Oh, really?” His grin widens, and he leans in, his face so close you can feel his breath against your cheek. “Guess we’ll have to see who’s the real troublemaker tonight, won’t we?”

For a moment, your breath catches, your heart pounding as you meet his gaze, feeling the air between you grow thick with anticipation. His hand lingers on the bar behind you, fingers inching just a little closer to your arm. You’re not sure if it’s the drinks, the atmosphere, or just the way he’s looking at you, but there’s a flicker of hope in your chest—a spark that maybe, just maybe, tonight could be different. Maybe this time, he might see you the way you see him.

Just as you’re about to say something, to lean into the moment a little more, Sam walks up, nudging Bucky with an all-too-knowing grin before tossing his arm over your shoulder.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam says, nodding toward the other end of the bar. “Girl over there by the corner table? She asked for your number.” Sam winks, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I just kept her friend busy for you, told her our little Stevie was single.”

You glance over to the area Sam pointed to, and sure enough, Steve gives you a polite smile while he’s in the middle of what seems to be a very animated conversation with a brunette.

Bucky pulls back slightly, and you feel the shift immediately, that warm intensity slipping away. He turns to glance over his shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips. “Did she now?” he asks, smirking at Sam.

Sam shrugs. “You know how it is. She’s cute too. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Bucky chuckles, then turns back to you, his gaze meeting yours, and there’s a glint in his eye—a playful lightness that makes your heart drop. “Well,” he says, his voice low, his eyes lingering on yours for just a beat too long, something swimming in those blue depths that you can’t quite decipher. “Duty calls.”

Your stomach twists, and you force yourself to smile, giving a small shrug as you try to brush it off. “Yeah, go work your charm,” you say, injecting as much playfulness into your voice as you can manage. “Wouldn’t want to keep the girl waiting.”

He stares at you for a second, almost like he wants to say something else, like he’s about to—but then he gives you a small, regretful smile, and the moment slips away. “Catch you in a bit,” he says, squeezing your shoulder before he turns and heads toward the girl waiting across the bar.

You watch him go, the hope you’d felt moments ago dissolving into something familiar—a quiet, persistent ache that you know all too well. As he laughs with the girl, you turn back to your drink, forcing a smile as you remind yourself that this is just the way it is. He’s Bucky, your best friend, and that’s all you’ll ever be.

Sam steps in front of you, raising an eyebrow. “If you want, I can be your wingman too. Can’t be that hard to find someone for you.”

You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head. “I’m good, Sammy. Thanks, though. I think I’m just gonna go over and gossip with the girls,” you say, nodding toward Natasha and Wanda, who seem deep in a debate about something.

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

You grab your beer and, with one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes meet Bucky’s. He’s looking at you again, even as the girl next to him leans in closer, talking animatedly. For a second, it’s just the two of you, caught in the kind of look that makes your heart ache with everything unsaid.

But then he blinks, turning back to the girl with a charming smile, and the spell is broken. You swallow hard, blinking back the sting of tears as you head toward Natasha and Wanda, already preparing to laugh and distract yourself from the quiet ache in your chest.

6 months ago

You and Bucky had the apartment to yourselves, waiting for the others to arrive for a long-promised game night. The coffee table was scattered with board games and cards, and you were already a couple of drinks in, feeling that familiar warmth that made everything just a little funnier, a little sweeter, a little more electric.

“Alright, your move,” you say with a grin, watching him frown as he studies the board like it’s the most serious puzzle in the world.

Bucky groans, running a hand through his hair. “You think you’re gonna beat me at this, but you’re dead wrong.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Pretty sure I’m about to wipe the floor with you, Barnes.”

His eyes light up, and he leans forward to match your energy, his face only inches from yours. “Big talk for someone who’s two turns away from total disaster,” he teases, his voice low and playful. There’s a sparkle in his eye, something mischievous and warm, and for a split second, you wonder if you’re imagining it.

You laugh, taking another sip of your drink as you try to focus on the game instead of the way his gaze lingers on you. “I don’t know, you look pretty nervous to me,” you say, flicking a card onto the table. “Face it, Buck. I’m the game night champion.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’d like to see you prove it.”

The banter flows easily, a familiar back-and-forth that makes your heart race in a way you can’t fully control. You’ve been friends for so long, but there are nights like this, nights where you’re alone, laughing, sharing drinks, and leaning just a bit closer than usual. Nights where you feel that little flicker of something more, and you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he feels it too.

As the game goes on, Bucky’s hand finds its way to the back of the couch, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. You’re hyper-aware of every small shift, every slight brush of his hand against your shoulder when he leans in to check the board, and your heart races each time, a small thrill sparking at the possibility that this could be… more.

Suddenly, he looks over at you, his face serious, his voice softer. “You know… we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

Your breath catches, and for a second, you think you see something in his gaze—something that feels as real as the pounding in your chest, as tangible as the way his arm brushes against yours. You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips, feeling bold and just tipsy enough to flirt back.

“Maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “But I think I’m the one carrying this team.”

Bucky laughs, a soft, warm sound, and he leans a little closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Is that so?”

Bucky’s voice is low, teasing, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now. The playful edge in his grin softens, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. The space between you feels smaller, more intimate, and the usual banter takes on a weight that makes your pulse quicken.

You tilt your head slightly, your smile turning sly. “Yeah, pretty sure I’ve been carrying this whole operation.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling low in his chest, and then, almost without thinking, his hand shifts. His fingers brush against your knee, just a light, casual touch, but it sends a spark through you. You glance down briefly, then back up at him, your heart pounding.

“Well, maybe I just like letting you think you’re in charge,” Bucky says, his voice softer now, almost a murmur.

You can’t help but smile at that, leaning in just a fraction, testing the waters. “Oh, is that it? You’re just letting me win?”

“Maybe,” he replies, his hand sliding just a bit further along your knee, his thumb brushing gently against the fabric of your jeans. It’s subtle, but the warmth of his touch is undeniable.

Your breath catches, and you lean closer, your faces now only inches apart. His eyes flicker between yours, searching, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of you. His hand moves from your knee, trailing up to lightly rest on your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Bucky…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cuts you off with a soft smile, his tone earnest.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be doing this with,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “You know that, right?”

Your heart swells, the words hitting you in a way that feels both comforting and exhilarating. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice shaky but steady. “I know.”

His hand drifts up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as his fingers graze your cheek. His gaze dips to your lips again, and you swear he’s leaning in. The air between you is electric, charged with everything you’ve never said but have always felt.

Just as his nose brushes against yours, the front door bursts open with a loud bang.

“We’re here!” Sam’s voice echoes through the apartment, followed by the sound of boots thudding on the floor.

You and Bucky pull apart instantly, the moment shattering as Steve, Natasha, and Wanda pile in behind Sam, all carrying snacks and drinks, their laughter filling the room.

Bucky lets out a quiet, frustrated sigh, his hand falling away as he leans back, plastering on a grin. “About time,” he calls out, his voice slightly strained. “Thought you guys got lost.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you as she sets a bag of chips on the counter. “Interrupt something?” she asks, her tone playful but curious.

You quickly shake your head, forcing a laugh as you grab your drink. “Just Bucky losing at game night already.”

“Losing?” Bucky scoffs, giving you a pointed look that’s equal parts teasing and frustrated. “We both know who’s winning here.”

Natasha smirks but doesn’t push further, and soon everyone is settling in, chattering and laughing as the game night kicks off. But as you glance at Bucky across the room, catching the way his gaze lingers on you for just a moment too long, you can’t help but wonder what might have happened if you’d had just a few more minutes alone.

For the rest of the night, you can’t shake the lingering feeling, the memory of his voice, of that look in his eyes. It was just a moment—one small moment—but it was enough to spark the hope that maybe, just maybe, he feels it too.

2 Years ago

The apartment was still in chaos, boxes piled high and scattered across the floor, but it didn’t matter. You and Bucky sat in the middle of it all, the weight of the day settling into a calm, contented silence. The others had just left—Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda had helped you haul everything up, cracking jokes and making the place feel alive. But now it was just you two, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by your new life together.

Bucky let out a long breath, leaning back on his hands as he looked around. “We did it,” he said, a soft grin spreading across his face. “We finally did it, doll.”

You smiled, watching the way his eyes lit up despite the exhaustion written across his features. “Yeah, we did,” you said, your voice filled with quiet pride. “Out of that shithole town, finally graduated university… and now we’ve got our own place.”

“Our own place,” Bucky repeated, like he was tasting the words. He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Feels like we’ve been talking about this forever. And now we’re here.”

You nodded, leaning back against one of the boxes. “Feels kinda surreal.”

Bucky shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “There’s no one else I’d rather do life with than you, you know that, right?”

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, and you could barely breathe as his hand reached up, grazing your cheek lightly. His touch was soft, almost reverent, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken, something deeper.

You swallowed, leaning into his touch, your voice barely above a whisper. “Best friends for life,” you said, trying to keep your tone light even as your heart raced.

Bucky smiled, his thumb brushing against your skin for a second longer before he pulled his hand back. “Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours. “Or… something like that.”

For a moment, it felt like time slowed, the weight of his words hanging between you. You wondered if he felt it too, this quiet pull that seemed to draw you closer every time you were alone together.

But before you could say anything more, the buzzer rang loudly, breaking the spell. Bucky blinked, then let out a laugh, standing up quickly. “Must be the pizza,” he said, shooting you a grin as he walked over to the intercom.

You stayed where you were, heart still beating fast as you watched him, the warmth of his earlier words still lingering in the room. But of course, that's all it would ever do…linger.

High School Junior Year

The school hallways buzzed with the usual Friday afternoon energy. Lockers slammed, laughter echoed, and plans for the weekend floated through the air. You were at your locker, pretending to search for a book, but really you were just trying to hold it together. The tears that threatened to fall were barely contained, your heart still raw from the breakup that had blindsided you during lunch.

You’d thought he was different. Ryan, the quiet, sweet boy from your English class, had seemed so perfect. But today, he’d told you it wasn’t working, that he wanted to see other people, well that he already had been seeing other people, well that you caught him with said other person…..Trina.

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. The lump in your throat only grew as you heard his laugh down the hall, carefree as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, you okay?” Natasha’s voice pulled you from your spiralling thoughts. She leaned casually against the locker next to yours, her sharp green eyes studying you.

You quickly wiped at your eyes, forcing a smile. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Tired or heartbroken?”

You let out a shaky laugh, but before you could answer, Steve appeared, his face immediately softening when he saw you.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, glancing between you and Natasha.

“Ryan,” Natasha said bluntly, crossing her arms.

Steve’s face darkened, his usual calm demeanor shifting into protective mode. “That idiot. You want me to talk to him?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, Steve, please don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Before he could argue, Natasha’s gaze flicked down the hall. “Uh-oh. Here comes Bucky.”

Your stomach twisted as you turned to see Bucky walking toward you, hand in hand with Stacy, his girlfriend. Stacy was all smiles, tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she talked animatedly. Bucky’s expression softened the second he saw you, his sharp blue eyes narrowing with concern.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” Bucky said the moment he reached you, his voice low and familiar in a way that made your defenses crumble.

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to brush past him. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Hey, wait—” Bucky grabbed your arm gently, his eyes searching yours. “What happened?”

“Bucky,” Stacy said, clearly annoyed, tugging on his hand. “We’re gonna miss the movie.”

Bucky ignored her, his full attention on you. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “It’s nothing. Just… Ryan cheated on me, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his gaze flicking over to where Ryan was laughing with his friends. His protective instincts kicked in immediately, but before he could say anything, you pulled your arm free.

“I just need to be alone,” you said, your voice cracking as you turned and rushed down the hall, ignoring the concerned calls from Steve and Natasha.

You made it outside, the cool autumn air biting against your skin as you walked aimlessly down the street, the tears falling freely now. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, stop.”

You turned to see Bucky jogging toward you, his face filled with worry. Stacy was nowhere in sight.

“Bucky, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be with Stacy, its movie night"

“Forget Stacy, forget the stupid movie” he said, his voice firm as he closed the distance between you. Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you broke down completely.

You clung to him, the weight of your heartbreak finally crashing over you. “Why does it hurt so much?” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

Bucky stroked your hair gently, his voice soft. “Because you cared. But you’re gonna be okay, doll. I promise.”

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. Bucky’s presence was steady and grounding, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe again.

“Bucky!” Stacy’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. You looked up to see her standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, her face a mixture of anger and hurt. “What the hell is this?”

Bucky sighed, but he didn’t let go of you. “Stacy, not now.”

“Not now?” she repeated, her voice rising. “I’m your girlfriend, Bucky! And I’m so sick of being second to her.” She jabbed a finger in your direction, her voice trembling with frustration. “It’s always about her. You’re always running after her, putting her first.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he finally released you, stepping forward. His voice was calm but firm. “Stacy, you knew how important she was to me when we started this. She’s my best friend.”

“She’s not just your best friend! Not the way i see it!” Stacy snapped, her eyes filling with tears. “If you’re not willing to put me first, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he spoke, his voice steady and certain. “If it’s between you and her, Stacy, I’ll always choose her.”

Stacy’s face crumpled, and she let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head before turning and walking away, her footsteps echoing down the street.

Bucky stood there for a moment, watching her go, then turned back to you. His expression softened as he reached out, gently wiping a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You didn’t need to see that.”

You shook your head, your heart aching in a different way now. “Bucky, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly. “You’ve always been the most important person in my life. I’m not gonna let anyone change that.”

You stared at him, your heart full of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Finally, you managed a small, shaky smile. “Best friends for life, right?”

Bucky’s lips curved into a soft smile, and he nodded. “Yeah, doll. Best friends for life.”

And for that moment, it was enough.

University Year 2

The air was thick with the mingling scents of bonfire smoke, cheap beer, and the faint tang of weed. Laughter and music drifted through the clearing, blending into a chaotic symphony that pulsed through the crowd. The college bush party was in full swing, and you'd thought being here with your friends-and Nick-would be a good way to unwind.

But now, you were far from the warm glow of the fire, your back pressed against the rough bark of a tree as Nick leaned in, his hands sliding lower and lower. At first, you didn't think much of it. A kiss here, a touch there. But then his hands started to roam places you weren't ready for.

"Nick, no... I'm not ready," you murmured, pulling back slightly.

"Come on," he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, ignoring your words. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer. "We've been together for a month. You trust me, right?"

You stiffened, your heart starting to race-not with excitement, but with unease. "Nick, I'm serious. Stop," you said, your voice firmer now.

But he didn't stop. His hands moved to your chest, squeezing, and you froze for a moment, shock and panic locking you in place.

"I said no!" you shouted, your voice shaking as you shoved at his chest.

He barely budged, his grip tightening.

"Relax," he muttered, his tone annoyed now. "Stop being so uptight."

Fear and anger surged through you, and you pushed harder, your voice cracking. "Get off me!"

Before he could respond, Nick was suddenly yanked backward, ripped away from you with such force that he stumbled and fell to the ground. "What the hell?" Nick gasped, but his words were cut off as

Bucky loomed over him, his jaw tight, eyes blazing with fury. "She said no," Bucky growled, his voice low and deadly as he grabbed Nick by the collar. "You don't fucking touch her when she says no."

Without waiting for a response, Bucky's fist connected with Nick's face, the crack of bone meeting bone cutting through the night. Nick's head snapped back, and he let out a strangled curse, but Bucky didn't stop. He landed another punch, his face twisted with rage.

"Bucky, stop!" you cried, your voice trembling as you stumbled forward, tears streaming down your face. "Please, stop!"

Nick raised his arms in a feeble attempt to shield himself. "What the fuck, man? Get off me!" he shouted, his voice muffled by Bucky's relentless assault.

The commotion quickly drew attention. Steve appeared out of nowhere, his face a mix of confusion and alarm as he grabbed Bucky's shoulders, yanking him off of Nick. "Buck, what the hell are you doing?" Steve demanded, holding him back.

Bucky's chest heaved, his fists still clenched, his knuckles already bruised. "He wouldn't stop, Steve," Bucky spat, his voice raw with fury. "She told him to stop, and he wouldn't fucking stop."

Steve froze, his eyes darting to you. The second he saw your tear-streaked face, his expression shifted, the anger fading into something colder, sharper. "Is that true?" he asked softly, his voice low.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as a fresh wave of tears spilled over. Steve's jaw tightened, his fists clenching as he turned back to Nick, who was still lying on the ground, blood trickling from his nose. "You piece of shit," Steve muttered, starting to step forward.

Bucky caught Steve's arm, holding him back this time. "Don't," Bucky said, his voice steadier now but no less dangerous. "He's not worth it."

Nick groaned, sitting up and wiping at his nose. "You're both fucking crazy," he muttered, staggering to his feet. "All this for some prude?"

Bucky's grip on Steve tightened, but he stayed rooted in place as Nick continued. "She's not worth it," Nick sneered, his voice laced with bitterness. "A month of dating, and she won't even put out? She's not even that hot. Stupid bitch."

You flinched at his words, but before you could react, Bucky's jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. He turned on his heel, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "It's okay," Bucky murmured, his voice soft now, his hand cradling the back of your head. "You're safe. I've got you."

You broke down completely, your hands clutching at his shirt as sobs wracked your body. His hold was steady, grounding, and you felt the tension in your chest start to ease, even as the pain of Nick's words lingered.

Steve, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on Nick, his expression cold. "You need to leave. Now," Steve said, his voice like steel.

Nick scoffed, spitting blood onto the ground. "Whatever," he muttered, turning and staggering away into the darkness.

Steve let out a breath, his fists slowly unclenching as he turned back to you and Bucky. "You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded weakly, your voice barely audible. "I will be."

Bucky tightened his hold on you, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. "You'll never have to go through that again," he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. "I promise."

Bucky continued to hold you, his hand gently stroking your hair as your breathing began to even out. His heart was still racing beneath your cheek, but his touch was steady, grounding you as the fear and panic slowly ebbed away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, wrapped in a cocoon of quiet comfort, the distant sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His face was softer now, the sharp edges of his anger replaced with a quiet concern that made your chest ache. “Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but full of sincerity. “For everything.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave you a small, gentle smile. He reached up, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

Your heart swelled at his words, the weight of them settling over you in a way that felt both comforting and overwhelming. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… I know.”

Bucky held your gaze for a moment longer, his hand lingering on your cheek before he finally let it fall. He glanced over at Steve, who stood a few feet away, still watching you both with quiet concern.

“You good?” Steve asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded again, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah… I think so.”

Steve gave a small nod, his jaw still tight, but he didn’t push further. “Let’s get you home,” he said. “This party’s over.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as the three of you made your way back toward the clearing. The warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in his presence, reminded you once again that with him by your side, you were never truly alone.

And as you walked away from the chaos of the night, you couldn’t help but feel a little more whole, knowing that no matter what, Bucky would always have your back

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XVI

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

⚠Chapter warnings: A bit more graphic violence. Character death. If you made it this far, you'll be fine...⚠

16. epilogue

John Constantine stands on the rooftop, looking out over the glittering lights of the city. 

He wants a cigarette so fucking bad, but like he can hear you grousing about how he was given a second chance and he shouldn’t waste it, he pops a stick of gum instead. 

It’s not the same thing. 

He misses you. 

He can’t stop himself from thinking about that night, not so long ago, when the two of you headed off an early Apocalypse by the skin of your teeth. He remembers how in the end, somehow he found the strength to stumble to your side, and how whatever small grain of hope he’d allowed himself vanished at the sight of you, the Spear piercing your heart to the hilt, your body deathly still. He’d collapsed to his knees beside you, clutching your cold little hand in his. The knowledge that your eternal soul was saved was hardly a consolation at the moment–he was the one who was supposed to die, not you. 

He’d tried to budge the spear–but couldn't. 

And so he’d clutched at your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles as silent tears slid down his cheeks. 

“She saved me,” Angela had said, making her way on shaky legs over to press his shoulder. 

You saved him too, he realized. If not with anything but the determination of your love, you’d saved him, and he was finally able to save you in turn. That should count for something, but at the moment it was all so raw that he still wanted to curse God for taking you from him in the mortal realm, if not the next. 

If he ever wanted to see you again, he was really going to have to walk the line. 

He and Angela had both jumped as a bedraggled Gabriel surfaced from the bottom of the pool–their wings naught but bloody stubbs protruding from their shoulders. They had looked upon your lifeless body with zero remorse. They dared to say with their usual blind righteousness, “You should rejoice, John. She’s gone home.”  

John had narrowed his eyes, but his scathing tirade died on his tongue as a hulking figure had emerged from the water behind the ex-angel, his eyes glowing that deadly blue. Constantine had felt nothing but the most un-Christian gratification, as Wick seized Gabriel’s head in his massive hands and twisted.

The angel sank back to the bottom of the pool, and Wick stepped over their body to pull himself out of the water, a horrific wound barely knit together over his abdomen. Paying it no heed, he’d collapsed to his knees beside your body, tearing out the Spear and throwing it to clang against the far wall before sinking down to weep upon your shoulder. It had been unsettling for Constantine, not to see a man cry, but the utter despair with which Wick expressed himself. In a way, he found that he envied him. 

“My little bird,” Wick whispered desperately against your lifeless flesh. “I will find you again. I swear, I will find you again.” 

In a strange twist…Constantine found that he actually felt sorry for the dhampir.

Whatever his sins…his love for you had certainly been real, and true. 

But then…you had that effect on people. 

♰♰♰

Constantine continues to stand vigil on the roof, and there is something about the warm desert breeze that night, like a breath of heaven on his skin, that reminds him of you. 

Then something silken soft brushes against his face–and in his mouth. He spits, making a show of expelling something from between his lips. 

“Really? I gotta use the tattoos on you?” 

Laughing, you assume your most corporeal form, appearing in front of him. Your raven-black wings enclose the two of you like a privacy curtain, a cozy little space just for the two of you. Steadying yourself with hands on his chest, you incline your head for a kiss. 

He grants it, his soft lips lingering on yours, his big hands on your waist pulling you closer. “You’re back early.”

“Hmm.”

“I was afraid he might not let you go.” 

You reach up to brush dark hair out of his eyes; he softens for your touch, a small sigh betraying his enjoyment. “He’s happy with our deal.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.” 

He has trouble hiding how relieved he is to hear this. Fighting John Wick wasn’t something high on his list of suicidal things he wanted to try out, but he might have had to, had the vampire hunter not been in such a seemingly generous mood. 

He had to admit, he’d never envisioned himself in a polyamorous relationship with a dhampir and an angel. 

At least, that's what they think you are, or some derivative anyway. The black wings are a little wildcard–but then, you had been carrying around a baggie of blood taken from the other Antichrist, which was pierced perfectly by the Spear. Beeman theorizes that it counteracted the blood of Christ in a way that somehow saved your life. And after Constantine’s little deal with Satan…supposedly, you were home free.

Or at least…no longer damned by default.

You liked being an angel, so far. You still had the immense power to help people, but didn't have to get your hands quite so dirty to do it. 

And, he won't admit it, but you're pretty sure John Constantine has a wing fetish.

You think about the first time you'd appeared to him, about a week after your supposed death. He'd broken into your apartment, and was just sitting amongst your things. You'd been trailing him invisibly, not having quite gotten the hang of your corporeal form yet. You didn't even really know what you were, yet. You kind of fancied yourself a sort of guardian ghost for John, your heart breaking all over again as you watched him mourn you. 

You didn't think that he could sense you–but when you couldn't stop yourself from reaching out to touch his face he’d straightened like you'd slapped him. You'd watched as he’d rolled up his sleeves, admiring those corded forearms even as he chanted the words and joined those archaic tattoos. The magic in them felt like being tugged hard by a rope, and suddenly–he could see you. 

You're not sure who was more shocked: him, or you. 

“Y/n?” 

You swear his hands shook as he reached for you. And then his eyes went wide, as his gaze fixed behind you, on what you would soon find were oil-black wings, your feathers shimmering with green and violet highlights in the low light. 

With no concept yet of what you'd become, you’d flung yourself into his arms, and he'd welcomed you gladly. Finally, when you could come up for air again between heated kisses, he demanded, “Have you been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Mostly.” You'd gone to check on Wick for a little while, trying to comfort him in the manic depths of his grief, but he’d been untouchable. 

Then, he’d disappeared. 

You will admit, that you’d been more worried about Constantine, if for anything because you knew Wick was a survivor to the bone.

“I thought…I was a ghost,” you'd admitted. 

Constantine actually laughed, a short, disbelieving burst of mirth. “Oh, honey.” He’d cupped your face in his large hands and kissed you deeply, filling your heart with something like sunshine. Then, his attention had turned to your wings again. He ran an experimental hand down your silky flight feathers, and a delicious shudder ripped down your spine. “They’re sensitive,” you admitted, and the look John Constantine paid you could have melted granite, one angular black brow lifted high.

“Are they now?”

Suddenly you could barely speak past your libido lodged in your throat. “Yes,” you whispered, and his fingers found their way into your hair, drawing you to him again. The new addition of the wings made things interesting between you, but somehow you managed to come together with only one casualty of a lamp you never really liked much anyway. 

It reminded you of the first night you made love in this bed, riding his beautiful cock while he teased your needy little clit with his thumb. Desperate for each other, hardly able to believe that this was real, that you were even allowed to have this blessing after everything you went through…you came together as you held on for dear life, your eyes locked with his as you found bliss with his body joined with yours. 

“There's a Touched By An Angel joke here somewhere,” he’d teased in the aftermath, as you curled up in his arms. 

“I always thought that show sounded like something you'd have to report door to door,” you mused, winning the coveted prize of his mirth, and his lips on your forehead. 

Much later, while you were cooking for him [and you, because God you missed solid food] he told you, “I never thought I’d say this…but we better go find Wick. He's gone on a rampage killing vampires, but I don't know what he'll do when he runs out of fangfaces to mangle.”

You looked back over your shoulder from the stove, your eyebrows raised high. “Where?”

“Last I heard, he was tearing Portland apart.”

“Fuck.”

Constantine offered you a commiserating ghost of a smile. 

“The High Table…are not going to be amused by that?”

“Ah…probably not.”

Your heart fell like a stone. “Will they go after him for it?”

“I would feel sorry for anyone they sent his way, but…”

You sigh. “Can we go tomorrow?”

“I suppose.” He looked down at the table. “Well. I had you to myself for all of 24 hours.”

“John…do you want me to yourself?”

He’d looked up at you through his dark hair, those eyes filled with a mix of heart-crushing sorrow and longing, his long fingers clenching then unclenching upon the table. The bond between you was different, after your transformation, but you still could tell in a rare instance this man was nervous. 

“I’m not saying I think I’m…husband material or that I’d even make a good boyfriend, and I know you deserve better…but…I love you, y/n.”

How far you'd come, that he could say that last part aloud. 

All you had to do was die. 

You’d nodded in earnest, your knees weak. “We can work with that.” 

Suddenly he was on his feet, and you gravitated towards him until you were in his arms again. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe, for so long that you almost burned the chicken, and you found out that when you're that happy your wings flutter, the same way your toes curl. 

♰♰♰

In the end you’d convinced Constantine that you should probably go on your own, not knowing Wick’s state of mind, and you caught up with your dhampir at a cabin deep in the Snoqualmie Forest. It seemed he’d retreated there to heal after tearing through the vampire population of Seattle, almost like he was daring the High Table to come after him. 

It was a beautiful setting, the fir trees towering all around. The cabin was small, rustic, and you wondered if Wick did not build it with his bare hands. The air smelled fresh, and clean, and reminded you of a different time, long ago. Something that came to you as fact, in the fever dream of your resurrection, and somehow you were allowed to retain the long buried memory. 

When you were a young woman, in another life, 300 years ago, vampires ravaged your village, killing and pillaging as they pleased, the dead including your own parents and young sister. A dhampir named Jardani Jovanovich came to hunt them. Tall and true, dark as the devil himself, and from the moment you laid eyes on his tall, terrible form, you’d felt as though you had a fever burning inside you. He’d looked your way from astride his beautiful black horse, as though you’d said his name, and when your eyes met you knew he’d stolen your soul. After he delivered the heads of the strigoi to your village starosta he took you as his wife, and the two of you never looked back, and never separated, until the day you died.

Despite the fearsome man he’d been, Jardani Jovanovich had always been good to you. 

Perhaps it was this memory that gave you the courage to let yourself into the cabin, as though you had every right to be there. It was deathly quiet, and an empty bottle of vodka on the table, along with a pile of bloody gauze, perhaps explained why. You found him in the back bedroom, half-clothed, passed out on his side. 

You weren’t sure there was any good way to go about this that wouldn’t startle him, so you shed your shoes and lay down beside him, taking his hand in your smaller one between you on the counterpane. Now that you’d found him, you wanted to sleep. You’d flown (on the wing!) all the way from L.A., after all. Being an angel–or angel-ish–was strange. You got the sense that you didn’t need food, or drink, or sleep–but you liked to have it. The cold damp wouldn’t kill you, but you certainly felt it. Perhaps this is why you snuggled into Wick’s furnace of a body, as you dozed. 

You half-woke to the sound of him mumbling in his sleep–or rather, the vibration of it from within his broad chest. “Yelena Ivanova, gde ty byl…”

Where have you been?

“I’m here,” you answered softly, not really awake yourself. 

“Hmmff,” he’d answered, holding you closer with a grip that would have crushed a human woman. You managed to worm loose a little, perching on his chest. 

“Jardani,” you’d said softly, brushing back his unkempt dark hair.    

That was when his eyes finally slitted open, slowly focusing on you. Then they drifted up, taking in your wings. Maybe he thought he was dreaming, for he questioned nothing at first, simply taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. “Milaya…my pretty little bird, what wings you have grown.”

“You like them?” 

You sit up, straddling his torso, and as his hands gravitate to your jean-clad thighs he seems to begin to realize this is not a dream or a drunken vision–you are here. 

Bolting upright, he seizes you in his arms, holding you hard against him. “Y/N?” His face is buried in the bend of your neck; your name is lost in the distortion of a sob. 

“I’m here,” you told him again, running your fingers through his tangled dark hair. 

“...How?” he asks as he pulls back to look you over again, seemingly in awe of the feathered appendages protruding from your shoulders, but most amazed by the smoothe, unbroken skin over your breastbone. 

You have a scar there, where the Spear pierced your heart. You wondered if you would have managed to heal, had Wick not wrested the blade from your body so quickly. 

You shrugged, because you really didn’t know the answers, and his calloused fingers caressing your chest so gently crossed the wires in your brain. You couldn’t help but lean into him, winning something like a growl from deep in his throat. 

“Do you remember what I told you would happen, when we finally found ourselves a bed?” He'd almost posed it like a threat, his hands ghosting over your breasts, running down the ladder of your ribs. It felt marvelous, and you giggled nervously as you undulated against him. 

“I might recall something of that nature…” 

The sound he made was nothing less than animal, as he fell on your lips and devoured you whole. You let him gladly, giddy with bliss as he seemed bent on tasting every inch of your bare skin with his seeking lips and tongue. “You are so beautiful, my love, my darling little angel, my own heaven on earth.” He whispered this like a prayer upon your skin, consecrated each word with a kiss, and you utterly melted beneath what was nothing less than an onslaught. 

You lost track of how many times you came, in that man’s mouth, on his thick fingers, and with his insatiable cock buried inside you. By the time he was done with you, for the moment, at least, your body was covered in lovebites, full of his cum, and your usually supernaturally sturdy limbs were rendered into utter jelly. You could do nothing but curl up with him under a blanket beside the fire he’d built for you, joyfully stupefied by his relentless affection.  

 Later, you ate soup together made from a freeze-dried packet, and it tasted like a gourmet meal when eaten in the warm glow of his tender gaze upon you, your legs tangled under the table. You talked of what happened after you died, and what you can’t remember but you theorize happened in the interim. You wonder if the High Table witch’s spell was another factor in your taking on a new earthbound form, rather than going on to Heaven like Constantine had bargained for.  Wick found it amusing that you thought you were a ghost. “I felt you,” he tells you regretfully. “But I was mad with grief–I thought I was hallucinating it. I am sorry…I let you down.”

Perhaps he is thinking back on how he wept on your corpse and vowed to find you again–but you were there all along.

However, you shook your head, reaching out for his big hand on the rough-hewn table. “You didn't let me down. We’re both still new to this, aren’t we? And John figured it out.” 

Wick narrowed his eyes a little at the mention of your other beau. It’s funny– you really could not have picked two more opposite sorts of men. “Yes. He is very clever, your John.”

You smiled a little, perhaps masking the bloom of warmth in your heart that flowers any time you are speaking of John Constantine. “He is.”

“He loves you?”

You can't stop your lips from curling a little more. You'd in fact heard it from that stubborn horse’s own mouth.

“Yes.”

“But he was not good to you?”

You sighed. “Things were…complicated.”

“They are not now?”

“Less so, maybe.” Somehow, you thought you were actually telling the truth. Something about the lifted weight of certain damnation brought a lightness to John that was never there before. He is more open, with you, at least. He is, in fact, damn near affectionate, when you're alone together in your own little world. Maybe the truth of this showed on your face; Wick seemed attuned to your every tell. The look he paid you next  was nothing less than wolfish, long in fang and a sharp hunger in his gaze. 

“This does not mean I am letting you out of your promise to me. You will like New York.”

“For a visit,” you answered sweetly, ready to do battle. “But I'm not uprooting from L.A.”

He smirked at this, as though he did not think the matter closed by half. “Hmm. You think I will share you, little bird?” 

“I think…it’s the only way this will work,” you answered him honestly.

“You won't give him up?”

“I can’t,” you admitted. 

“Mmm,” he grumbled, that deep sound from his chest that did not fail to make your pulse quicken. “Stubborn woman. You always were a disobedient wife.” 

There was a sparkle of mirth in his dark eyes that signaled to you that this was an inside joke between you that you just didn’t remember. 

Or so you hoped.

“Honey, we are not married,” you dared to remind him. 

He smirked at you like you said something very funny. “Maybe not yet…but I know how to make you pliant and sweet…” 

The rabbit impulse to run came too late. You barely had time to even squeal before he caught you up in his strong arms and had you on the table, his narrow hips wedged between your thighs, your hands pinned over your head. All you were wearing was your panties and his oversized flannel shirt. You felt utterly vulnerable to him, and it was so terrifyingly wonderful you feared you might burst. “Give me…an hour…between these luscious thighs,” he’d purred, kissing down your neck as you tried to struggle, giggling all the while. “And you'll see things my way.”

He bites off one of the buttons of his own shirt, clearly not caring in the least. 

“That is so not fair!”

“I am not interested in fair,” he chuckled against your skin. “Only in making you mine.”

It occurred to you that not once had that intoxicating power of his surfaced between you. Were you immune, now that you're no longer a vampire? No bewitching scents, no tantalizing magic–the desire between you is fire, but it’s just pure, good ol’ fashioned, human lust, woven through with love, and it was its own potent magic indeed. 

“Jardani…”

He sat up on elbows above you, looking down at you with a warmth that rivaled the red hot coals in the stove as you stroked the hair out of his face, tracing the ridge of his brow. His eyes closed under the lull of your touch, leaning into your hand. 

“You need him, little bird? To be happy?”

“Yes,” you'd answered in a whisper, aware that something binding was happening between you. 

“Do you need me too?” There was a vulnerability in this simple question from this fearsome man that melted you to your toes. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, going for broke. 

His answering smile was like a baring of teeth. “My little angel is greedy.” He kissed you hard, your head pressing down into the table. “Fine,” he grumbled as you gasped for air, and maybe your sanity too. “I will grant you this. I am a generous man, ptichka. You will see.”

You were so delighted that you pulled him down into another tonsil-teasing kiss, holding him closer with your bare legs around his waist. “Thank you.”

He sat up to sweep you with a considering look, your body laid out like a feast for him on the table, and he made a sound that reminded you more of a bear, than a man. “But when you’re with me, malyshka,” he warned you darkly, “you are all mine.” Suddenly too impatient to even bother with removing your panties again, he moved them to the side so that he could sink into the wet heat of your needy cunt, stretching you deliciously while he played with your clit, his voracious tongue mercilessly toying with your peaked nipples. You came on his cock with a ragged scream, the searing pleasure of another release tearing through you like a punishment as much as a blessing. You were impressed that the table held, after the way he pounded into you, finishing with a roar like a battle cry as he filled you again with his seed. 

You held him, as he collapsed on you, and you knew you were going to have your hands full.  

Deep down, a part of you knew that he only agreed to this arrangement out of pure practicality. 

You don't know if he's immortal, per se, but he certainly isn't aging fast. You suspect your own situation might be the same. But John…is mortal, and even if you hate the thought, the fact is that you and Wick have time that Constantine doesn't. 

All the dhampir has to do is be patient. 

And, not piss you off, of course.

You keep telling yourself that just because you were his wife in a past life doesn't mean things are a done deal between you. You have to keep reminding yourself that you barely know him, because when you're together? 

Everything else melts away. 

♰♰♰

Perhaps Wick is patient, but he does not waste time. A month after Snoqualmie he’s already bought a house in Los Angeles, and a cabin in Big Sur. 

Oddly enough, the arrangement suits Constantine just as well. He’d meant what he said, that he wasn't relationship oriented, and you knew it. You had zero interest in molding him into something he didn't want to be. 

Besides.

You have your own thing going. 

You don't move into Wick’s posh manse in the Hills, despite his invitation.

You keep your humble apartment next to Constantine’s. You like your little space, and frankly…you need something of your own. Splitting your time between the two of them…can be intense, truth be told. Blissfully, maddeningly so, but sometimes, you need a break. 

You are having one of those, when you hear a knock on your door. John had been away on an exorcism, clearing out an infestation of aswangs in the Bay Area, and you were afraid you might not get to see him before your upcoming trip to Paris with Wick, to officially receive his release from Service to the High Table.

You missed him.

Eagerly you open the door.

“Hello, handsome.”

John Constantine looks down at you with that half smile that still quickens your heart, leaning on the door jamb. He could push you over with a feather when you see he is not only holding a bottle of delicious red wine, but a bouquet of flowers. 

Who is this man, and where is your surly demon hunter?

You can tell that they came from the gas station around the corner, but they are pretty, and that he even thought to bring them to you fills you with a fluttery glee. 

Amused by your stupefied expression, he lifts one angular eyebrow at you. “Hello, angel.”

You feel the warmth in his eyes to the marrow of your bones–and if you’re being honest, right between your thighs. 

You've really missed him. 

You express your enthusiasm by tugging him inside by his tie, pressing your lips to his. John puts down the wine and the flowers as you breeze by the table–en route to the couch, where you direct him to sit in no uncertain terms. 

The wings complicate things–you've discovered you can glamor them away to mingle with the public at large, but it doesn't actually make their volume disappear. It’s just easier to be on top–good thing you both like it. 

But you notice he flinches a little, and immediately you hold your weight off of him. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a scratch.”

“Let me see.” Frowning, you undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. He lets you do what you want, having long learned it's no good to fight you. 

And, you suspect, he secretly likes being coddled a little. 

What he calls just a scratch is in fact angry claw marks that rake across his entire abdomen. “Oh, John. Why didn't you call me?”

“I just…wanted to come home to you,” he admits, looking up at you with those soulful dark eyes in a way that makes your wings quiver, your most visible of tells these days. 

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

You hold up your hands, and they begin to glow. 

Something else you've discovered? 

You can heal with your touch. 

You found this out when visiting Chas in the hospital, when he was trussed in traction, and the doctors weren't sure he'd ever walk again. Heartbroken, filled with guilt and the wish that it could have been different for him, you'd taken his hand and something poured out of you. 

His recovery within weeks was considered nothing less than a miracle, utterly boggling the medical community. Bless his heart, but Chas kept your secret. It was an ability certain clandestine government agencies, not to mention unscrupulous billionaires, would certainly have snatched you for. 

It also comes in pretty handy with a boyfriend like John Constantine. And others, too. You spend a lot of time in the children’s wards of various hospitals (in invisible form). You've discovered the ability is not infinite, nor without its price. You can run out of juice, and you have to take time to recharge. You will feel like shit tomorrow, but it's a price you'll gladly pay. You've downplayed that particular effect–John doesn't quite know the toll it takes on you, but you prefer to keep it that way. 

It still does not cease to impress you, watching John's skin knit back to its previous milky pale perfection, only the faintest hint of pink scars left behind in your wake. He sighs, his eyes closed, head tilted back in bliss.

“I warned it that my liver wasn’t exactly grade A, but it was determined.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. You know he drinks a lot less now, but the bottles still appear with regularity. You lean down, catching his lips with yours. “You taste pretty good to me.”

He chuckles, holding your face in his hands. “Mmm, so do you, Girl Next Door. My favorite vintage.”

“Am I?”

You can't hide your surprise. You'd kind of assumed that he might start seeing Angela on the side eventually. They liked each other, and you weren't exactly in an exclusive arrangement, considering. But he looks at you the way he does when he's afraid he's said something that only belatedly he realizes is hurtful. 

“Yeah.” He cups your face in his big hands, and you feel your wings quivering again. “I know I don't tell you enough, y/n, but I love you. So much.”

You know you were always ridiculous, and becoming an angelic being of some sort has not changed that. Your eyes brim with tears, and your lip quivers. “Oh John. I love you too.”

He sits up to pull you into an embrace, holding you close against his heart. “Jesus Christ. I still don't know what I did to deserve you.”

You think about the journey that brought the two of you to this moment, and the transformations you’ve both undergone. It’s nothing less than incredible, really, and yet that is the miracle of the human spirit. The ability to endure, and to change. The power of love truly is an awesome thing. 

“Hmm. I think…you were just yourself.” He huffs at that, holding you harder. He’s getting better, at not hating himself all the time, but for a man like him it’s still a daily battle. So you tell him, and you will keep telling him, until someday maybe he sees the light that you saw in him all along. 

You stay like that for a long time, just holding each other. 

It's moments like these that you savor to the last second, knowing how very precious they are. Maybe you've never exactly received any direct marching orders from the Big Guy Above, but you can't really refute the existence of some sort of Divine entity after what you’ve been through, and you can’t help but feel like your time with either of your Johns is something sacred. You've learned, if anything, that He or She or The Universe, whatever you choose, works in mysterious ways, and maybe, just maybe, things have worked out exactly the way they should. 

the end.  for now.  until, it all begins again. but that’s another story…

__________________

*starosta - the village elder/mayor figure *strigoi - evil spirits risen from the dead, vampires *aswang - evil, bloodthirsty, sometimes organ-eating spirit from Filipino folklore

__________________

You guys!!!!!! 😭😭😭 Finishing a story is always bittersweet, but I’m so happy to have gone on this journey with all of you! You kept me going with your love and your encouragement, and the way this story evolved thanks to your feedback is pretty cool, I have to say. It NEVER would have turned out like this without you! A huge thanks to @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @discoscoob @donaka-screaming @reallongwire @scarlettspectra @lilithlinen @lilspookymeh @xxjaejaexx-blog1 @casuallyobssessed @girl-at-the-verge @babsharrison @luminousmoon21 @luluvstars @lonelyspadez @desolatewrath @fernpetals @axshadows @junojunimo @nightmare-bean @ghcstpyre and so many others for your kindness and your readership, I really can’t tell you how much it’s meant to be over the course of this story! And a special thanks to @lilspookymeh , I know you haven’t been on in a while but in case you ever read this, your comments and analysis back when I first started this story were just utterly crucial in molding it into what it became, you’re so insightful and I can’t thank you enough! I love you guys! ❤❤❤❤❤

[seitmai]

It is Halloween night, and the Hard Deck is all decked out – and yeah, pun intended – with the best decorations the local stores had to offer. And then a few more that young Amelia Benjamin ordered online with the credit card in her wallet that definitely wasn’t for emergencies only. 

Definitely an emergency to not have enough Halloween decorations 🤷🏻‍♀️

She did, however, have to draw the line upon catching Amelia on top of the bar, trying to stick glow-in-the-dark skeletons into the model planes. 

That would have been so good!!

(He tried to save a few bucks here and there by ordering off Amazon and not from the Etsy store that designed the rest of the suit. Never again. He should’ve known not to cheap out on perfection.)

I get it, authentic stuff like that is hella expensive

“I’m not Boba Fett. I’m the Mandalorian. He’s like… a whole different character, dude.” He gets a dismissive cigar wave in response. “It’s all Star Trek, innit, mate?” 

If looks could kill haha

“You pulled me away from the girls, man. I was this close.” He shifts his helmet from one hand to the other and pinches two gloved fingers, this far apart. “This close, man. They all wanted pictures with me.”  “You can get back to the mask kink brigade later.

I'm dead 😂😂😂

“‘Ello there, love, I’m Tommy Shelby. This good man over here is one of those… what’d ya call them? Stormtrooper lads?” “Reuben, I swear – ” 

Mickey is over his antics haha

[And some time later, after Federal Fire San Diego cleared the premise and declared it to be a false alarm, probably faulty wiring with all the string lights, Hangman and Coyote make their way back to the bathroom.]

Not the fire department having to come lmao

(And yeah, Phoenix, Jake is wearing briefs underneath the shirt. It’s not a free show after all.)

😂😂😂

“Well now, I’m certified MILF Angelina Jolie from the iconic 2005 classic Mr. and Mrs. Smith, only gets better with age. I’ll let you guess whether I mean her or the movie.” A dashing wink at the camera. “And Coyote here is…” Coyote is adjusting the white boxer shorts that keep riding up his muscular thighs – skies out, thighs out and all that – and wonders if Brad Pitt ever had to deal with having such incredible thigh strength on set. Probably not. He flashes an overly proud grin, and Jake wonders if perhaps, Jake might need to cut off his access to the flask tucked into his left galosh.

I can't 😂😂😂 every sentence of this made me crack up harder!

..slow... …nepotism pick...…fuck with a stupid-looking mustache… …can’t have the flask, go buy a beer, Coyote!

I have a feeling that Mrs. Smith wants to kiss Magnum PI but doesn't want to admit it 🤭

[Midnight arrives, and Yzma and Kronk from The Emperor’s New Groove enter the bathroom. Holding the miniature trophies that Penny awarded them for a well-deserved first place in the annual Hard Deck Halloween Costume Contest.]

Deserving winners in my opinion

Fixing the neckline of the purple dress (and after definitely flashing a nipple on stage out there), Bob wipes at his drooping eyeliner and puts in another splash of eye drops. Contacts make his eyes so dry.

And the gender swap makes it even better!!!👏🏻

A frown wrinkles her brow. “Well, I still vote Mrs. Smith because Bagman’s a douche, and I want him to have a violent hangover tomorrow. I want him to spend his whole day downing Gatorades and fruitlessly wishing for his suffering to end. How’s that?” 

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

Sweat pricks at Bob’s brow. He likes Phoenix. He really does. (But sometimes, Phoenix scares him a little.)

Also fair 😂

 [And now alone, in the backseat of the Bronco, Magnum PI absentmindedly wipes at the lipstick print on his cheek and lets out a loud snore. Humming a tune in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like Great Balls of Fire.]

I truly hope the lipstick stain is from Mrs. Smith 🤭

end note: then, amelia benjamin uploads this to her secret daggersafterdark tiktok account and goes viral. the end.

As it should be!! 👏🏻

I had a blast reading this, I truly loved it so much!! 🫶🏻

baby, it's halloween (and we can be anything)

synopsis: since TGM takes place around Halloween, the Daggers would definitely dress up and go to the Hard Deck Halloween party, right?

pairings: none but many a couples costume

warnings: explicit language, bad irish accents, drinking and mentions of alcohol, anachronistic tiktok trends, all fluff all the time, too many pop culture references, not edited

note: inspired by this ask i sent to @theharddeck. all of the excellent costumes were her idea because i couldn't stop thinking about the mr. and mrs. smith costume all day. for you, darling!

(top gun: maverick is a halloween movie, pass it on. and yeah, i did use a phoebe bridgers lyric for this incredibly unserious fic. title from halloween.)

It is Halloween night, and the Hard Deck is all decked out – and yeah, pun intended – with the best decorations the local stores had to offer. And then a few more that young Amelia Benjamin ordered online with the credit card in her wallet that definitely wasn’t for emergencies only. 

Purple lights adorn the wooden pillars, wrapped carefully around the faded stickers and other memorabilia, casting the whole bar in an eerie glow after the sun goes down. Two dozen or so balloons float against the ceiling, black and orange, and any available inch that isn’t blocked by a balloon is expertly covered in more fake cobwebs than Penny has ever seen in her life.

She did, however, have to draw the line upon catching Amelia on top of the bar, trying to stick glow-in-the-dark skeletons into the model planes. 

It looks great. And the whole Top Gun team shows up in full costume – including the ones that Penny knows Pete favors for the mission, even if Maverick would never say it himself.

This, for Amelia Benjamin, is simply an opportunity too good to pass up. 

[Penny Benjamin enters the single bathroom at the end of the Hard Deck’s back hall, the one that Amelia marked with a HAUNTED BATHROOM sign that made patrons think it was out of order. She sets the phone on the counter and clicks over to the camera, starting the video.]

“Okay, well, I don’t really know how this all works, but I’m Sarah Williams from the movie Labyrinth, and I think…” 

She adjusts the too big skirt of her bejeweled ballgown, damn the appeal of authentic poofs and ruffles, and tosses her hair over her shoulder, trying to remember what Amelia told her to do. 

“Ahhhh… What was it? Drunkest?” 

She has an answer, but unfortunately, Pete had a prior commitment to fly in that Halloween Airshow this weekend. Otherwise, Penny knows Maverick would be here, giving the young hotshots a run for their money.

“Who is here tonight?” A light bulb goes off in her head, probably purple to keep things in theme. “Well, from prior experience, I think Peaky Blinders will be the drunkest tonight. He still owes me $20 for knocking those planes off the ceiling back at Top Gun.” 

Gathering up her skirts, Penny gets to thinking, “He still owes me for the two steins last week too. Dammit…” and huffing, exits the bathroom in a whirl of skirts and jewels. 

[After a surprisingly intimidating shakedown from Penny Benjamin, Payback makes his way to the out-of-order bathroom. Not before grabbing his WSO by one of the many, many straps on his costume and pulling him away from the gaggle of fawning women in sexy alien costumes.]

“Hello,” Payback says in the empty bathroom, feeling stupid. He digs his cigar out of a vest pocket and re-lighting the end, takes a thick puff. An atrocious Irish accent comes out the other side. “Right, govunah, name’s Tommy Shelby from Peaky fooking Blinders, and I tink that – oi, are you taking the piss then, mate?

And Fanboy smacks him again just for that, knocking the newsboy hat right off his head with a flat palm. “What’s your problem?” 

“Can’t hear you, mate,” Payback says, smoke curling from the end of the cigar. He flashes him a good-natured grin around it. “Better pop that helmet off, right, Boba Fett?” 

“I’m not…” comes from under the helmet, all garbled. 

Damn battery must’ve died in the voice modulator. 

(He tried to save a few bucks here and there by ordering off Amazon and not from the Etsy store that designed the rest of the suit. Never again. He should’ve known not to cheap out on perfection.)

Damp curls spring from underneath the helmet as Fanboy pulls it from his head, wiping them across his forehead. They stay there, plastered from the heat and condensation inside the helmet. 

“I’m not Boba Fett. I’m the Mandalorian. He’s like… a whole different character, dude.”

He gets a dismissive cigar wave in response. 

“It’s all Star Trek, innit, mate?” 

“Star Wars. And your Tom Shelby accent needs some work. You’re starting to sound a little Australian now.” 

“Can’t sound proper Irish without my cap, and you, sir,” Payback jams a finger into his WSO’s shoulder, then pulls it back when it actually hurts. God, how much did Mickey pay for that suit? “Nicked it from my fooking head, mate. Explain yourself then.” 

“You pulled me away from the girls, man. I was this close.” He shifts his helmet from one hand to the other and pinches two gloved fingers, this far apart. “This close, man. They all wanted pictures with me.” 

“You can get back to the mask kink brigade later. Penny sent me back here, upon threat of death, mind you. Her daughter wants us all to do some TikTok trend for the Halloween party.”

“Fine,” Fanboy huffs, still pouting over the Star Trek comment. He knows Payback knows the difference. “But I’m putting the helmet back on. Need to get my money’s worth, now that I’ve given up my retirement fund to buy this costume.” 

“Whatever you say, Darth Vader.”

“I am not – ” 

Payback knocks the helmet the rest of the way down with a closed fist, ignoring the disoriented Mickey that flails around in the background of the video. He puts on his best movie star smile and blows a perfectly round smoke ring at the camera.

“‘Ello there, love, I’m Tommy Shelby. This good man over here is one of those… what’d ya call them? Stormtrooper lads?” 

“Reuben, I swear – ” 

“And I think,” Payback continues, unperturbed as his WSO makes another grab for the newsboy. “Now I’d bet my life that Mr. and Mrs. Smith are the most binned tonight. I’ve got it on good authority that Mr. Smith’s got a flask in those short shorts of his.” 

Smoke curls up from the cigar, and Mickey spots a blinking dot on the ceiling.

“Hey, Payback, d’you want to maybe put that out? It’s getting a little smokey in here.” 

“Chill out, Mando. It’ll be – ” 

[And some time later, after Federal Fire San Diego cleared the premise and declared it to be a false alarm, probably faulty wiring with all the string lights, Hangman and Coyote make their way back to the bathroom.]

Hangman sniffs the air. “Do you smell that? It stinks back here.” 

“It’s a bathroom, dude.” 

“Not…” Hangman lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Never mind.” 

He finds the phone, still propped up on the counter and brimming with battery life somehow. Adjusts the crisp white button-down in the mirror, pulling it tight over his shoulders. 

It is several sizes too large, hanging loose over his firm torso and leaving a scandalous amount of thigh and calf muscle exposed, between the hem and the top of the ruby-red rain boots. 

(And yeah, Phoenix, Jake is wearing briefs underneath the shirt. It’s not a free show after all.)

“Well now, I’m certified MILF Angelina Jolie from the iconic 2005 classic Mr. and Mrs. Smith, only gets better with age. I’ll let you guess whether I mean her or the movie.” A dashing wink at the camera. “And Coyote here is…” 

Coyote is adjusting the white boxer shorts that keep riding up his muscular thighs – skies out, thighs out and all that – and wonders if Brad Pitt ever had to deal with having such incredible thigh strength on set. Probably not. 

His shirt is white and skin-tight, almost see-through, over his chest. “Certified bad-ass Brad Pitt from Mr. and MILF… wait…” He loses his balance a little bit from thinking too hard. “That’s not right. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Nailed it!” 

He flashes an overly proud grin, and Jake wonders if perhaps, Jake might need to cut off his access to the flask tucked into his left galosh. He wanted to have a fake gun stashed in the other one, but Penny spotted him waving it around near the dartboard and confiscated it. 

“Right…” Jake deadpans, then turns back to the camera. He loosens the top button of his shirt, popping it open to reveal more of his chest. Metal winks from the gap, the chain of his dog tags. “And I think…. You know what? I think Magnum PI will be the drunkest tonight.”

Coyote looks skyward, shaking his head.

Drunken agitation leaks into his voice. “You know why I think that?” 

“Not again,” Coyote groans.

He reaches for the flask, and Mrs. Smith swats his hand away, pointing a stern finger at him, then at the phone.

“Because Magnum PI is slow. He’s not cut out for a real Halloween party. He’s slow in the air, slow on the ground, and slow to handle his alcohol. He’ll be passed out by midnight. I’d put money down.”  

And as the Haunted Bathroom door swings shut behind them, the iPhone mic barely picks up on the low mutterings. 

..slow...

…nepotism pick...

…fuck with a stupid-looking mustache…

…can’t have the flask, go buy a beer, Coyote!

[Midnight arrives, and Yzma and Kronk from The Emperor’s New Groove enter the bathroom. Holding the miniature trophies that Penny awarded them for a well-deserved first place in the annual Hard Deck Halloween Costume Contest.]

Fixing the neckline of the purple dress (and after definitely flashing a nipple on stage out there), Bob wipes at his drooping eyeliner and puts in another splash of eye drops. Contacts make his eyes so dry.

Phoenix holds the trophy over her head like a gladiator, grinning from ear to ear, flexing her muscles in the cut-off sleeves. “Hello friends and foes, winners and losers, I’m Kronk from Emperor’s New Groove…” 

It takes Bob a few seconds to notice Phoenix staring him down.

He straightens up, clearing his throat. “And I’m Yzma, also from Emperor’s New Groove.” 

“We think,” Phoenix leans closer, like Amelia’s iPhone is an old friend, and holds onto the edge of the counter with dignity. She probably could’ve left that last victory shot on the table. “that Mrs. Smith will be the drunkest tonight. He’s got a flask in his boot.” 

“It’s Coyote’s. I saw him with it earlier.” 

A frown wrinkles her brow. “Well, I still vote Mrs. Smith because Bagman’s a douche, and I want him to have a violent hangover tomorrow. I want him to spend his whole day downing Gatorades and fruitlessly wishing for his suffering to end. How’s that?” 

Sweat pricks at Bob’s brow. He likes Phoenix. He really does.

(But sometimes, Phoenix scares him a little.) 

His swallow is audible. “Yeah. Sure, yeah.” 

And Bob keeps to himself that Rooster has been MIA for over an hour now, after cashing in on three bell rings in a row and following a girl in a Sue Storm costume out to the parking lot. 

[And now alone, in the backseat of the Bronco, Magnum PI absentmindedly wipes at the lipstick print on his cheek and lets out a loud snore. Humming a tune in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like Great Balls of Fire.]

end note: then, amelia benjamin uploads this to her secret daggersafterdark tiktok account and goes viral. the end.

(making my fic debut with this one, so i would love to hear all your thoughts, and i gave danny's look both ways hair to fanboy just this once because i can.)

[galaxysupreme17]

Dreamcatcher Crafting Night

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

Y/n’s restless nights had been following her for over a week now. She brushed off the worry when her mothers asked about her sleep, saying it was nothing. But the truth was that something dark seemed to lurk just beyond her reach, pulling her from sleep repeatedly. So tonight, when she shuffled into the living room with another yawn, she wasn’t surprised to see her moms exchanging concerned glances over her tired face.

“Couldn’t sleep again, sweet girl?” Agatha asked softly, her eyes filled with understanding as she wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

Y/n leaned into her mother’s warmth, nodding. “It’s just…every time I close my eyes, it’s like there’s something there. Like I can’t shake it off.”

Rio’s brow furrowed as she brushed a gentle hand along Y/n’s arm. “Then we’re going to help you. Together.”

Agatha’s eyes lit up as an idea formed. “How about a little crafting session?” she said warmly. “We’ll make some dreamcatchers and fill them with some magic.”

Y/n’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “Dreamcatchers? I haven’t made one since I was little.”

“Not just any dreamcatchers,” Agatha replied with a wink. “We’ll add protective spells. It’ll be something special, just for you.”

Rio smiled and stood up, heading toward the storage closet. “I think I have the perfect materials in here,” she said, gathering an assortment of hoops, threads, beads, and feathers from the shelves. The supplies, organized in neat rows, felt like they were waiting for this very night. She placed them all on the coffee table, which quickly transformed into a crafting station under the cozy glow of the living room lights.

As they started, Agatha sat beside Y/n, gently guiding her daughter’s hands through the steps of creating the dreamcatcher’s web. “Start with the hoop and thread,” she said softly, looping the thread through the frame with expert hands. “Each knot you make is a promise of peace. Every thread connects to the next, like a spider’s web. Imagine it catching anything harmful before it can reach you.”

Y/n looped the thread carefully through the hoop, her brow furrowing in concentration as she tied the first knot. Agatha watched with a warm smile, occasionally reaching over to adjust a thread here or there, blessing each movement with quiet words of protection.

Rio picked up the delicate feathers and beads as they worked, adding them to the dreamcatcher with a practiced touch. She threaded in a small blue feather, tying it gently in place as she murmured, “Feathers to guide good dreams toward you, mi amor.”

The rhythmic act of crafting filled Y/n with a quiet peace. Each gentle instruction from her mothers and each touch of their hands reassured her. Little by little, the feeling of safety settled into her, filling her heart with warmth.

After a moment, Rio carefully added a silver moon charm to the hoop, brushing her thumb over it before passing it to Y/n. “This will help light up the darkness,” she whispered, placing it in her daughter’s hand. “Just remember that nothing can reach you here. We’re here to protect you.”

Y/n nodded, watching Agatha reach for a tiny crystal that glowed faintly in the soft light. “And this little one,” Agatha murmured, threading it into the web, “will catch anything that doesn’t belong and send it right back where it came from. A little ward, just for you.”

Feeling their shared care in every twist of thread and every added charm, Y/n’s heart filled with gratitude. The simplicity of creating something so meaningful together was a quiet, grounding reminder that she was loved and protected.

When the dreamcatchers were finally finished, Rio held one up, inspecting it with a proud smile. “Perfect, cariño,” she said, brushing a hand along Y/n’s cheek. “You made something beautiful, and it’ll protect you. Nothing will get through this.”

Y/n smiled, admiring the intricate design of her own handiwork, guided and shaped by her mother’s care. Y/n walked back upstairs to her room, and both her mothers followed after they cleaned everything up. Y/n carefully hung it above her bed, watching the delicate feathers and beads sway softly in the dim light.

After it was set, Agatha and Rio stayed close by her side, watching her settle under the covers. Y/n felt a warmth spread through her as she lay back, watching the dreamcatcher cast faint shadows on the walls. Agatha sat beside her, smoothing her hair back, her eyes warm with love. “Just close your eyes, sweet girl. Nothing will hurt you,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby.

Rio sat on the other side, taking Y/n’s hand in hers, her thumb rubbing gentle circles over her knuckles. “We’re right here, my love,” she said, her words soft but steady. “Just let yourself rest.”

Y/n’s heart settled into a gentle rhythm as she closed her eyes, surrounded by the gentle presence of both her mothers. She felt Agatha’s hand gently brushing through her hair as Rio leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head, grounding her in their warmth. With each soft word of reassurance, the tension in her body finally melted away.

Gradually, Y/n’s breathing evened out as sleep pulled her in. But her mothers stayed by her side, watching over her with tender patience until they drifted off. Eventually, Rio and Agatha lay on either side of Y/n, their hands intertwined across her, forming a shield of warmth and love.

The dreamcatcher above them swayed softly in the dark, casting its gentle, protective spell over the family. For the first time in weeks, Y/n’s dreams were filled with nothing but light and warmth, and her heart rested, deeply and fully, in the safe haven created by her mother’s love.

[lasshoe]

obsessed with the hair obsessed with the makeup and tbh i'm kinda obsessed with the dress go off lady liberty

[aliyahwritings]

ARE YOU JEALOUS?

Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...

Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.

Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...

Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷

Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.

“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”

“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”

Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.

She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”

You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach. 

You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.

“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.

You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”

She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”

“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”

She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”

“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”

You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.

The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.

Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.

“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”

You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.

“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”

You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.

“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”

You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”

Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”

You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”

“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”

Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.

He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”

You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”

You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”

“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”

Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.

You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.

Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”

You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”

“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”

Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”

You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.

But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. 

You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.

But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”

Without another word, you turned and stormed out.

The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”

But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.

“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”

“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”

The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.

But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.

Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.

You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.

You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.

You wanted him. God, did you want him.

Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?

A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”

A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.

You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.

You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.

“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”

You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.

Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. “Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”

“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.

Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy. 

Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini. 

Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you. 

You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:

"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"

He was cute—way too cute.

A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.

You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.

Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”

You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”

He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”

His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”

“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”

Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”

“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”

His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”

You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”

The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”

He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”

You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”

“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”

Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”

Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.

“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”

Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.

But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”

Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.

“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.

But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”

You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?

But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.

Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

Kahli would shudder briefly once the vision ended. When Ramon began to hyperventilate, she would gently force him to sit down. She would sit on the ground and slowly pulled him onto her lap. She would gently hush him while pulling him into a hug, like a grandmother trying to soothe a weeping child. Despite how scary the knaarens looked, Kahli was different. She would show a level of tenderness the other Knaarens they met seemed to lack.

Once Ramon was calm, Kahli would pull away a little so they could speak while still in the embrace. Kahli began to think on that statement. She would suddenly realize what was going on.

"Jano showed you that? A vision of a silver lum that called you Papa? ...In the vision we witnessed, that would have been impossible. The only way that could have happened would be... Raymona survived.

Something's not right... Are you well enough to try and peer into another vision with me?"

Kahli would allow Ramon the time he needed to recover from the shock before she would return to her scrying orb. The room would turn that celestial blue hue again, and the stars would appear once more. Kahli would start searching and it seemed to take a while, but she would manage to locate another shining star and began to tap into it.

They would find themselves within Polokus' snoring tree. Looking around, Ramon would be seen sleeping on a cushion pile besides a lightly glowing bubble. Inside the bubble was the form of Raymona, and she appeared to be in deep sleep within. If the two looked closer, they could see two heads laying on the vision of Ramon's chest beneath the blanket that covered him. The one called Theo, and Tily. They appeared to be sleeping soundly in that cushion pile.

Ramon would stir and rubs his eyes. He would then kiss the heads of the two children laying on him. Theo would yawn and Tily began to rub her eyes. The blonde limbless would urge the children to go gather some breakfast with their Uncle Murfy and he would join them in a minute. Tily and Theo would run off to go get some food, leaving Ramon with the bubble.

He would smile to the bubble, running his hand down the surface. He would mutter about how much he missed her, and how he wished he could sleep for as long as Raymona would so they could be together as a family in the waking world. Polokus would start to approach the limbless with his hands covering something that was glowing beneath. Polokus would clear his throat as he approached and held his hands out to Ramon. He would uncover his hands to show a tiny lum sleeping in his palms. Ramon would stare wide-eyed and went "Lumlight?" as he held his hands out to accept the sleeping lum.

Once the lum was placed into his palms, they would start to wake. the lum rubbed their eyes and smiled up to Ramon. He would hear a little girl's voice respond "Hi daddy." Polokus would chuckle and speak to Ramon. "Someone is worried about you greatly, you know. She asked me to bring her into this world so you wouldn't feel as alone. You have a little piece of her with you as you wait for her to wake up."

Ramon would start to cry, but a smile grew on his face. He would pull the lum to his chest to embrace her, and the lum would try to hug him back. That bright light that he saw in the vision would shine as he hugged Lumlight close to his heart. It wasn't just the lum glowing, but his heart appeared to be glowing with her.

Ramon stared at everything horrified this was what it was awaiting for him, no matter what he does ﹖He will always lose the happiness and return to be misserable, no matter what he does... he can never persue happiness... 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐝, 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒!!

That's what this vision was a fucking monstrosity. He started to scream in anger and horror. This can't be happening. no no nononononono.... This was not real this is not what was awaiting for him, for them... Everything is more horrible that Jano ever showed him prior... Was this a mocking for the DemiGod ﹖

Ramon needed to breathe as he sat on the floor hyperventilating, after all those years of seeing what Eden does, he will never get used to this... he will never get used to this cruelty!!

Ramon just cries for what it felt hours for him, He cried and sobbed until he felt like he had no more tears to shed. But something was amiss he didn't see the silver Lum that Jano showed him too... a silver Lum... that was the key, right ﹖

But he knows now he will have a little boy too and that his name will be Theo. just he won't be able to save him, save them from that monster!! No matter how they fight, in this vission fighting was futile and just suffering and pain.

𝐻𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐻𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝘩𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑚. 𝐻𝑎𝑡𝑒. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝘩𝑖𝑚, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑚, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑖𝑚. For his family he will do everything necessary to protect them...

To say that he has been shaken by this future is a statement but after some good minutes, he wins the composture and regaings the fuction of talking after that initial scare and shock, the blonde looks up to the older one.

“ 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 ﹖𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚖 ﹖𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙻𝚞𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 '𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚊' 𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚞𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚘... 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 ﹖”

A crompensible question, for the limbless as he is still shaking for everything that happened. When he get's out of the room... how he will tell the others ﹖How can he explain that monstrosity and brutality ﹖

[screampied]

࣪.₊ 𐙚 SHE WANNA GO VIRALLL ?! ★

gojo, choso, nanami, toji, geto. cybersēx and getting freaky on camera with the jjk men

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, camgirl/boy themes, phone sēx, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, toji slander, toy usage, hair pulling, guided órgasms, size kink, using a cóck ring on choso, squırting, òral (f! / m! receiving), voyerism.

𐚁̸. an. kind of lost in ikea rn so i wrote this yaya

TOJI ✩ FUSHIGURO.

“tch,” toji grunts as a third piercing smack hits against your ass. you let off a gasp as you’re just lazily arched over for him. just a few moments ago and you were leaking with globs of velvety ropes of cum. the powered on monitor you had propped up against the desk had a blinding bright glow to it. dark, viridescent eyes glance at your chat that’s spamming with donations before he squints. as he’s drilling you into your keyboard from behind, he clings onto your hip. “why the fuck does y’er chat keep callin’ me broke.”

“eheh, oh—” you swallow, feeling him reach in deep areas. indeed they were, flooding your chat with the same tiring jokes of toji. it was a common joke within your audience. as another moan leaves your throat rawly, you gnaw down on your lip. “they’re jus’ trolling, ‘toj. everyone knows you’re filthy rich, baby.”

itsnotchosover: girl who is everyone

sexymartha38: he's so hottttt. when is it my turn

drakesfatbbltbh: Dad? :0

with an eye roll, he resumes back to fucking you stupid. a being hand of his grasps onto your head, digging into your precious scalp. holding your head up, he makes you stare at your thousands of viewers with the dumbest expression glued onto your face. “bet all y’er little fans wish they were me, huh,” and there’s such cockiness dripping underneath his tone. toji’s fat cock has your mouth dangling agape—you’re almost drooling. it was so effortless on how you’d always coat his base with a translucent-colored ring. a pretty, soddened white ring that sticks against your ass each thrust he presents. it’s downright nasty, and yet—his hips were even nastier. as he’s got your hair with a firm secure grip, he lightly shoves you into the screen. moaning, you’re being pushed face first into the monitor—pupils glowing from the colors on your stream ricocheting against your dilated irises. “mhm, good girl. fuck back against me ‘n let these losers watch.”

of course—throughout everything, he’s catching all types of strays through the multicolored flood of comments.

toji could really care less though, a sly grin compresses against his lips before he makes you arch more forward. your back slouches over the wooden desk in such a sexy way that he can’t help but gift your left cheek with another rude spank. “f-fuuuck,” you’d sob out, trying to grab onto your mouse but he snatches your hand. with a quick paced speed, he makes your arm restrain around your back. significantly, he’s amping up his sloppy pace. your weeping cunt repeatedly squelches against him over and over and over. it’s never ending—profusely, your cunt’s idly dripping wet and the sounds just gets more addictive to listen to. that and the repetitive shrilling pings of your donations. aw, another goal met, it makes you smile with gratitude—and just as you were about to recite your recycled ‘thank you’ to your thousands of viewers, your breath catches in your throat and you whine. toji’s thickset base pap pap pap’s against you through and through and your mind’s just mush. not a single thought in your empty brain. “gonna cum, toji. tojiiiii, so fuckin’ big.”

“want me ‘ta slow down after you said i was small, yeah oookay,” and he’s just so sassy that you wanted smack him. that was practically true though. your chat told you to prank toji, telling him how he’s small. obviously, that wasn’t true, and here you were, feeling every staggering inch he’s presenting to your clingy greedy pussy.

a sopping string of your own slick sticks against his base each time—it’s sticky, he groans at the sight of it. a tongue of his flicks against the scar near the right side of his mouth and you wriggle your hips back into him. hissing at the almost sharp sensation between your thighs and your constant teasing, he yanks you back toward him. leaning up close to you, he licks a stripe down your neck before groaning. “sloppy fuckin’ girl, ‘m gonna get you pregnant on live. want that?”

with a sheepish whine pouring out of your throat, you grind your body against him, feeling the tip of his dick expand through every secluded crevice of your sweet cunt. “yeah, gimme a baby then. fill me up again, pleaseee.”

and as his pounding against your clit exceeds, so does your arch. the pace was almost animalistic. the chat’s spamming with comments, praising you and even trolling your expressions. your mind’s on a loop, with warm bodies clashing against each other, he groans into your ear. “fuck, gonna give you twins, girl,” and his voice was a mere pitchy deep. your limbs spike and with his rough hips, it allows a candied stretch to pry its way into your pussy. all from your girth, it’s almost delicious and you’d rate his dick five stars if you could. “shit, clamping all around m—” and before he could even finish his sentence, toji pauses. a roaring grunt rumbles out from him and he steadies your hips. not only does he shoot into you, but he gets a mean leg cramp. twitching ravened brows of his contort together and he quickly pulls out. it’s almost comedic, you stare at him through the reflection of your screen all while feeling his oozing hot cum spill down from between your thighs. hearing a giggle come from you, he grunts, spanking your ass. don’t laugh, little girl.”

“s- sorry, forgot you have skeleton bones,” you playfully rub your neck, peering your eyes at the dozens of comments trolling him.

“s— shut up,” he breathes, both hands on his hips. his leaky tip now flaccid and swollen, toji entraps his bottom lip with a teeth. exhaling out a tired whew, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “gimme a minute. er . . an hour, fuckk.”

and then as he tries to get up, a sudden loud crack in his bones occurs. “ignore that.”

NANAMI ✩ KENTO.

with a pout, you slump back onto the shared bed of your husband. it was near the afternoon—you knew he was busy, off on a mission or something but you missed him badly. it was almost painful at how you almost forgot what his touch felt like.

so you decide to text him. pulling out your phone, you scroll towards his contact with a heart next to his name. eagerly, you align your thumbs against the grey keyboard, squeezing your thighs together. starting off with a simple, ‘miss you baby,’ and awaiting for his reply. as you wait, you go back to playing with yourself. with your pretty legs all sprawled out, your fingers cramp up inside of your drooling pussy. shoved to the side of your thighs were a pair of panties nanami gifted you on your birthday. about four minutes later, he replies.

nanami: Sweetheart. I miss you too.

nanami: I need to hear your voice, call me yeah?

and without wasting any time, you dial those same known ten digits before pressing a thumb against the call button. on the first ring, he answers and he speaks first with a low, “hey you, how’s my pretty princess?”

“horrible,” you whine, still stuffing your cunt full of fingers. two slender fingers that were all soaked with your slick. it was a mess, your breathing patterns continue to change the more you imagine if he was really here. “i- i miss you, ‘ken. touchin’ myself ‘s so hard when you’re not around.”

“oh,” nanami says through the other line, his voice as smooth as silk. his absent presence only his fingers knew the exact layout of your pussy. nanami’s fingers were the pure definition of utopia—knowing all the right areas of your cunt with such ease. simply perfect. nanami was still on a mission, but he took care of his tasks. clearing his throat, taking a seat on a nearby bench, he sighs. “you’re touching yourself without me, huh sweetheart.”

“s- sorry,” you stammer, feeling yourself about to release soon. not before long, your thighs start to quiver and shake. “mhm,” you chew on the lower part of your lip, feeling your breathing shake up. “kento, talk to me please. help me c-cum, baby.”

“my wife decided to be filthy today,” he purrs, the sweet moans that escaped from your lips making his cock twitch. you were so loud, he’s always thought you had the prettiest voice. as you’re continuing to feel pounds of elation surge through you—you curl a finger inside, rubbing against your sensitive nub. “bring the phone up to her. wanna hear what she’s got to say too, my love.”

putting it up to your sopping cunt, you switch the phone to speaker. nanami grows mute for a second, listening to how wet you were. your fingers play and strum against your folds before you start to tremble. “k- kento, ‘m close, so close.”

“come on princess, listen to my voice, okay,” and with your back reclined against the cushioned mattress, you start to pant. your body feels limp, his voice was the perfect mixture of deep and a bit raspy—tender, each praise he gives you only makes you throb even more. “i want you to pretend you’re using my fingers,” and as he’s speaking, the tips of your fingers prod against that particular area. grazing against your clitoral hood, you nibble on your halfway lolled out tongue. “mhm, doing so well. just listen to me, play with her a bit more ‘n then let go sweetheart. let go just for me.”

gasping for any sorts of breaths—you whimper, two fingers getting lost into the depths of your pussy. it was a mess, a nice viscous amount of your slit departs from your digits as you pull them out of you before dragging them back in. “kento, ‘m cumming. all on your f- fingers,” you whine, imagining it was his thick fingers shoving in and out instead of yours. as you continue to whine through irregular breaths, the bobbing of your throat intensifies. “hnghh,” you babble, clammy fingers soaking in everything before you finally let loose. gushing out— it’s a lot. volumes of your sweet trickle onto the satiny sheets. a damp spot soaks its way into the fabric before you collapse back with a cute orgasm to follow. “f- fuck, ‘s good,” and your legs tremor vigorously. you felt like you were floating, everything throbbed and pulsed and your mind felt like it was racing at miles a minute. with an airy exhale, you put the phone back up to your mouth. “ken— you still there?”

“always,” he coos, his voice sending you various amounts of euphoric shivers. as you’re still letting go of your high, you can hear nanami’s raspy breaths through the other end of the phone too. he’s panting, almost as if he was actually there with you. “good girl, you did so good,” and nanami pauses for three seconds before whispering. “hm, i gotta go—but princess, send me a picture of the mess. i wanna see what ‘m gonna have to clean up when i get home.”

CHOSO ✩ KAMO.

it wasn’t really surprising to you that you found out your shy and timid best friend was a camboy. he was pretty well known—trendy and everyone’s favorite whiner.

pulling in thousands and thousands of views per month, he started to become a household name in the cyber world. choso was having a usual stream late at night, stroking himself off in front of his various followers. biting his lip, he tries to ignore the comments of his fans asking for him to try on his cock ring. “h- heh, if you guys want me to do that, you’ll have to help us reach our goal.”

and as soon as he says that, he reaches it.

with a frowning pout, choso’s lip quivers. “shit. nevermind then,” and as he’s fisting his own dick with solid pumps, a vein runs down his prolonged fat shaft.

he leans back, tossing his head back too—choso’s hair was unkempt and flowing down. he didn’t have his usual two ponytails today. ravened strands of hair go against his eyes and he lets off a nervous laugh toward his viewers. “ugh, s-so much for that. fine, i’ll use it for a little,” and then it dawned on him, the cock ring not only goes around choso, but it vibrates too.

as he’s just about to put the toy around his base, that’s right when you walk in. “hey, did you see my shower g-” and your jaw nearly drops once you’re trying to process the lewd view in front of you. so that’s what that noise was, the constant whining through the walls. choso’s reaction is an exact replica of yours. swallowing thickly, he’s still got his erect dick in hand, and it’s just so pretty. “oh, am i interrupting?”

“n— no,” he hitches a single breath, taking a moment to stare at your body. even dressed down, you looked so attractive. with a sheepish grin, he rubs a hand down the brief undercut that’s near his nape. he’s embarrassed, but it slowly goes away due to him being aroused. occasionally gawking at the chat, he does a hand motion with his fingers. “actually, since you’re here. i kinda need your help. please.”

“okay,” you giggle, setting aside your bag. you’re face first with his dick that’s standing tall right in front of you. it seems like he’s been stroking it for a while before stopping. the tip of his shaft was all reddened. a flustered pinkish pink. choso licks his lips and you stare at his neatly set up monitor. “hi chat,” you tease, and dozens of comments stare to flood, asking if you’re the girlfriend he keeps rambling about. with an eyebrow raise, you hum. “girlfriend?”

“sh— ignore them,” he grunts, and he grabs onto your arm. in a shaky breath, choso speaks in an almost needy whisper. “can . . i use your hand? sorry if that’s weird. you just- you have really nice hands,” and once you simper, giving him a nod, he softly grabs ahold of your wrist. choso couldn’t wait any longer, he didn’t really care if things felt rushed—with another lip bite, he hands you the plastic cock ring. “put . . can you put this on me ‘n stroke me off? mhm, ‘m close ‘n it might help.”

“ooh, a cock ring?” you stare at the toy in hand, a thumb feeling against the stretchy material. choso prepares to inhale once you stretch it out, playing with the buttons on it. your eyes briefly light up once you notice that it can really vibrate. oh, he was gonna whine for sure.

putting it around his dick, it flings a bit before you grab ahold of his base—it’s pretty, a vein runs down the very center and you can’t help but give his tip a little kiss. “mwah,” you smooch, even going far as to sliding your tongue against his sensitive frenulum. his tip was leaky, you taste a bit of his bitterly sweet precum before you turn the ring on its medium setting. once the whirring buzzes of the toy vibrates, you leer up at him. “mhm, ‘s this okay, ‘cho?”

“y- yes, kiss it more please. use your t- tongue,” and as he exhales deeply, his chest falters back. your tongue feels so good. with the mixture of added vibrations, he wasn’t gonna last two seconds. the maddening ringing in his ears was so high pitched that it was almost equivalent to tinnitus. whining, he grabs a fist full of your hair before you start to open your lips apart. choso watches with glossy eyes as you lower your head onto his length, taking him into your warm welcoming mouth. “mhm, such a nasty little t- throat,” and his voice cracks—even his attempt at dirty talk was adorable. choso then gawks back up at his audience, thousands of viewers praising choso for being so whiney, with a few comments praising how pretty you looked.

he never told you, but he told his fans that you were his girlfriend, every single stream. you were just his roommate, but he liked imagining you and him were together. a little fantasy of his.

your throat was a force to be reckoned with. it was warm and narrow, so perfect for his long inches. you almost gag a bit as he’s lightly pushing you back and down—yet he pauses every few seconds to ask if it’s too much or if you’re okay. choso was lengthy, a bit of girth and you were already slobbering on his dick. the constant teeth-shattering vibrations of the cock ring that’s wrapped around his base makes him whimper. “mphm,” you make a muffled noise, feeling him sloppily drag your head down back and forth. you’re trying to speak but choso nervously smiles.

“b- baby, don’t talk with your mouth so . . full, ‘s rude,” he swallows, feeling the inside of his throat become dry. and of course, choso barely lasts.

the pulsing in his cock only surges, and within minutes he’s already a mess—he ends up finishing early, shooting a whopping load into your mouth. it’s gooey and comes out in stringy ropes. it coats all on the back of your tongue and you’re slurping it all up. “s-so good,” he whines, and choso’s looking down at you with literal heart eyes dilating in his irises. with that throat of yours, he was already in love. he’s heavily panting, and he closes his laptop before making your bobbing head get off his length. with the cock ring still jittering against his length, he gingerly grabs you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. despite its deepness, it was sensual. immediately, choso sucks against your tongue. half-lidded eyes staring up at you before he moans, tasting the remnants of his own cum on your lips. a free hand shakily rubs against your neglected cunt. “t- thank you,” he mewls, sable strands of hair sticking against his forehead. huffing out a single breath, he squeezes your cunt before making you wrap a leg around his waist. “i want more though. i want y- you.”

GOJO ✩ SATORU & SUGURU ✩ GETO.

with them both, they’re both major sluts.

it goes without saying that where there’s gojo there’s geto. in this case, they’d both be top camboys. fighting over the number one spot of being at the top. but as of now, they’d both be fighting between your legs. fighting over who can eat you out better.

they’d position their monitor in a good angle so that their thousands of viewers can see you with your legs all sprawled out.

“f-fuuck,” you whine, feeling each of their tongues clash and swipe against your saturated entrance. you were living every girl’s dream—as you ogle down toward your two best friends, you comb a hair through geto’s messy strands. with a tight yanking grip, you pull his hair up. “like that sugu, wanna feel your piercing more.”

“hmph,” gojo pouts, using a broad hand to pry your legs apart even further. you’d already came about four times. four times the two of them snatched out such dangerously pleasurable orgasms. with your head throwing itself back, you feel gojo starting to suck against your clit. gojo’s getting aroused himself. a free hand of his reaching down, creeping inside of his boxers.

the difference between gojo and geto—gojo was more of a clit biter, geto was more of a clit kisser.

where gojo’s sloppy sucks and slurps against your cunt would occur, they’d soon turn into playful bites and nibbles. “stop hoggin’ her, suguboo,” he grumbles, the cutest pout squeezing against his facial expressions. geto’s got a sly grin, feeling you tug all on his hair. as his face runs back and forth against your cunt, his chin pouring down with a sheeny slick of your slit, he kisses your pussy. a variety of smooches that makes you pulse right on their tongues.

“make me, pretty boy.”

they’d always bicker, always,

you’re struggling to stay still, squirming from the stimulation and it’s making your mouth water. you were sure they were gonna give you another orgasm within no time.

with your tummy heaving sporadically in and out at such irregular intervals, you let off a whiney whimper. gojo nibbles down against your cunt, and he suddenly pauses once he feels geto’s tongue flick against his. “eh. dude—”

“what, you want me to give you attention too or something?” geto shrugs, and you feel the long edges of his fingernails trace against your skin.

seductively, he gently uses the tip of his finger to carve into your leg, pretending he’s writing the four letters of his name on your flesh.

circling against your skin, he pushes his tongue in further before he’s nose deep—bedaubing all over and against your slick. “mhm, fuckin’ soaked for us.” and a thumb of his drags down your swollen, pulsing clit. your cunt continues to weep and beg for more, you’re so close—your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue. you could almost taste it.

gojo’s still got the same pouty glower on his face as the two of them delve their twitching pink tongues into your cunt. hot, feverish breaths fan and aerate against your pussy before he cranes his head toward geto, mumbling in a cheeky tone. “you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“maybe i do.” geto rolls his eyes—and a dozen invisible question marks float over your head as your two best friends were literally flirting.

right in front of your salad—well in the case, right in front of your pussy.

by now, you’d all forgotten they were still live, hence the deafening pinging sounds of donations and notifications bringing you straight back to reality. staring down at them both, geto and gojo were still between your legs before they lean in to kiss. immediately, gojo folds before whining into geto’s tongue as the moving muscles dance amongst each other. for some reason, as they’re making out and still eating you out, it makes you throb. gojo’s pretty lashes flutter close, and they take turns with claiming each other’s lips and sucking against your pussy.

but that only lasts for a second or two—as they’re still having their lips locked, a hand of geto’s slides up gojo’s shirt, chuckling against his lips. furrowing your brows, it’s now your turn to pout. “um?? hello. did you guys just forget about me?”

[selfcarecap]

Insatiable [L.H.]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x female!reader

Summary: Down in the void, where you can find all sorts of dangerous things, you didn’t expect a flower that makes you horny to be your biggest problem. Luckily, Logan is there to fuck that overwhelming feeling out of you.

Warnings: smut 18+, unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), spitting and hair pulling (reader pulls Logan’s hair) but just for a split second </3, dub con because of sex pollen but they want each other either way, Logan calls reader baby and good girl during sex, mention of masturbation (f), Wade watches them fuck technically without consent but it’s not mentioned until the end and it’s more of a joke, set during Deadpool & Wolverine but no major spoilers I just used a different gif because Logan is annoyed at Wade in every single one from that film lmao, Wade being Wade, Logan is taller than the reader, age gap implied (well actually it’s not implied but I’m telling you Logan’s older lmao), all porn no plot

Word Count: 3.4k

first Logan fic 🤭 pls be nice <333 

˚✮*✧*˚☆˚*✧

It shouldn’t shock you that the void is full of weird things — you came here with a mutant and a … well, whatever the fuck Wade is, after all. Yet, you’re still surprised when, on your way back from finding some bushes to pee in, you end up tripping over something and getting addicted to the smell of some glowing plant. 

The flower is bright pink and smells like your favourite perfume. You’re on all fours at this point, your face buried in the bud as you inhale its sweet, sweet scent. 

“What is she doing?” Logan asks from afar, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Yoga?” Wade offers. Logan throws him a look — not helpful. 

Logan makes his way to you; the closer he gets the brighter the plant glows. This can’t be good. He calls your name when he gets to you but you’re in a trance, you don’t even seem to hear Logan. You’re humming — no, moaning?— to yourself, arching your back and lowering yourself to your forearms. 

He pulls you up by your arm and almost flinches at your sudden outburst. “Let me go!” You shout, hitting his chest, and when you look up at him your pupils are so large Logan isn’t sure it’s really still you in there. 

You go to slap Logan so you can get back down but his hand slides down your arm to hold your wrist, his other hand at your waist to keep you in place. 

“Look at me,” Logan orders and, oh you’re looking at him. 

The smell the plant was giving off wasn’t your favourite perfume at all, you realise, it was the smell of Logan. A hint of his aftershave, a little bit of sweat, and all that manly musk. You realise you need him right now. 

You involuntarily arch your back to get closer to him, your chest against the hard of his suit. He’s looking down at you, a mixture of worry and confusion. You reach up to claw at Logan’s collar but he easily holds you off. 

“You okay, bub? What was that?” He looks down to kick at the plant and as it breaks off at the stem the plant gives off a last shake of glittery dust, grows grey, and then dies. You slowly turn your head from the floor to Logan’s face — he’s wearily awaiting your next move. 

“I’m not okay, Logan. I need you right now,” you pull at his collar once more but he has you in a tight grip at the waist — which does nothing but turn you on more. 

“Wade! Come here,” Logan calls, and you see a flicker of red in your periphery coming towards you, but you don’t take your eyes off the man in front of you. 

When you stand still for a few seconds, that’s when the ache really hits you. You clench around nothing and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are. You’ve never needed to come so badly in your life, but Logan’s got you held firmly in place, no matter how much you squirm. 

Wade sees the plant immediately, even greyed out and dead, “What’s this?” He walks towards it. 

Logan grabs Wade’s arm. “Don’t,” he grits.

With only one of his arms on you, you take the chance to reach up at Logan’s face, try to kiss him, but his hand is back on you before you can even get on your tiptoes. You let out a pained moan and both their heads snap towards you. 

“She was smelling that flower. Now she’s..” Logan looks down at you, which intensifies your need, but he’s careful of what to say. You only met a few days ago and he doesn’t want to humiliate you, doesn’t know how deep down the real you is by now. 

“Horny?” Wade asks, looking at you, “Holy shit, girl, look at your eyes. See, a woman after my own heart. That’s exactly how I look at Logan too—“

“Wade!” Logan shouts, jaw clenching, “We need to get her somewhere safe.”

“Don’t need anywhere safe. Need you,” you mumble, attempting to free yourself from Logan’s grip. He’s so effortlessly strong it makes your mouth water and the place between your thighs even wetter. 

Wade bends down, careful not to get too close to the plant, assessing it. “Easy. It’s sex pollen.”

“What the fuck is that?” Logan half-shouts.

“Have you never read fanfiction? It makes you crazy horny until you’re fucked by the person you’re into the most,” Wade explains, then sighs, looking at you, “Sad that it’s not me, sugarcakes, I’ll be honest.” 

You ignore him, still attempting to get out of Logan’s grasp to climb him like a tree.

Logan groans at Wade, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“No, have you met me?”

Suddenly you’re lifted off the ground and Logan slings you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing at all. His arm grips you just below your ass, and it makes you clench your thighs together, trying to get any type of friction. You attempt to get down but his arm only tightens around your legs and even though your entire upper body is free, hanging off the back of him, you’re helpless. 

-

You squirm and wriggle and moan but all to no avail. Logan’s ignoring you. You feel your underwear getting wetter with his every step and breath and movement, and you’re sure he must be able to smell you at this point. 

Your arousal has turned into nothing other than a pulsing pain and you feel tears springing to your eyes with your sexual frustration. You mumble Logan’s name but you’re too weak to really say anything, too weak to even try and get out of his grasp anymore.

A shadow is cast over you and you see the sand under you turn into a solid floor. Suddenly you’re being lifted back up and Logan sits you on top of a table. You’re in a… diner? You don’t really care, filled with a new energy as you see Logan towering over you, concern written on his face – concern you’re ready to turn into lust.

You sit up with force, ready to pounce on him, but he pins you back to the tabletop immediately, his big arms holding your wrists down.

“Don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” – the nickname makes you moan right in his face, hips trying to arch up but he’s too far – “We’re gonna need you to calm down, okay? And we’re gonna wait it out.”

“No,” you begin to shake your head quickly, giving Logan your best puppy eyes, “I can’t wait. Need to cum. I’m so wet, Logan. Please.”

“As much as I wish it wasn’t, that’s my cue to leave,” Wade waves, whispering, “I hope you think of me when you come” (you’re not sure if he’s saying it to you or to Logan) and walks out the door.

Logan is distracted for a second, watching Wade leave, and you yank your hand out of his grasp to unzip the front of your suit and push a hand into your underwear. You cry out when you finally get to touch your clit, puffy and wet all over, and for a second Logan can’t keep his eyes off your panties. His gaze lands on your tits almost spilling out of your bra from all the movement and then he takes hold of your wrist once again.

“I’m gonna leave and then you can touch yourself all you want, hm? That sound like a plan?” Logan says, voice quiet and hoarse and all you can do is shake your head at him.

“‘S not gonna be enough. Need you. Please,” you moan again, and you see him clench his jaw in restraint.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Don’t know if you’d want this otherwise. Wouldn’t be right of me.”

You somehow manage to yank his hand down with yours and shove it into your panties.

“Does this feel like I don’t want you, Logan? You’re all I want. Been making myself come every day since I met you wishing it was you instead.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, baby, don’t know what you’re asking for,” Logan’s voice is strained. His thumb starts rubbing your clit instinctively, as if he can’t control himself. He moves slightly to get a better angle and you see the bulge pressing against his pants. He’s so big you moan out his name loud enough to echo through the building.

“Know exactly what I’m asking for. Please, Logan. It’s not gonna stop until you make me come. I’m begging you.” He looks at you with uncertainty. Then he’s pulling your arms out of your suit and ripping the rest down your legs.

“I’m gonna make you come, okay? I’ll eat your pussy as many times as you need me to. That alright?” He kneels in front of you and pulls you to the edge of the table. 

You want to ask him to fuck you but all you can manage to say right now is to let out a whiny “Mhmmm.”

Logan wastes no time taking one of your thighs over his shoulder and pulling your soaked panties to the side. He looks ready to surrender and give you what you really need but he stays firmly in his place.

“Look what a mess you’ve made, baby. Such a pretty fucking pussy. I’ll make you feel better, okay? ‘M gonna make you come.” 

Without another word his tongue is on you, licking broadly over your clit and then sucking as much as he can into his mouth. You arch your back and press your hips into his face. His hands come to the top of your thighs to hold you down, palms hot against your skin. 

“Feel good?” He mumbles against your pussy and you sit up on your elbows. 

“So fucking good, Logan. Don’t stop. Please,” you whimper as you look at his face buried in your pussy. He licks into you, nose pressed against your clit and you can’t help but buck your hips. 

“Look how sweet you are, saying please every time. Such a good girl.” He’s inhaling you hungrily now, sloppy in his movements from how turned on he is but it’s not stopping you from feeling good. 

You just need friction. And he’s giving you that, but then he’s licking all the way up from your pussy over your clit, through your pubic hair and up to your belly button — just to tease you. He smirks up at you and you push his head back down; he happily obliges, but not before reaching out one of his big strong hands to settle on your breast, thumb hooking under the top of your bra to play with your nipple. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby. Can’t get enough,” he breathes as he begins to suck on your clit and starts moaning himself. 

It occurs to you then that the pollen in your arousal or in your sweat might be making him lose his mind too. With the way he’s almost painfully squeezing your thigh with one hand and your boob with the other, you’re sure.

Logan groans with a mouthful of you between his lips, your sensitive clit swollen against his tongue. He moans something into you that you can’t understand, but the vibration of his voice pushes you close to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you whimper loudly, your hips chasing his face.

You finally tip over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before.

But it’s over as fast as it started.

You push your hand between your legs to relieve the ache again but you know it won’t be enough. Logan stands up and wipes his mouth, glistening with your arousal. “Y’need me again?”

You shake your head as you squirm without his presence between your thighs. “Please fuck me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore, need you inside me.” As you say it you clench around nothing, the pulsing between your legs insatiable. You start fucking yourself with your fingers, but it’s not nearly enough – you need something bigger, much bigger, and you have a feeling he can provide that.

The pollen seems to take over for Logan as well, and he finally stops arguing. He pulls off his suit and you silently curse him for not doing that earlier. Seeing those muscles is providing more relief than your fingers inside you. You feel like you could come just from the sight of his big, hard cock alone. It’s exactly what you need.

You slip out of your bra that’s almost sticking to your skin with how hot you feel and Logan roughly rips your panties down your legs.

“You really want this?” He asks as he steps between your thighs, jerking off and rubbing the tip against your clit.

“Mmhm yesyes, need you so badly. Please Lo–” you both gasp when he fills your pussy at once. It’s a feeling that brings you close to orgasm immediately and makes you grab him to pull him closer. Logan momentarily slips out of you again to crawl onto the table, pull you across it and wrap your legs around his hips.

“So fucking hard for you,” he mumbles as he pushes back into your slick pussy. You’re both mesmerised by the sight of him starting to fuck into you, your pussy stretching around him with what is the best feeling you’ve ever had. It burns because he’s so big, but it’s a good type of pain.

You grab the hair at the back of his head for support, and he moans at your grip. It angles his face towards yours and you look into each other’s eyes for a split second before his mouth finds yours. You’re biting and licking at his lips and he growls back against you, holding your lower lip down to spit into your mouth, his animalistic nature taking over.

His hips rut against yours faster as your kiss gets more desperate. You lean your head back in pleasure, hitting the table, but you barely register the pain. Distracted by how good his big cock feels so deep in your pussy you don’t even notice his hand coming up under your head to cushion it.

“There you go,” he whispers, looking down at you. Your eyes meet and for a second you smile at his care. You tip your head right back down into his hand when he starts kissing down your neck, his free hand pushing up one of your tits to wrap his lips around the nipple. 

The way he runs his tongue over your nipple has you moaning and grabbing onto his hair once more. You need to feel the heat of his body so you wrap your arm around the back of his shoulders until he’s desperately fucking into you with your chests pressed together.

It should be too warm with the way your bodies are intertwined but Logan looks down to lick the sweat on your neck right up and sucks on the skin there right after. The added stimulation makes your hips buck up and Logan sneaks a hand back to your clit, messily rubbing until he has you coming again and you’re both moaning at how hard your pussy clenches around him.

You think for a second that Logan’s going to come with you but he manages to resist the temptation, biting into your shoulder instead. But that second in which it almost felt like he was coming was the calmest you’ve felt in hours at this point. You realise that maybe it’s him who needs to come for you to feel better. But you’re too horny to say any proper words to explain it to him.

Logan pushes himself up to look at your face but he doesn’t have to ask if you still need more. Your pupils are as wide as before.

“Pussy’s still so hungry for me, baby, hm? So fucking desperate,” he repositions your hips and starts fucking into you at a different angle, your wet pussy so loud against him. This time you feel his dick pushing against your g-spot and he has you gasping at the new sensation, pulling you by the hips to aid his thrusts.

“P-Please come inside me, Log– uh-Logan,” you manage to say.

Logan looks down at you and places a hand under your ass, squeezing you there, “Baby, I got stamina for the entire night. Not stopping til you’re satisfied.”

“Just do it, need you”, is all you can get out as he continues to rut his hips against yours.  

“Alright. I got you, baby, I got you,” he rasps, making sure to hit your g-spot over and over until you’re arching your back, biting into his bicep that’s propped next to your face, to deal with the amount of pleasure coursing through you.

A gasp turns into an orgasm and as soon as you clench around Logan he lets go too. “God, baby, so fucking tight for me. Such a good girl. Gonna come–”

You hold onto Logan tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck as he fucks into you, filling you with ropes and ropes of his cum as you keep clenching around his big cock. You can feel him so deeply in you that your most primal urges are finally starting to calm down and you feel the last waves of pleasure flow through you as he comes his final drops.

Logan drops onto his elbows that are positioned next to your head, and, instinctively, you take his face to kiss him. He kisses you back so intensely that you don’t even have to consider whether he still wanted to kiss you now that the sex is over.

“You okay?” He asks when you let go of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod, noticing that the ache is finally, finally gone now that you’ve both come together, “thank you, Logan.”

“My pleasure,” he smirks and places a more innocent kiss on your mouth. You untangle yourselves from each other in slow movements, unsure what places you’re sweating from and need to clean up.

-

“Do you regret it?” Logan asks you a few minutes later, cleaned up and clothed, with his arm around your waist to support you – you can barely stand – as you go outside to look for Wade.

“No. But thanks for making sure so many times… Do you regret it?”

Logan’s smile tells you everything you need to know but he still tells you, “Not one bit.”

You smile but then become more serious. “Sorry that you had to experience that,” you mumble.

“What do you mean? You’re apologising for that?”

“Didn’t you feel the pain too? I thought the effect of the pollen might have somehow been contagious.”

He almost looks bashful when he looks down at you, “No, you just turn me on like fucking crazy.”

You smile down at the floor until you see a shadow. Wade comes around the corner of the diner. 

You draw your eyebrows together. “You’re telling me you actually left?”

“There’s no way you didn’t stay to watch us,” Logan adds.

“No, of course I stayed but I came ages ago. I was forced to be with my own thoughts while you kept going… and going.”

Logan rolls his eyes as Wade walks on, “What do you think, we–”

“And going…”

“Wade.” Logan warns, turning to you again, “How about we get this shit done with Wade and then go to your place and do this all over again?”

You giggle, “I like the sound of that.”

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog and comment if you enjoyed, I appreciate it a lot <333.｡.:*☆

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

[hoffmansgirl]

match made in hell ━ father charlie mayhew ♰

❱ note: this is dirty and so long, i got so carried away...... might make a part two???

﹅ warnings: where do i start... nsfw content of course, blasphemy!!, unprotected piv sex, fingering, squirting, oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, choking, slapping, hair pulling, creampie, mirror sex, they are soulmates <3

♡ requests for nicholas/charlie are so open! you ask and i deliver :) let's keep on feeding our delusions lmao

to say that she was a saint would be a complete misunderstanding. she realised that the first time she met him. the priest, devilishly handsome priest, to be exact, was exactly like her. and she noticed it immediately.

she didn't exactly expect a priest to be this young and this handsome. but what really caught her eye, was the soulless look in his eyes. she didn't know why, but she felt an immediate connection with him, as she sat in the furthest corner of the church, yet he still noticed her. hiding in the shadows, she sat, long, black hair falling freely onto her neck and back, short dress that made him rethink the church's dress code. her eyes glimmering with curiosity, as she listened to his sermon, or at least pretended to. she wet her lips, tilting her head, her eyes wide and devilish.

and then she noticed: his eyes lit up with passion and pure interest as he held her stare throughout rest of the mass.

charlie tried to explain the feeling that bloomed in his chest, but he couldn't. he has never seen this girl before, her every move was hypnotising to him. the way she tilted her head in wonder, her lips pickering just slightly, as she studied his face as if she was admiring him... it made his heart beat faster, his palms becoming sweaty, mind going blank.

the mass ended soon after, and charlie sighed in relief as people began to leave the small church. he then walked around the altar, blowing out the candles, his mind still wandering around the brunette girl, when a soft, melodic voice behind his back caught him off guard.

"hello, um... i'm sorry, father... i'm y/n", she started, pretty much relaxed, keeping her eyes on her hands. her voice like a psalm to him, his heart beating loudly in his chest, as he stilled, waiting for the right moment to turn around.

"i'm charlie", he shouldn't have said that. he should've kept it professional, but as soon as he turned around and his black eyes met her green ones, he felt that electricity go through his veins again. they were alone now, everyone has left the church, the silence comfortable for both of them. y/n looked up at the much taller man, the dim candle lights made his face glow, and she thought he was absolutely mesmerising. his full lips curled into a small smirk, his eyes following her every move, and she couldn't help but smile too.

"i have never seen you before, y/n", he noticed carefully, leaning against the altar, the veins in his hands popping out, and her eyes wandered on them for a little too long. she crossed her arms on her chest, the cold air hitting her skin with a sudden force, and she shrugged.

"the truth is, father... i want to confess. kind of", she hesitated, the big cross behind charlie's head making her question everything. god doesn't judge us, she thought, convincing herself. "maybe we could talk somewhere more... private? if you're okay with it", she corrected herself quickly, though her confidence never faded, even for a second. the determination visible in her eyes, and charlie got lost in her for a second, his own eyes sparking with something very unfamiliar to him. that was both exciting and... thrilling.

"whatever you need, y/n", he said wholeheartedly, "do you want me to drive you home?" the words left his mouth before he could think about them, and she opened her mouth in shock. pink blush adoring her cheeks, her lashes fluttering, the tension in her lower stomach getting more intense by each passing second.

"yes, i would very much enjoy that".

about twenty minutes later charlie and y/n pulled up by the girl's house. a comfortable silence was followed by a quiet sigh falling out of y/n's mouth.

"thank you so much, father", she whispered, eyes on his side profile, and she couldn't help but notice the way his strong, defined jaw clenched at her words.

"call me charlie", he replied simply, hands on the steering wheel, as he kept his eyes on the driveway.

"okay, then..." y/n breathed out, playful smile on her lips. "thank you, charlie", she corrected herself, and pressed her back against the passenger door. the corner of his mouth twitched, and his head turned to look at her.

she looked like a goddess, charlie thought, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of her creamy thighs on full display. her short and tight dress has ridden up her thighs, her hair slightly messy, but still shiny and silky. her boobs tightly pressed together because of the arms resting comfortably on her chest. and her face looked angelic. charlie was mesmerised by her beauty, the urge to touch her now stronger than ever.

"i shall keep going", he cleared his throat, voice slightly shaky as he spoke.

"do you want to come in?", the words left her mouth before she had the time to think it through.

charlie tilted his head and looked at her with a devilish look in his dark eyes. she smiled softly, and shifted on her seat slightly, her predatory gaze focused on his serious face.

"of course", he replied simply and opened the door on his right, leaving the car quickly. she got up right after he did, and they walked together towards her apartment.

she unlocked the door to her apartment and welcomed him in with a quick smile.

"feel yourself at home", she said softly, leaning back against the wardrobe in the interior. she watched him take off his coat, his muscles tensing as he moved around. she bit her lip involuntarily, unholy images in her head.

charlie complimented y/n's apartment as they walked towards her room, a bottle of french wine in her hand.

she closed the door behind them, and she pointed towards a chair next to her bed. charlie sat down comfortably, leaning back, his legs spread wide as if he was inviting her to come between them.

"let me get changed real quick", she said, looking at herself in the mirror. the tight dress sitting perfectly on her figure, but she was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable in it. she took off her platform shoes and looked at charlie, who was already staring.

he smiled slightly and closed his eyes to give her the possibility to change comfortably. but she reacted quickly, heart beating loudly in her chest.

"don't cover your eyes, charlie", her voice barely a whisper, and if it wasn't for the quietness of her room, he wouldn't hear her. but he most definitely did. he gripped the edges of the chair tightly, and his eyes opened, so did his mouth, charlie's breathing uneven.

"i really shouldn't", he said after a second or two. his purity ring glistened in the dim lightning, and he reminded himself who he was.

he took the vows. he wasn't just a man; he was a priest, god's messenger, but the urge to look at her was too strong. she smiled kindly, as if she was doing something completely innocent, but he wasn't fooled. she was a devil, sent by god to test his loyality to him. yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. his cock grew stiff in his tight dress pants, longing to feel a touch of another human, any ounce of self control leaving his body.

y/n turned toward the mirror and put her hair over one of her shoulders. "i need some help", she smiled, referring to zipper of the dress. charlie nodded his head and got up quickly, his muscular body now behind her as he stared at her in the mirror.

charlie, very slowly, let his fingers run through her covered back, and she shivered, her eyes closing just for a moment before they opened in pure bliss.

he pulled the zipper of her dress quickly, the material falling into the floor with a soft sound. she stood there, right in front of him in just a black, lacy, slightly seen-through underwear. charlie's breath hitched, his gaze more intense, as he shamelessly looked at her exposed body.

she bit her lip, her eyes meeting his' in the mirror, as she took a step back, only to lean against his hard chest. her head tilted back, deep sigh escaping her parted lips.

"you and me..." she whispered, keeping eye contact with him, while leaning further into him, her lips dangerously close to his neck. "we are the same. i could feel it the moment i saw you. the darkness inside of you..." she stopped for a moment, only to turn around, now facing him. yn's hands run over his chest, his breath heavy against her hands. "is fascinating. you are fascinating. and you're a sinner, just like me".

charlie bit his lip and looked in the mirror again. long black hair falling on her back in cascades and her perfect ass exposed only for him to see. his hands slowly travelled from her spine towards her arched lower back, and then he cupped her ass. she sighed, her hot breath tickling the skin on his jaw. charlie couldn't look away from the way y/n's back arched into his touch, and her head fell onto his shoulder.

"just like you, huh?" charlie chuckled lowly, his raspy voice sent a wave of arousal straight to her core. "or maybe, you're just a greedy little slut, ready to open her legs for me whenever i please?"

his words were followed by a sharp smack of his hand on her ass cheek, as she hissed loudly, devilish grin spreading on his face slowly. she stood on her tiptoes, brushing her nose against his, charlie's eyes fixated on her lips, as he smacked her ass again. this time, she whimpered. her eyes closed, body leaning into his touch, and a single moan left charlie's mouth at the sound of her.

with his hands still on y/n'a ass, he lifted her up easily, the bulge in his pants getting in contact with the thin material of her panties. charlie pressed her against the wall, her hands on his shoulders, as she challenged him with her eyes, the fire in his dark irises making her melt into his touch.

he closed the distance between them, and their lips met for the first time, and she moaned at the taste of him. he didn't rush, instead, he took his time to explore her mouth with his tongue, a strangled groan leaving his throat at the contact.

"you can deny it all you want, father", y/n's said breathlessly, but he didn't let her finish. his mouth was on her again, this time more demanding, intense and passionate, as he devoured her, soft, lewd sounds leaving both of their mouths, his fingers pressing into her soft thighs with enough force to leave bruises. "but you know i'm right. you might be a priest, but you're a really sinful one", she finished, charlie's mouth trailing kisses down her neck. y/n's eyes closed, her head falling back against the wall behind her.

obscene sound left charlie's mouth, her skin soft, and he carried y/n to her bed. she gasped in surprise as her back hit her soft, satin sheets; charlie standing in the foot of the bed, his eyes hungrily taking in the view in front of him.

"you are not a sin to me", he voiced, and y/n held her breath. a sincere smile on her face, as she took in the view in front of her. charlie looked wrecked, his cheeks red, lips slightly swollen, hair messy, a little smile adoring his face just right.

regret washed over her chest just for a moment, god is always watching. but as soon as father charlie fell to his knees, his hands pulling her to the edge of the bed with a swift move, her mind went blank.

he spread her legs wide, fingers pressing into her plush thighs, and he moaned at the sight of her. she was leaning back on her forearms, hair messed up, lips parted as she breathed heavily, and she let her hand touch his cheek softly, until her thumb met his mouth. charlie parted his lips, his heart thudding in his chest, his tongue reaching out to lick her finger.

y/n sat on the bed, her boobs now right in front of his face, as she inserted the finger into his mouth. they moaned in unison, and charlie's eyes fluttered shut, mouth closing around her thumb, sucking, licking and lightly biting at it.

her body shook as she watched the obscene scene, wetness coating her panties as his fingers dig deeper into her thighs, and yet another moan left charlie's mouth.

when y/n's thumb slipped out of his mouth with a "pop", he opened his eyes. he looked up at her desperately, and she smiled, her hand now resting on the back of his head, as she tugged at his hair roughly. charlie's brows furrowed, whimper left his mouth, his throat now on full display for her hungry eyes.

he got up from his knees as she gestured him to do so, and she led him to lay down on her bed, mouth immediately finding his, the hunger getting unbearable. charlie bit her lower lip, pulling at it, drawing blood from the little cut of his sharp teeth.

he greedily lapped at the red substance, the metallic taste making him moan into her mouth, as his hips thrusted into the air with shameless desperation.

y/n's fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and she undid them with surprising precision, her mouth finding his hard chest as soon as he took the unwanted material from his body.

"you're such a slut", he groaned as she sucked at his nipple, a simple tug at her long hair making her moan shamelessly. he smiled devilishly at the feeling of her tongue swirling against the hard bud, and he tilted his head back, hair falling onto his sweaty face.

"givin' god a show, aren't you? what would he think if he saw you? so greedy to please your priest, 's embarrassing, really", he mumbled, putting her hair into a makeshift ponytail as her mouth got closer and closer to the bulge in his pants.

unable to take it no more, charlie flipped them over so that he was towering over her, his gold cross necklace hanging in front of her face. he tore the bra off her chest, his fingers immediately pulling at the soft skin of her boobs, fingers twisting at her nipples with newfound confidence and roughness. y/n whimpered his name softly, back arching into his chest, her lips already in search of his own.

charlie spread her legs open, fingers tugging at her panties, and she let him take them off her body. her cunt now exposed, his hungry eyes taking in the sight of her perfect body, and he cursed, mouth falling open at the sight of her wet pussy.

"you're so fucking disgusting", he exclaimed, rough hands travelling down her body, down her hips, thighs, and finally reaching the place where she needed him the most. "getting all wet for your priest. don't you feel ashamed?" he asked rhetorically, fingers brushing over her puffy folds, and she squealed as he toyed with her clit, pressing tight circles into it. y/n whined, her hands on his back, pressing into his wounds with enough force to draw blood. charlie hissed, and suddenly two of his his fingers slipped inside her clenching cunt.

"you're so tight", he almost whimpered, the clenching of her cunt on his fingers making it really hard for him to control the urge to straight up fuck her. "how am i supposed fit in here, hmm?"

he withdrew his fingers out of her pussy, only to force them in with an aggression that had y/n clenching even harder around him. charlie pressed his hot mouth against hers again, and she was unable to kiss him back, her mouth falling open, and charlie laughed, moving inside of her slowly.

"you won't ever be touched by another man again", he hissed with such venom that her eyes fell open, vision blurring from the feeling of slow thrusts of his fingers inside her wet pussy. "you", thrust. "are", thrust, "mine", thrust, and he moved at a rapid speed now, keeping eye contact with her, and she cried out, nodding her head mindlessly. "mine to worship. mine to cherish. mine to fuck", his thumb found her clit, and she was oh so close. she cried out, and he gave her a dirty, open mouthed smirk, his thrusts never slowing. charlie's head leaned down, and his lips found her perky nipple, closing around it, swirling his tongue swiftly, matching the pace of his fingers inside of her.

"oh my god, please", she let out, eyes finally flattering shut, back arching into his mouth, and he tutted, his mouth and fingers leaving her body altogether.

she cried out in protest, but before she could speak up, he tugged at her jaw and squeezed her cheeks, her lips pouting. "if you want to cum, you have to beg for it, like the desperate little slut you are" the vulgar words leaving his mouth making y/n nod her head desperately, the grasp on her jaw making it hard to move.

charlie smiled at the pathetic look in her eyes, and freed her face.

"i'm sorry, charlie. please, touch me again. i need you. i crave for you━ fuck, please", y/n begged, and he obeyed, cruel look in his eyes as his hand travelled down her heaving chest, down her stomach and finally reaching its destination.

charlie's fingers pushed into her tight cunt again, and she muttered a quiet "thank you", her hands finding his shoulders for balance, as his fingers disappeared into her over and over again, and she cried out, tears of pleasure coating her waterline.

"yeah, just like that, charlie, please", she welled, holding him close, the intense feeling in her lower stomach different from anything she's ever experienced, and her eyes fell open. "charlie..."

he pressed her body into his with a single tug at her hip, pressing open open mouthed kisses on her neck, tongue darting out to taste at her sweet skin, teeth biting at every ounce of her body he could reach.

"it's okay, pretty girl", he whispered, fingers pressing into her g point again and again, her tight cunt spasming in a way that had him throbbing in the tightness of his pants. "make a mess for me", that was the confirmation she needed, as she let go, transparent liquid gushing out of her cunt with every withdraw of his fingers. slowly wetting his hand, pants, the insides of her thighs and the velvet sheets under them.

she tried to get away from his tight grasp, but he held her down with his other hand, and his nose pressed into her hair, breathing her in slowly, whispering sweet nothings as she came down from her high.

she gasped in relief as his thick fingers left her pulsing walls, and he tapped them on y/n's lower lip.

"suck them clean for me", charlie cooed, and her mouth took him in gladly, swirling her tongue around his fingers, and then sucked them in until they hit the back of her throat.

"just like that, just like that" he groaned, fucking her mouth with his digits, and she gagged, her pussy starting to tingle yet again.

"i want to see you cumming on my cock", charlie exclaimed, struggling with the button of his pants, and y/n helped him, pushing them down along with his boxers.

her mouth fucking opened at the sight of his cock, the view so astonishingly beautiful and overwhelming, gasp leaving her parted lips, and he just laughed as if it was nothing.

y/n thought it was unreal, that he was unreal, his whole body belonging in a museum. before he had the time to react, she flipped them over and straddled his hips, fingers scratching at his chest.

"you are so fucking hot", y/n breathed out as she slowly rubbed her clit on his hard cock, and charlie's eyes rolled back, fingers digging into the reddened skin of her ass. "i can't control myself around you. you drive me fucking crazy, charlie", y/n almost cried out, the desperation in her voice driving charlie crazy. her moves slow and sensual, her moves snake-like, long nails digging into his skin.

"stop teasing me, y/n. come on, let's give god a show, shall we?", charlie's voice strangled as he chuckled lowly, and y/n smiled cruelly, her lips wandering around his neck, collarbones and chest, biting at his soft skin, moaning at the taste of his blood.

"what would god say if he saw you like this? giving into the temptation, betraying his trust and the church you work in, hmm?" she mumbled, teeth grazing over the gold cross sitting prettily on his chest, and charlie hissed, eyes meeting hers again, her movements on his cock getting harder and needier.

"you are the best thing that's happened to me, ever", charlie whispered wholeheartedly and reached for his cock, giving it a few pumps before sliding into y/n's tight cunt, moans filling the thick air around them as she clenched on his tip uncontrollably.

"you are so big, my god", a single tear ran down her cheek, charlie's thumb wiping it in an instant. "you wanted it, so fucking take it".

as the words left his mouth, he snapped his hips up and she fell forward, his whole length stretching her out like nothing she's ever experienced. he throbbed inside of her, and a satisfied moan left his mouth at the wetness and warmness of her insides.

y/n clinged to him, pressing her breasts tightly against his chest, fingers squeezing on his strong arms. the feeling of his body against her own made her lightheaded, and she whimpered into his neck.

"i'm never letting you go", he exclaimed, and her eyes found his as she began riding his cock slowly, the stretch deliciously painful. "you are mine. now and forever. fuck, ride me just like that" charlie breathed out, the rasp in his voice making her more desperate, as she took all of him inside over and over again, hands pressing into his chest, head lulling back.

the rhythm she set was driving charlie insane as she watched her with half lidded eyes, shameless moans leaving his mouth at the sight of her perky tits bouncing right on his face. he looked down at the place where they connected. the slow movements of her hips allowed him to see the wetness coating his dick as she slid down on him again, and she swore she could feel him in her throat from how big he was.

"you're my match made in hell", she moaned and pressed herself against him again, fingers tugging at his messy hair, nose pressing against his. in the moment the atmosphere changed, and his eyes softened just for a moment, smile adoring his face as he tugged at her long hair, and his hips rising up from the bed, meeting hers. he started thrusting into her, fast and hard, her ass snapping against his thighs again and again. charlie's hands gripped at her waist tightly as he lifted her up just barely, the slight change of angle allowing him to move at a rapid speed. y/n cried out, not having any control of her body as he manhandled her. desperately, she smashed her lips against his, charlie's tongue entering her mouth instantly, and he moaned at the taste of her, and he thrusted again, again and again.

"i want to cum with you, charlie", she whispered, tears coating her face, smudged makeup making her look even more beautiful for him, as he bottomed out fully.

she welled when her cock left her, and the next second she was on her knees, facing the mirror in an instant. her eyes widened at the sight of herself, completely ruined and fucked up just for him to see. then she looked at charlie, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, as he pumped his cock behind her, the veins on his arms showing. "god, help me. you are gonna be the death of me", he hissed, his thick cock throbbing in his tight grasp. y/n backed herself against him, signalling that she wanted, no, she needed more.

"please, no more teasing," she begged, reaching for his cock behind her, but charlie was quick to stop her, smacking her hand away, as he aligned himself against her used hole once again.

"look at me", he whispered into her ear as his girthy length pressed into her tightness again, and she did, her head lulling back against his shoulder. he slowly moved in and out, every thrust precise, his soulless eyes staring into hers in the mirror, the sight making her clench around him. "you're fucking ruined for me, my beautiful girl, makin' me feel so good", he cooed, one hand landing on her lower back, pushing her upper body down onto the bed, the arch he created letting him hit that spongy spot inside of her over and over again. y/n cried out, his movements still teasing and unbearably slow, and her hips trying to buck back into him. charlie groaned with disapproval, his hand yanking at her hair roughly, her ass pressing tightly against his lower stomach.

"stop. fucking. moving", he hissed, voice like venom, and she nodded her head furiously, "i'm sorry" leaving her mouth over and over again like a prayer. her hand reached back to tangle itself in his messy hair, and she looked up at him, his eyes half-closed as he kept thrusting into her, and he let go of her hair only to wrap his fingers around her neck, pressing onto her pulse tightly. y/n cried out, and charlie's other hand held her jaw open slightly.

"open your mouth for me, just like that", he praised, y/n mouth fell open at the command, tongue lolling out of her mouth without a thought. and when he spit into her mouth, keeping eye contact with her during the vulgar act, thrusting into her harder than ever, she swore she could see stars. y/n swallowed his spit quickly, shameless moan leaving her mouth at the feeling of warm liquid, and in that moment she felt so deeply connected with him, and her eyes softened, heart aching for him as she got closer and closer to her climax.

"charlie, i'm gonna cum", y/n's voice came out strangled, his hand on her neck making it hard for her to breathe. her hands tugging at his own in search of closeness, and he took her hands into his much bigger ones, a single thrust of his hips making her fall down onto the bed again. he held her hands down on her lower back, his throbbing cock ruining her insides, and she screamed, burying her head into the sheets, finally falling over the edge.

y/n clenched around him, making it hard for him to move, and charlie hissed, letting go of her hands as he thrusted into her slowly, fucking her through her orgasm. he held back a whine threatening to leave his throat, dick twitching in search of release as she came down from her own, crying into the sheets.

"you're doing so good for me, y/n. i'm gonna cum inside your pretty pussy, and you're gonna let me, yeah?" his chest pressed against hers, and she was unable to reply, overstimulated and spent, his cock kissing her g spot repeatedly. charlie grabbed her chin, pressing his lips against hers, slowly and passionately, as he gripped at her ass and moaned, balls pressing into her clit as he clinged to her, finally letting go.

charlie whimpered into y/n's mouth as he came, painting her inner walls white with his cum, marking her as his for life. his body shook slightly, and she whined softly, the feeling of his cock filling her up immaculate.

charlie broke the kiss, pressing his face into the back of her neck tightly, his cock never softening inside of her, even after the soul crashing orgasm he just experienced. she smiled, the moment so important to her, and she reached out to run her fingers through his wet hair, and she's never felt more safe in her life.

after a few seconds charlie got up, his whole body tense as his throbbing cock left her spent hole. she whined at the loss, and then turned around to face him, barely being able to move, face flushed and covered in tears.

even though she had no energy left inside of her, the sight of his pretty cock, standing tall and proud in the air, covered in both of their releases, woke up something inside of her.

"lay down for me", she whispered, fingers brushing against his cheek softly, and he nodded, his scarred back pressing against the sheets again.

"your cock 's so pretty", y/n wrapped her hand around him, eyes filled with adoration, and charlie's eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, his head falling back involuntarily.

"holy shit, baby", he whimpered and let his hands roam against her thighs as she kneeled beside him. "'s too much", he cried out, submitting to her completely, the pain from overstimulation adding to his pleasure.

y/n cooed, and she leaned down, kitten licking at his tip, moaning at the taste of his pearly cum. "god, you taste so fucking good. i need your cum down my throat", she exclaimed, taking his tip into her mouth, and his hips thrusted wildly. y/n gagged, her desperate moan vibrating against his shaft, and he held her hair in a tight grasp, groan leaving his throat.

"you're perfect, god. where have you been all my life? holy shit━ i need this so fucking bad", charlie mumbled nonsense as y/n took him into her mouth fully, throat contracting against him, and he had to bit at his lip to physically stop himself from crying out. y/n's soft hands caressed his hips, and she sucked and licked at his pink tip as if he was a lollipop, her eyes falling open just to focus on his pretty face.

"i'm coming. god, i'm coming, please" charlie whined, and she nodded, sucking at his leaking tip with desperation, his cock twitching weakly as he thrusted into her mouth. warm cum filled her mouth, and she kept on sucking him dry as he came down, his body shaking terribly, endless moans leaving his mouth.

softly pulling away from his now softening cock, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, swallowing all of his heavenly cum, her throat sore.

she let herself fall next to him on the bed, his hands pulling at her soft skin with a need of closeness. he wrapped a protective arm around her shaking body, her head resting against his chest comfortably.

"you know, i meant everything i said", she said after a few minutes, tracing circles on his broad chest, smile never leaving her face.

"i know, baby. i know" he cooed, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead as she melted into him. "i meant everything too. you are so precious to me, so special", he whispered softly, warmness spreading across his body as he thought about the things they could achieve together, how she could help him with what he was planning.

and he wondered if her soul was as wounded as his own. the sickness of his mind, was she really ready to accept him just as he was? she won't have no choice, he thought, because she will be mine forever. no matter what it takes.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - prologue

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Your mom called you a late bloomer, and even though you always hated the way she said it, so full of pity and condescension, you couldn’t argue that she was wrong. You were a late bloomer, physically and socially. Your whole childhood and into your teen years, you were painfully insecure, so you tended to hide and shy away from situations that would stretch your comfort zone. You had a good childhood growing up on the ritzy side of the island. But nothing ever felt…complete. You always had this nagging feeling that something was missing, or rather, that you were missing something.

Your older sister, Carter, was the exact opposite of you. She knew who she was from the day she could walk. She developed physically years before you did, even though she was only 18-months your senior. In school, Carter was one grade ahead of you. Everyone knew her, and everyone loved her. She played sports, won class president four years in a row, and was the obsession of every boy in every grade. She was the best known girl on the island, and you were best known as Carter’s sister.

All of these things should’ve been reasons for you to resent her, for the two of you to compete and grow a bitter rivalry, but you were best friends from the start. Carter never made you feel left out or left behind, folding you into her friend group from the time you were kids.

Your mom didn’t have to force Carter to invite you to hang out with her friends, it was always Carter’s idea, dragging you to parties and begging you to keep her company, even though you knew she didn’t need it. She would encourage you to put yourself out there, to leave your books at home and jump in on the fun, assuring you that everyone wanted you around just as much as she did. Carter always saw something in you that you didn’t see in yourself.

From middle school on, Carter casually dated just about every guy in your friend group - Topper, Kelce, several others. She never committed, and they were all fine with having her for just a little bit. There was only one boy she never gave the time of day. The one that she knew was off limits, without you ever really having to tell her, it was just understood.

You had been in love with Rafe Cameron since the moment you first saw him. He was a year above you, in Carter’s grade, and his family lived down the road from yours. You met him on the school bus your first day of kindergarten. 

You were so nervous, your mouth going dry as all the kids on the bus looked at you with judging eyes, but Carter just grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her, plopping you into a vinyl seat a few rows from the back. As soon as you sat down, a pair of blue eyes covered by floppy blond bangs popped up over the seat in front of you.

You noticed him right away, eyes wide as his sudden presence startled you, and your cheeks burned bright red for reasons that you didn’t understand yet. The boy didn’t notice your blushing, his attention fully focused on Carter as he reached his hand over the seat and pulled at her braid.

“Quit it, Rafe!” Carter swatted his hand away. 

The boy, Rafe, smiled, a small dimple creasing his cheek. You weren’t sure why, but you wished more than anything that he was smiling at you instead. After bugging Carter a little longer, his gaze finally shifted over to you and your eyes shot down nervously to your lap.

“Who is that?” Rafe blurted out, talking about but not to you.

You looked at Carter in panic, tongue-tied as you tried to stammer out your name, which you were struggling to remember. Carter noticed your look of desperation, you were so shy and she had gotten used to speaking for you.

“That’s my sister,” Carter said with pride. “She goes to school with us now.”

“Oh, hi,” Rafe said, polite but unimpressed.

“H-hi,” you managed to squeak out, tucking your hair behind your ears, which were burning red.

Rafe disappeared back into his seat. Carter looked at you, noticing how you were nervously biting your lip, your go to tick when you were nervous. She folded her hand protectively in yours and didn’t let go until she dropped you off at your kindergarten classroom.

This is how your interactions with Rafe would go for the rest of elementary school, and middle school, too. He’d ignore you most of the time, tossing you a word or a look here or there, and you’d melt into an absolute puddle everytime. Your tendency to blush at everything he did never went away, meaning everyone knew you loved him.

Your crush was common knowledge among your sister’s friends, hell among the whole school, but no one dared mention it or tease you about it, lest they tempt Carter’s wrath. But they knew, and you knew they knew, and you knew he knew. 

As a freshman, you quickly became first in your class, taking sophomore math and science courses. You ended up in the same first and last period as Rafe, who always struggled in school. After a few weeks of chatting during labs and lending Rafe your notes, you actually started to feel like he had become your friend. He played every sport, and you were right there in the bleachers for every game. Sometimes, when he’d make a great play, he’d look at you in the stands and wink, making your whole body blush, feeling like the most special girl in the world. But then, on his next play, he’d wink at another girl or playfully bow to the cheer squad and it’d make you want to die, suddenly invisible again.

“He’s such a douche,” Carter would nudge you with her elbow, trying to downplay the moment because she knew you were crushed.

You dreaded the day Carter would graduate and leave you at this school alone. You weren’t friends with anyone in your own grade, it seemed the year you were born produced more mean girls and fuck boys than the one before it. Carter would tell you the girls in your grade were just jealous that you got to hang out with her class, but you always thought it was more that they didn’t understand you, and people tend to attack what they don’t understand.

Cassie Bryant was the worst of them. She was the Kook princess of your year, as pretty and popular as anyone could be. From early on, she mastered the art of being mean to you in a way that crushed your spirit but looked totally friendly to everyone else. She’d make backhanded comments like “the way you dress is so…interesting” or “you’re lucky you have so much free time to study, I’m way too busy.” 

She was even worse when Rafe was around. It was like Cassie had a radar for when he was finally giving you some attention, and the second you felt comfortable, she’d be there playfully stealing his baseball hat or pouting at him and saying “Rafey, do you have a J?” Then as she pulled him away, she’d laugh at you and say “it’s okay, we know you’re too cool to smoke with us.” No one saw the smug look she’d shoot you as she hung on his arm. You’d try to explain to Rafe why her words hurt you, but he never understood. He’d just shrug and say “that’s just Cassie, she has no filter.” 

At least Carter believed you. 

“Pick-me bitch,” she’d spit as she watched you watch Cassie steal Rafe away yet again.

You and Rafe saw each other every day. You’d tutor him for tests and help with his homework, you were in advanced classes and he had to retake most of his credits. He’d call you “Einstein” and “smarty pants,” always finding a way to address you without actually using your name. You never thought much of it, convincing yourself that his nicknames were coming from a place of affection. When he wasn’t copying your homework or convincing you to stay up after all of your work was done to help him with his, you found other ways to feel needed. You’d bring him lunch from his favorite spot when he got in-school suspension, bake him brownies before his big games, and give him rides to all his practices since his dad took away his truck so often. 

Every afternoon at 4:45, you’d stop by the gas station across from your school and get a Redbull and protein bar for him, and a bag of your favorite candy for yourself. You’d park by the field house, waiting in your car with his snacks for sometimes a half-an-hour before he decided to stop messing around with his friends and head out. When you’d give him his snack, he’d kiss your cheek and say, “thanks, kid.” Even though it wasn’t really meant to be romantic, you lived for those moments when you could pretend you were his girlfriend, smiling at the way the cheerleaders eyed your car judgmentally when you pulled out of the lot with the Rafe Cameron in your passenger seat.

“He’s just using you,” Carter would say when you got home.

“No he’s not,” you’d shrug, “we’re friends.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. 

Even if Rafe broke your heart everyday, you were fine with it as long as he put it back together the next with some small gesture that made you hope…maybe someday.

Then, in the spring semester of your junior year, his senior year, you were parked outside the field house like usual after one of his baseball practices. You saw his figure emerge from the brick building, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead. You smiled wildly, your heart fluttering every time you saw him, even after all these years. You got his snacks out and set them on the seat for him, ready for your daily thank you.

But he didn’t head for your car like usual, instead he veered toward the group of cheerleaders gathered on the other side of the lot. You frowned, eyes furrowed as you watched him approach the gaggle of girls. When he reached them, he grabbed one of their hands and pulled her out of the huddle. Your heart sank when you realized who it was.

Cassie giggled as Rafe pulled her toward him, the other girls in the circle laughing and catcalling toward them. Clearly everyone in this parking lot knew something you didn’t.

And then he kissed her. 

Rafe pulled away from the kiss, hands still on Cassie’s waist, and watched with confusion as your car peeled out of the parking lot without him.

You didn’t speak to him the whole next week, but he was completely oblivious to your heartbreak, still texting you as if nothing ever happened. 

Thursday, March 23rd

Hey kid, u coming to my game tomorrow? u know I need my good luck charm Read 11:03 pm

Sunday, March 26th

Babyyyyy in drvnk at top’s pick me upppp? :(  Read 2:17 am

 

Tuesday, March 28th

yo dude u got the hw packet done for precal? I’m screwed for tomorrow Read 9:56 pm

You’d stare at the messages for a long time before shoving your phone in your desk drawer or turning it off all together, but always made sure to open the message so he’d know you read it. 

Then you’d cry yourself to sleep. 

Carter would sit in your bed each night, rubbing your back comfortingly, pissed that she couldn’t do more to save you from this hurt, muttering under her breath about how she was gonna kick his ass.

After only a week of unreturned texts and trying to get your attention at school with no luck, Rafe went silent. You thought you’d make him sweat for a few weeks before forgiving him, enough time to show you he cared that you weren’t speaking, but then he did the exact opposite.

“It’s for the best,” Carter tried to convince you. 

Maybe she was right. After you no longer had Rafe in your life, you threw yourself into your schoolwork. You had always been smart, but now that you were more focused on yourself and not him, you were acing every class, top of the honor roll. 

The gang all went their separate ways after graduation. Rafe to UNC Chapel Hill, Carter to Duke, Topper and Kelce to U of Florida. With your sister and her friends gone, you spent senior year alone, but opened acceptance letter after acceptance letter. Rafe faded slowly from your mind as you dreamt out your future. 

Eventually you got the letter you were waiting for, your dream school. The day before you left the island, you promised yourself you wouldn’t miss out on the college experience the way you missed out in high school. 

Then, hundreds of miles away from home, something miraculous happened. Far from the memories of your lonely childhood and Rafe Cameron, you bloomed. You made friends early on, feeling like you may have finally found your people in academia. You picked up intramural sports, now you were the one scoring goals and spiking balls and waving smugly to all your friends in the stands. You dated, and you dated. Never settling on one guy too long, having too much fun to tie yourself down.

Things just clicked so much easier, no longer living in your sister’s shadow, far enough away from all the shy girl stereotypes to explore and figure out who you were on your own terms. And slowly, all thoughts of Rafe Cameron faded from your mind. You only thought of him when he made cameos in your dreams, the high school nightmare variety - late to class, showing up naked on accident, a test you forgot to study for, and Rafe in the parking lot kissing Cassie Bryant. You’d wake up cursing your subconscious and feel off for about half a day, before your fast paced routine in your new city erased his face from your mind again.

You changed physically, too. Though you didn’t really feel any different, Carter would make comments every time you came home for a holiday or event.

“Damn, bitch,” she’d say, looking you up and down and wolf-whistling. 

“Shut up,” you’d roll your eyes, feigning annoyance when it really made your confidence soar. 

She’s just being a supportive sister, you’d tell yourself, clinging to the same insecurity you’d had your whole life. But she wasn’t the only one, boys noticed you now a way they never used to. You hooked up with enough guys to start to feel comfortable with the attention, but whenever you’d draw eyes at college parties or lecture halls, your cheeks would still go bright red, never quite figuring out how to turn off that particular mannerism.

You were almost done with your third year, a plane ticket to head back to North Carolina for Carter’s graduation already purchased. One night, as she showed you options for her graduation outfit on Facetime, she casually threw out, “some of us from Kildare are going to Miami to celebrate graduation.”

“Oh?” You said, not really listening, going over a term paper with a red pen for the fifth time.

“You should come…” she was nervous, trying to say it casually enough that maybe you might not overthink it and just say yes.

“Wait sorry, come where?” You put down your pen and actually looked at the screen, knowing she hated when you were listening without really listening like this.

“Miami,” she repeated. “A few of us are getting an Airbnb on the beach for a week after finals.”

“Who’s us?” You asked. 

“Oh y’know,” she started listing names of her old friends, a lot more people than you expected, your throat tightening with a social anxiety you hadn’t felt in years at thought of being in a room with that many people from high school. “...Jack, Maddie, Sabrina. Topper and Kelce obviously,” she continued, at least ten names deep, going quiet for a moment before adding “...and Rafe.”

“No.” you said simply, propping the phone back up and returning to your paper.

“Oh, come onnnn,” she whined, not at all surprised by your response. “It’s been four years, and you’re thriving now! You can just pretend he’s not there.”

“Yes, exactly,” you snarked at her. “Just as I’m finally thriving, you want me to spend a week stuck in a house with Rafe Cameron. That makes sense.”

“You and I will hang out on the beach the whole time, we don’t even have to talk to him,” she reasoned. “And he can just sit in the corner and look at your hot body and feel like shit for being such a dick to you in high school.”

You laughed a little despite yourself. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that wished he could see you now. Even though you stayed away from Kildare as much as possible and barely went out when you were home, terrified of running into him, you also dreamt of a time you would see him again. New look, new confidence, new you. 

“Hah! You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Carter said smugly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you said, turning back to your schoolwork.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” she cheered victoriously.

“Or you can take it as a maybe, which is what it is,” you corrected her.

“Pleaseeee?” She begged. “It’s my graduation trip! And I don’t want to be there without you.”

You sighed deeply, weighing all of the pros and cons as you bit your lip. Carter had always been there for you, and if it was so important to her that you make this trip, it was really the least you could do. Plus, she was going abroad for grad school in just a few weeks, and you knew it would be your last chance to spend time with her for a while.

“Fine…I’ll come,” you finally conceded. 

“Yay!” Carter yelped. “Best trip ever!”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Best trip ever.”

(Chapter 1)

a/n: hi, i'm nat and i've struggled with body image and anxiety my whole life and I have been the victim of countless unrequited loves, particularly in my teen years, though the sting never really goes away. writing this series has been really personal to me so far, and i'm having a great time. I hope you like it. ♡

[frantic-fiction]

Tease 18+

(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav

Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?

Word Count: 3.2k

Mastarlist

Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 

You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 

"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.

"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."

"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.

"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.

"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.

"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 

After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.

Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.

The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.

"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.

"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.

Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.

"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  

You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 

He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"

"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 

Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 

Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 

"I know what you're doing,"

"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."

"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."

"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 

"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 

The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.

You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 

You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."

You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."

"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."

"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.

Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 

"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 

He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."

"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 

"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.

His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 

You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 

Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 

"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 

You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.

"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"

"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 

"I liked those."

"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 

"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 

"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.

Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.

You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 

"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 

"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 

He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."

"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 

"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 

Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.

"I guess I should wear more dresses."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."

"Horny bastard." 

The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.

Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 

"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 

Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 

"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 

You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 

Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 

He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.

"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 

Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.

Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[rebelliousstories]

Different Time

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Strong Language, Happy Endings

Word Count: 2,358

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Being dragged into the Void by your good buddy Wade was not how you imagined to be spending your days after your lover had died.

A single card was fixed between her fingers as she walked behind the other two people on their journey. There was silence all around the trio as they walked through the field. She did not pay attention to what was being said, nor did she care very much. If it was of any importance to her, they would let her know.

Before she knew what was going on, a dog was running straight for them. But the man with long, flowing locks that was running behind made her finger tingle with energy. After Deadpool and the Wolverine ahead of her did not move to attack the man, she let that energy fizzle out. Not that it would have done much damage anyways. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like. And yet, she could see it so clearly in her mind; the first time he had shown her what he could do.

“So what can you do exactly? You just throw cards at people?”

“Nah, cher,” his hands came up to hold a card between his fingers, “is much more den dat. I charge da playin’ cards wit energy. And den dey go boom.” His chuckle followed shortly afterwards.

“Is that so huh?” She chuckled as well. But the man just smiled, and wrapped his arms around her anyways.

“See is like dis, cher. Watch and learn.”

With his arms around her, he held an ace of hearts. Flicking it in the air caused a pink glow to encompass it. She giggled as he swiped the card from the sky, and touched it to her skin. The resulting kinetic energy made her entire body jolt, but the man kept her grounded as it flowed through each and every muscle.

“Feel dat, cher?” His breath fanned across her cheek as she rested against his chest. Once she had recovered, she held her hand and felt the card laid in her palm. Flipping it over through her fingers, she managed to produce a glow and a light crackling energy field around the object.

“Atta girl, cher.” A kiss was laid upon her cheek, and she felt the day old scruff rub against the crook of her neck.

“You comin’, bub?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Snapping into reality, the three men in front of her were looking like they were off to go somewhere.

“Apologies,” came her reply.

“Did we just miss some exposition about you? I feel like we just missed a vital flashback into your tragic backstory. Besides, I would like to find out what you do exactly. We’ve never gotten a clear answer. You just sort of do everything, like Taylor Swift.” Wade was having none of her dismissal.

“What are you talking about?” She was utterly confused, but Logan waved the red menace of off.

“Don’t pay him any mind. Come on, let’s go.” They all made the trek out to the dense corn that housed an old Honda Odyssey, which made the merc in red pitch a hissy fit.

“Get in the fucking car.” Logan snapped at Wade, utterly feed up with his antics. Before being prompted, she threw open the side door and climbed n the back. She watched as Deadpool tried to run off with the sweet little pup that had found them, but Wolverine put a very fast stop to that. Defeated, Wade climbed in the passenger seat, while Logan went in the driver’s, and they were off.

Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off. That was the only explanation for the memory she was experiencing right now. Except, she was not exactly experiencing it as t had happened. No, she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective.

The first thing she saw, was a dingy old motel room floor. And the next, was laughing. Looking up, she saw them. It was her, and her beau play fighting on the bed of the motel room.

“Now, you know bettah den to play dirty, cher. Ain’t no coyon, ya know?” Her lover had trapped her arms to her body, and was smiling as big as ever. Plush lips stretched across his face. Hazel eyes twinkled brightly.

“Didn’t hear you complaining about me playing dirty last night,” she teased. Turning in his arms, she looked up at her lover with nothing but adoration.

“Well, Gambit seems to remember you not complainin’ neither.” His lips came down onto hers.

Watching from her spot near the dresser, the future her could still feel the wonderful pressure of their kiss. Tracing her fingers over her own, melancholy filled her heart. He looked so alive in this moment. A moment that she cherished with her whole being.

“Ahh!”

Something far less pleasant awoke her this time from her thoughts. One of Wade’s knives had lodged itself in her shin. Blood steadily poured itself from the wound. And the world fell still for a moment. Raising her eyes, she felt herself shaking in anger and pain as Deadpool met her gaze.

“Oh no. Oh, I am so sorry.” He wheezed. But it was too late.

Her other leg raised and kicked him hard in the head. While he was disoriented, her mind contorted the blade that was in his hands; even the hand that was holding the knife began to bend and break. Holding her knee, she made herself fall through the car and onto the ground below.

“Where’d she go? Magic woman.” She heard Deadpool exclaim loudly. It was followed by a growl and a squeak. And the car started to rock with the force that they were going at each other.

Rolling to her right, she got out from underneath the vehicle before someone sent a blade through to her again. Releasing her leg, she crawled on her belly over to a tree that was still facing the car. Her forearms were covered in dirt and leaves now, as were the entire lower half of her body. While keeping an eye on the Odyssey, she worked to remove her boots and rolled up the pants from her injured leg. She could see the wound eventually and worked to clear her mind.

Regenerating always took a lot from her. It took a lot physically and mentally from her, but she could get it done. Groans slipped from her lips as she could feel her skin, muscles, and even veins being to stitch themselves together. A scar was all that was left in the place of the stab wound. The woman rested against the large piece of wood behind her and watched through blackening vision as both men were thrown through the car, and jumped back in with fervor.

That was the image that she passed out to. That was the last thing in the real world that she saw. She was not sure how much time had passed between her passing out, and when she woke up. But she immediately recognized that she was not where she was before. There were stone walls all around her, and she was lying down on a bed. Before sitting up, she looked and could see Logan with a bottle of liquor to her right.

Voices were muffled all around her. She could not pin point a specific one, but something felt off. Like someone or something was there, and how that was supposed to make her feel, she did not know. Groaning, she sat up and caught the attention of everyone else that was talking. One person much more than anyone else. A familiar drawl called out her name, and her body filled with dread. Footsteps came closer, and the muffs came off from her ear.

“Cher, that you?” Her heart sped up and it felt like it was beating out of her chest. A hand came to her shoulder, but she was not having whatever weird illusion this was. Grabbing whoever’s wrist this was, she used her body weight and center of gravity to pivot the person onto their back on the floor beside the bed she was on.

Staring down, her heart stopped. This was her beau. Remy was staring up at her with wide eyes. Letting out a shaking breath, her hands let go of the man as if he had burned her and stood upon shaking legs. The man on the ground was not doing much better than her. He stood just as quickly, and looked at the woman just the same.

“Oh, thank you Lord. It is you.” He whispered, taking a step closer. But her hand shot up to stop him from getting closer.

“Don’t. Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with that suit on?” She demanded, and watched the confusion sink in.

“Cher, it’s me. It’s your Gambit. I’m jus’ wonderin’ how in da hell you here now.” Remy breathed.

“Oh my god!” Everyone’s attention was brought to Deadpool who was wide eyed in his mask. “This is your tragic backstory. You and him…”

“I need some air.” She turned on her heels, and phased through her wall till she was outside in the forest. Outside, she tried to draw in a deep breath, but found her body starting to seize. Everything got too much. Shaky limbs and sweaty palms found themselves crashing onto the forest floor. She tried to breathe in again but only managed half a breath. Her heart was beating out of her chest. The world began to spin.

“Ay, ay, you alright, cher. Come ‘ere. Let’s settle on down now, ya.” Thick arms encompassed her. They grounded her back to reality. As Remy kept whispering soothing words, she felt her world come back into focus. Her heart slowed down and was now moving at a steady rhythm. She was following Remy’s lead on her breaths; in through the nose for four, hold for four, out for four. Her arms and legs were soothing themselves out and she was able to wipe off her palms onto the legs of her suit.

“Dat’s a good girl, now. Ain’t no reason to be like dat. Just a little frightenin’ is all. Didn’ mean to.” He was apologizing for scaring her? After she had thrown him to the ground and walked out on everyone? Those arms felt so familiar and comforting; she did not want to move rom them. But she had to face this man. She had to know. Turning, her eyes finally came up close and personal with the man that had introduced himself as Gambit, Remy LeBeau.

“You good now, cher? Feelin’ a little bettah?” Even after all of this, he was still so caring.

“Yeah. How are you alive?” She whispered, tracing her eyes over every inch of his face like this was the last time she was going to see it. Because it just might.

“I been wonderin’ da same thing. Don’t know how long I been in dis here Void, but you was gone long before I got here.” One of his hands came up and pet her head so very softly.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Her attempt at a joke made the Cajun chuckle as well. Sure, both of their laughs were tinged with sadness, but they were laughing together again.

“Well, I uh-” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “was out playin’ cards. Got a feelin’ dat somethin’ was wrong. Went back to the apartment we was stayin’ in. And you… you were gone when I got there. Tracked down who had killed ya, and it turned out to be my ol’ thievin’ ring. Didn’ like da fact dat we was ‘bout to get outta da game apparently. Da hardest thing Remy ever done was buryin’ you. Easiest was killin’ da sons o’ bitches dat took you from me.”

Silence enveloped them as the weight of his words sunk in.

“Something very similar happened in my timeline.” She replied, watching as he seemed to going through the same emotions she was.

“We were on our way back from a mission for Xavier. You and I were with Jean, Scott, and Storm. God, she was making so many jokes about how she was the fifth wheel on that mission and we were making it worse for her. Anyways, we got ambushed by the Brotherhood. We were actually taking out a good chunk of them, but Sabertooth got the drop on you. You bled out in my arms on the way back to the mansion. You had me promise not to do anything rash in the aftermath, but it was difficult.”

Tears welled in both of their eyes. Both of them mourning a love and life lost in tragic fashion. Remy pulled her in close, and she breathed in deeply. That familiar leather and musk scent blended with the fresh air outside. She just wanted that scent bottled up and kept with her at all times.

“So it seems to ol’ Gambit dat we both lost our other half. Maybe you was supposed to be the one that completed my deck, cher.” Her head raised and her eyebrow as she turned to look at the man in confusion.

“You’ve got an incomplete deck,” came her question. She began feeling around for a pocket in her jacket that was directly over her heart.

“Jus’ missin’ one card. Whatchu lookin’ for?” He questioned, letting her move around freely.

“Get your deck out,” his eyebrows raised. “Your card deck, Gambit. Humor me.”

“Whatevea you say, cher.”

The duo shifted until their respective items were grabbed. Remy produced a deck of cards and quickly rearranged them to be in card order. Her card was in between her first two fingers. As Gambit sifted through his deck, he stopped right where a card was missing. And as she revealed what was in her hands, the two suddenly looked at each other with love and tears. Her ace of hearts was missing from his deck, but he had finally found it again. It was a different time, different place, even a different person, but it was the same love that spanned the multiverse.