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Leaving it all behindâ Max Verstappen x Reader
Word count â 30.k
Warnings â smut p in v, mentions of blood and death no one important. Angsty at times but other than that we have soft max.
also I donât know why thereâs funky symbols throughout my fic it wasnât in the google doc. Also every thing in ** is supposed to be italics but I donât have the patience to do that.
Beta read/edited by @octavikravecell218 @crispysoup318 @sinofwriting
Summaryâ Max's life had always been planned out for himâa life he wanted nothing to do with. One night, while driving through the city, he meets a woman who wants to make him feel alive and love, something he has never experienced before.
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Leaving it all behind â max verstappen x readerÂ
The city lay dark and restless under the weight of the midnight clouds. Maxâs car glided down the empty streets, headlights slicing through fog that clung to the sidewalks. This part of town was his a
city carved out by generations of his family, each building tainted by their legacy. A legacy Max had always known would eventually fall on his shoulders.
He sighed, letting his hand fall from the steering wheel to drum absently on the gearshift. Nights like these always felt endless, each familiar street drawing him deeper into a life he was starting to question. Heâd been told countless times it was his birthright, his duty to keep things running, but in moments like this just him and the hum of the engine he couldnât help but wonder if this life was all heâd ever have.
That was when he saw her.
At first, it was just movement in the shadows, a sudden scuffle that drew his eye. A young woman struggled against two men, their laughter drifting cruelly into the night air. Before he could think, heâd pulled over, instincts taking over as he slid out of the car. His footsteps were silent, his expression deadly calm as he approached.
âLet her go,â he ordered, his voice cold enough to cut through the fog.
The two men turned, eyes widening as they recognized him, and the fear in their faces was unmistakable. Max had built a reputation; even in the dark underbelly of the city, his name held weight. They stumbled back, mumbling apologies before disappearing down the street, leaving him alone with the girl.
She looked up, breathing hard, her face partially hidden beneath strands of dark hair. Even under the streetlampâs dim glow, he could see the defiance in her eyes she wasnât the type to easily back down. A part of him admired that.
âYou alright?â he asked, softer now, watching her carefully.
She nodded, brushing herself off, her gaze wary but grateful. âYeah I didnât need saving, though,â she said, a spark of pride in her voice.
A small smile tugged at his lips. âI could tell,â he replied, âbut sometimes itâs nice to have backup.â
She huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flickering up to meet him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence was charged and unexpected.
âThank you,â she murmured finally, her voice losing some of its edge. âI donât know what wouldâve happened if you hadnât come along.â
âWell, itâs a good thing I rescued you from danger,â Max said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood. He leaned against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Y/n regarded him with an arched eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. The remnants of adrenaline still coursed through her veins, but mixed with a tinge of fear, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Maxâs charm was disarming, but she couldnât shake the unease she felt in his presence.
âYeah, thank you for that, but I need to go,â she replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering nerves. She turned away, glancing over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in another unexpected situation. The weight of the moment hung between them, and with each step she took, she felt the distance growing a mix of gratitude and caution urging her to leave before she got too drawn in.
Max only nodded, watching as she turned to go. He didnât ask her name, but something in him twisted as he watched her walk away, that fierce determination etched on her face. She was like no one heâd met before. And he wanted to know more.
Over the next few days, she lingered in his mind like a melody he couldnât shake. He knew he shouldnât indulge this curiosity, shouldnât look into her life, but he couldnât resist. He had people at his disposal, and soon he had her name, her address, and details of her life that made his heart ache in ways he didnât understand.
When he learned she worked at a little bookstore downtown, he couldnât keep himself from stopping by one afternoon. He wandered in, pretending to browse the shelves, until he saw her head bent over a book, a faint smile on her lips.
She looked up, and surprise flickered in her eyes before recognition dawned. She stood, her hand brushing against a stray lock of hair as she offered him a tentative smile.
âI didnât expect to see you here,â she said, her voice soft but curious.
Max shrugged, feeling suddenly out of place. Heâd been to every luxurious spot in the city, but this small, cozy shop felt like another world. âJust passing by,â he said, though they both knew it was a lie.
They fell into an easy conversation, discussing books, the city, and life. And as the sun began to set, Max felt something foreign and unfamiliar start to build in his chest a longing that made him question everything he thought he wanted.
Weeks passed, and their paths continued to cross until friendship gave way to something deeper. With every conversation, every laugh, every quiet moment they shared, Max found himself wondering if he could leave everything behind. If she could be enough to pull him out of the shadows.
But he knew the cost of that decision. Leaving his familyâs empire wasnât simple; there were loyalties, enemies, and countless secrets that held him captive. Still, when he looked at herââŹâwhen he thought of a life beyond the cityâs corruption and bloodshedââŹâhe realized he wanted something different. Something he could only have if he let it all go.
As he stood outside her bookstore one evening, watching the light from within spill across the pavement, he made a silent promise: he would find a way to be with her. Even if it meant sacrificing everything heâd ever known.
Max leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the warm glow coming from the bookstoreâs windows. It was late, and the street was quiet. Inside, she was closing up a routine that had become as familiar to him as his reflection.
He shoved his hands in his jacket, watching as she tidied the display, her movements slow, practiced. Even after weeks of meeting almost every day, she had this effect on him. Every little thing about her held his attention and captured his heart as if it belonged to her.
The lights in the shop went out, and a few moments later, she stepped out. She started when she saw him, a hand on her heart as she let out a soft gasp. âDid you just stand there the entire time?â
Max shrugged, pushing off the wall as he took a step closer to her. He couldnât help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. âJust enjoying the view.â
She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. âYou need a better hobby.â
He chuckled, falling in step next to her as they began walking. âYouâre my hobby,â he teased.
She shot him a look, the kind that was meant to be disapproving but couldnât quite hide her amusement. âYouâre ridiculous.â
Max just smirked, his gaze flicking down to her hand, to the slender fingers that were curled loosely at her side. He ached to reach out, to take her hand in his. But there was something in himââŹâmaybe it was the loyalty to the life heâd inherited, or maybe it was fearââŹâthat made him hesitate.
They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the streetlights casting long shadows around them.
âHey,â Max said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.
She looked over at him, her eyebrows raised in question.
âCan I ask you something?â
She nodded, her expression curious.
Max took a deep breath, bracing himself. âDo you think itâs possible to change? To make your path, even when you come from a life that feels...predetermined?â
Her expression softened, her gaze searching his face. âI think it depends,â she said slowly. âOn how badly you want it, how willing you are to fight and maybe even lose things along the way.â
Max nodded, her words echoing in his mind, both confirming and intensifying his doubts. Losing things...heâd be losing a lot by choosing a different lifeâhis familyâs legacy, their empire, his fatherâs trust. But even the thought of losing *her* felt unbearable.
âSo what if youâre not sure?â he found himself asking. âWhat if you have feelings you donât quite understand, but you know they wantââŹÂŚmore?â
She regarded him silently, her eyes steady, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Max wondered if heâd said too much, or revealed too much. But then she looked away, a sigh escaping her lips. âThen Iâd say youâre either being braveââŹÂŚor foolish,â she said finally, her gaze returning to his. âBecause love can make you do both.â
Max swallowed, the word *love* hanging heavily between them. Was that what this was, this intense feeling that seemed to consume him every time he was near her? But loving her was like lighting a match in a powder keg. Could he set everything on fire for her?
As the weeks passed, Max became a regular at the bookstore, his visits blending seamlessly into Y/Nâs day. Theyâd fall into easy conversations, and sheâd tease him about his âterrible tasteâ in books, which he took with a grin, never revealing that heâd never really read much for pleasure before he met her. The darkness of his past and his familyâs world seemed to fade in those quiet hours, and for the first time in his life, Max felt something close to peace.
The bookstore was a sanctuary. Away from the constant scrutiny, the threats, and the weight of his familyâs name. He could just be himself here, free to laugh and chat and listen to her it was her favorite place to be.
Max leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she moved between the shelves. There was a peacefulness to her rhythm, and he couldnât help but feel a little mesmerized. The way Y/Nâs fingers brushed over each bookâs spine, her expression relaxed, made it look like they belonged here among the pages and stories.
âSo,â he said, his voice barely louder than a murmur, âdo you ever get tired of organizing these shelves over and over?â
Y/N chuckled softly without turning around. âNot when I have someone to complain to about it.â
Max grinned, feeling a spark of warmth that was rare for him. âLucky me, huh?â
They both paused, letting the silence and the music fill the space between them. It was a shared comfort, a feeling that went beyond words. Here, in the stillness of the bookstore, Max almost felt as though they were the only two people in the world. Y/N finished sliding a book into place and turned, leaning against the shelf, her eyes meeting Maxâs. âYou donât have to stay, you know. Not much entertainment here.â
Max smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. âDepends on what you consider entertainment. Watching you argue with those books as they move themselves? Riveting.â
Y/N rolled her eyes, but Max caught the small, amused smile that slipped through. âKeep talking, and Iâll make you help. Alphabetize the romance section, maybe. Heard youâre a sucker for a good love story.â
He scoffed. âI think youâre confusing me with someone who has a heart.â
Y/N shook her head, the faint sound of JoJo filling the quiet again. She walked closer, books forgotten for a moment, until they were just a step away from him. âYeah? Then what are you doing here?â
Max felt a tug in his chest he couldnât quite ignore, his usual smirk softening. âGood question,â he murmured, more to himself than to them.
The air between them was thick with unsaid things. Neither of them spoke for a moment, letting the music and the shadows hold whatever words they werenât ready to say. Finally, Max cleared his throat, shrugging in that casual, detached way heâd perfected. âGuess Iâm just a sucker for bookstores. Quiet. No one is bothering you. Kind of place you can just be.â
Y/Nâs expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if she saw through every layer he tried to keep up. âThen youâre in good company.â
Maxâs gaze lingered on Y/N, watching the way her face softened in the dim light. He wasnât used to this, the quiet moments that seemed to slip under his skin, settling somewhere he couldnât shake off.
Y/N tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. âSo, whatâs the verdict? Am I decent company for a night at the bookstore?â
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. âI guess youâll do. Iâd say youâre good enough to pass the time, but then your ego might get out of control.â
âOh, please,â Y/N shot back, raising an eyebrow. âYour standards arenât that high. I saw you trying not to laugh at my jokes last week.â
Max scoffed, pretending to be offended, but a small smile betrayed him. âI wasnât laughing. I was horrified. Pure survival instinct.â
They both laughed quietly, the sound warm and intimate in the empty store. The music faded into another soft, slow song, and they let the silence settle over them again, neither one in a hurry to break it.
Y/N spoke first, a little softer now. âHave you ever thought about it? Starting over somewhere? JustââŹÂŚ a different life?â
Maxâs usual mask faltered for a second, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. âStarting over, huh?â He let out a humorless laugh. âI think that ship sailed a long time ago for me.â
Y/N stepped a little closer, their voice gentle but insistent. âMaybe. But you never know.â She paused, searching his face. âI just think you donât have to be the person youâve always been, Max.â
He swallowed, caught off guard by the honesty in their words. It was strange, unsettling even, having someone look at him like he was worth more than the pieces he kept hidden. For a moment, he wanted to believe them.
âWell,â he said, forcing a small smirk, âmaybe I like the person I am.â
âMaybe.â Y/N shrugged, giving him a soft smile. âBut I think thereâs more to you than you let on.â
She held his gaze, and for once, Max found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he looked down, shaking his head slightly, but he couldnât keep the hint of a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Maxâs heartbeat was a little faster, his usual bravado slipping away under the weight of Y/Nâs gaze. He could feel them watching him, and for once, he didnât feel the need to hide.
âCareful,â he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. âYou keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking youâre interested.â
Y/Nâs lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. âMaybe I am. Maybe Iâm waiting for you to figure that out.â
Maxâs throat tightened, the words lingering between them like a challenge, daring him to take a step he wasnât sure he was ready for. He wanted to say something, anything that could brush off the tension, but the usual defenses werenât coming to his rescue. Instead, he just looked at them, his eyes searching for hers, caught between the urge to run and the impulse to stay.
âYou think youâve got me all figured out, huh?â he finally managed, his voice rougher than he intended.
Y/N shook her head, her smile softening. âNot all of you. Just enough to know thereâs more to you than you let people see.â She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm for just a second before she pulled back, the touch brief but enough to send a spark up his spine.
Max inhaled, barely holding himself together. The gentle, honest look in Y/Nâs eyes left him raw, and vulnerable, and he found himself wanting to let go, just a little. âSo, if thereâs more to me,â he said slowly, âwhy stick around? Donât you have better things to do than try to figure out a guy like me?â
Y/N shrugged, her voice soft. âMaybe I donât mind a mystery. Maybe I want to see what happens if you let your guard down.â
Maxâs pulse pounded in his ears, his gaze locked on theirs. For the first time in a long time, he felt like the ground was shifting beneath him, the walls heâd built starting to crumble. He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. âYou might not like what you find.â
Y/N just looked at him, their expression open, unafraid. âTry me.â
The words hung in the air, daring him, pulling him toward something he wasnât sure he was ready to face. But standing there in the quiet of the bookstore, with nothing but the soft music and their steady gaze, he realized he wanted to try.
Maxâs life had always been carefully compartmentalizedâbusiness was business, and the rare moments of personal life he allowed himself were kept far from the eyes of his family. But over time, his âdisappearancesâ to see Y/N hadnât gone unnoticed.
One afternoon, Jos sat in his leather chair at the head of their estateâs grand dining room. Marco stood nearby, observing him closely. He was loyal to Jos, fiercely so, and heâd known Max since he was a boy. But loyalty to the family meant loyalty to its survivalâand Max was threatening that with his wandering.
Marco cleared his throat, his voice steady. âIâm starting to think Maxâs time away isnât just business, Jos. Heâs distracted.â
Jos looked up slowly, his gaze piercing, as if calculating what Marco wasnât saying. âExplain.â
Marco shifted, choosing his words carefully. âItâs a girl. A nobody who works in some bookstore downtown. Heâs spending time with her. A lot of time.â
A silence fell over the room as Jos leaned back, fingers steepled. A faint smirk crossed his face, though his eyes remained cold. âA girl, you say?â He sounded almost amused, but there was a dangerous undercurrent in his tone. âMax has always been soft-hearted. I warned him about that. But this attachment could be problematic.â
Marco nodded, his voice darkening. âHeâs slipping, Jos. Losing focus. And if he thinks he can just walk away for herâ He didnât finish the thought, but they both knew what happened to those who tried to leave.
Josâ gaze darkened, his fingers tapping against the armrest as he considered the implications. Heâd built his empire on ruthless loyalty, on men who would die for the family without question. But his son was becoming a liability a weakness that could be exploited by their enemies.
âWe need to remind Max of his responsibilities,â Jos said quietly, his voice laced with cold authority. âThisââŹÂŚ bookstore girl has become a distraction. Make sure he understands that she could be more than just a distractionââŹâsheâs a threat to him.â
Marco inclined his head, understanding the unspoken command. They couldnât afford loose ends. If Max couldnât be swayed, the girl would have to go. Marco left the room, a faint grimace on his face. Heâd always respected Max, but heâd be damned if he let anyone ruin everything theyâd built.
It started with a quiet warning. One night, as he slipped into the back office of his familyâs club, one of his fatherâs oldest lieutenants, Marco, was waiting for him. Marco was a man with eyes as cold as winter and a voice like gravel. He eyed Max for a long moment, his face unreadable.
âWord around is youâve been spending a lot of time away,â Marco said, his tone almost casual, though there was a hard edge beneath it.
Max didnât flinch, keeping his expression carefully blank. âAnd?â
âAnd,â Marco continued, stepping closer, âyouâve got responsibilities, Max. The family isnât just a part-time job. Your father knew that. I hope you havenât forgotten.â
Max clenched his jaw, but he forced himself to stay calm. âI havenât forgotten. I justââŹÂŚ Iâm handling things in my way.â
Marcoâs gaze was heavy. âYour way better be the right way. People are noticing. Theyâre questioning your loyalty.â
Max stifled a growl, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Of course, people were noticing. Word got around fast in the family, and Max knew better than anyone that loyalty was their currency. He was walking a fine line, trying to juggle two worlds that didnât seem to mix.
âMy loyalty isnât in question,â he ground out, holding Marcoâs gaze. âI know where my responsibilities lie.âÂ
Marco looked unconvinced, but he didnât press any further. He simply nodded an ominous gesture that echoed through the office. As the door closed behind Marco, leaving Max alone, he let out a weary sigh. He was tired of the constant tests, the suspicion, the threats. It was never-ending, a constant game of proving himself worthy. His entire life had been shaped by this role, groomed and molded to be the perfect successor.
But nowââŹÂŚnow he was questioning it all. For the first time, he was considering walking away from everything, from the life that his father had set out for him. All because of *her*.
Max slumped into the chair behind the desk, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew he was playing a dangerous game. His father had never tolerated disobedience, especially from him. He'd always expected obedience above all else, and Max's deviation from that path would not be lightly tolerated.Â
Maxâs thoughts drifted to *her.* He'd spent every waking moment with her, drowning in the bliss of her company. But each moment had only heightened his desire for something more than what he already had. Something real. Authentic.
He leaned back, closing his eyes. He could hear her voice, her laugh, her soft sighs. He could almost feel her skin under his fingers, the way she fit so perfectly against him. But he couldnât have her, not in the way he truly wanted. Not unless he was willing to give everything else up.Â
The thought sent a pang of regret through him. His family, his legacy, his entire life it was all built on bloodshed and secrets. Was he ready to turn his back on it all?
He opened his eyes, looking at the room around him. The room his father had spent countless hours in, strategizing, planning, and ruling an empire built on violence and fear. Was this the life he wanted to live? Was this the life he wanted her to be a part of?
He knew the answer. The knowledge sat heavily in his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. He was teetering on the edge of a decision that would change everything, a decision that would mean leaving one life behind for another.
He thought back to their time together, the stolen moments in the bookstore, the whispered secrets in shadowed corners. Every moment had deepened his feelings for her. Heâd been trying to fight them, to ignore them, but it was a useless battle.Â
He was in love with her. Deeply, completely, irrevocably in love. The realization made him sit upright in the chair, his heart pounding in his chest. Heâd been denying it, fighting it, but the truth was there. He loved her. He wanted a life with her. A real life. A life without secrets, without violence.Â
He knew it was a pipe dream, a foolish, impossible dream. But he found himself grasping for it anyway, holding onto the idea like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.
âThis is crazy,â he murmured to himself, running a frustrated hand through his hair. âThis is insane.â
He stood up, pacing the room in an attempt to clear his head. But his mind was a storm, thoughts churning together in a confusing mess.
There was no future for them. No world where his family, and his role in the organization, would allow him to be with her. And yet, he couldnât let her go, couldnât turn his feelings off like a switch. He could almost hear his father's voice in his mind, a harsh whisper in the back of his head. *You belong to this family. You're not here to make your own choices, Max.*
He closed his eyes again, trying to drown out the voice. But the words only echoed louder in his mind, a constant reminder of the life he was supposed to lead, the life he'd been groomed for.
And yet, amidst the chaos, one thought rang louder than the rest ââŹâ a thought that both filled him with hope and made him feel like a traitor to everything he knew:
*Sheâs more important.*
Max leaned on the desk, taking deep breaths, trying to calm the maelstrom of emotions. It was a foolish thought, a dangerous thought. And yet, it was a thought that he couldnât shake off, a thought that had taken root in his heart and refused to let go. He couldn't have both worlds. That much was clear. He couldn't be a part of the family *and* be free to be with her. He couldn't be the man his father wanted *and* the man she needed. He had to make a choice.Â
And the choice, no matter how foolish, was already made. For her, he would be willing to give up everything. For her, he was willing to risk it all.
The next time he saw Y/N, she noticed the tension right away. They were sitting at a small cafe she loved, nestled away from the bustle of the city. She studied him quietly over her coffee, brow furrowed in concern.
âYou seem different today,â she said gently, her voice breaking through his troubled thoughts.
Max forced a smile, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. âJust a rough day, thatâs all.â
She watched him carefully, not pushing for more but not letting it go either. After a moment, she reached across the table, placing her hand over his. The warmth of her touch steadied him, grounding him in a way he hadnât felt in years.
âYou know,â she said softly, âyou can tell me anything. I donât know much about you, but I know youâre not just the quiet guy who hangs around bookstores. You donât have to hide.â
Her words pierced him, and he felt an ache deep in his chest. He wanted to tell her everythingââŹâthe blood, the secrets, the things heâd done to keep his familyâs empire running. But how could he? How could he shatter the perfect image she saw in him and risk losing the only good thing heâd ever had?
âI know,â he said quietly, his fingers tightening around hers. âMaybe one day, Iâll tell you. But not yet.â
He watched the confusion flicker in her eyes. He could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to piece together the pieces he was giving her.Â
She was perceptive and smart, and it killed him that he couldnât be honest with her.Â
The silence between them stretched, heavy with the things he wasnât saying. He wanted to pour it all out, to share the weight of his secrets and the burden of his role, but for now, the words stuck in his throat. He shifted, his gaze dropping to their hands, intertwined on the table. The contrast between them was stark hers, soft and unmarred, his, calloused and marked with tiny scars, the souvenirs of fights and battles she knew nothing about.
He turned his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on his skin, the ridges that spoke of life so separate from hers that the mere thought of bridging the gap felt like a fantasy. She must have seen his gaze, the way his eyes followed the tracks of his past. She traced her fingers over his knuckles, light and tender, like a whisper over his scars.
âDoes it hurt?â she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
*Yes*, he wanted to shout, *It hurts like hell.*
Instead, he just shook his head, offering her another half-smile. âJust old wounds,â he replied, his voice gruff. The look in her eyes told him she didnât believe him, but she didnât press the issue. She just continued tracing her fingers over his skin, her touch a soft, soothing comfort he didnât deserve.
He fought the urge to lean into her touch, to let the warmth wash over him and make him forget everything else. But reality loomed over them, a dark cloud on a sunny afternoon. She moved her hand, picking up her coffee again and taking a sip. He missed the contact immediately, the absence of her touch like a cold knife in his side.
âMax,â she said finally, her eyes searching his face, âpromise me one thing.â
He knew what was coming. The question he dreaded and longed for all at once. He met her gaze, bracing himself. âWhat?â he managed to say.
She took a deep breath, the next word leaving her lips in a rush. âDonât keep shutting me out. I donât know whatâs going on with you, or why you wonât tell me anything. But weâreâŚweâre friends, arenât we?â
The word hit him like a punch to the gut. âFriendsâ. It was such a small word, but it felt so huge, loaded with all the things he wanted and everything he couldnât have. He nodded, his heart clenching uncomfortably. âWeâre friends, yes,â he said softly, his voice hoarse.
She smiled at his answer, that small, hopeful smile that sent his heart into somersaults. He swallowed hard, pushing down the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to spill out.
She didn't need to know what he was capable of. She didnât need to know the darkness that lurked in the shadows of his world.
 They finished their coffee in relative silence. He felt the weight of her unasked questions hanging in the air. Questions he couldnât, or wouldnât, answer. He watched her, trying to memorize every feature, every gesture, every expression. As if he was trying to imprint her into his memory, a moment of light in the dark of his existence.
When they stood to leave, he reached out, almost without thinking, to help adjust her scarf. His fingers grazed the skin on her collar, a small, almost electric contact. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes, and he quickly withdrew his touch.
âDon't want you to catch a cold,â he mumbled, his voice gruff, avoiding her gaze. She didnât comment on his quick retreat, just smiled, a soft, knowing smile. âThanks, Max,â she said, her voice almost a whisper.
They made their way out of the cafe, the crisp fall air biting as they stepped onto the sidewalk. He took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs with something other than the scent of her perfume. As they stood there, on the cusp of parting ways, he had to fight the urge to just pull her into his arms, to hold her tightly, and never let go. But he couldnât, not here, not now. So he just stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to conceal his clenched fists.
âSee you later?â she asked, her voice soft, hopeful.
âYeah,â he managed to say, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be. âLater.â
He watched her walk away, her figure getting smaller in the distance. As she turned a corner and disappeared, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The walk back to his car was a blur. His mind was in turmoil, a mess of thoughts and feelings he couldn't sort through. All of them, somehow, involved her.
When he finally reached his car, he leaned against the door, taking a moment to collect himself. *This is insane*, he thought, *I can't keep doing this*.
But even as the thought formed in his mind, he knew it was useless. He was in too deep. The pull of her was too strong. There was no turning back, not while her smile and laugh continued to haunt his every waking moment.
He climbed into the car, starting the engine with a sigh. As he pulled out of the parking spot, he knew he was driving straight towards a decision he would likely come to regret.
The next day, Max returned to his familyâs estate, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. He walked through the ornate halls heâd grown up in, feeling a strange sense of detachment as he entered his fatherâs office. Jos sat behind his desk, Marco at his side, both of them staring watching him with expressions of silent judgment.
âMax,â Jos greeted, his voice deceptively calm. âI hear youâve beenââŹÂŚ busy.â
Max didnât flinch, his gaze hard and unyielding. âI know youâve been watching me.â
Joe's smirk didnât reach his eyes. âOf course we have. Youâre a valuable part of this family, Max. Itâs only natural we keep an eye on where your loyalties lie.â
âMy loyalties,â Max said, his voice steady, âare to my own life. I want out.â
Marcoâs face twisted in contempt, and Josâ expression grew darker. âYou think you can just walk away?â Jos said quietly. âThat girl of yoursââŹâsheâs a liability, Max. You canât just abandon everything weâve built for a stranger.â
âSheâs not a stranger,â Max said sharply, his voice filled with a fierce determination. âSheâs the only real thing in my life. And Iâm done living in a cage, following orders, hurting people for you.â
A tense silence settled over the room, thick with the threat of violence. Josâs face twisted in anger, his hands clenching the edge of the desk. âYouâre my son,â he hissed. âYou carry my legacy. If you betray this family, youâll be the one living in fear.â
Max took a steady breath, his heart pounding. âI donât care. Iâll protect her from anything you try, and if you hurt her, Iâll make sure itâs the last mistake you ever make.â
Josâ gaze darkened, but there was a flicker of hesitation. For the first time, Max saw a glint of fear in his fatherâs eyesââŹâa realization that he could lose the one person who understood their empire best.
The room was a tableau of tension, a stand-off between father and son, both at an impasse.
Maxâs heart was hammering against his ribcage, but he stood his ground, facing down his fatherâs silent glare.
Marco shifted, his muscles tense, ready to attack at a momentâs notice. But a subtle shake of Josâ head kept him in place, holding him back.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, the quiet punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
Jos stood slowly, his eyes never leaving Max. He moved with the quiet precision of a hunter preparing to strike. He walked around the desk, his footsteps echoing in the room.
Max remained motionless, meeting his fatherâs glare with a defiant one of his own. As Jos approached, Max could hardly draw a steady breath. He could feel the danger in the air, like the electric charge before a storm. When his father stopped in front of him, they were mere inches apart, the air heavy with tension.
âYouâd betray us?â Jos whispered, the threat barely contained beneath the surface. A flicker of anger passed over Maxâs face. He knew what his father was asking. *Would you betray us for a woman you barely know?*
âYes.â The word came out firm, without a trace of doubt. Max didnât hesitate, he didnât waver. He stood his ground, staring into his fatherâs eyes without flinching.
There was a note of disbelief in his fatherâs voice, as if he couldnât fathom the idea of Max choosing a person over the empire heâd helped build.
Max didnât back down. He met his fatherâs gaze squarely, his answer clear in his eyes. âYes. For her.â
But Max didnât wait for his fatherâs response. He turned on his heel, his decision made. He would leave, taking Y/N and disappearing from this life. But he knew they wouldnât stop coming. Heâd have to stay ahead, always watching over his shoulder, always ready to fight.
As he stepped outside, the weight of his choice pressed heavily on him. He knew he was stepping into a storm, but heâd finally found something worth fighting for and nothing, not even his fatherâs wrath, would stop him now.
Max took a deep breath, the cold air biting into his lungs. Heâd made his choice. Heâd taken the first step towards something heâd never dared to dream of.Â
It was a dangerous, foolish, insane choice.
*And he loved every second of it.*
His thoughts turned to y/n. He could picture her, her soft smile, her laughter, her eyes that seemed to see right through him. The thought of her fueled him and gave him purpose. He had to protect her, above all else.
But as he walked towards his car, the shadows of his past seemed to cast long, ominous shadows over his path. He knew his father and Marco wouldnât let him go so easily. He had to be ready. He had to prepare. *He had to make sure she was safe.*
He climbed into his car, determination burning hot in his veins. He started the engine, the roar of it a steady, reassuring presence.
As he pulled out of the estate, he didnât look back. There was no going back now. He drove through the city streets, his mind working in overdrive. He had to devise a plan, a way to disappear without a trace. But more importantly, he had to keep y/n safe. He couldnât let her get caught in the crossfire.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. There was no room for mistakes and no margin for error. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, casting the city in a warm, golden glow. But there was no beauty in it, no joy in the sight. For Max, every shadow seemed a potential threat, every corner a place to hide.
He knew his father and Marco could be watching. They might be tracking his every move, or they could be waiting for him at his apartment, ready to ambush him. He made a few detours, taking roundabout routes to throw off anyone who might be following him. His adrenaline was pumping, making him hyper-aware of every passing vehicle, every pedestrian on the sidewalk.
When he finally pulled up to y/nâs apartment building, he sat in the car for a few moments, surveying the area.
The street was mostly quiet, with nothing but a few passersby and a couple of cars parked on the street. He didnât see anything suspicious, but that didnât relax him. He knew his father had eyes everywhere, and they could be watching from anywhere, anyone. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to play it cool, not alarm Y/N. She couldnât know the danger she was in, not yet. He would tell her, but he had to make sure she was safe first.
With one last look around, he got out of the car and headed towards her apartment. With each step, his heart thumped louder against his ribcage, like a drum announcing his arrival. He reached her door, hesitating for a moment. Then he knocked, three sharp raps followed by a pause.
The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity as he waited for the door to open. Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and the door swung open.
There she stood, beautiful and blissfully unaware of the danger looming just beyond her threshold.
Her face lit up when she saw him, a bright, beautiful smile spreading across her features. âMax, hi,â she greeted him, her voice filled with warmth.
For a moment, he was just lost in her, her presence bringing a soothing calm to his tumultuous mind. But it lasted only a moment. He had to remember why he was there, and what he needed to do.
âCan I come in?â he asked, his voice gruff. He could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes, but she nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. He followed her into the apartment, his eyes scanning the room. It was a cozy place, filled with little touches of her; a vase of fresh flowers, a few books piled on the coffee table, and a picture of her with her family on the mantelpiece.
But he didnât have much time to take it all in. He turned, facing her, his expression serious. She closed the door, leaning against it as she watched him. âEverything okay?â she asked, that note of concern in her voice.Â
He let out a shaky breath. âWe need to talk.â
She studied his face, probably noticing the tension and the anxiety written across it. But she simply smiled, gesturing towards the living room. âOkay, let's go sit down then.â
He nodded, following her into the living room and sitting down on the couch. She sat next to him, turning to face him. There was more concern on her face now, but she remained silent, waiting for him to speak.
He stared at his hands, now clenched tightly in his lap. The words were stuck in his throat, refusing to come out. *How do you tell someone their life is in danger because of you?*
He took another shaky breath, lifting his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were filled with worry now, but there was no suspicion yet. She didnât know what he was about to say.
Finally, he found his voice. âYou trust me, right?â
She was taken aback by the question, but she nodded immediately. âOf course I do,â she said, her voice firm, certain.
He was relieved and terrified by her response. He didnât deserve her trust, not with the life he lived. But he also knew he could use it, weaponize it to protect her.
He reached out, taking her hand in his. Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate against his palm. It took everything he had to stop himself from squeezing too hard, to avoid revealing the fear and desperation raging inside him.
He took another deep breath, gathering his words. âThereâs something I need to tell you. And you have to promise youâll hear me out, no matter how it sounds.â
There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but she squeezed his hand, reassuring him. âOkay,â she said, her voice calm, steady. âIâm listening.â
âI need you to pack a bag with only the essentials,â Max says. Her eyes widened, confusion clouding her features. âWhat?â she asked, her voice shaking slightly. âWhatâs going on, Max?â
He squeezed her hand again, holding her gaze. âIâll explain. Just please, pack a bag. Now.â
She was uneasy, but she nodded, reluctantly slipping her hand from his grip. âOkay,â she said quietly. âIâll go pack.â
He watched as she stood and walked towards the bedroom, her steps slow, almost reluctant. Once she disappeared from view, he let out a low curse. This was harder than heâd imagined.
The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly, the silence in the room like a physical presence. He couldnât make himself sit still, he had to keep moving, keep his mind busy. He walked around the living room, his eyes constantly flicking towards the bedroom door. *What was taking her so long?*
Just when he was about to go check on her, she reappeared, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Her face was carefully blank, a stark contrast to the emotions he could see swirling in her eyes.
âGot everything?â he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. She nodded wordlessly, her fingers clenching the strap of the bag. He could see the hundred questions in her eyes, but she didnât voice them. *Not yet.*
âCome on,â he said, his voice soft but firm. âWe need to go.â
She nodded again, following him as he turned towards the front door. She paused at the threshold, her eyes taking in the room one last time. It was clear the realization was setting in, the reality of what was happening. But she didnât ask any questions.
As they walked out of the apartment, he couldnât help but feel a pang of guilt. This was all his fault. If he hadnât involved her in his life, sheâd still be safe and comfortable in her home. But he couldnât change the past, he could only try to protect her in the present.
He led her to his car, opening the passenger door for her. She climbed in, buckling her seatbelt silently. As he closed the door, he caught a glimpse of her face through the window.Â
Her expression was solemn, her eyes wide and troubled. But there was no fear, no anger. Just a quiet, steady trust that both reassured and scared him.
He walked around the car, getting in the driver's seat. As he turned on the engine, he glanced over at her. âYouâre quiet.âÂ
She looked over at him then, her eyes meeting his. âIâm scared,â she admitted in a soft voice.Â
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. Heâd known she was scared, but hearing her say it out loud somehow made it more real, more urgent.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. âI know.âÂ
He reached over, taking her hand in his again. âBut Iâm here. Iâm going to protect you.â
For a moment, she simply held his gaze. Then she nodded, a determined look settling over her features. âI trust you.â
Those two simple words, spoken with such conviction, sent a wave of emotions through him. *She trusted him. She believed in him.*
He squeezed her hand, hoping she could feel all the things he wanted to say but couldnât. Then he looked away, focusing on the road ahead.
The drive was mostly silent. He kept his eyes on the road, his mind working overtime. He was acutely aware of her presence next to him, her hand still in his. Every so often he would gently brush his thumb over her knuckles, a silent gesture of reassurance.
But as the minutes ticked by, she remained quiet. He didnât blame her. There were so many questions, so much to take in. In her place, heâd probably be questioning his sanity right about now.
He wanted to explain himself, to tell her everything. But the words always stayed stuck in his throat, his fear of losing her overpowering everything else. They drove late into the night, the city lights gradually fading as they left the metropolitan area. He was heading for one of the small towns near the coast, a place where they could lie low. He would figure out the rest later. *He had to.*
As the city skyline gave way to open fields and the occasional farmhouse, she finally spoke. âWhere are we going?âÂ
It was the first thing sheâd said in hours. Her voice was just a whisper against the rumble of the engine, but it was enough to make his heart pound.
He looked over at her, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the road. âSomewhere safe,â he said simply.
It was a vague answer, but it was all he could give her at the moment. He couldnât tell her they were running, that they were going to be living off the grid for the foreseeable future. That would only terrify her more.Â
She didnât press him, which he was grateful for. Instead, she turned away, looking out the window at the passing landscape. The silence settled back over them, thick and impenetrable.Â
He could sense the tension radiating off her, the questions she was undoubtedly dying to ask. But she kept her mouth closed, keeping her trust in him despite the circumstances. They drove for hours, the night deepening around them. He checked the rearview mirror frequently, his eyes scanning the road behind for any sign of following cars. But the road remained empty, the taillights of other vehicles vanishing into the distance.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, the only anchor being the feel of her hand in his. He wanted to assure her, to tell her everything would be alright. But he knew that was a lie, at least for now. The worst was yet to come.
After another hour, they finally reached the edge of the small town. The streetlights were dim, the houses few and far between. This was good, it would be easier to lay low here.
He slowed the car as they entered town, driving past a closed gas station, a darkened diner, and a small motel. The motel signs were all turned off, the only light coming from a flickering neon sign advertising vacancies. He pulled into the parking lot, looking around the area with a critical eye. It was dead, with no cars or people in sight. *Perfect*.
He parked the car in a spot near the end of the lot, furthest away from the motel office. He killed the engine, the sudden silence in the car deafening. He looked over at her, trying to gauge her expression.
She was staring at him, the faint light from a streetlamp outside casting shadows on her face. He could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes, mixed with determination and resignation. He knew then that she would stay by his side no matter what.
He reached over, releasing her hand to brush his knuckles over her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm. For a moment, he forgot everything, lost in her. But reality came crashing back in, bringing with it the weight of the situation. He drew his hand back, clearing his throat. âWe should probably check in.âÂ
She said nothing, simply nodding in agreement. He climbed out of the car, walking around to open her door for her. She climbed out, her legs a bit wobbly from the long drive. He offered her his arm for support, and she took it, her hand gripping his arm tight. They walked towards the motel office, their footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet night.
The office was small and dimly lit, the lobby almost deserted. The desk clerk looked up lazily as they entered, his eyes immediately zeroing in on their linked arms. Max could feel his gaze linger on their coupled hands, but he ignored it, concentrating on checking them in. The clerk, noticing the look in Max's eyes, wisely kept any comments to himself. He simply handed Max the key to one of the rooms, a silent agreement to not ask any questions. Max nodded in thanks, pulling y/n with him out of the office.
The night air was cold and crisp, a sharp contrast to the heat of the office. He led her towards the room, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel parking lot. He glanced at her occasionally, noticing the slight frown on her face and the way she shivered in the cold.
"We're almost there," he assured her, his voice soft. He hurried his steps, eager to get her out of the cold and into the warmth of the motel room. They reached the door, and he quickly unlocked it, pushing the door open to reveal the small room inside. The room was simple but clean. There was a queen-sized bed in the center, with a small desk and chair in the corner. The bathroom was a separate room, visible through an open door. The light from the streetlamp outside filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the room.
He ushered her inside, flicking on the light switch as he closed the door behind them. She looked around, taking in the room with wide eyes. Her gaze lingered on the bed for a moment before she looked at him, her brow furrowed in silent questioning. He could guess what she was thinking. There was only one bed, and they were not sharing it. He swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the ache in his chest at the thought. "I'll take the chair," he said, his voice gruff.
She looked at him, her lips parting as if to protest. But she seemed to think better of it, simply nodding instead. "Okay," she whispered. He looked away, the soft sound of her voice sending a jolt through him. It was going to be a long night. He walked over to the desk, pulled the chair out, and sat down. He leaned back against the hard plastic, closing his eyes and letting out a tired sigh.
He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. His mind was too busy, too overloaded with everything that had happened. And the knowledge that she was just a few feet away, so close and yet untouchable, was not helping matters. He opened his eyes, looking over at her. She was sitting on the bed, her legs drawn up to her chest, her fingers toying with a loose thread on the bedspread. She looked small and vulnerable, the fear and uncertainty on her face making his heartache. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, to promise her that everything would be fine. But he knew he couldn't, not yet. He had to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of control. For her sake as much as his own.
The silence in the room was deafening. He could hear every small sound, every breath, and every rustle of fabric. It was maddening, like a slow torture. But he forced himself to stay still, to focus on the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. She looked up then, her eyes catching him in the semi-darkness of the room. He held her gaze, his heart pounding in his ears. At that moment, all his carefully constructed walls crumbled, his desire and need for her almost overwhelming him.
He wanted to reach out to her, to drag her closer until there was no space between them. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to taste her lips, to hold her until they were both too tired to think. But he didn't. He stayed where he was, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair, his entire body taut with restraint. *This was for her good, he kept reminding himself.*Â
She was watching him, he could feel it. Her eyes were like a physical touch, sending shivers down his spine, and stirring up feelings he had no right to have. He wanted to break the silence, to say something, but he didn't trust his voice not to betray him. The seconds ticked by slowly, the only sound in the room was the steady tick of the wall clock. He could see her looking at him, her eyes tracing the contours of his face, lingering on his lips. It was almost unbearable, the heat in her gaze sending a bolt of desire straight through his gut. He wanted to look away, to break the spell her gaze seemed to have over him. But he couldnât, his eyes locked on hers like a moth drawn to a flame. He could see the way her chest rose and fell, her breathing growing shallow and fast, matching his rapid heartbeat.
The tension in the room grew thicker, like a living thing between them. The air was electric, crackling with unspoken emotions. He could see her hands clenching and unclenching on the bedspread, and he knew she was struggling as he was, fighting against the pull of their mutual attraction. He clenched his jaw, trying to rein in his emotions, to keep his desire and need for her under control. But it was nearly impossible, every breath, every small movement she made, fanning the fire inside of him.
The air was thick with desire, and the silence between them charged with an almost tangible energy. He knew they were both teetering on the edge, the line between restraint and surrender growing thinner with each passing second.
He was the first to break, his resolve finally crumbling under the weight of his yearning. He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and something else. Hope, maybe, or anticipation. Max needed to escape the room; he felt suffocated as if life had punched him in the throat. Nothing was going the way he wanted. He walked to the door without looking back, desperate for a moment to breathe.
He had never felt this way before panic washed over him, and he didnât know what to do. He stepped outside, the cold air biting at his skin. He leaned against the wall, taking in the cold night, trying to calm his frantic mind. He was supposed to be the one in control, the one who knew what he was doing. But right now, he was lost, drowning in his own emotions. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. He was used to being in charge, to calling the shots. But with her, everything was different. He felt raw and exposed, vulnerable in a way he'd sworn he'd never be again.
He drew in a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs. He needed to pull himself together, to get a grip on the situation. But the image of her face, the need and desire he saw in her eyes, were branded in his mind, making it impossible to think. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise in his head. But the silence of the night only amplified the sound of his heartbeat, the rush of his blood. He had never felt so alive, so on edge. And it was terrifying.
The sun was just starting to rise on the horizon, casting the world in a soft, golden light. Max was driving, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his mind still a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The silence in the car was heavy, the weight of the night's events hanging heavily in the air. y/n was sitting in the passenger seat, her body turned slightly towards him, her eyes fixed on his profile. He could feel her gaze on him, like a physical touch, stirring up feelings he had no right to feel.
"How did you sleep?" he asked, his voice gravelly. He didn't look at her, his eyes firmly on the road ahead. He didn't trust himself to look at her now, to see the expression on her face. "I didn't." her reply was quiet, almost a whisper. It sent a pang of guilt through him, knowing that he was the reason she couldn't sleep. He could picture her, lying awake in the darkness, trying to find a comfortable position in the cramped bed.Â
"Me either," he admitted, his voice hoarse. He hadn't slept a wink, his mind too busy, his body too tense. He had spent the night pacing the tiny motel room, trying to walk off his restless energy, but it had been futile. They fell into silence again, the only sound the hum of the engine and the tires on the road. Max clenched his jaw, the tension in the car almost unbearable. He was desperate to say something, to break the silence, but he didn't know what to say.
He glanced at her from the corner of his, taking in her profile, the way her hair fell in soft waves around her face. She looked tired, her eyes a little puffy from lack of sleep. But she was still beautiful, more so than ever in the soft morning light. He looked away, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He needed to keep his distance, to remember why he had left the room last night in the first place. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way his heart ached when he looked at her, the way his body responded to her presence.
But he was also afraid. Not of her, but of himself, of the feelings he had for her. He had always been in control, never allowing himself to be vulnerable or emotional. It was what had made him successful, what had made him the man he was today. And he was terrified of losing that control, of becoming someone else because of her. But then he caught another glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, her head resting against the seat, her eyes closed. She was dozing off, her eyelashes casting little shadows on her cheeks. He felt a pang in his chest, a strange mix of longing and protectiveness.Â
The drive continued, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and her soft, even breaths. Max's thoughts continued to churn, his emotions swirling in a tangle of confusion and desire. He had never felt this way before, so out of control, so at the mercy of his feelings. He glanced at her again, his eyes lingering on her face, the peace and innocence in her sleep. He wanted to commit her to memory, to imprint every detail into his mind. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do, but he couldn't help it.
Y/N stood by the window now, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Max was still by the fireplace, sharpening the knives he kept in his bag. The quiet weight of their shared history hung in the air.
âI never thanked you properly for that night,â Y/N said, breaking the silence. She hadnât spoken about it before, but the memory was still so vivid in her mind. That night had changed everything.
Max didnât look up, his movements steady and mechanical as he worked. âYou donât need to,â he replied, his voice neutral, as always. âI did what I had to.â
She looked at him for a moment, searching for some hint of what he was feeling. For so long, Max had been a closed book. She had tried to get to know himââŹâknow himââŹâbut every time she felt like she was getting closer, he shut himself off again.
But now, in this quiet cabin, with the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face, Y/N noticed a difference. He wasnât the same man who had stepped into that alley that night. She wasnât sure how or when it happened, but she felt a shift between them. Something unspoken, growing.
Max paused in his work, the knife hanging in the air for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sharp edge of the blade. He had felt the shift too, the tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. But he was afraid, that if he looked at her now, if he let himself acknowledge what he was feeling, he would not be able to keep his distance.
"I didn't expect a thank you," he said gruffly, his fingers resuming their work, the sound of the sharpening stone against metal filling the room.
Y/N turned back to the window, the last vestiges of sunlight painting the horizon in pinks and oranges. The world outside was quiet, and peaceful, in stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside her. She knew better than to push him, to try to force him to open up. But she couldn't help but want to know him, to understand the enigma that was Max Verstappen.
"Why did you do it, Max?" she asked, her voice soft. "Why did you help me that night?"Â
Max's hand paused again, the knife still in his hand, the stone poised over the blade. He knew she would ask him this one day. But he wasn't ready to answer, to confront the reality of his feelings.
"It was the right thing to do," he said simply, resuming his movement, the sound of the stone against metal filling the silence. Y/N turned, leaning against the windowsill, her eyes on him. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set, the way he was trying to pretend he was focused on his task. But she knew better.
"Is that the only reason?" she pressed, her voice soft, yet insistent. Max didnât answer, the silence stretching between them. He could feel her gaze, the questions she was asking without words. He wanted to answer her, to tell her the truth. But he was a coward, too afraid to confess his feelings.
"What other reason could there be?" he asked, feigning nonchalance, his eyes fixed on the knife blade. Y/N felt a pang in her chest at his response. There were so many other reasons, so many things she longed to hear from him, but she knew he wouldnât say them. Not now, maybe not ever.
"There could be dozens of reasons," she said, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Curiosity, boredom, a sense of obligation..."
Max's hand paused, the knife balanced idly against the whetstone. He could hear the disappointment in her voice, the subtle hint of hurt. It made his gut clench, but he pushed the feeling down, burying it under his practiced indifference.
"Youâre overthinking it," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice.
Y/N felt a sting of anger at his words, his aloofness setting her nerves on edge. She knew he was trying to push her away, to shut down any chance of an honest conversation, but she was tired of his walls.
"Iâm not overthinking it," she retorted, her voice rising slightly. âYouâre under-feeling it, as usual.â
Max looked up at her then, his eyes sharp, his expression guarded. He knew she was right, he knew he was bottling up his feelings, but he didnât know any other way. Showing vulnerability was a luxury he couldnât afford.
"And youâre overreacting," he shot back, the words meant to hurt as much as they were meant to deflect. Y/N felt her anger flare, her frustration boiling over. She had tried to understand him, to be patient, to look beyond his cold exterior, but he was making it nearly impossible.
"Iâm not overreacting," she nearly snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Iâm trying to understand, to get you to talk to me. But youâre just shutting me out... again."Â
Max's hands gripped the knife and stone more tightly, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched. Her words stung more than he'd like to admit, hitting too close to home.
"Thereâs nothing to talk about,â he bit out, his voice cold. "Youâre looking for something that isnât there, y/n. Youâre imagining things."
Y/N felt a pang of hurt at his words, his cold dismissal like a slap to the face. She had felt that there was more to them, a connection that was hard to ignore. But he was denying it, shutting down any possibility of more.
"Then maybe Iâm delusional," she muttered, her voice filled with an aching sadness. "Because I thought... Nevermind."
Max could hear the sadness in her voice, the resignation that was setting in, and he hated it. Hated himself a little for causing it. But he didnât know how to change, how to be the man she wanted him to be.Â
"You think too much," he tried to joke, but the attempt fell flat, his voice lacking the usual humor.
Y/Nâs heart was breaking a little more with each word he said. She had hoped for so much more, for a real conversation, for some sign that he felt something for her, something more than just obligation or curiosity.Â
"And you donât think enough," she retorted, her voice sharp. "Youâre hiding, Max. Behind those walls, youâve built up around yourself. And theyâre getting taller each day."
Maxâs grip on the knife tightened even more, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He hated that she knew him so well, that she could see through his walls like they were tissue paper.
"They're there for a reason," he ground out. "To keep meââŹâand people like youââŹâsafe."Â
Y/N felt a mixture of anger and pain surge through her at his words. He was shutting her out, pushing her away, because he was scared.Â
"Safe?" she repeated, her voice rising. "You donât push people away for their good, Max. You do it because youâre afraid. Afraid of feeling, of being vulnerable." Maxâs eyes flashed at her words, his temper flaring. Her accusations were like knives, stabbing at his weak spots, exposing his vulnerabilities.Â
"Iâm not afraid," he snapped, his voice hard and cold. "Iâm just realistic. Feelings get you killed in my world." Y/N felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, the depth of his loneliness and fear making her heartache. But her anger was flaring too, her frustration with his stubbornness fueling her words.
"Maybe in your world," she retorted her voice firm and even. "But in my world, feelings are what make life worth living. And youâre missing out, Max. Youâre missing out big time."
Max almost threw the knife down, the stone clattering to the floor. The anger inside him was building, threatening to boil over. He couldnât understand how to make her so emotional, how she could just wear her feelings on her sleeve.Â
"Feelings get you killed, y/n," he repeated, his voice like ice. "They make you weak, a target. Iâd have been dead years ago if I let myself feel."
Y/N clenched her fists, the urge to punch him rising. But she somehow restrained herself, holding herself back from giving in to her anger.
"Weak?" she repeated, her voice shaking with rage. "Feelings make you human, Max. They make you who you are, who you ought to be. And youâre missing out on all of it because youâre too damned stubborn to try."
Maxâs chest was heaving now, his breaths coming in short, hard gasps. Her words were like bullets, each one finding its mark. But he refused to show weakness, to acknowledge the truth in her words.Â
"I donât need your understanding or your compassion," he growled, his hands shaking with anger and suppressed emotion. "Iâm fine the way I am."
Y/N took a step towards him, her anger burning bright. "No," she shot back, her voice steady despite the fire in her eyes. "Youâre not fine, Max. Youâre alone. You always will be if you donât pull your head out of your ass."
Maxâs eyes widened in shock at her outburst. No one had ever spoken to him like this, so bluntly, so boldly. It was both frustrating and enthralling.Â
"Watch how you speak to me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Youâre way out of your depth here, y/n."
Y/N couldnât help but laugh, the sound harsh and dry. "Iâll speak to you any way I damn please, Max," she bit back, closing the remaining distance so she was standing right in front of him. "And you donât scare me. Not one bit."
Maxâs breath caught in his chest as she got closer, her insolent tone and fearless stare sparking an unfamiliar feeling in him. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to make her understand the danger she was in. But he also wanted to pull her closer, to feel her warmth against him, to lose himself in her fire.Â
"You should be scared," he managed to say, his voice hoarse, his body tensing.
Y/N met his gaze without flinching, her eyes holding him with a fire that heâd never seen before. "Iâm not," she replied, her voice steady. "Because I know you wonât hurt me. You may pretend to be this cold, hard killer, but deep down, youâre nothing of the sort."
Y/N couldnât believe what she was hearing. Max finally confesses that he loved her, that her being here, in this cabin, with him, was by his design. It was overwhelming, the sheer weight of emotion in his words, the rawness in his voice.Â
âMaxâ She took a step closer, her hands reaching out as if to touch him, to anchor herself against the storm of emotions threatening to knock her off her feet. He flinched as he felt her hands on his chest, her touch like electricity on his skin. He had never been one to crave physical contact, but now, with her, it was like a drug. He wanted more, so much more.Â
"Donât," he said, his hands coming up to grasp her wrists, to keep her from getting any closer. "Donât touch me. Donât look at me like that." Y/N ignored his request, her fingers tracing the lines of muscle on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart underneath his shirt. "Why?" she asked, her voice soft, her eyes fixed on his. "Why canât I touch you? Why canât I look at you?"
Max felt himself shudder at her touch, every nerve ending in his body alive with a strange fire. He should have pushed her away, should have put an end to this madness. But he couldnât bring himself to do it.Â
"Because Because " he stammered, his mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings. "Because if you keep looking at me like that if you keep touching meââŹÂŚ I wonât be able to control myself."
Y/N noticed the desperation in his voice and the hunger in his eyes. She knew he was fighting a losing battle, fighting his feelings. But she couldn't stop herself from pushing him further, from wanting more.Â
"And what if I donât want you to control yourself?" she teased, her fingers dancing over his skin, tracing the muscles of his shoulders. Max was coming undone beneath her touch, her words sending a shiver down his spine. He couldnât resist any longer, the dam he had built up around his emotions was cracking.
"You donât know what you're saying," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. But his hands on her wrists were gentler now, no longer trying to push her away. Y/N moved even closer, her body now pressed against his, her hands sliding up to his neck. She could feel the heat from his body, her heart racing.Â
"I know exactly what Iâm saying," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "I want you, Max. All of you. And I wonât let you push me away."
Max was drowning in her touch, in her words, in her scent. He could feel her body against his, her breath on his skin. Every instinct he had was telling him to push her away, to save her from himself. But the desire, the need to have her was overpowering.
"You donât know what youâre getting into," he husked, his hands finally leaving her wrists, moving to her hips instead, pulling her even closer. "Once I have you, Iâm never letting go."Â
âGod Max you're so dumb if you havenât realized that youâve had me since that night you saved my lifeâ y/n admitted. Max's eyes widened at her words, the truth of them hitting him hard. He had had her all along, and he hadn't even realized it. He was so used to being alone, so used to guarding his heart, that he had missed the one person who had cared about him, truly and deeply.Â
"Youâre mine," he said, his voice almost a growl, his hands grabbing her hips more tightly. "No one else gets to have you, to touch you, to love you. Ever."
Y/N felt a thrill go through her at his possessive tone, the primal need in his voice. It should have scared her, to be claimed by a man like Max, a dangerous and complicated man. But it didnât. It only made her want him more.Â
"Then take me, Max," she whispered, her hands running down his chest, to the hem of his shirt. "Make me yours, completely."
Maxâs control snapped. The last shred of restraint was gone, replaced with a fierce hunger, a primal need. He wanted her, needed her more than ever, and he was going to have her.
He pulled her against him, his mouth crashing onto hers in a bruising kiss. He devoured her, ravishing her mouth, claiming her body, making her his.
Y/N felt herself melt against him, her body submitting to his, giving him everything he wanted. The kiss was wild, unbridled, a tangle of teeth and tongue and passion.Â
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as he kissed her, as his hands roamed over her body, claiming her with every touch. Y/N felt herself melt against him, her body submitting to his, giving him everything he wanted. The kiss was wild, unbridled, a tangle of teeth and tongue and passion.Â
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as he kissed her, as his hands roamed over her body, claiming her with every touch. Max tasted her as if she were his last meal as if he couldnât get enough of her. He pushed her back against the nearest wall, his body pressing against hers, his hands exploring her curves, claiming every inch of her.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin, marking her as his own. Y/N arched against him, her body responding to his touch, to his claim. Every nerve ending was on fire, her body aflame with desire. She had never felt like this before, so wanted, so desired.Â
Her hands moved to his hair, her fingers tangling in his locks as she held him closer, begging for more. Max felt her surrender to him, her body responding to his every touch. He loved the way she felt in his arms, loved the way her body moved against his. His mind was hazy with desire, his skin on fire with need.Â
His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, his fingers slipping under the fabric, pulling it up and off over her head. Y/N gasped as he pulled off her shirt, her skin bare now, sensitive to his touch. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, his hands roaming over her exposed flesh, his touch sending shivers down her spine.Â
Her own hands were exploring his chest, her fingers tracing the hard planes of muscle, her nails scraping lightly over his skin. Max groaned at her touch, her nails on his skin making his head spin. He couldnât get enough of her, he needed more.Â
He pushed her back against the wall once more, his mouth finding her neck, his teeth scraping over her collarbone. His hands moved to the waistband of her pants, unbuttoning them, and pulling them down her legs. Y/N felt herself being stripped of every bit of clothing, Maxâs hands and mouth leaving a trail of heat on her skin. She was bare before him, vulnerable and yet powerful in her desire for him.Â
She pulled at his shirt now, needing to feel his skin against hers, needing to be as close to him as possible. Max pulled back just long enough to rip off his shirt, his chest now bare, his breathing heavy. He pulled her back against him, the skin-to-skin contact sending a jolt through his body.Â
He picked her up effortlessly, carrying her towards the bed and laying her down gently. He looked at her there, lying beneath him, beautiful and perfect and completely his. Y/N looked up at him, the heat in his eyes stealing her breath. She had never felt so desired, so wanted, so needed. She reached for him, pulling him down on top of her, her hands roaming over his back, her legs wrapping around his waist.Â
Max leaned down, his body covering hers, his mouth finding hers in a searing kiss. His hands were everywhere, his touch desperate, needy. He was on the verge of losing control, consumed by the fire that burned for her alone.Â
He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down her neck, her chest, his teeth nipping at her skin, marking her, claiming her. Y/N arched against him, her body moving in a rhythm all its own, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. She was lost in a sea of sensations, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her.Â
She ran her hands over his back, her fingers tracing over the taut muscles, her nails scraping lightly, trying to urge him on. Max felt her nails on his skin, the sting of it only fueling the fire within him. He moved lower, his mouth finding her chest, his tongue flicking over her peaks, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to make her his completely.Â
Y/N felt herself coming undone beneath him, her body responding to his every touch, his every move. She was burning for him, her body on fire with desire. She wanted him, needed him, more than anything.Â
"Max," she gasped, her voice rough and breathless. "Please. I need you. Now."
Max didn't need any more encouragement. He was past the point of no return, consumed by his need for her, his entire body on edge. He positioned himself at her entrance, his body thrumming with anticipation.Â
He looked down at her, her eyes wild and desperate, her body begging for him. He wanted to savor this moment, to commit it to memory. But the need was too overpowering, the hunger too strong.Y/N looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, holding his gaze. She could see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained need burning within him. She wanted to say something, to express her own need, but she couldnât find the words, couldnât break the spell.Â
Instead, she reached for him, her hands pulling him down to her, her body arching against his, silently begging for him to give her what they both so desperately needed. Max couldn't hold back any longer. The feel of her body against his, the fire in her eyes, it was all too much.Â
He pushed into her slowly, her body welcoming him, her heat enveloping him. He groaned, her name a whisper on his lips, as he felt himself being pulled deeper, closer.Â
He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm at first, trying to savor this moment, to make it last. But the feeling, the sheer intensity of it, was too much. He found himself moving faster, harder, deeper, consumed by the need to own her, to make her his, to love her. Max lost himself in her, his body moving with a primal rhythm, his thoughts consumed by desire, by need. He was lost in her, in the feel of her body, the taste of her skin, the sound of her cries.Â
He wanted more, needed more. He needed all of her.
He moved even faster, harder, pulling her closer, deeper, trying to fuse them completely. The pleasure was building, hot and intense, driving them to pleasure. Y/N gasped as he moved, the pleasure building and building, so intense it was on the edge of pain. She held onto him, her nails digging into his skin, her body writhing beneath his.
She couldnât form coherent thoughts, her mind consumed by the sensations, by the burning need. It was all too much, and yet not enough. She wanted more, needed more.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on, crying out his name, lost in the fire they had.
Max was beyond reason, beyond control. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, burning him up from the inside out.Â
He moved even faster, deeper, his body on autopilot, driven by the primal need to possess her, to claim her completely.Â
His hand found her hip, his fingers digging in, holding her in place, holding her to him. "Mine," he growled, his voice rough and possessive. "Youâre mine. All mine." Y/N felt the words down to her core, the possessive tone sending shivers through her body. She wanted to deny it, to rebel against the claim, but the feeling was too strong. She was his, in body, mind, and soul.Â
She moved with him, her body responding to his every move, every touch. She could feel the pleasure building, intense and overwhelming.Â
She reached for him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "God, Max," she gasped, her voice breathless, "Iâm yours. All yours."
Max felt her words like a jolt of electricity. He loved hearing her say it, to hear her admit that she was his. It only fueled the fire within him.Â
He moved even harder, deeper, the need to claim her completely overpowering him. He could feel himself losing control, teetering on the edge.Â
He leaned down, his mouth finding her neck, his teeth scraping over her skin. "Say it again," he commanded, his voice rough and possessive. "Say you're mine."
Y/N gasped, the pleasure building to almost unbearable heights. The words came easily this time, the truth of them making her heartache. "Iâm yours," she repeated, her voice hoarse and breathless. "Iâm yours, all yours, Max. Only yours."
Max felt his body tense at her words, the fire within him burning hotter than ever. He was so close, so close to losing himself completely.Â
He moved harder, faster, deeper, his body and mind completely consumed by pleasure, by need.Â
He found her mouth, kissing her fiercely, claiming her in every way possible. "Youâre mine," he growled against her lips, "Mine forever." Y/N felt the words wash over her, the possessiveness in them igniting a fire within her. She was lost, completely lost to the sensations, to the feelings he was evoking.Â
She met his kisses with her own, her body moving with his, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.Â
"Yes," she gasped, her voice breathless and strained, "Always. Always yours."
Max felt the pleasure building, the pressure within him mounting. It was too much. He was on the verge of losing control, losing himself completely to the fire within him.Â
He moved with a frantic pace, his body driven by the need to claim her, to make her fully his.Â
He looked down at her, his eyes locking with hers, holding her gaze as he teetered on the edge, the pleasure reaching its peak. "Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and desperate, "Say my name." Y/N felt his body tensing, felt the need in his voice, the fire in his eyes. She was lost in the sensations, in the overwhelming pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes holding his, her body responding to his every move.Â
She reached up and cupped his face, her thumbs tracing over his skin. "Max," she breathed, her voice a mere whisper, "Max, I'm yours."
Max felt her say his name, the sound of it like a spark igniting the fire within him. The need, the desire, the love he felt for her was overwhelming, all-consuming.Â
He was on the edge now, so close to losing himself completely.Â
He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in harsh gasps. "Damn it, Y/N," he whispered, his voice strained, "I love you, I love you so much it hurts."
Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart swelling in her chest. She'd never heard him say those words before, and hearing them now, in this moment, it was overwhelming.Â
She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. "Max," she said, her voice a broken whisper. "I love you too."
Those words, those three little words, they were all it took.Â
Max felt everything in him explode. The pleasure, the need, the love, it all boiled over, consuming him completely.
He let out a guttural moan, his body trembling as he found his release, his mind completely blank, his senses overwhelmed.Â
He held onto her, his body collapsing on top of hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "God, Y/N," he managed to say, his voice rough and hoarse, "I love you so damn much."Â
Y/N felt him shudder against her, the pleasure in his voice sending a thrill through her. She held onto him tightly, her arms around his shoulders, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her release.Â
She held him close, her body cradling his, her hands gently running through his hair. "I love you," she murmured, her voice soft and filled with emotion, "So, so much."Â
Max buried his face in her neck, his breaths still coming in ragged gasps. He felt raw, vulnerable, and exposed. But he didn't care.Â
He'd just told her he loved her, something he'd never said to anyone before. He'd just given himself to her completely, body, mind, and soul. And it felt right. It felt good.Â
He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, his expression soft and filled with tenderness. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "Promise me something."
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. She could see the vulnerability in his gaze, the soft tenderness in his expression.Â
She ran her fingers gently over his cheek, an unspoken promise in her touch. "Anything," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Max felt his heart clench at her response, her words filling him with a mix of hope and fear. He knew what he was about to ask was a lot, a huge risk. But he had to take the chance.
He leaned his forehead against hers, their noses almost touching. "Promise me you'll stay with me," he said, his voice rough and hoarse, "No matter what." Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words. She could hear the fear in his voice, the desperate need for reassurance.Â
She lifted her hand, her fingers tracing over his jawline, a silent promise in the touch. "I promise," she said, her voice so soft it was barely a whisper. "I'll stay, no matter what. Always." Max felt a wave of relief and gratitude wash over him at her words. Her promise, her reassurance, it was exactly what he needed to hear.Â
He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her, his body molding to hers. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, the scent of her like a balm to his soul.Â
He had put his heart on the line, had bared his soul to her, and she had not run away. She had stood her ground and had made him a promise. It was more than he ever dared to hope for. Y/N held him back just as tightly, her arms around his waist, her body fitting against his like a puzzle piece.Â
She could feel the strength in him, the vulnerability. She could see the walls he had worked so hard to build starting to crumble, because of her. Because he loved her.
She ran her fingers through his hair gently, whispering, "I'm not going anywhere, Max. You're stuck with me now." Max chuckled softly against her, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement.
"Oh, I'm stuck with you, am I?" he asked, lifting his head to look down at her, a smirk playing on his lips.Â
He tightened his arms around her, pressing her even closer, his tone teasing. "I guess there's no getting rid of you then, hm?" Y/N laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with humor. "Nope, sorry. You're stuck with me forever," she quipped, feigning an apologetic tone.
She reached up and ruffled his hair, a wicked gleam in her eye. "You should've thought about that before you fell in love with me," she teased, a smirk curving her lips. Max huffed out a laugh at her retort, his eyes narrowing in mock irritation. "Oh, and that's on me, is it?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.
He pinched her side gently, his fingers drumming against her hip. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he said, his tone affectionate. Y/N yelped at the pinch, her body jerking against his. She tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he held her fast, his grip firm but gentle.
She looked up at him, her expression a mix of mock indignation and playful defiance. "Me, a pain in the ass?" she asked, her words flavored with a hint of laughter, "Oh, please. You love it."Â
Max chuckled again, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. He pulled her even closer, his body pressing against hers.
"Maybe I do," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Maybe I love it just as much as I love you."
He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin, his words muffled against her skin. "God, you drive me crazy, you know that?"Â
Y/N shivered as he nuzzled her neck, her breath hitching at the feel of his lips against her skin.Â
She tipped her head back, offering him better access, her hands roaming over his back, tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "I don't know," she said, her voice teasing, "Am I supposed to be sorry about that?"
Max nipped at her neck, his teeth grazing over her skin, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.Â
"No," he said, his voice a low growl, "You're not sorry about it, are you?"
He pulled away slightly, looking down at her, his eyes smoldering with heat. "You love driving me crazy," he said, his tone rough and raw. Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes, the desire, the heat, it was almost too much to bear.
She felt her own body responding to his, her heart rate quickening, her skin heating up.Â
"Maybe a little bit," she admitted slowly, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. "But can you blame me? You make it so damn easy." Max's eyes darkened at her words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He tightened his arms around her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.Â
"You're playing with fire, darling," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "Careful, or I might just lose control again." Y/N met his gaze, her expression one of feigned innocence. "Who, me?" she asked, her voice dripping with sweetness.Â
She pressed a hand against his chest, her fingers splayed out over his thudding heart. "But I like seeing you lose control," she confessed, her voice a sultry whisper. "It's incredibly hot." Max's eyes nearly rolled back into his head at her admission, her words like fuel to the fire already burning within him. He leaned forward, his mouth by her ear, his breath hot against her skin.Â
"You're a damn tease," he growled, "And you know it." Y/N chuckled, her breath hitching at the feel of his breath on her skin. "Guilty as charged," she admitted, her tone unapologetic.Â
She shifted against him, her body moving in an unmistakably provocative way. "But you love it," she added, her voice dripping with sultriness.
Max growled again, his hands tightening on her hips, his body responding to her movements. He was losing control again, he could feel it.Â
He could feel the fire within him burning hotter and hotter, the need for her overwhelming. He fought to hold on, to keep his control, but he was losing the battle fast.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, his voice rough and strained. "I'm not going to be gentle."
Max's eyes darkened, and his breath caught in his throat. Her touch, her words, they were pushing him towards the edge.Â
Y/N relished the tone of his voice, the low rumble that sent a shiver of desire down her spine. Her hands roamed over his body, her touch light but intentional, designed to fuel the blaze within him. "Who said I wanted you to be gentle?" she asked, her fingers tracing a path down his chest. He could feel his control slipping away, the fire within him burning white-hot. He leaned down, his voice a husky whisper against her ear, "Be careful what you ask for."
Y/N shivered at the heat in his voice, his words sending a thrill through her body.Â
She pressed herself closer to him, her breath coming in short gasps. "I don't want to be careful," she breathed, her hands wandering further down, brushing over the front of his trousers.Â
"I want you, Max, all of you." Max's breath hitched at her words, at the feel of her hand on him. His body was taut, his muscles coiled and tense, ready to snap.
He let out a guttural moan, his hands gripping her hips so tightly it was almost painful.
"You're driving me insane," he ground out, his voice rough and desperate. "You're going to be the death of me, I swear."
Y/N loved seeing him like this, desperate and unhinged, all because of her.Â
She pressed her body against his, her hands exploring the planes of his chest. "Maybe that's kind of the point," she teased, her voice low and sultry.Â
"Maybe I want to drive you insane. Maybe I want you to lose control." Max knew he was losing control, but he couldn't find it in him to care.Â
He took his time exploring her body, his touch gentle and reverent. He paid attention to every little gasp and moan that escaped her lips, memorizing what she liked, what made her body arch and shudder beneath him.Â
He wanted to imprint this moment in his memory, to commit her every reaction, every sound, to memory.Â
"You're so damn beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse and rough. Y/N was lost in a haze of pleasure, her body responding to every touch, every caress.Â
She'd never experienced anything like this before, this maddening mix of tenderness and raw desire, this feeling of being worshiped and adored.Â
She ran her hands over his back, digging her fingers into his flesh, her voice a ragged whisper. "Max please " Max wanted time to stop leaving them in this moment forever but he was a rational man and he knew his with y/n was limited so he would give her anything he wanted. Max pressed his forehead against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"What do you want, darling?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes holding hers.Â
"Anything. I'll give you anything you want."
Y/N felt a wave of tenderness wash over her at his words, at the look in his eyes.Â
She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, her thumb tracing over his cheek. "I want you," she whispered, her voice soft but firm.Â
"Just you. I want all of you."Â
Max's eyes darkened at her words, his heart swelling in his chest.Â
He turned his head, his lips brushing over the palm of her hand. "You have me, darling," he said, his voice low and rough.Â
"You have all of me. I'm yours, completely yours."
Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart fluttering in her chest.Â
She pulled him down for a kiss, her lips moving hungrily against his.Â
"You're mine," she breathed, her voice filled with a possessive edge, "And I'm not letting you go, Max. I'm never letting you go." Max returned her kiss with equal fervor, his body pressing hers into the mattress.Â
He broke away from her mouth, his teeth grazing over her neck.Â
"You're not getting rid of me, darling," he growled, his voice a raw, possessive rumble. "I'm yours. For as long as you'll have me." Max says looking down at her.Â
Y/n smiled sweetly up at cradling the side of his face âof course Iâll have you max. Iâll always have youâ she says softly before kissing him.Â
The next morning, Max found himself slumped in the old, creaky chair by the window, sunlight streaming in and casting warm patches across the worn wooden floor. On the table beside him lay the gun he had been meticulously cleaning, now untouched and gathering dust, as if it mirrored the chaos in his mind. He stared blankly at the intricate details of the firearm the way the light glinted off its polished metal, the grooves of the handle that felt oddly familiar in his grip but his thoughts were far from the present moment.Â
The sharp scent of gunpowder lingered in the air as Max stood in the dimly lit warehouse, his eyes locked on the lifeless body of the man on the floor. Blood pooled around him, staining the concrete beneath. Maxâs pulse barely quickened. Heâd done this before. It had become second nature clean, efficient, unemotional.
Behind him, his father, Jos, stood with his arms crossed, watching the scene with a calm, detached gaze. It was as if this was nothing more than a business transaction. A simple job.
Max wiped the blood from his hands, his heart heavy but his face blank. He was eighteen, and already heâd seen more violence than most men saw in a lifetime. Jos had taught him well and had made sure his son knew the price of loyalty and the consequences of betrayal.
âClean it up, Max,â Jos said, his voice low but commanding. âWe donât leave a mess.â
Max didnât reply. There was no need for words. He moved to the side, motioning to the men who had been waiting for this moment. They began to drag the body out of sight, and Max turned his focus back to his father.
Jos approached, his gaze sharp and assessing. âYou did good. Youâre ready.â
Max swallowed the bitterness that rose in his throat. âReady for what, exactly?â
Joâs lips curved into a thin smile. âReady to take on bigger jobs. Youâve proven yourself in the field. You understand the power we hold, the loyalty that binds us.â He looked Max over with a keen eye. âNow, itâs time you start carrying out the work that will solidify our familyâs hold over this city.â
Maxâs stomach tightened. He wasnât sure he liked where this was going, but he wasnât in a position to question it. Not then.
Jos stepped closer, his voice lowering. âThis isnât just about muscle, son. Itâs about strategy. Youâll be making decisions. Learning how to control men, how to make deals, how to enforce our will. This city belongs to us, and I expect you to protect it.â
Max nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knew that this was more than just killing. This was about taking power, holding onto it with an iron fist, and doing whatever it took to keep the family at the top. He had been raised to believe that this was his destiny.
A few months later, Max was in the backseat of a sleek black car, his knuckles white from gripping the leather seat. His fatherâs business was expanding, and that meant more jobsââŹâjobs that Max didnât feel comfortable doing but never once questioned. His father had trained him to be ruthless, and he would be.
They had just finished a deal with a rival faction, and things had gone south. One of the men involved had tried to double-cross Jos. Now, they were on their way to deal with him, to make sure he never did it again.
Max didnât speak much during the ride. He stared out of the window, his mind going over the plan. Jos had made it clear. The traitor had to pay the price. There was no room for weakness.
When the car stopped in front of an old warehouse, Maxâs body tensed. This wasnât just a simple hit. The man they were after had familyââŹâhis wife, his kids. Max had never been asked to kill an innocent person before, but he knew the game well enough to know that in the world they lived in, anyone could be collateral damage.
Jos stepped out first, followed by Max and his men. They moved swiftly, heading toward the building. Maxâs heart raced as they approached the door, knowing what would come next.
Inside, the man was waiting. He was on his knees, hands bound, his face pale with fear. His wife and children were behind him, terrified, clinging to each other. Jos gave a casual glance over his shoulder to Max, his voice calm but chilling.
âMake sure the wife and kids know their place. Donât let them forget why this happened.â
Max stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. It wasnât just the manâs life at stake now. His whole family was caught in the crossfire.
But Jos didnât hesitate. He ordered the man to be executed in front of his family, making sure the wife and children witnessed it. Maxâs stomach churned as he tried to keep his focus, trying to remind himself that this was the life they lived, that this was what he was trained for. Yet something inside him twisted, recoiling at the sight of the childâs tear-filled eyes.
Afterward, as they walked back to the car, Jos didnât say a word about the mess theyâd left behind, the people who would now be marked for life. But Max could see the pride in his fatherâs eyes. He had done his job. He had proven himself. But in the silence that followed, Max couldnât shake the nagging feeling that what heâd just done was a step too far.
Max sat alone in his fatherâs office one evening, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on him. He was twenty-two at the time, more deeply enmeshed in the family business than ever before. But it was starting to feel like a prison, and he was beginning to realize he had no way out.
Jos entered the room, his demeanor calm but cold. He had a job for Max a big one. But this time, it wasnât about taking out a rival. This time, it was personal.
âThereâs a traitor within our ranks,â Jos said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. âI need you to take care of him.â
Max looked up, his gaze steady. He had seen this before. He had been the one to carry out such orders countless times. But this time, it felt different. His hand clenched into a fist under the table.
âWho is it?â Max asked, his voice even.
Jos leaned forward, his eyes hard. âYusuf.â
Max froze. The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Yusuf had always been a thorn in the side of the family, but Jos had never considered him a threat not until now.
âWhatâs he done?â Max asked, his voice tight.
Jos didnât answer directly. Instead, he dropped a folder onto the desk. Inside, Max found surveillance photos of Yusuf meeting with rival factions, scheming behind his back.
âHeâs trying to take control of the business. Heâs planning a coup,â Jos said, his tone cold. âAnd I wonât let it happen. You will take care of it, Max. Iâm counting on you.â
Max stared at the photos for a long moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He knew what this meant. If he killed Marco, there would be no turning back. He would be fully entrenched in his fatherâs empire, forever.
But it wasnât just about loyalty anymore. It was about control about power. Max knew he had a choice, but at that moment, he wasnât sure he was ready to make it.
Jos watched him closely, waiting for a response. But Max didnât speak. His mind was already racing, wondering if he could ever truly break free from the chains his father had wrapped around him.
Max had been raised with expectations. His father, Jos, had made sure Max understood early on that loyalty to the family came first. There was no room for weakness, no room for doubt. When Max was barely eighteen, he had been sent on his first assignmentâmore like an initiation.
He still remembered the cold, sterile office of the warehouse, the pungent scent of cigar smoke hanging thick in the air as Jos spoke in that firm, commanding voice.
âYou will do what is necessary, Max,â Jos had said. âThere is no going back from this life. Remember that.â
Maxâs first job was simple: eliminate a rival. No questions asked. No hesitation.
It was a clean job. A quiet job. He did what was required and moved on. There were no emotions, no second thoughtsâonly the task at hand. But that night, when he saw life leave the manâs eyes, something inside him shifted. Something that told him this was the path he had to follow, whether he wanted to or not.
Heâd buried that feeling deep, knowing that he couldnât afford to feel it. Not in his world.Â
âMax?â Y/Nâs voice snapped him back to the present, her soft, hesitant tone pulling him out of his thoughts.
He turned to face her, blinking in surprise. âWhat is it?â
She studied him carefully, her expression softening. âI donât know why you keep doing this for meââŹÂŚ But I think I get it now.â
Max frowned slightly. âGet what?â
âWhy do you keep pushing everyone away,â Y/N said, her eyes locking onto him. âWhy don't you let people get too close.â
Maxâs breath caught in his throat. It was like she could see right through him. He wanted to deny it, to brush her words off, but instead, he found himself standing there, looking at her as if she were the only thing that made sense anymore.
âI donât know how to be anything else,â he admitted quietly, the walls in his chest cracking just enough to let a little vulnerability slip through.
Y/N stepped closer, her voice gentle. âYou donât have to be that person anymore. You donât have to push people away. Not with me.â
Maxâs eyes flickered to hers, and for the first time in a long time, he felt the pull of something warm. Something genuine.
He wasnât sure if he was ready to let go of everything heâd known, but with Y/N standing theres someone who wasnât afraid of his darkness he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could try.
A few months ago, Max had been faced with the ultimate test of loyalty. His father had tasked him with making a choice: protect the familyâs interests or eliminate anyone who stood in their way. There was no room for both.
But something had happened. Something Max couldnât explain. When he thought about Y/N the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel like he wasnât just his fatherâs son Max realized that he didnât want to keep living a life based on violence and betrayal.
The night he decided to leave, he didnât say goodbye to anyone. He just left, taking only what he needed. He couldnât tell Y/N why he was doing it not yet but he knew one thing: He was done with the mafia. For her. For himself.
Max sat beside Y/N, the flickering fire casting long shadows across the room. They had spent the day in silence, both lost in their thoughts, yet more connected than ever. After weeks of running, of living in constant fear, tonight felt different. It felt like they were finding a new rhythm, a new normal.
Max glanced over at Y/N, who was staring into the fire, her expression contemplative. Her presence, once just a source of distraction, had begun to feel like something moreâlike peace.
He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing hers. It was a simple gesture, but it held more weight than words ever could.
Y/N turned to him, her heart beating a little faster. Sheâd been thinking about the same thing the way their bond had been growing. It hadnât been instant, but every moment they shared felt like a small piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
Max took a deep breath, his voice quieter than usual. âI never thought Iâd get out. Not really. I was born into this life, Y/N. Raised to take it all in stride. To be the boss. My father made sure of that.â
Y/N didnât respond right away. She just listened, her heart heavy with empathy for the man sitting next to her. She had seen the coldness in his eyes when they first met, but now she understood it. It wasnât who he was it was who he had been forced to be.
âI remember the first time my father sent me out on a job,â Max continued, his voice a little distant as the memory surfaced. âI was eighteen. I didnât even know how to feel about it hell, I didnât even know how to kill someone until he told me exactly how to do it.â
Y/Nâs hand tightened around his, but she didnât speak. She just let him continue, knowing that this was something he had kept buried for far too long.
âI did it,â he said softly, his voice full of a haunting finality. âWithout question. I wasnât a kid anymore. But I was still I donât knowââŹÂŚ broken inside. I couldnât feel what I was supposed to. Like, I knew what I had to do, but it didnât feel real. It didnât feel like me.â
Max paused the weight of his words hanging between them. He turned to face Y/N, his eyes filled with something unspoken.
âUntil I met you.â
Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his words. âMe?â
Max nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. âYou changed everything, Y/N. I didnât know it then, but when I pulled you out of that alleyââŹÂŚ you made me feel something real again.â
Y/Nâs heart thudded in her chest. Her breath caught as she realized the magnitude of what Max was saying. The man who had been hardened by years of violence, who had lived a life of solitude and coldness, was opening up to her. He wasnât just speaking to her as the man who saved her that nightâhe was speaking as someone who had truly started to care.
âI donât know how to do this,â Max continued, his voice thick with emotion. âI donât know how to be this person I feel like Iâm becoming when Iâm with you. Iâve been a monster for so long that Iâm not sure how to be anything else. But when Iâm with you I donât feel like that anymore.â
Y/N could feel the vulnerability in his words, and her heart ached for him. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between the man he had been and the man he wanted to be.
âI donât need you to be perfect, Max,â she said softly, her voice steady and warm. âI just need you to be you. Thatâs all I ever wanted. BecauseâŚâ
She stopped herself, the words catching in her throat. Her heart was pounding now, and she knew this was a moment they couldnât go back from. She had to be honest, even if it terrified her.
âBecause I love you and you're my best friend,â Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.
Max froze, his entire body still as her words washed over him. It was like time had slowed down, and for a moment, he couldnât breathe. He wasnât sure what to say whether to admit the same feelings he had buried deep inside or to keep pushing them down, afraid of what it would mean.
But then Y/N squeezed his hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and he realized she was just as afraid as he was.
âI love you, too,â he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. âI think I have been for a while now. But I donât know what this means for us, Y/N. I donât know if we can escape the world I came from. And I donât know if I can protect you from it.â
Y/Nâs eyes softened, her thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. âMax,â she said, her voice filled with quiet resolve, âmaybe we canât escape everything. Maybe our pasts will always follow us. But we can choose what we do next. We can choose what we make of this.â
Max let out a deep breath, feeling a weight he didnât know he was carrying to start to lift. He looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time, seeing her not as someone he needed to protect, but as someone he wanted to protect. Someone who had brought light into his darkness.
For the first time in years, Max felt like he could finally choose something for himself. Something good.
He leaned in slowly, his hand gently cupping her face. âThen letâs choose this. Together.â
And in that moment, as their lips met for the third time, everything else faded awayââŹâthe past, the danger, the uncertainty. There were only them.
But even as they shared this moment, the danger was still very much alive. Marcoâs men had been closing in on them for weeks, and though they had been successful in evading capture, Max knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to face the consequences of their choices.
As they pulled apart, Maxâs mind went back to the life he had left behind. Marco wasnât someone who would let his sonâs disappearance go unanswered. And his fatherâs wrath was never far behind.
âI wonât let anyone hurt you,â Max vowed, his voice low and fierce. âNo matter what happens, Iâll protect you.â
Y/N met his gaze, her expression determined. âI trust you, Max. And Iâll fight with you. I donât want to run anymore.â
The resolve in her voice made Maxâs heart race. They were no longer just running from the past. They were ready to face whatever came next together.
And in that moment, they knew the fight was far from over. But at least they had each other. And that gave them more strength than they had ever known.
Max held her close, feeling her heart beating against his chest. He knew they had very little time before Marcoâs men found them. But in that moment, all he could feel was her. The softness of her skin against his, the warmth of her breath on his neck.
He ran his fingers through her hair, his voice low. "There's something I have to tell you, darling."
âI know who you are Max,â Y/n says before Max can say anything else. Max is caught off guard by her words, his hand stilling in her hair. He looks down at her, his eyes dark and intense.Â
"You knew?" he says, his voice a low rumble.Â
He was not sure what he was expecting from her, but this wasnât it. He'd been so careful to keep his true identity from her, to shield her from the darkness of his world. Y/N nods, her expression solemn but firm.Â
She reaches up, placing her hand on his chest. She can feel his heart beating fast beneath her fingertips.Â
âIâve known for a while,â she admits softly. âI saw some things. Heard some things. I put it together.âÂ
Max just stares at her for a moment, processing her words. He wasnât sure why he was surprised. She was smart and observant. Of course, she would figure it out eventually. He lets out a breath, his jaw clenching. "Why didnât you say anything?"Â
His voice is rough with emotion, a mixture of vulnerability and defensiveness. He had spent so much time and energy trying to keep this part of himself hidden from her. Now it seemed pointless.Â
Y/N steps closer, her hand sliding up to press against his cheek. She looks at him with a mixture of understanding and concern.Â
âI didnât want you to think I was judging you,â she says, her voice gentle. âI know I know what youâve been through. What youâve done. But I also know that youâre more than your past, Max.â Her words hit him hard, like a punch to the gut. He had expected judgment, fear, and disappointment. But all he saw in her eyes was acceptance, understanding, love.Â
His shoulders sag with a mixture of relief and confusion. How could she see the monster in him and still look at him like he was someone worth saving?
He pulls her towards him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her hair. He doesnât know how to process the range of emotions running through him.Â
âYou should hate me,â he mutters, his voice hoarse with raw emotion. âYou should be afraid.â
Y/N wraps her arms around him in return, holding him just as fiercely. She buries her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him.Â
âI donât hate you, Max,â she says quietly, her voice quivering slightly. âI love you. okay Max I love you and I donât know how much longer we have together but as long as Iâm with you Iâll keep reminding you that.â Maxâs heart clenches at her words, his grip on her tightening. He hadnât dared hope that she would say that. Not after everything he had done, everything he had been.Â
He pulls back slightly so he can look into her eyes. Theyâre glossy with unshed tears, but her gaze is unflinching, her determination clear. âI donât deserve you,â he whispers, his voice rough. âYouâre too good for me, too pure. Iâll just end up hurting you, or IâllâŚâÂ
He trails off, unable to continue. It was the same fear that had been eating at him since the moment he realized he cared for her. The fear that he would destroy her, tainted her with his darkness. Y/N cups his face in her hands, making him look at her. Her eyes search his, her expression resolute.Â
âYou donât get to decide whoâs good enough for me,â she tells him firmly. âAnd I donât care if you think youâll hurt me. I can handle it. Iâm choosing to be with you.âÂ
Max leans his head down, resting his forehead against hers. Her words make something deep within him ache. He was used to people leaving him, abandoning him. And yet here she was, throwing herself into the fire for him.Â
âYouâre the most stubborn woman Iâve ever met,â he mutters, unable to hide the hint of affection in his voice.
Y/N laughs softly, the sound a sweet melody to his ears. âYou love it,â she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.Â
Max snorts, his lips curving up in a wry grin. And despite the danger lurking on the edges of their happiness, he knows sheâs right. He does love it. He loves her.
He pulls her closer, his arms encircling her waist as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. For a moment, they just stand there, holding each other. And in that moment, all the worries, all the dangers seem to melt away.Â
Until the sound of footsteps outside the room shattered the fragile peace they had created.
Marco had never liked Max. Marco hated Maxâs very existence. The tension between them had been palpable for years, even when Max had been under his fatherâs roof. Jos had always been the better leader, the more controlled, more calculating of the two. But Marco was ruthless in ways Jos never was.
When Max had left, disappearing into the night without a word, it was Marcoâs fury that had been unleashed first. Jos, while angry, had been more patient, biding his time. But Marco? He wanted revenge.
Marcoâs first move was to send out his men to track Maxâs movements. He had no intention of letting Josâ son walk away unpunished. Maxâs defection had shaken the power dynamic in the family. Marco needed to reassert his dominance, to remind everyone that he was still in charge.
Max had been careful, covering his tracks and using everything he had learned in the mafia world to stay hidden. But Marcoâs resources were vast, and his men were killed.
After days of searching, one of Marcoâs men finally got a lead. A rumor, a whisper, a sighting. It wasnât much, but it was enough to set the machine in motion.
Marco got the report late in the afternoon. He read through it slowly, his expression darkening with each word. But when he got to the end, he smiled a cruel, cold smile.Â
He knew right where to find Max, and once he had him, there would be hell to pay. That night, a group of Marcoâs men were sent to the location where Max and Y/N were staying. They moved with military precision, their footsteps silent, their weapons loaded and ready.
Max was vigilant, his ears straining for any sound that didnât belong. This was the sort of situation he had been preparing for, and he wasn't going to let his guard down now. Max heard the first sound, a soft scuffle of shoes against gravel. He tensed, his eyes darting to the door. Y/N, dozing on the bed, noticed his sudden tension and sat up.
âWhat is it?â she whispered, her voice betraying her fear.Â
Max didnât answer. He was listening intently, trying to gauge how many men were outside. He could hear at least three, possibly more. They were circling the building, searching for a point of entry.
Max glanced around the room, his mind racing. They had to get moving, and quickly. His gaze fell on the window, and he silently cursed. It was small, barely big enough for him to fit through. But it would have to do.
âY/N,â he said quietly, his voice urgent. âGet up. We need to go, now.â
She didnât question him, knowing now was not the time. She stood, quickly pulling on her shoes. Max moved to the window, quietly pushing it open.
Just then, there was a loud bang on the front door. Marcoâs men had found the entrance. Maxâs body tensed even further, his jaw clenching. They had seconds if that. Max turned to Y/N and held out his hand. âYou first,â he said, his voice a low growl. Y/N didnât hesitate, she climbed onto the windowsill and squeezed out through the opening.
Max followed, grunting as he had to force his broad shoulders through the narrow space. He dropped to the ground next to Y/N, his eyes on the door. It shook again as someone slammed against it from the other side.
âStay close to me,â Max muttered, gripping Y/Nâs arm. He started to move, keeping to the shadows. They had to reach the woods and the car before Marcoâs men could catch them. They had just reached the tree line when the first shots rang out. Max pushed Y/N behind a tree for cover, his body shielding hers. He could hear Marcoâs men shouting, their footsteps loud and aggressive.
Max and Y/N moved cautiously through the woods, their steps light but deliberate. Theyâd been on edge for days, the tension between them rising with every passing hour. Max kept glancing over his shoulder, scanning the tree line.
âThis isnât good,â Max muttered, his voice low. âWeâre too exposed out here.â
Y/N stayed close, her hand gripping the strap of her bag. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, the air thick with anxiety.
Suddenly, the faint sound of a twig snapping echoed in the distance, cutting through the quiet night. Max stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. He held up a hand to signal for Y/N to stay silent.
He motioned for her to stay behind a tree while he moved forward, moving like a shadow through the underbrush. His every sense was on high alert now, instincts kicking in. The danger was close, much closer than they had realized.
And then, he saw them.
A group of men, dressed in dark clothing, moved stealthily through the forest. They were too far to be a threat yet, but Max knew it was only a matter of time before they got closer.
Max took a step back, retreating slowly to where Y/N waited. His mind was racing. Marcoâs men were on their tail.
âTheyâre here,â Max said, his voice tight. âWe need to move. Now.â
Y/Nâs eyes widened. âHow many of them?â
âAt least five,â Max replied, his voice steady despite the rising tension. âMaybe more. Theyâve got us pinned down.â
Marco wasnât just looking for Max. He was searching for something more. He had learned about Y/N the woman who had been with Max, the one who had caused the shift in him. Marco had heard whispers about her, and he didnât like what heâd heard.
In his mind, she was a weakness. A liability.
âFind her,â Marco had commanded his men, âand bring her to me. Iâll deal with Max myself. But if sheâs as important to him as I think, sheâll be the key to getting him back.â
Marcoâs obsession with control meant he couldnât afford any loose ends, especially not someone who could pull Max away from the life he was supposed to lead.
Max and Y/N moved through the trees, their bodies close, keeping low. The fear was palpable now, but they couldnât afford to let it consume them. They had to outsmart Marcoâs men and get to safety before they were cornered.
Max knew the woods like the back of his hand, but this time, it wasnât just about survival. This was about protecting Y/N, and that was a different kind of pressure.
They made their way toward a hidden path, hoping to use it as an escape route. But just as they thought they were in the clear, a voice rang out from behind them.
âMax! I know youâre out there.â It was Marcoâs voice, smooth and menacing.
Max froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldnât let Marco get to them. Not now, not ever.
He turned to Y/N, his face grim. âRun. Iâll hold them off.â
Y/N grabbed his arm, her grip firm. âWe run together, Max. Iâm not leaving you.â
Max met her eyes, seeing the fear and determination in her gaze. He knew she wouldnât back down, but they didnât have much time.
âWeâll fight our way out,â he said, his voice steady. âTogether.â
Sure, letâs continue the scene with Max and Y/N facing Marcoâs men. The tension is high as they are cornered, but their bond is stronger than ever. This moment will test their trust in each other and their survival instincts.
Maxâs heart raced as the voice of Marco rang out through the woods, sending a chill down his spine. The men were closing in on them, and the space around them seemed to shrink with every passing second.
âMax!â Marcoâs voice echoed again, closer this time. âI know youâre out there. You canât hide forever!â
Y/Nâs grip on Max tightened as she tried to keep her breathing steady. The woods, once a place of refuge, now felt like a trap. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the fear threatening to overtake her, but Maxâs steady presence beside her kept her grounded.
âStay close,â Max murmured, his voice low but firm.
They moved quickly through the trees, but the sound of crunching leaves underfoot told them they werenât going unnoticed. The pursuit was relentless.
Max knew they didnât have much time. He had to think fast if they tried to run, theyâd be easy targets. But if they could hold their ground for a moment, maybe, just maybe, they could make it out alive.
He looked around, searching for a way out. His eyes landed on an old cabin in the distance. The roof was partially caved in, but it was close enough that they could take refuge there at least for a little while.
âOver there,â Max said, his eyes locking with Y/Nâs. âWe can make it to that cabin. Stay low. Stick to the shadows.â
Y/N nodded, her face set with determination. She had come this far with Max, and there was no way she was backing down now. Together, they could get through this.
As they darted toward the cabin, a rustling sound broke through the air then the unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in. They were almost there, just a few more yards.
Maxâs pulse quickened. He could hear the men behind them, their voices now loud and clear as they gave chase. Marcoâs men were skilled, and they werenât going to stop until they had Max and Y/N in their grasp.
âDonât stop!â Max urged, his hand gripping Y/Nâs as they pushed forward, the cabin getting closer by the second.
But just as they reached the door of the cabin, a sharp voice called out from the trees.
âThere they are! Donât let them get away!â
Max spun around just in time to see two of Marcoâs men burst from the trees, guns drawn, closing in on them.
âShit,â Max muttered under his breath. He didnât have a choice anymoreâhe had to make a stand.
He grabbed Y/Nâs arm and pulled her behind the cover of the cabin, forcing her to crouch low. He motioned for her to stay still as he pulled out his gun, the weight of it familiar in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest, but he knew what he had to do. Protect her. No matter the cost.
Max peeked around the corner, trying to get a better look at their attackers. He could see two men approaching, their eyes scanning the area. They hadnât seen them yet, but they were getting closer.
Y/Nâs breath was shaky, but she stayed silent, her eyes wide with fear as she watched Max prepare. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was trying to anticipate their next move.
Max squeezed her hand once, reassuring her without words. They had to make this count.
Then, before he could react, the men rounded the corner of the cabin, their guns raised.
Max fired first.
The loud crack of the gunshot echoed through the woods, and one of the men staggered back, clutching his shoulder. The second man didnât hesitate, immediately returning fire.
Max dove behind the cabinâs decaying wall, pulling Y/N with him. The bullets whizzed by, but they were safe for now, at least behind the cover.
âStay down,â Max hissed through clenched teeth. His mind raced, looking for a way out. He couldnât keep fighting here it was a losing battle.
Y/Nâs eyes flicked to the gun in Maxâs hand, and she nodded. âWhatâs the plan?â
Maxâs gaze shifted toward the trees behind them, calculating his next move. âWeâre going to make a run for it. On my mark.â
But before he could finish, he heard the unmistakable sound of boots crunching the leaves behind them. Maxâs pulse surged in his chest. He wasnât sure how many men Marco had sent, but he knew they couldnât stay here much longer.
He turned to Y/N, his voice quiet but urgent. âWe move in three, twoâ
The words were cut off by a voiceââŹâcold and commandingââŹâthat sliced through the night.
âYou think you can run from me, Max?â
Maxâs blood ran cold as Marco stepped into view from the tree line, his dark eyes fixed on them. His expression was calm, almost amused, as though he were merely observing a game he had already won.
Marco was a man who controlled everything he touched, and he would not allow his blood to slip through his fingers.
Max didnât flinch. âMarco.â
The tension between them was palpable, thick as the air around them. Max stood his ground, his gun raised, but Marco made no move to draw his weapon. His men, however, were ready, guns trained on Max and Y/N.
âYouâre making a mistake, Max,â Marco said, his tone almost pitiful. âYou canât escape who you are. Youâre mine, boy. Your fatherâs not here to protect you, and now youâre mine to deal with.â
Maxâs grip tightened on his gun, but Y/N moved to stand beside him, her body rigid with fear, yet unwavering. She was ready. âNo,â she said, her voice strong. âHeâs not yours, Marco. Heâs his person now. You donât control him anymore.â
Marcoâs eyes flickered toward her, a dark glint of amusement crossing his face. âAnd you do you think youâre going to change that? A woman? How sweet. But youâre just as much of a liability as he is.â
Max stepped in front of her, his face hard. âYouâll never touch her, Marco.â
Marcoâs smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. âYou believe that? You think I wonât do whatever it takes to bring you back? To make you remember who you are?â
Maxâs jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his gun. But he didnât lower it. Not yet.
He knew what Marco wantedââŹâto break him, to remind him of the life he had walked away from. But Max wouldnât give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not when Y/N was by his side.
âYou can try, Marco,â Max said, his voice low and steady. âBut weâre not going back.â
Marcoâs eyes glinted with something darker, more dangerous, as his lips curled into a sinister smile. He had Max exactly where he wanted him: cornered, with nowhere to run. But the fire in Maxâs eyes told Marco that this time, things were different.
âYou think youâre untouchable?â Marco sneered, slowly circling Max and Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. His men stood at the ready, watching for any sign of movement. âYouâre still my blood. Youâre still bound by everything Father taught you. Taught me. Donât pretend youâve forgotten where you came from.â
Max held his ground, his gun still aimed at Marco. His pulse thundered in his ears, but his mind was clear. The old Max might have hesitated, might have been tempted by the power Marco offered, but that man was gone. The past was in the past. The present was all that mattered now.
âWhat do you mean by blood?â Max asked as far as he knew he was Josâ only son but he also wouldnât have put it past his father to have affairs with other women before or after he was born.Â
âThe old man never told you?â Marco says cockily with a chuckle, taking the barrel of the gun and tapping the side of his head with it before pointing it back at the two of them.Â
Maxâs expression hardened, his mind racing. âWhat are you talking about, Marco?â he demanded, his voice tight.
Marcoâs grin only widened, a mocking glint in his eyes. âPoor little Max, the golden child, left in the dark.â He tapped the side of his head again with the gun, clearly enjoying himself. âOld man Jos never told you he hadââŹÂŚ extracurriculars?â
Maxâs stomach twisted as realization began to creep in. âWhat are you saying?â
Marco chuckled, lowering the gun slightly as he leaned in closer. âIâm saying, dear brother,â he spat the word with bitterness, âthat Iâm as much a part of his legacy as you are. The only difference? I was the one left to fend for myself while you got the title, the protection, the kingdom handed to you.â
Maxâs jaw clenched, anger flashing across his face. âYou think I wanted any of that?â
âOh, Iâm sure youâd rather be in your cozy little bookstore, playing at a normal life,â Marco sneered, âbut blood is blood, Max. And whether you like it or not, Iâm here to claim my piece.â
Max held Marcoâs gaze, searching for any sign that this was some sick joke. But the anger in Marcoâs eyes was real, years of resentment boiling to the surface.
âYou think youâre entitled to something just because of blood?â Max shot back, his voice cold. âJos barely treated me like a son. Whatever you think he gave me, it was a curse.â
Marco laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. âOh, you poor thing. Life in the big house, daddyâs golden boy, all while I grew up in the shadows. Do you know what that does to a person? Watching someone else live the life that shouldâve been yours?â
âNothing about this life was a gift,â Max replied, his voice low and dangerous. âAnd if you think Jos would have done any better by you, then you didnât know him at all.â
Marcoâs expression darkened, his grip tightening on the gun. âMaybe not. But I know one thing: you donât deserve to walk away from all this. To pretend you can just leave and play house with your little bookstore.â He spat on the ground. âI clawed my way here, Max. Everything I have, I earned. And Iâm not leaving empty-handed.â
Max took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. âSo whatâs the plan, Marco? You think you can just waltz in, wave a gun around, and take whatever you think I owe you?â
âOh, I think I can do a lot more than that.â Marco smirked, stepping closer. âYou may have walked away from Josâ empire, but that leaves it wide open for someone else to take over. Maybe Iâm not here for revenge, Max. Maybe Iâm here to make you an offer.â
Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. âAn offer?â
Marcoâs grin was almost feral. âYou and me. We take whatâs left of the empire, rebuild it, make it ours. All that power, that legacyââŹâitâs in our blood, Max. Think about it.â
For a moment, the weight of Marcoâs words hung between them. The idea was tempting in a dark, twisted wayââŹâa chance to take control of the very thing that had once controlled him. But Max shook his head, breaking the spell.
âI left that life for a reason,â he said firmly. âIâm not going back, and I sure as hell wonât do it with you.â
Marcoâs smile faded, replaced by a look of cold fury. âThen youâre a fool, Max. And if you wonât help me, youâll wish you had. Because one way or another, Iâm taking whatâs mine.â
Y/N stood at Maxâs side, her hand clenched into a fist. She was terrified, but her trust in Max was unwavering. She had seen the darkness that Max had been through, and she had witnessed the fight inside him to rise above it. This wasnât the man Marco thought he could control anymore. This was a different MaxââŹâa man who had chosen his own path.
Marcoâs gaze flickered to her, the hatred clear in his eyes. He knew that Y/N was the root of the problem. She had changed everything for MaxââŹâhis priorities, his mindset, his resolve. Marco would never allow that.
âYou think youâre going to protect her?â Marco laughed coldly. âYou think youâre going to keep her safe from me? From us?â
Max took a step forward, narrowing the distance between himself and his uncle. His jaw clenched. âI wonât let you touch her, Marco. Not now. Not ever.â
Marcoâs smirk faltered for just a moment, his eyes scanning Maxâs face. Then his gaze snapped to the men around them. He nodded once, and they started to advance, inching closer to where Max and Y/N stood.
Maxâs mind worked at lightning speed. He wasnât about to let them get close. He had to get Y/N out of here. He had to protect her.
Without warning, Max fired another shot, taking down one of Marcoâs men who had started to raise his weapon. The shot echoed through the night, a violent reminder of the stakes at hand.
âMove!â Max shouted at Y/N, grabbing her arm. They couldnât stay here. Not now.
She didnât need any further encouragement. She followed him, her legs pumping as they sprinted toward the trees. Marcoâs men were still firing, but Max kept them off-balance, shooting at the trees to force them back.
âKeep running!â Max barked.
They ran as fast as they could, the sound of gunshots ringing in the air around them. Y/Nâs breath came out in sharp, panicked gasps, but she stayed close to Max, her trust in him more solid than ever.
Max could feel the weight of every step, the knowledge that they were being hunted pushing him forward. He couldnât let Marco win. Not now.
As they ran, Maxâs thoughts briefly flickered back to the life he had once knownââŹâthe life his father, Jos, had dragged him into.
The world of the mafia wasnât a world Max had chosen. He had been born into it, groomed for it, shaped by it. But it was never what he wanted.
Jos had always pushed Max harder than anyone else, forcing him to take on dangerous assignments. There had been jobs that Max had carried out without questionââŹâjobs he didnât want to think about now. There had been a hit in the dead of night on a rival gang leader. Max had pulled the trigger himself, following his fatherâs orders without a second thought.
Then there had been the night heâd been forced to take care of a traitorââŹâa man who had once been loyal to his family but had turned on them. Max had done what he was told, even when it meant silencing a man who had once been a friend. He had never questioned Jos. He had believed in his fatherâs vision for the family until the day he realized it wasnât a vision. It was a prison.
But then came Y/N.
She had been the catalyst. The thing that had shifted everything for Max. The moment heâd saved her, it was as if a new path had opened before him a path that wasnât dictated by bloodlines or mafia codes. A path that was free of Marcoâs influence. A path that was his own.
The small house that Max had found was tucked away on the outskirts of town, hidden by the dense trees. They reached it just as the sound of the vehicles grew louder, the engines rumbling through the night like a looming storm. Max quickly led Y/N inside, locking the door behind them with practiced ease.
He glanced out of the window, his fingers brushing over the gun in his jacket. He knew they didnât have much time. He had learned to read the patterns of Marcoâs menââŹâhow they moved, how they searchedââŹâbut this time, it felt different. The air was thicker, the pressure mounting with every passing minute.
Y/N sat down on the rickety old couch, trying to calm her nerves, but the weight of the situation was wearing on her. She looked over at Max, who was pacing in front of the window, his eyes focused on the road that led into the woods.
âMaxââŹÂŚâ she said softly, her voice breaking through the silence. âI know youâre scared. I can see it. But you donât have to do this alone.â
Max froze, his back stiffening. He didnât turn around immediately, but after a long moment, he finally faced her, his expression unreadable. His gaze softened slightly, though the tension was still palpable.
âYou donât get it, Y/N,â he said, his voice low and rough. âIâve spent my whole life doing things I canât take back. Iâve hurt people, ruined livesââŹâall for my family, for the empire. But none of that matters now. All that matters is you.â
He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for understanding. âIf anything happens to you, I wonât be able to live with myself. I donât care about anything else anymore. I just want you safe. Away from this mess.â
Tears welled up in Y/Nâs eyes as she stood up, closing the distance between them. She could see the inner turmoil in his eyesââŹâthe battle he was fighting between the man he had been and the man he wanted to be. She reached out, touching his cheek gently.
âYou donât have to carry this burden alone,â she whispered, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down his face. âIâm here, Max. Iâm not going anywhere.â
For the first time in what felt like forever, Max allowed himself to lean into her touch. His shoulders sagged, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He had spent so long running from his past, trying to protect her from it, that he hadnât stopped to let her in. But now, in this moment, with Marcoâs men closing in, he realized something.
He couldnât keep fighting this battle alone. Not anymore.
The moonlight filtered through the cracks in the dense woods as Max and Y/N made their way through the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of fallen leaves. Maxâs eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area, his senses heightened. He could hear the distant hum of engines and the faint crackle of radio chatter. Marcoâs men were closing in, and they had to keep moving.
Y/N stayed close to him, her breath shallow as she clutched onto Maxâs jacket, her face pale but resolute. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. Sheâd never seen him like this beforeââŹâso focused, so fierce. He wasnât just trying to protect her; he was fighting a battle within himself. She could sense the weight of his past pushing against the choices he was trying to make for their future.
âMax we canât keep running like this,â Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. âWe need a plan. We canât outrun them forever.â
Max didnât answer right away, his jaw clenched as he led her further into the woods, pushing through the underbrush with urgency. He knew she was right. But how could he make a plan when everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers? Marco and his men werenât just after him anymore. They were after both of them. And the only thing standing between Y/N and them was Maxâs desperation to keep her safe.
âWeâll figure it out,â Max finally muttered, his voice strained. âJust trust me, okay?â
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. She had always known Max had a dark past, but seeing him like thisâso different from the man she first metâtugged at her heart. She wanted to believe they could escape this life, but the more she saw of Maxâs world, the more she realized how deeply entrenched he was.
âMax, please,â she urged, her grip tightening on his arm. âWe need to talk. Youâre not just running from them. Youâre running from yourself.â
Maxâs heart clenched at her words, but he didnât respond. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him down a narrow path that led to a small clearing ahead. He could see the glimmer of headlights cutting through the darknessââŹâMarcoâs men were getting closer. He needed to get them to the safe house he had prepared, and he needed to get there fast.
Suddenly, the sound of tires screeching to a halt outside somewhere in the woods jerked Max out of his thoughts. His eyes went wide, and in one fluid motion, he reached for his gun, his heart racing. Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat as she stepped back, realizing the time had come.
Max turned to face her, his face hardening. âStay behind me,â he ordered, his voice steely. âNo matter what happens, donât move.â
Y/N nodded, her hands trembling as she pressed herself against the wall. She could hear the sounds of footsteps outside, the distinct thud of boots crunching on gravel.
The door burst open without warning, and in stepped Marco, flanked by several of his men. His face was cold, calculating, as he looked around the small cabin.
âWell, wellââŹÂŚ Max,â Marcoâs voice dripped with disdain. âI was hoping we could do this the easy way. But it looks like weâre doing it the hard way, after all.â
Max didnât flinch. He stood his ground, his eyes never leaving Marcoâs. The gun in his hand was steady, though the tension in his body was anything but.
âThis ends tonight, Marco,â Max said, his voice low, but his words cutting through the air like a blade. âYouâre not going to take her from me. I wonât let you.â
Marco chuckled, a mocking sound that echoed in the cabin. âYou really think you can stop me? Youâve been running from your past, Max. You canât outrun the family. You canât outrun me.â
Maxâs jaw clenched, his hand tightening around the gun. âI donât care about the family anymore. I donât care about the empire. I care about her. And if you think for one second that Iâll let you destroy thatââŹÂŚ youâre wrong.â
Maxâs heart pounded as he faced off against Marco, his fatherâs enforcer and the one man who had haunted him for years. Marcoâs cold smirk was gone, replaced by a steely determination that Max knew all too well. For Marco, this was a matter of principle, a ruthless reminder that no oneââŹâespecially not Josâ sonââŹâcould turn his back on the family.
âYouâve always thought you were better than this life,â Marco sneered, circling Max like a predator sizing up its prey. âBut youâre a fool if you think you can escape it. Itâs in your blood, Max. It always will be.â
Max held his ground, his body tense. âIâm nothing like you, Marco. Nothing like my father.â
Marcoâs gaze darkened, his voice dripping with contempt. âThen why are you still here, trying to protect her?â He nodded toward Y/N, who was still hidden in the shadows, her eyes wide as she watched the scene unfold. âIf you cared about her, youâd know youâre putting her life on the line.â
Maxâs grip tightened on his gun, his jaw clenching. âI am protecting her. Iâm protecting her from people like you.â
Marco laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. âYou canât protect her from this world, Max. You were born into it, and now, so is she. Youâve made her a part of this, and thereâs no escaping it.â
With a slight nod, Marco signaled his men to close in, their weapons raised. Maxâs pulse raced, but he refused to back down. He had to think fast, act faster. The exit was blocked, and the only way out was through Marco and his men.
âStay back, Y/N!â Max called over his shoulder. He didnât dare take his eyes off Marco, but he could feel Y/Nâs gaze on him, her fear mixed with determination.
But Y/N didnât listen. She stepped out from behind the crates, her eyes flashing with defiance. âIâm not leaving you, Max.â
âY/NââŹââ Max started, but it was too late.
Marco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. âLook at thisââŹâloyalty. Almost touching, isnât it?â
Maxâs patience snapped. He lunged forward, his fists colliding with Marcoâs chest as they grappled. Marcoâs men sprang into action, but Y/N, summoning every ounce of courage, threw herself into the fray, grabbing a fallen pipe from the floor and swinging it at one of Marcoâs henchmen. The man staggered back, momentarily stunned, giving Max a moment to break free of Marcoâs grip.
âRun!â Max shouted to Y/N, but she stayed put, her eyes blazing with determination. Together, they fought, their movements almost in sync as they faced down Marco and his men. Max knew they couldnât hold out forever, but they had to try.
Marco, recovering quickly, let out a snarl. âYouâre just delaying the inevitable, Max. Weâll hunt you down. Both of you.â
Max ignored him, his focus razor-sharp as he dodged another attack. They moved toward the exit, inch by inch, fighting off anyone who got in their way. But then, just as they neared the door, Marco raised his gun, aiming it directly at Y/N.
Maxâs heart stopped. In that split second, everything slowed down.
âNo!â he shouted, throwing himself in front of Y/N just as the gun went off. The shot echoed through the room, and pain seared through his shoulder. But he didnât stopââŹâhe couldnât. He pushed Y/N toward the door, his vision blurring as he fought to stay conscious.
âGo, Y/N!â he gasped, his voice hoarse with pain. âGet to the car!â
Y/N hesitated, her face pale with fear, but she nodded, her eyes filled with tears. She sprinted toward the car, her heart pounding as she heard the sounds of the struggle behind her.
Max stumbled after her, his hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder, but he refused to fall. He refused to let Marco win. With a final burst of strength, he reached the car and collapsed into the driverâs seat, slamming the door just as Y/N hit the gas.
They sped away, leaving Marco and his men in the dust, but the weight of what had just happened hung heavy between them.
As they drove through the night, Max leaned back, trying to catch his breath. The pain in his shoulder was agonizing, but he forced himself to focus, to stay conscious. Y/Nâs hands gripped the steering wheel, her face a mixture of fear and worry as she glanced over at him.
âYouâre hurt,â she whispered, her voice breaking.
Max forced a faint smile. âIâll live.â
But the truth was, he didnât know how much longer they could keep running. They were in deeper than heâd ever anticipated, and Marco wouldnât stop until he had them both.
âMaxââŹÂŚâ Y/Nâs voice was barely a whisper. âWhy did you do it? Why did you risk everything for me?â
Max met her gaze, his expression softening despite the pain. âBecause youâre worth it. BecauseââŹÂŚ because for the first time in my life, I have something real. Something worth fighting for.â
Y/Nâs eyes filled with tears, but she smiled, reaching over to take his hand. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their situation sinking in.
Finally, Max spoke, his voice filled with determination. âWeâre going to get through this, Y/N. I donât know how, but we will.â
Back at the hideout, Marco paced furiously, his face twisted with rage. His men were scattered, licking their wounds, but the real wound was to his pride. Max had defied himââŹâand worse, he had escaped.
Josâ voice echoed in Marcoâs head, a reminder of the familyâs iron rule: No one leaves. No one defies us.
But Marco was not one to give up easily. He knew Max would be on the run, hiding in the shadows. And he knew exactly where to look.
âSpread out,â he ordered his men, his voice cold and unwavering. âFind them. And bring them back alive. I want Max to see what happens to those who betray the family.â
Marcoâs men nodded, their faces grim as they set off into the night. They knew the consequences of failure all too well.
As dawn broke, Max and Y/N pulled into a small, run-down motel on the edge of town. Y/N helped Max inside, guiding him to a bed where he could rest. She quickly set to work cleaning his wound, her hands gentle but determined.
As she worked, Max studied her face, his heart aching with a mixture of love and guilt. He had dragged her into a world of danger, into a life she didnât deserve. But he also knew he couldnât let her go.
âY/N,â he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. âIâm sorryââŹÂŚ for everything.â
Y/N looked up, her eyes fierce. âDonât you dare apologize, Max. You saved me. Youâve protected me. And I chose to be here with you.â
Maxâs heart swelled, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. âWeâre going to have to disappear. Go somewhere Marco and my father canât find us.â
Y/N nodded, her expression resolute. âThen thatâs what weâll do. Weâll leave all of this behind.â
For the first time, a glimmer of hope sparked between them. They had a long road ahead, but together, they had a chance.
As Max lay back, drifting into a restless sleep, he thought about the life he was leaving behindââŹâthe family, the power, the legacy. It was a life he had never wanted, a world he was finally breaking free from.
But he knew that as long as Jos and Marco were out there, they would never stop coming for him and Y/N. They would always be looking over their shoulders, always running. Unless Max found a way to end it once and for all.
When he awoke, Max knew what he had to do. It was risky, and it might cost him everything. But he would do it, for Y/N, for their future.
âY/N,â he said, his voice filled with a new resolve. âItâs time to end this.â
She looked at him, understanding in her eyes. âWhat are we going to do?â
Max took her hand, a spark of determination in his gaze. âWeâre going to take down Marco. And then weâre going to be free.â
Max and Y/N knew they couldnât do this alone. Marco was cunning, ruthless, and had a network of men at his disposal. But Max also knew that not everyone in his fatherâs organization was loyal to Marco. Some were just like him, caught in a world they never wanted to be a part of, bound by fear rather than loyalty.
Max glanced over at Y/N, who was leaning over a map, marking down possible locations where they could corner Marco and his men. The determination in her eyes was unmistakable. She wasnât just in this to survive; she was ready to fight back.
âI know someone who might be able to help us,â Max said, breaking the silence.
Y/N looked up, curiosity in her eyes. âWho?â
âAn old friend of mine, Victor. He was part of the family but left years ago. He managed to disappear and stay under the radar. If anyone knows how to avoid Marcoâs reachââŹâand take him downââŹâitâs him.â
Y/N nodded, hope sparking in her expression. âDo you think heâll help us?â
Max hesitated, memories of Victor flashing through his mind. Theyâd gone through a lot together, but things had soured when Victor left, realizing he couldnât stomach the violence or the lack of control over his own life. Max had respected him for it, but heâd stayed behind, tied by his loyalty to his father.
âHeâll help us,â Max said finally. âIf he knows whatâs at stake, heâll come through.â
A few days later, Max and Y/N arrived at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was one of the few places Victor trusted for clandestine meetings, and Max hoped his old friend still frequented it.
The place was dark and eerily quiet, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of oil. Maxâs nerves were on edge as they waited, his hand instinctively hovering near his weapon.
After what felt like an eternity, they heard footsteps approaching. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, his face partially hidden beneath the brim of a worn baseball cap. As he stepped into the light, Max recognized him immediatelyââŹâVictor, looking older but just as intense as he remembered.
âMax,â Victor greeted him, his tone cautious. His gaze shifted to Y/N, and he raised an eyebrow. âAnd you must be the reason Marco has been tearing the city apart looking for him.â
Y/N managed a faint smile. âI guess you could say that.â
Victor let out a dry chuckle, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. âYouâve stirred up a lot of trouble, Max. Marcoâs men are everywhere. And JosââŹâwell, heâs none too pleased with his son running around with a civilian.â
Maxâs expression hardened. âI donât care what he thinks. Iâm done with all of it. Weâre here because we need to end this.â
Victor studied him, his expression unreadable. âYouâre asking for a death wish, Max. Going after MarcoââŹâgoing after your father, no lessââŹâthatâs no small feat.â
âI know,â Max said, his voice steady. âBut I canât keep running, Victor. They wonât stop coming after us unless we make it impossible for them to do so.â
Victorâs gaze softened slightly, and he nodded. âAll right. If youâre sure about this, Iâll help. But you need a solid plan, one thatâll keep you two alive.â
Y/N stepped forward, determination in her eyes. âWeâre ready to fight. Just tell us what we need to do.â
With Victorâs help, Max and Y/N began to formulate a plan. They would lure Marco into a trap, using a location that could be easily controlled. The plan was risky, but it was their best chance of catching him off-guard.
Victor explained that there was an old factory on the outskirts of the cityâone that had been abandoned for years and was seldom monitored. It was isolated enough that Marco wouldnât suspect an ambush, but contained enough that they could limit his escape routes.
They would spread false information, leading Marco to believe that Max and Y/N were hiding out there, vulnerable and unprotected. When Marco showed up with his men, theyâd be ready for him.
Max was acutely aware of the danger they were putting themselves in, but he was resolute. He looked over at Y/N, who nodded, her expression fierce. She was just as committed to this as he was.
Victor took out a map, marking down escape routes, vantage points, and ambush spots. âThis is going to take perfect timing. If Marco suspects anything, heâs going to lose it. He's like a rabid dog with a bone you have to make it believable.Â
âOh itâll be believable alrightâ Max says and the two exchange an handshake.Â
As night fell, Max, Y/N, and Victor moved into the abandoned factory. The air was thick with dust, and the metal beams overhead groaned with age. Victor led them to the second floor, a vantage point that would give them a clear view of the ground level where Marcoâs men would likely enter. They positioned themselves near the shadows, hidden but ready.
Max and Y/N exchanged a tense look. This wasnât just about surviving the night; it was about putting an end to Marcoâs threat for good. But they both knew that once the trap was set, there would be no turning back.
Victor knelt beside them, going over the plan one last time. âIâll handle the detonators for the traps we set by the entrances. It should keep most of his men occupied, but Marco will be harder to take down. Heâll be looking for you, Max.â
Max nodded. âWe just need to make sure he doesnât walk out of here. This ends tonight.â
Y/N placed a hand on Maxâs arm, her eyes soft but determined. âWeâre ready. Whatever happens, we do this together.â
Max gave her a small smile, his gaze steady. âTogether.â
It didnât take long for the sound of approaching vehicles to echo through the empty factory. Max felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the headlights piercing through the darkness outside. Marco had brought more men than theyâd anticipated, but it was too late to change the plan. He and Y/N exchanged a tense look as they heard the doors slam and the muffled voices of Marcoâs men.
Victor caught Maxâs eye and nodded, signaling that he was ready. He held the detonator for the traps they had rigged by the entrances, ready to trigger them as soon as Marcoâs men entered.
From their vantage point, Max and Y/N watched as Marco strode in, his expression steely and focused. He was flanked by several armed men, their gazes scanning the factoryâs dim interior.
âSpread out,â Marco ordered, his voice cold. âTheyâre here somewhere. I want them alive.â
Max held his breath as Victor pressed the first detonator. A loud explosion rocked the factory, and smoke filled the air. Marcoâs men were thrown off balance, some of them stumbling backward as the entrance filled with dust and debris.
Using the distraction, Max and Y/N moved silently down a side staircase, making their way closer to the ground level where Marco was recovering from the blast.
Marcoâs voice cut through the chaos. âYou think you can take me down, Max?â he shouted, his tone mocking. âYouâre just as foolish as your mother. Youâre weak.â
Max clenched his jaw, the mention of his mother igniting a fury heâd kept buried. He stepped out from the shadows, his gaze locked on Marco.
âNo, Marco,â Max said, his voice steady. âIâm nothing like you. And Iâm ending this.â
Marco laughed, a cold, twisted sound. âGo ahead, Max. Letâs see if you have what it takes.â
Marco raised his gun, but before he could fire, Y/N moved in from the side, aiming and pulling the trigger. The shot hit one of Marcoâs men square in the chest, sending him sprawling. Max took advantage of the moment, lunging forward and tackling Marco to the ground.
They grappled fiercely, years of anger and resentment pouring out in each punch. Marco fought back with a strength that took Max by surprise, but Maxâs resolve was unbreakable. He was fighting not only for himself, but for Y/N and the life he wanted to build with her.
Victor took down another one of Marcoâs men, shouting to Max and Y/N to fall back as more reinforcements arrived. But Max refused to let go of Marco, his hands clenched tightly around his collar.
Marcoâs gaze held a glint of something unsettlingâa confidence that sent a chill through Max. âYou really think you can escape your fatherâs shadow? That you can just walk away from this life?â
Maxâs grip tightened. âWatch me.â
Just as Marco started to pull away, Victor tossed Max a knife, and with one swift motion, Max drove it into Marcoâs side. Marcoâs eyes widened in shock, the fight draining from him as he fell back against the floor, his breathing ragged.
âYou could have been great, Max,â he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. âYou were always meant for this.â
Max knelt beside him, his expression hardened. âIâll be great, Marco. Just not in the way you or father wanted.â
Marcoâs gaze dimmed as he breathed his last, his reign of terror finally ending. Victor, catching his breath, nodded to Max and Y/N, signaling that it was time to go before any more of Josâs men arrived.
As they ran through the factory, the weight of what they had just done hit them. They had defeated Marco, but Max knew that his father would come looking for them eventually. This fight wasnât overânot entirely. But for the first time, he felt hope.
Max and Y/N drove through the night, the reality of their escape sinking in as the city faded in their rearview mirror. They didnât know what the future held or where they would go, but they knew they were finally free.
As dawn broke over the horizon, Y/N reached for Maxâs hand, her fingers lacing through his. âWe did it,â she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and relief.
Max squeezed her hand, a faint smile crossing his face. âYeah, we did.â
With Marco gone, they had a chanceâa real chanceâto live the life they wanted. And though Josâ shadow still loomed, Max was prepared to face whatever came next, as long as he had Y/N by his side.
For now, they would drive until they reached a place where no one knew their names, where they could start fresh. Together, they would forge a new path, one free from the violence and darkness of Maxâs past.
The road stretched out before them, endless and full of possibility. And for the first time, Max felt at peace, knowing that he had finally broken free.
Max and Y/N eventually found themselves in a quiet coastal town, a place with winding streets and charming old buildings nestled near the sea. It was far enough from the city and all the memories that came with it. They rented a small, modest apartment overlooking the water, where they hoped they could finally start fresh.
The first few weeks were quiet, filled with long walks on the beach, lazy mornings over coffee, and late nights spent talking about dreams and regrets. It was a life Max had never thought possible, a life he didnât know he could have. For once, they felt safe, wrapped in the peace of anonymity.
But the shadows of Maxâs past werenât so easily left behind. The tension, the feeling of being watchedâit crept back slowly, chipping away at the calm theyâd built.
One night, as they were walking back from a small restaurant by the shore, Max noticed a familiar black car parked just down the street. His stomach knotted. He hadnât seen that car in years, but he knew itâone of his fatherâs old vehicles.
Y/N noticed his change in demeanor. âMax? Is everything okay?â
Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice steady. âLetâs get back to the apartment.â
They made it back to the apartment, locking every door and window. Max peered outside, watching the car until it finally disappeared down the road. Y/N was by his side, her hand resting on his shoulder, grounding him in the present.
âDo you think itâs your father?â Y/N asked quietly.
Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. âI donât know. But if heâs found us here, weâre not safe.â
Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a number he didnât recognize, but something told him to answer. He took a deep breath, lifting the phone to his ear. âHello?â
A familiar voice spoke, low and menacing. âMax. You didnât really think you could run forever, did you?â
It was Jos.
Max felt a chill run through him. His fatherâs voice was calm, calculating, as if this were just another business call.
âWhat do you want?â Max asked, his voice tense.
Jos chuckled softly. âWhat Iâve always wanted, son. I want you to come back. Iâll forget your disloyalty, if you return now. But this womanâsheâs distracting you. Sheâs a weakness.â
Maxâs grip on the phone tightened. âIâm not coming back, and Y/N is none of your concern.â
Jos sighed, his tone turning cold. âYouâre making a mistake, Max. Youâre my blood. And blood never betrays family. But if you insist on keeping her, you know what happens to liabilities.â
With that, the line went dead.
Max lowered the phone, his heart pounding. He looked at Y/N, who watched him anxiously. âIt was my father. he knows weâre here. And heâs not going to stop.â
Max and Y/N knew they had to leave the town immediately. But this time, they couldnât just run blindly. They needed a plan, something that would allow them to disappear for good. Max realized they would need help to outsmart his fatherâa network, a way to stay hidden and off the grid.
That night, they packed their bags, taking only the essentials. Max reached out to Victor, sending him a coded message asking for help. They arranged to meet in a secluded spot, a few miles away, where Victor would bring supplies and information.
Before they left, Y/N placed a hand on Maxâs arm, her voice soft but strong. âNo matter what happens, Iâm with you. Weâll get through this.â
Max pulled her into an embrace, his voice steady but filled with determination. âIâll keep you safe. No matter what.â
They drove through the night, finally arriving at a remote gas station where Victor was waiting. He stood near his car, a heavy duffel bag by his feet, watching the road with caution.
Max and Y/N got out of the car, approaching him. Victor gave them a nod. âLooks like you two could use some suppliesâand a new plan.â
Max ran a hand through his hair, exhausted but grateful. âYou have no idea. My father heâs found us. Heâs not going to let us go so easily.â
Victor handed Max the duffel bag, filled with burner phones, fake IDs, cash, and a list of contacts who could help them along the way. âThis should buy you some time. But you need to move fast.â
Y/N thanked Victor, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. âYouâre risking a lot to help us. We wonât forget this.â
Victor gave her a small smile. âMax was there for me when I needed it. Just consider this payback.â
Before they left, Victor placed a hand on Maxâs shoulder. âOne more thing âyou need to think about how far youâre willing to go. Jos isnât going to stop. You might have to consider taking him out.â
Maxâs expression darkened. He had known, deep down, that his father would never let him go. But hearing it out loud made it real.
âI understand,â he said quietly. âThank you, Victor.â
Victor nodded, watching as Max and Y/N got back into their car, their new identities hidden in the duffel bag. As they drove off, Max couldnât shake Victorâs words. The idea of facing his father felt impossible, but he knew that eventually, theyâd have no other choice.
For weeks, Max and Y/N kept moving, using new names in each town, keeping to small motels and out-of-the-way diners. They became adept at disappearing, slipping into the background of each new place. But as careful as they were, Josâ men kept finding them, each encounter a reminder that they were never truly safe.
Finally, they received a message from Victor. âHeâs coming for you himself, Max. Itâs time to end this.â
Max looked at Y/N, his heart heavy but resolved. âItâs him or us. I canât keep running from him. Weâll make our stand here.â
Y/N placed her hand over his, her eyes fierce. âThen letâs end this together.â
In a darkened alleyway that night, Max and Y/N waited. They heard the footsteps, the unmistakable sound of Josâ voice. This was the final confrontation the moment when Max would either free himself or be bound to his past forever.
As Jos appeared, flanked by his men, Max stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. âItâs over, Dad. You canât control me anymore.â
Josâ expression was a mix of anger and something almost like disappointment. âYou were always my successor, Max. But you betrayed me. And for what? A woman?â
Max shook his head. âFor freedom. For love. For a life that you never gave me.â
In a swift movement, the fight began. Max and Y/N fought with everything they had, each strike a testament to their will to survive. And as dawn broke, they stood victorious, finally free from Josâ grip.
In the end, Max and Y/N left the city, driving toward a new horizon. They had endured more than most could imagine, but they had come out of it stronger, bound by trust and love.
As they drove into the distance, Y/N leaned over, resting her head on Maxâs shoulder. âItâs finally over.â
Max took her hand, a quiet smile crossing his face. âYeah. Weâre finally free.â
They didnât know what the future held, but they knew one thing: they would face it together, no longer haunted by the past.
One year laterÂ
In a small, sunny coastal town far from the chaos of their past, Max and Y/N settled into a new life together. Theyâd both embraced the quiet simplicity of itââŹâthe kind of life neither of them thought theyâd ever have.
Max and Y/N married in a small, private ceremony, just a handful of close friends gathered to celebrate. There were no grand gestures, no lavish displaysâjust the two of them, standing hand in hand, promising to share a life of peace and devotion. For Max, it was the ultimate vow of freedom, a declaration that he was no longer bound by his familyâs legacy.
Over time, they built their own family. They had two children, a boy and a girl, who became the center of their world. Max was a devoted father, often surprising Y/N with how patient and tender he was with their children. Watching him with them, she knew heâd truly left his past behind, pouring his energy into being the father heâd never had.
To make a living, Max chose a career that allowed him to use his skills for good. He became a mechanic, running a small garage where he fixed cars and occasionally helped neighbors with any odd jobs. He found he enjoyed the workâit was honest, straightforward, and gave him a sense of satisfaction heâd never known before.
Max had always been good with his hands, and he took pride in running his business ethically, treating each customer with respect. In a way, his garage became a place where people came not only to fix their cars but to catch up with him and Y/N, who would often stop by with their kids. Their life was simple, grounded, and filled with small joys.
There were still moments when the shadows of their past would resurfaceâan unexpected noise, a strangerâs lingering look. But Max and Y/N had learned to hold each other close during those times, grounding each other with gentle reminders of the life theyâd built.
Their children grew up knowing nothing of the dangers their parents had faced. Max and Y/N wanted it that way; they wanted their kids to live without fear, surrounded by love and stability. They spent weekends by the shore, watching their children play in the sand, building castles and laughing freely.
In the quiet of those moments, Max would look at Y/N and feel a deep gratitude for the life theyâd created together. It was a life free from the violence and tension that had once defined him, and he knew he had her to thank for giving him the courage to embrace it.
As the years passed, Max and Y/N continued to build their lives in the small town, becoming a beloved part of the community. They hosted neighborhood gatherings, watched their children grow, and celebrated every milestone, no matter how small.
For Max, this life wasnât just a new beginningâit was redemption. Heâd found a purpose beyond survival, a love that had healed his old wounds. And in the warmth of his family, he had finally found peace.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x you#f1 x y/n#formula one x oc#formula one x y/n#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen angst#max verstappen smut#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen au#mv1#mv33#mv33 x reader#mv33 fic#mv33 imagine#mv33 x you#mv33 fluff#mv1 x reader#mv1 fic#mv1 imagine#mv1 x you
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HEHEHGIGUGI ITS ME AGAIN THE SERAPHIM AND THE CAT ONE
Can i request a witch reader with Vil, Rook, Trey, and Malleus!! (I forgot if its 4 limits or 5, whoops but only that) You can write however you like if its headcannon or how you write it!! Also can you do it on Romantic shshshâźď¸âźď¸đŤśđŤś
Rook, Trey, Malleus, Vil with a Witch! Reader
hi! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3 (also there aren't limits for number of characters)
Rook Hunt
Rook, a true romantic and ever-curious soul, is constantly mesmerized by your craft. He adores watching you work, fascinated by every detail, and often appears just as youâre about to cast a spell, like he knows exactly when something extraordinary is about to happen.
One evening, he surprises you mid-ritual, leaning in to whisper, âAh, the witch at work, casting beauty into the world.â
âRook!â you laugh, a little flustered. âArenât you supposed to give me space to concentrate?â
âOn the contrary,â he says, eyes sparkling. âWatching you brings me closer to the divine. Itâs as if each spell you cast is an invitation to witness your heart.â
As he speaks, he presses a kiss to your hand, his words a spell of their own. You find yourself captivated by the unique magic only Rook can createâa blend of curiosity, charm, and unshakable devotion.
Trey Clover
Trey is both grounded and warm, and he respects your magical abilities without a hint of fear. Whenever you experiment with potion-making, heâs your quiet supporter, ready with any ingredient you need.
One evening, youâre preparing a special love potionâjust for funâand Trey chuckles as you explain the recipe.
âWhat, you donât believe in love potions?â you ask, raising an eyebrow.
âOh, I believe,â he replies, pulling a stray leaf from your hair, âbut I donât think you need one. Youâve already cast your spell on me.â
You feel your face heat up, but Trey simply smiles, his gaze gentle and warm. He reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Letâs skip the potions,â he says softly. âYou and I donât need magic for this.â
Malleus Draconia
Malleus is captivated by your magic, drawn to you as if heâs known you for centuries. Heâs endlessly curious about your spells, often standing nearby as you perform them, his eyes watching with reverence.
One misty evening, he finds you crafting a charm under the moonlight. As you finish, Malleus steps forward, his expression unusually soft. âYour magic⌠it has a warmth that even my fae spells lack.â
âYou flatter me, Malleus,â you reply, smiling up at him. âIâm honored to have caught the attention of someone so powerful.â
He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles with an old-world elegance. âPower means little to me if it cannot protect what is precious.â His gaze is intense, holding yours. âAnd you, my dear witch, are precious indeed.â
Under the stars, Malleusâs words hang in the air, leaving a warmth that feels like it could last an eternity.
Vil Schoenheit
Vil has always been enchanted by beauty in its many forms, but there's something about your magic that captivates him in a way he never expected. He watches you as you work, studying your movements as if each one were part of an intricate dance. One evening, he finds you under the warm glow of candlelight, carefully crafting an enchantment, your hands moving gracefully over the ingredients.
He steps closer, his voice smooth and gentle. âDo you realize the spell youâve woven on me without even trying?â he murmurs, his eyes fixed on you.
You smile, slightly flustered but intrigued. âI could say the same about you, Vil.â
Vil reaches for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. âThen perhaps Iâve found the magic that surpasses any potion, any spell.â His gaze is intense, unwavering, as if heâs seeing right through to your soul. âStay close to me, wonât you?â he asks softly, the hint of vulnerability in his words surprising but endearing.
With a smile, you nod, finding comfort in his presence. Vil leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his touch gentle and reverent. âYouâre more captivating than any beauty Iâve ever known,â he whispers, his voice filled with a sincerity that leaves your heart racing.
In that quiet moment, itâs clear that he isnât just drawn to your magicâheâs drawn to you.
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#rook hunt x reader#rook x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#vil x reader#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#trey clover x reader#trey x reader
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The Red King holds a Bleeding Head
A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 8.
Going down the rabbit hole that is your mirror a third time feels a little more normal. Even though traveling through it to begin with is the definition of crazy, youâve started to get used to it. Just like the last two times you awaken to your bedroom, you feel smothered by that sensation of being forced under something heavy and lying on a fluff cloud. Your mirror ripples and gleams a bright white light that beckons you forward.Â
Youâre not exactly prepared for this, but you donât have any time to. You throw off the odd feeling blankets and make your way to the mirror, which is sparkling in its usual white light.Â
You take a deep dream breath to steady your nerves. You want this trip through the looking glass to be different this time. Instead of you stumbling through the mirror world completely blind, you need to go through determined to find answers.Â
Youâre smart enough to recognise the pattern. Whatever happens there seems to happen in your dreams, to some effect, have happened in real life. The painted roses, the cards soldiers, and Ace and Deuce, being beheaded by the Queen for breaking the rules. Thereâs a pattern and if it keeps up tonight, then tomorrow during the duel something is going to happen that will be similar to your dreams.Â
Plus, thereâs also the King of Hearts. He and Alice were the only ones who could see you so far, and Winston was the darling of the Queen. There had to be something that he knew that could help you. And if your dreams were really sending you back in time to meet them, then he had to know something that can help you. Even if it was a tiny detail, you needed to know.
Plus. If your deduction was correct, then Crowley had done jack all since you arrived to send you back home, then maybe you could find something out from someone like you. A darling thatâs terrified. If itâll lead back home, it's worth a shot, right?
Now invigorated with courage, you place your hand on the glass, and it ripples. And youâre pulled into wonderland.
Youâre somewhere unfamiliar. As in it doesnât look like the rose maze anymore. In fact, this place looks very different.Â
The rose garden is beautiful, the hallway youâre in now is ominous. Even with the gaudy red hearts. The black, white and red are smothering here. The hallways narrow, but ornate. Itâs covered with heart-covered and heart-shaped vases, picture frames, and statues. The hallwayâs lit up by heart shaped lamps that glow gray, meant to give off light but feel the room feel so dark. The manic and exaggerated shapes and the monotony of the overwhelming crimson red makes you feel a little tremble.Â
You take hesitant steps down the hall, scanning them for anything helpful or clues.Â
âThis isâŚnew.â And so far whatâs new makes you feel chills. âWhat is the mirror trying to show me n-â
A deafening roar of <Off With Their HEADS!!!> echoes through the halls and interrupts your thoughts and makes you jump in surprise. The roar makes the decor shake and rattle, some fall and shatter.Â
You gulp nervously and your heart speeds up. This doesnât feel right.
Another roar fills the air <SILENCE!!> makes you hasten your footsteps. Whateverâs happening you're missing it, and you need all the help you can get right now.Â
You run down the hall to nowhere, finding no doorways, until the hall ends. Itâs a single door, knee high and heart shaped.Â
âHow the hell am I supposed to-â Another roar fills the hall and breaks a nearby lamp. âAlright, Iâm going!â You shove it open and crawl through, and it shrinks around you just to make things worse, After a mild struggle, you finally get through, something better be on the other side-
Something grabs you by the back of your pajamas, and you hauled up to be faced with the King of Hearts.Â
And he looks angry. <What are you doing here?!> He whisper-yells, shaking you by your shoulders.Â
âI-I-âÂ
You donât get to put a word in, and shit mustâve hit the fan hard when you were gone because Winston starts ranting. <What are you, the Cheshire Cat!? You were there one moment and gone the next! Iâm stressed out of my mind trying to keep a girl alive and you just keep popping up to make things even more stressful!!!> He pauses for a moment, to recollect himself, <H-How did you even get here?!>
âI used the door-â You turn and point to find no door or wall and instead find a sharp decline into a certain death behind the haphazard judgeâs bench. âNevermindâ You quickly finish as you take a nervous step back from the ledge.Â
<Well, it doesnât matter you have to->
<Winston, sweetheart, who are you speaking too?> The voice that pipes up is mockingly fond. As if theyâre entertaining a child speaking to an imaginary friend. You look past Winston, to see a stout woman that looks suspiciously like the Queen of Hearts.
No seriously, her mocking, smiling face looks so punchable, that it reminds you of Riddle. A heart shaped with high cheekbones, and a glare that rivals Riddle Rosehearts, her black hair is tied up into a rose shape, slick backed, smooth and orderly. Her dress is extravagant even in the field of black and white, red undertones over taking the dress. Her crown is larger than Winston's, cementing to you that she is in charge and heâs unwillingly along for the ride.
She looks like a real person this time. Are your dreams progressing? Becoming more detailed?
Winston looks at her incredulously, you can hear him mutter, <C-Canât you see her?...> Pointing in your direction confused.Â
<Thereâs no one there, Winston. Are you imaging things again?> The King of Hearts spares you a conflicted look, before finally agreeing with her.
<I must beâŚ..> He says after a few long moments.
<Of course sweetheart. How could you survive without me?> She chuckles to herself, and you feel the urge to punch someone again.Â
A soft voice snaps you out of it. <UmâŚYour Majesty?> You finally notice Alice from her place down below. She looks a mix of exasperated, confused and terrified as she stands in the defendantâs chair. The Queen redirects her ire back to Alice as soon as she raises her voice. She screams like a banshee and roars like a violent loud animal.Â
You take advantage of the noise to speak to Winston. âWinston I-â
He interrupts you, losing himself to his ramblings, <Iâve finally lost, havenât I?> Winston laughs bitterly. <Youâre not real, youâre just a figment of my imaginationâŚ>
âNo. You havenât and Iâm not.â You push, desperate to make him see reason, âAlice has seen me before, Iâm real!â You hurriedly whisper-yell.Â
<Then if youâre real then you have to help Alice and you have to help me->
<HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU!> A cake and teapots, and all the fixing that remind you of the buffet yesterday at Heartslabyul. The Queen and nearly everyone in the room are excitedly celebrating while Winston and Alice look exasperated. Seemingly exhausted from the shenanigans that are ensuing before you.
âW-Whatâs happening?â You raise an eyebrow in complete confusion. Yesterday an unbirthday party made sense because it was a party at a dorm then a trial room with a death sentence.Â
Winston sighs in abject misery, <A trial. I did it to save Alice from losing her head, but this nonsense is a trial. And I thought back home was crazy.>
You perk up at his words. Back home means that heâs not from wonderland so if thatâs the caseâŚJust to be sure, you ask. âYouâre not from here?â
He looks at you curiously, still halfway between believing youâre real or not, <I-Iâm from London, England. I came here by accident and have been stuck here ever since.>
âYou know where London is?â You feel hope bloom in your chest, âAre you from Earth?â
<Yes, but->
You interrupt him in your budding excitement, âThen you have to help me! Iâm stuck here, like you and Alice!â
<Regardless of whether youâre real or fake, I-I canât help you! If Mary finds out, I tried to escape again, heads will roll! >
You haul the king up by his shirt. âWould you rather be stuck here forever?! If thereâs a way out, we need to take it!â You can ignore the âbeing stuck here ever sinceâ part for now, because if he and Alice (who are real in this world) come from Earth and know about a way back, then that means thereâs a way back to your world from Twisted Wonderland. Alice goes home at the end of the story, so there is a way back home for you in this world. And you need that way out. You just need to get to it.Â
<Iâll help you on one condition.>
âAnything!â
<Help Alice. I canât let another person die.> And then he shoves you. And then you're falling. You donât even get the opportunity to scream as youâre pushed. Falling off that deathly edge, and hitting the floor hard.Â
âOwâŚ.â Damnit Winston, if you werenât stuck in the same situation as him, youâd curse him out
<Miss, youâre back!> You slowly open your eyes to see Alice standing over you in worry, still completely black and white. <W-Where did you come from?>
âA place like you.â Alice lights up at your words, âHowâs your trial going?â only to deflate five seconds later.Â
<It doesnât make any sense, this trial doesnât follow any rules.> You climb to your feet brushing off the imaginary dust off your dream self.Â
âNo, it does.â Youâre forced to admit. âTheyâre just horrible rules.â
<Well, this really isnât-> Whatever justifiable statement is cut off by the Queen being undistracted by the unbirthday celebrations.Â
You donât even know what happened next.Â
One moment, Alice is pointing out the Cheshire Cat, her words, on the Queenâs head, and the next the Queen is a mess of jam and her torn flag, with a new bump on her crazy head. And Alice is holding the mallet and jam when the Queen finally clears her eyes.Â
Winston bangs his head on the judges bench in defeat, at the sight of the mayhem.
âOFFF with-â the Queen interrupts herself, as Alice hurriedly stuffs her face with two pieces of something you donât recognise. Her eyes go wide for a moment, as her muscles twitch and her body contorts in places. She then grows over a mile high. Because of how rapidly she grew, you end up on the giantess Aliceâs shoulders.Â
<Oh, are you alright?> Alice asks, concerned. You give her a thumbs up in reply as the nausea in your gut trembles, before giving way. Now calmed, knowing one of her few friends here are okay, Alice focuses her attention on the tyrant whose red face has gone pale. <And as for you, Your MajestyâŚ.âYour Majesty,â indeed!> The mushroom that Alice ate causes her to grow as tall as the trial room ceiling is high. You cling to her shoulder with your nails, not wanting to fall from this height. What crack did you smoke last night to dream this? Anyway, Alice takes her moment to finally tell off the pompous queen, with all the confidence that a seven year old can have.Â
The queen shrinks back in surprise at the seven-year oldâs new size, and Alice chooses this to be the time to finally tell off the tyrant.Â
<Why, youâre not a queen. Youâre just a fat, pompous, bad-tempered old tyâŚtyrantâŚ> As if Alice couldnât get any more unlucky, the mushroomâs magic wears off as she starts to lay down the facts. Her confidence dies as she shrinks back to size. You tumble off of Aliceâs shoulder as she shrinks smaller and smaller. And the longer she speaks, the more the Queenâs glare gets more and more murderous.
<MmhmmhmmhmmâŚ.> You, even at this distance, can see the fear painting across the Kingâs face and worry on Aliceâs. This isnât good, and the longer the Queen holds that note the more grim those looks become. You embrace the shaking girl. You can hear her whimpers of ear the longer this draws out. <What were you saying, my dear?>
A cat pops onto the head of the Queen, reminding you of Chenya even with the black and white, who parrots the, now shaking, Aliceâs words. <Well, she simply said that youâre a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant!> The cat cackles, as the Queenâs face turns red, contrasting the black and white.
<OOOOOOFFF with her head!!!>
You watch as the card soldiers jump from their seats to descend on the two of you as Alice clings to you for dear life, as the card shoulders dive to deliver her to her death sentence.Â
But before the avalanche of card soldiers obscure everything from view, you can hear the King of Hearts beg his wife and captor to spare the poor girl. <Darling sheâs just a child!>
And then the world blurs.
Youâre back in your bed. Alice isnât in your arms anymore, instead itâs Grim.
Why wonât anyone stop the queen? Someone could have stopped her.
AND THEN YOU COULDâVE GOTTEN YOUR EXIT!! FUCK!
Great. Winston had promised to help you if you helped Alice. And now you canât go back till you go to bed! And thatâs if Alice hasnât gone home or lost her head yet! YAY!
You groan before sitting up, not expecting the violent pain in your neck. You then hiss in pain, just barely managing to massage the flesh locked under the collar.Â
What a great way to start the morning.Â
But there was some good news. The tyrant queen will get called out for her tyranny. Thatâs something to look forward to at the duel today. Still doesnât make you feel any better though.Â
âUgh, Great.â You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes, to be face to face with Grim.Â
âHey, ____! Ah, good, youâre already up!âÂ
âDidnât exactly have the best sleep.â Maybe you should tell grim about your dreams, just in case. But thatâs a later thing, âReady to get these collars off?âÂ
âYeah!â
Back at the tyrantâs castle, er, Heartslabyul, the residents have all gathered in the magical battlegrounds within the rose garden. Why someone built a magical battlefield in the middle of a flammable rose maze must have been a tyrant themselves, because why someone didnât bring up the flammable part at some point during the dormâs construction was a question youâre not stupid enough to come up with an answer to.
Speaking of tyrants, Riddle must have gone on a power trip stoked by his tantrum yesterday. Because the number of students wearing collars, minus or plus Ace and Deuce pick one, has to have doubled in one night. Seriously, a good quarter of the audience has to be wearing collars.Â
And because of said collars, this duel is going to go south real fast. Because Riddleâs already fucking cheating with his signature spell. Seriously, magic nullification should not be allowed in duels like this but for some reason it is.
But back to the duel of the century, for just Heartslabyul. The dorm residents have been gossiping since your groupâs arrivalâŚ.
âDid you hear? They say someoneâs challenged Dorm Leader Rosehearts to a duel!â
âRiddle Rosehearts? Seriously?! Whoever it is has gotta be outta his mind. Riddle will have his head off in five seconds flat.â
âŚabout how stupid this decision was. You mean, you agree, but theyâre the ones living under a tyrant. Have a little positivity, everyone.Â
Thankfully, there are few who have held onto the aforementioned positivity.Â
âStill, itâs the first challenge since Rosehearts took power. Iâm pumped!â In your opinion, the dorm should be like that guy. That guy has a little faith.
Also, Trey apparently didnât warn Cater about the duel that was probably going viral on Heartslabyulâs Magicam, because he looks completely shocked as you told him about the shit preparing to hit the fan. âYouâre saying Ace and Deuce are challenging Riddle for the dorm leaderâs seat?! Please tell me youâre kidding!â
You sigh, âIâm not, Cater. Wish I was.â
âWe tried to stop âem.â Correction, Trey. YOU tried to stop them, he sat there and did nothing like with Riddle. Seriously, the bystander effect is strong with Trey; it's like heâs afraid of saying something when he needs to. Did Riddleâs mom traumatize him too!?
Cater looks positively miserable at the revelation. âOf all the stupid ideasâŚI just hope this doesnât make everything worse.â
âYou and me both.â Trey agrees, but now you're both curious and concerned. Just how much worse is worse?
Crowleyâs clearing of his throat silences the crowdâs chatter. Kinda concerning that he's more focused on two students dueling a dorm leader than the rampant abuse of power thatâs going on in this dorm, but whatever itâs not like negligence is a crime or something. Though it probably isnât given your experience so far.Â
âWe are about to commence two challenges for the dorm leader position at Heartslabyul House.â He announces as grandiose as possible. âThe first challenger is Ace Trappola, the second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts.â
âNow, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars as they would provide an unfair disadvantage.â Oh, you were waiting for that.
Riddle snaps his fingers and the collars dissolve away into sparks, leaving behind red marks around Ace and Deuceâs necks. Given Ace has been stuck in that thing for two nights you canât imagine the relief he must feel. âAh! FINALLY, the dumb collar is off!â
Yours and Grimâs are still on though. Oh, did he just forget that you and Grim were collateral damage to yesterdayâs rampage? You can feel your rage rising.Â
âEnjoy your moment of freedom. The collar will be back on soon enough.â Riddleâs cocky smirk looks so punchable, and you feel an itch in your fingers. Still cockiness might be his downfall.Â
But before thatâŚ..
âHey, Rosehearts!â You call out, â Just to point something out,â You say as sarcastically and humorlessly as possible, âcould you please remove mine and Grimâs. Weâre not even in your dorm!â Riddle sighs, as if youâve been bugging him about this for hours, before finally unlocking the literal weight around your and Grimâs necks. And you breathe a sigh of relief. âThank you.â The âAssholeâ part goes unsaid, for fear of making this worse.
Now, that the cone of shame on your neck is gone you can let them return back to the pre-duel banter. âCarry on.â You say with a dismissive wave of your hand.
Riddle hmphs, returning his focus back to his two challengers. âI could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me. Is this a joke?â
Thereâs a âDo I look like Iâm joking?â from Ace and a âIâd never propose a duel as a joke!â from Deuce. Theyâre not backing down now.Â
âHmph. Have it your way. Let us get this over with.â Indeed, letâs get this over with, because you might have a room to clear out when this eventually fizzles out. That doesnât mean you wonât cheer for Ace and Deuce, Bravery is still something to praise even if itâs on par with stupidity.
But like before, Cater intervenes when he really shouldnât, âUh, Riddle, what do you want to do about today's afternoon tea?â
âA foolish question. You know that the rules stipulate I take my tea everyday at 4 PM sharp.â Oh, so heâs cocky that he can finish this in, what, thirty minutes.Â
âItâs just that itâs already past 3:30âŚ.â
âAnd you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.â So heâs very cocky. You can only hope it will be his downfall.Â
âIt appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.â Oh. Wow, heâsâŚ..heâs arrogant if he thinks that. Well, Ace and Deuce are probably screwed.Â
The cheers of the dorm residents fill the air as stiff and empty as they were yesterday.Â
âYou can do it, Dorm Leader!â
âKnock âem dead, sir!â
You can see Trey shake his head to your right, so he still hasnât said anything. Coward.
âCowards,â you hear Deuce say, and you agree, because youâre looking right at one. To say that you donât want to hurt his feelings after a hard time, when youâre letting him force that hard time onto others is the definition of cowardice.
âMyah, I got a bad feelinâ about this.â You squeeze Grim tighter.Â
âI do too, Grim.âÂ
âHey, at least we got a plan!â A plan that already hangs on by a thread, Ace but youâll accept his confidence.Â
âHeadmaster, please give us the signal.â Riddleâs already sure of his victory even before it starts, and he might be right, but a part of you wants him to suffer, just a little.
âWhen the mirror, Iâve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. ReadyâŚGo!âÂ
âYou guys can do it!â You offer them some encouragement, butâŚ.
âOFF WITH YOUR HEADS!â You saw the way this battle ends from miles away.
If you're being generous, youâll call that another deja vu moment. This insanity of constant âbeheadingsâ is starting to become grating. But, you hope the ending of the calling out part comes sooner rather than later.Â
âThat wasâŚ..fast.â You say glumly, itâs sad that they failed so quickly but at least they tried. It had to be, what, 5 seconds into the duel before the collars locked on and it was over. Saddening, upsetting but expected.Â
Well, now what?
âVisualization is key to spell casting.â Crowley starts an unhelpful speech about magic. Itâs not really helpful in this situation, because if Riddle has his way from now on Ace and Deuce are going to be wearing those collars till Riddle graduates. âThe better you are at accurately visualizing your magicâs effect, the stronger and more precise it will be.â
âThey lost in less than ten seconds, youâre not helping Crowley.â You point out the explicitly obvious, because it doesnât fucking matter about how visualisation is important when a. They lost before they cast a single spell, and b. They canât even use their magic to practice now. âStill, it would appear Mr.Rosehearts has finely honed his magic.â Ouch, salt in the wound. Stroke the tyrantâs ego even more too. Crowleyâs just batting zero right now.Â
âMyahâŚThey didnât stand a chance.â Grim bemoans at the loss.Â
You sigh, âWell at least they triedâŚ.â it wasnât really an attempt even but at the very least. You force a smile on your face as you approach your two friends, âYou guys did your best, or were going to your best..â You add unhelpfully, before giving them each a gentle smile. . You might have to just let them stay it seems.
Ace opens his mouth to reply but someone else does to add their unhelpful commentary. âHardly. They didnât even last five seconds.â You can hear Ace and Deuce growl as you turn to face the cocky tyrant.Â
 That cocky, self-righteous brat keeps adding his unwanted opinion. âThat was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated.â
You glare at him, âYou won already. Stop rubbing it in.â
Riddleâs too high on his high horse to seem to be aware of what happens below. âI guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything.â Youâre going to put a knife between that womanâs eyes if you ever meet up. Mommy undearestâs parenting has screwed him up so much that heâs doing the same thing to the people he lives with.
If Ace or Deuce actually won this battle he probably would have been run out of the dorm.
âTchâŚWe agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones youâve enacted is tyranny!âÂ
âThen you agree that breaking the rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules.â IsâŚis he serious? Did he miss the second part of Deuceâs sentence? âTherefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!â
You had enough of this.
Youâve bit your tongue bloody, thanks to this bratâs tyranny. You've been inconvenienced again and again because of his pretentious and frankly ridiculous rules.
 Screw manners, screw survival, and screw this red-haired little absolutist pain the ass! âBut thatâs not right! You canât just use the rules to do whatever you please!â You yell in fury.Â
âI am the one who decides what is wrong and right-â
You cut him off. âAnd youâre also a pain in the neck and the ass, that pretends heâs the perfect student that can do no wrong, because mommy said so!â His eyes widen in shock as you finally, finally go off the leash you tethered to yourself this entire time. And youâre not done. âHow can you be so blinded by your own delusions that you canât even see how unreasonable it is to follow, frankly, the most STUPID of rules!?!â You can feel your cheeks warming and the blood in your ears roaring in boiling hot fury. You can feel someone try to calm your rage with a hand, Deuceâs, on your shoulder. Youâre pissed and tired and angry and what does he do?
He continues talking like you didnât say anything. âIf there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules.â You;re going to punch him.Â
âYou!-â What he says next cuts your thoughts and words off completely.
âWhat sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules? Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. As a resultâŚyou lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. Itâs quite sad.â
You blink, taken aback. The rage in you is stunned into pacification.Â
He did not.Â
He did not just say that about you.
âYou-â You canât even string your thoughts together completely stunned. You can forgive someone being unreasonableYou feel something different from rage, something stronger, boiling inside you.Â
âYou littleâŚâ Deuce releases you, prepared to pummel the tyrant into the ground butâŚ..
âYou shut your spoiled little mouth!â Ace dashes forward fist raised and-
He punches Riddle clean across the face.Â
Hard enough to knock Riddle off his feet. Ace quite literally beat Deuce to the punch.Â
So many voices speak up in shock and surprise at Riddle, the untouchable dorm leader, finally eating his just desserts. Right in the face too.
You donât say anything, staring at whatâs about to unfold, with a blank expression.
âThatâs all I can take. Forget Riddle. Forget the duel. Iâm done.â Just like Alice in your dreams last night, calls out the now stunned red sovereign.
âThat hurt! YouâŚp-punched me?!â Riddleâs genuinely stunned. Is stunned by his house of cards finally starting to collapse around him? You canât bring yourself to care.Â
Ace spits some facts.Â
âKids arenât trophies for their parents to flaunt. And the accomplishments of a child arenât determined by the worth of their parents. Itâs not your parentsâ fault you became a tyrant -or anyone elseâs. Youâve been here a year and havenât even made a friend who will tell you youâre outta line. And thatâs on you.â
âWhat are you even talking about?âÂ
âYeah, maybe you had some rigid upbringing from a relentless helicopter-mom. Is that all you are? An extension of her? Canât you think for yourself? You call yourself the âred sovereignâ. Youâre just a baby whoâs good at magic.â
âBabyâŚ? Did you just call me a âbabyâ?! You donât know anything about me! You donât know anything about anything!â But despite the honest truths that Ace is trying to make the pretentious tyrant hear for what has to be the first time in his life, Riddle refuses to listen.
âNope, sure donât. And I donât need to. Your attitude tells me all I need to know- that youâre nothing but a spoiled brat!â Ace doesnât let up on the lecture Riddle probably needed to hear last year.Â
Riddleâs face is starting to turn pink from his blind anger. âShut up, shut up, shut UP! My mother was right! And that means Iâm right too!â Riddle practically roars in anger. Heâs shaking from barely repressed rage.Â
Trey steps between them to prevent what has to be a near disaster, trying to pacify the screaming tyrant. âRiddle, calm down. The duel is already over.â
âMr. Clover is correct.â Crowley The challenger has been disqualified due to physical violence. If you do not cease your conflict now, Iâll have you written up for breaking school rules!â But even with the threat of breaking his own personal rules and being a rule breaker himself doesnât soothe his rage. It doesnât matter here anyway, because as long as no one is willing to stand up to-
âAce is right, though! Iâve had enough of Riddle!â A voice in the crowd shouts, and he throws something small aimed directly at Riddleâs head.
An egg cracks in Riddleâs hair. Egg goop trails down his face. You fight back a laugh with all your willpower. Well, color you impressed. The card soldiers aren't completely useless, brain dead drones.Â
For half a second everyone is frozen solid. And then the egg practically cooks on Riddleâs face as he searches for the offender, completely infuriated. âWho did that? Who threw that egg?!â
And this time, the silence feels both suffocating and glorious. At least the cowards have finally stood up for themselves, at least a little. Unfortunately Riddle, instead of taking the obvious hint the egg to the face was, he laughs. And itâs not a composed one.
âHeh hehâŚAh ha ha ha!â Itâs an insane one.
Riddle snaps at all of the now cowering dorm studentsâYou say YOUâRE fed up?! IâM the one whoâs fed up with all of YOU!âÂ
âNo matter how strict I am, no matter how many heads I remove, you keep breaking the rules! All any of you care about is doing what YOU want to do! If the guilty party wonât come forward, then Iâll pass judgment on all of you!â
âClearly, none of you value your heads! OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!!!â Like a tyrant gone wild, collars lock on to every single one of the residents' necks, save Trey and Cater, sealing off their magic. Youâre getting real tired of hearing that.Â
The Heartslabyul residents scatter like headless, heh pun unintended but fitting, chickens. âBwaaah! Letâs get out of here!â âUrrrgh!âÂ
Riddle, reassured that his tyranny will last, shoves past Ace to rub in his âvictoryâ to Ace.âHow do you like that, hm? Now no one can do a thing to me! Do you see now? My strict adherence to the rules was clearly the correct path!â
Crowley still does nothing to calm, or now that Riddleâs actually broken some rules, to punish Riddle for this insanity. âCease this improper behavior now, Mr. Rosehearts. I expect better from you!â
âCrowley, could you maybe actually do something!?!â You finally point out the utter stupidity of him not doing anything while Riddle literally abuses his power.Â
âUhâŚTrey, if he keeps using his spellâŚThis could get ugly, fast!â You barely hear Cater over the chaos.
Trey does, still trying to separate the fuming Riddle away from Ace and a catastrophe. âRiddle, stop this!â
Ace might be perspective but heâs incapable of reading the room when shit really starts to go bad. âWow, way to totally prove me wrong here, pal! I call you a baby and you immediately throw a temper tantrum!â
Riddleâs face goes deep crimson. âRetract your comment immediately, or I shall skewer you where you stand!â He yells.Â
This might not be good.
Ace doesnât let up âNo way. I ainât retractionâ squat.â
Face red, eyes full of rage and mania, Riddleâs reached the point of fury where words are impossible and yells of anger are the only sounds that can be made. âYEEEAAARGH!!!â
âDude, this is bad! Youâve G-2-G, now!â You feel a hand on your wrist, Cater's, dragging you away from the rampaging tyrant.
And then you're blinded by the debris.The earth shakes for too long as the rose bushes are yanked out of the earth, the fragile yet heavy bushes floating high in the air. Ripped up from their earth , roots and all, and float in mid-air. The roses and their thorny brambles writhe under Riddleâs magic.
Debris and dirt float through the air, alongside the rose bushes.Â
âWâŚWhoaâŚâ You take a nervous step back, âShit.âÂ
âThe rose trees! Theyâre floating!â
âThis is some serious magic!â
The roses and their brambles might not be the strongest weapon, but Riddleâs magical strength is powerful, as you watch the roses and branches become arrows, perfect for tearing flesh from bone and crushing the rest.Â
âMighty roses, tear this brute to pieces!â Riddle yells, completely blinded at his anger. The roses, thorns and all fly like arrows aimed directly at Ace. A deadly shot, if it lands.
âAce! MOVE!â You dash forward, but a pair of arms are around your waist holding you back from the barrage of arrows aimed at your friend. You look around frantically and you see whoâs stopping you from helping the first friend you made here. Itâs Deuce. When did he get next to you? Nevermind. âLemme go! Ace needs help!âÂ
Deuce shakes his head with a remorseful expression. âI canât let you get hurt!â
Since you canât get to Ace, âCrowley! DO something!â You yell at the Headmaster whoâs done jack diddly since Riddleâs tantrum progressed into hemorrhage. All heâs done here is politely ask Riddle to stop, and Ace might actually die if Riddle keeps at this.Â
âCease and desist at once!â Crowley doesnât do anything, but yells at him to stop, and Riddleâs already too angry to listen.
But itâs too late for any one to push Ace out of the way,Â
âACE!â You canât even shut your eyes as the roses and brambles come down. You take back every thing youâve ever said about Ace, and this world if it means you donât witness him being killedâŚ.
âŚ..By playing cards?
Instead of roses and their thorns tearing Ace to shredsâŚ.playing cards fall from the sky.
âHuh? Iâm still alive?â Ace is as stunned as you and everyone else here.Â
Deuce is probably as stunned as you, because his arms go limp, and you practically tackle Ace, âAre you okay!?â Your arms and legs are jelly from adrenaline, but you manage to stumble over and check him over with trembling hands.Â
âY-Yeah,âHe answers and you sigh in clear relief. Whatâs with all these playing cards?â
âAll the rose trees turned into cards?â Deuce is right, All the roses and their brambles are gone. Instead itâs all playing cards. And nothing more. How did that even happen?!
Wait. Deja vu again, this keeps happening. Cards falling against an innocent. But thereâs no time for that.Â
Because Riddleâs face is murderous, and his grip on his magical staff is so tight it could have snapped in half. He raises it again, prepared to recast as âWhy didnât you-â
Deuce dives in between you and Ace, to act as human shield but Trey stops him, shielding you all from Riddleâs view. âRiddle, stop this right now!â Oh, so NOW Trey decides enough is enough, murder was the last straw. Wonderful.Â
âWait, is that Treyâs âPaint the Rosesâ?! ButâŚhow?!â You can hear a confused Cater, and thank goodness, because Trey saved Aceâs life.Â
âAll the magic sealinâ collars are gone!â Grimâs right, You didnât even notice in the mayhem. Ace and Deuce, and probably all the Heartslabyul residents, all have their magic-sealing collars removed.Â
âWhat did I tell you? My magic can overwrite characteristics for a short time. So I used it to make âRiddleâs magicâ into âmy magicâ.â Treyâs explanation lets you breathe a sigh of genuine relief. At least now, Riddle is defenseless.
âYou can do that? Thatâs some kinda loophole!â And a lucky loophole to test on someone about to die.
Meanwhile in Crazy town, Riddleâs discovered his magicâs no longer his own. âN-noâŚOff with their heads! I SAID, off with their heads!â Every attempt Riddle makes to cut off everyoneâs magic just causes more and more playing cards to fly out. But depending on how short the time Treyâs magic can work, that might not be for long. Especially with how many times Riddle tries recasting.Â
Trey finally puts his foot down. âRiddle, stop. Canât you see how you look right now?â
You canât believe that this is what it took to finally open the eyes of the residents. Ace nearly being murdered because Riddleâs ego got bruised. At least now, their eyes have been opened to the true extent of Riddleâs cruelty.Â
Which they decide to vocalize in the presence of the tyrant with the bruised ego. Theyâre not very smart. are they?Â
âHeâŚhe was really gonna do it!â âHe is completely out of control.â âHeâs like some kinda monster!â
Thankfully, and unfortunately, Riddle isnât focused on that. Instead, heâs more concerned with the fact that his magic isnât his anymore. And Trey is the reason. âWhat? Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!â He demands, turning on the only one who ever really defended him in his madness.Â
âOf course it doesnât. Riddle, take a deep breath and listen to us.â Trey tries to reason, but itâs too late for Riddle to be reasonable, with him already lost in the throes of his anger.
You start to feel a chill up your spine, like back in the mines with that monster. But why are you-
Still completely unreasonable, Riddleâs still deaf to Trey's words, âAre YOU going to tell me that Iâm wrong too? After all Iâve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much Iâve suffered for this?! IâŚI refuse to believe this!â That chill gets worse, and the ominous and malicious feeling youâre getting from Riddle gets worse. Something much darker. A line of dark blood drips from Riddleâs nose. Wait, thatâs not blood. Blood isnâtâŚ.black.
You might be angry about earlier, but unlike Riddle, you havenât lost your wits. You can tell when things are nose-diving into a downward spiral at terminal velocity. Because the longer Riddle spits his mad ravings, the more of that black stuff comes out.
You normally wouldnât do this, mostly because you want to punch the bastard. But that inky stuff has to be a bad omen. âRiddle, you need to calm down.â You try to soothe the raging beast, even though youâre sure that this is a bad idea. âYou donât want to be a rulebreaker, right? So just calm down and weâll talk this out.â
âWha-OW!â Ace looks at you as if youâd gone insane too, but you elbowed him harshly in the gut.Â
Riddleâs angry glare falls on you. And you could see the veins starting to twitch under his skin. If he gets any more angry, then he might have a stroke. â I! AM NOT! A RULE BREAKER!â He yells, his own rage leaving him breathless. âAND YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!â
âIâm just trying to calm you down, you donât really want to break the rules by hurting anyone, do you?â You hope he doesnât actually want to hurt anyone. Plus, youâre really not ready to witness someoneâs death.Â
Riddleâs face is so red, it looks like it might explode. And his glare could kill you and cook the remains with how fiery it is.Â
He snaps, his voice laden with venom.Â
âYOU! DARLINGS LIKE YOU! ARE WHY WE NEED THE RULES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME!â
âŚ..What.
Did he just-Â
No way, he just did. He did.Â
Shit. Shit...SHIT.Â
FUCK YOU, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS!
You did NOT go through all that shit for him to reveal it to everyone here in a fit of rage. No fuck him, fuck this, whatever shit he has going on can wait because you need this bastardâs neck to be the other way round.Â
You feel fire burn under your skin. Youâre gonna-
âWait, wha-â You hear , and you donât even have the ability to freeze up in terror. Because you gotta disperse the potential nightmare of Ace and Deuce finding out. Even if they donât believe him, the doubt will remain. So youâre basically fried.Â
âItâs nothing!â You frantically yell to cut off whatever Ace or Deuce were going to say as fast as you can as you feel your heart speed up in total panic. Youâll be lucky if they think this is a psychotic rambling of a raging tyrant. This just keeps getting worse and worse for you.Â
If Riddle doesnât get killed in this madness, then he owes you an apology and you owe him a big, fat fist to the face.Â
Meanwhile as you prepare for your own mental breakdown, Crowley maintains his complete and utter uselessness, even though he probably has the power to stop this. âCease immediately, Mr. Rosehearts! Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!â
What is blot?!Â
And why is Riddle-
âButâŚ.Iâm right! IâM the one whoâs right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!â Thick, black inky substance comes out of his eyes and ears.Â
âRiddle, stop!â Treyâs words canât pull Riddle out of his madness and likely never will.Â
Because all that black ink dripping out of nearly every pore, staining his skin and clothes, pools around him for only a few seconds. Before it engulfs him, swallowing him whole.Â
And like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a horrific butterflyâŚ..
âŚ..he comes out a monster.
Like a horrible chrysalis bursting open, Riddle comes out changed.Â
His skin is so pallid, the color could have been mistaken for bone. A red flame is positioned over his right eye, glowing an unnatural color. The ink that bleed out of his skin sticks to his arm and face like tar. And most identifiably, heâs dressed like the Queen of Hearts. Sort of, if she was beheaded and her body was thrown in her beloved rose garden to be torn apart by the hedgehogs. (A fitting fate in your eyes)
The tyrant has changed to match his predecessor, both over-controlling monsters.Â
But thatâs not the most terrifying part of it.Â
Thereâs also the giant hulking beast tethered to Riddleâs back. And thatâs the most defining feature. Because that thing matches your dreams of the Queen of Hearts. The monster is dressed in a dress nearly identical to the one from your second dream. Sheâs even carrying a rose bush, torn from another worldâs ground.
This is not good. And youâre suddenly very afraid of what will happen next.
The possessed? Riddle cackles, âYou are fools to defy me! You are not welcome in my world. In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest!â His voice is warped and distorted as if someone otherworldly is speaking through him.
âThe only response I will accept from you is âYes, Dorm Leader Riddle.â All who defy me will lose their heads! Ah ha ha ha HA!âÂ
âDear me, what have I done? Iâve allowed a student to overblot in my presence!â What the fuck is overblot!?
âCrowley? What the HELL is overblot!?â You demand an explanation to this madness, because Riddle is both a monster, and has a massive monster connected to his spine. Seriously, what the shit is this!?!
âOverblot is a dangerous condition that mages must avoid at all costs. At the moment, he is overcome by negative energy and has lost control of his magic and emotions.â
âOkay but what does that mean?!âÂ
âPlease explain!â
âTo put it in laymanâs terms, heâs in evil berserker mode!â
âIf he keeps releasing magical energy, we could be looking at a loss of life here- his included.âÂ
âWHAT!â You feel your eye twitch, âCROWLEY! WHY DIDNâT YA JUST TELL ME ALL THIS SHIT WHEN I GOT HERE!!â It canât be that hard, can it? How hard is it to give the unfortunate transfer student from another world or dimension a simple crash-course of âhey, hereâs some things you should know about our world!â, for crapâs sake.Â
âMs. ____-âÂ
âNevermind, Crowley! Weâll deal with the evil giant monster thing now, Iâll freak out later!â And freak out you will. Riddle outed you, overblotted and could kill someone or multiple someones if this shit goes south. Forget punching him, youâre going to beat him so bad that smug arrogant face of his will be unrecognizable when you're done with him.You are fucking tired of this shit already, and when you think itâs bad it just gets worse.
âYes! The well-being of my students is my top priority. Therefore, I must evacuate them immediately.â
âY-Youâre not staying?â. You say weakly. Was the bar for headmaster requirements in hell? Yes, there is a giant monster/dorm leader attacking the running and hiding Heartslabyul residents but this is a MAGIC school for shitâs sake. âNo, but as for Mr.Rosehearts, we must restore his consciousness before his magical energy runs dry.â Damnit Crowley! âFor as bad as losing him would be, there are scenarios that are far worseâŚâ WHATâS WORSE?!?!
âListen well: I need all of you to seek help from the other housewardens and members of faculty.â But how the hell are going to all evacuate and summon the other housewardens if Riddle is-
While the exposition dump was happening, the beast behind Riddle follows his body movements, and still fueled by all the anger that caused this whole mess to start in the first place, raises the rose bush like a club, prepared to strike down one of the unfortunate Heartslabyul students.
Ace and Deuce finally allowed to use their magic, do what theyâve wanted to do since yesterday. Strike the pretentious dorm leader down.
âHIIYAH! TAKE THAT!â A strong magical gust knocks the beastâs weapon away from its original target. And annoys the furious Riddle.Â
âHuh!? Trey, Cater and Crowley look and sound bewildered at the attack, but you feel a rush of pride.Â
âI summon thee, cauldron!â Deuce takes advantage of Riddleâs change in focus to strike. With his infamous cauldron spell. Riddle manages to dodge it, but at least heâs not attacking the students any more!
âMYAH!â Grim leaps out of your arms to join the attacks, sending a wave of blue fire along with Ace and Deuceâs own attacks.Â
Now even more pissed ( a surprise to be honest) Riddle fumes at their lack of submission. âWhat do you fools think youâre doing?â
âUm, hello?! 911? Weâve got an idiot emergency!â Caterâs internet talk doesnât fade in times of high stress.
Grim, acting unlike his usual selfish self, actually points out the most frightening part of this, âYou DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happeninâ with him, right?!â
âThatâs why we need to stop him now! I donât want that on my conscience!â Yah, Riddle straight up sucks but risking the deaths of others to save yourself from certain death is cowardly, and unlike the rampager, youâre not a hypocrite.Â
âAnd Iâm not givinâ up till I hear him say, âI was wrong and Iâm sorry.ââ
Youâre convinced, âYeah, he owes me an apology for the shit he put me through!!â
âAll right, letâs do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!â
âWait! This is dangerous!â
âAre you S-R-S, Trey? You canât beat Riddle!â
âSo what, youâre not even gonna fight unless you KNOW you can win?â
âYeah, heâs right. Thatâs weak.â
âThis is the only way we can think of to snap him out of this!â
âYeahâŚI donât want to lose him. Thereâre too many things Iâve left unsaid.â
âWe just have to do this, whatever it takes!â You might not be able to do magic, but youâll helpâŚ.somehow.Â
âUgh, I do NOT like or subscribe to this, but fine!â
NghâŚIâll be back as soon as Iâve gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!â
âSuch defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!â
âRiddleâs body canât take much more of this. We need to stop him before itâs too late!â
Things are goingâŚ..well enough.Â
Because how in every layer of hell can you describe this? At all? Itâs not everyday that you watch a magician go into berserker mode and try to kill his âunderlingsâ or really equals heâs un/knowingly been abusing for who knows how long?
Hereâs the good news.Â
Treyâs magic makes the fight easier for them. Replacing Riddleâs UM makes the battle actually possible.Â
Caterâs Spilt Card, makes the perfect distraction ones, that he can use as human shields as Riddle strikes.
Even Ace, Deuce and Grimâs inexperience manages to turn the tide. Wind, cauldrons and fire join a barrage of more sophisticated and more complicated spells of the third-years is the perfect combination of brute strength and complicated strategy.Â
But hereâs the bad news.Â
Riddleâs fast. Very fast.Â
For every one spell the others cast, Riddle can cast two. and moves twice as fast to replace every one Trey replaces. Which should be impossible with all of his magical energy and life force being drained away but it seems whether heâs a horrific monster or a tyrannical dictator, heâs still a magical prodigy.
What your friends need is a distraction. And they need one fast. And while you might not have magic, youâre not completely powerless here.Â
Why?Â
Because Riddleâs earlier pique was kind enough to dislodge plenty of stones that once were the floor of the battle ground. Small and light enough for you to carry. Large and heavy enough to leave a nasty bruise or a nice headache.
All you hope is that you have good aim. Because this better land right in the face.Â
Even with the hail of magic sending wind, ice, fire, cauldrons and other magical bursts in Riddleâs direction, youâre safely hidden in the background and the beast attached to him is otherwise preoccupied with the aforementioned magic, so itâs easy to sneak away.Â
You wrap your hand around one of the loose stones of the destroyed battlegrounds, and sneak behind the bushes till youâre a good distance away from the others with a broad distance away from him and that monster. âHey Rosehearts!â You yell.
He turns to you with a death glare that could actually cut off your head. But as soon as his gaze has fallen on you, you throw the stone as hard as you can.
It hits him square in the forehead.Â
Riddle doesnât even have the time to cry out in pain, as he and the phantom monster stumble back, dazed.
âHA! Take that you controlling bastard!â Sure, youâre saving his life in the process, but considering he just outed you, kicking his ass through this is actually one hell of a relief.
Everyone takes advantage of the distraction you made to send another barrage of magic against Riddle. Still dazed from your strike to his head, probably combined with the damage the overblot was taking on his body, heâs much slower.Â
So now, every strike lands without fail, and Riddle barely has time to retaliate now. And that changes the tide of the battle.Â
With every new strike, the monsterâs body starts to distort and parts of its body start to writhe and twist. The darkness glowing underneath starts to distort and warp. The roots holding it to Riddle's body start to sever. The monsterâs distorted roars start to soften, turning weaker.Â
âIs it over?â You ask. You feel safe enough to go closer, now that the monsterâs body starts to sway and collapse. Riddle looks like heâs about to pass out. âIs he going to die?â
âHe better not. He still needs to apologize to me!â AceÂ
You sigh in relief for half a second. And the blot around Riddle swarms him.Â
You donât know what switched on within you. You hate this guy. You want to see him suffer a little, or more specifically a lot.
âHenchman!âÂ
So you donât know why you ran when you did, or why you grabbed Riddleâs wrist like a vice right before his body disappeared into the mess of dark ink. You grabbed on as tight as you can, just as the monster finally burst.Â
Thick ink, scalding hot like Riddleâs burning rage, hits your skin and burns your face. You scream in reflex, and your mouth burns from the hot, bitter ink entering it. You choke on the blot. It burns. It coats you, covers you, drowns you and your vision swims. But your grip doesnât let up.Â
â_____!!!â You hear many voices screaming your name. But you canât see them. The burning black ink falls like rain, obscuring your friends from view.
All you can feel is that overwhelmingly painful and smothering burn of the inkâŚbut the last thing your senses pick up on before you pass out isnât the burn on your skin, the bitterness in your mouth, or the voices of your friends.
Itâs a voice.
âIâŚwas wrong?! But thatâsâŚimpossibleâŚâ
A sad, anguished voice. The sad, anguished voice of Riddle Rosehearts.
âIsnât itâŚ.Mother?â
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Take Me Home Tonight
⥠⥠Pairings ⥠⥠Law Professor Satoru Gojo x Student Fem Reader
⥠⥠Warnings ⥠⥠MDNI- Gojo is like 29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. In this chap- oral sex (fem recieving) titty fucking, light slapping, breed kink, basically them being cute!
⥠⥠Word Count ⥠⥠this chap- 7k
⥠⥠Summary ⥠⥠After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name. Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right? That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? - Lawyer AU
Chapter 13 ⥠⥠Masterlist ⥠⥠Playlist
Chapter 14
Right inside the little courthouse, standing in your wedding dress, with Maki holding your hand, you look at your soon-to-be husband Satoru Gojo. There's a hung over Suguru standing next to him, Nanami and Yuta are clearly hung over in the bench seats as well, but you still focus on that gorgeous man directly across from this room, in his white tuxedo.
Satoru Gojo.
Professor Gojo.
Or, as you know him, Toru.
Youâve come a long way from âProfessor Dickheadâ and âMiss Bratâ havenât you both? From a bathroom at a club to an undying love, from aching for his touch in your seat to him being constantly all over you. From tentatively becoming boyfriend and girlfriend to being insane and getting married in the span of a few months, it feels so surreal.
You should be worried itâs too soon, worried about this or that, but all you can do is be so damn happy. You just feel euphoric, so enamored of him, by how much you adore him, love him, need him, and are unable to imagine your life without him. Canât imagine yourself before him.
His eyes catch yours then, and heâs looking up and down your body carefully, before he gets the biggest grin on that handsome face, and instead of waiting for you to walk up to him⌠well, this is Satoru Gojo weâre talking about⌠he decides instead to run to you and pick you up in the center of the room, spinning you in the air, making you giggle breathlessly.
âToru, stop it! Put me down!â Nanami and Suguru are chuckling, though tired, hungover chuckles, and Maki is just smiling at you two.
âYou look so fucking gorgeous . Iâm such a lucky man.â He eases you down, hands firm on your waist now, and you look up into his sparkling blue eyes, your lips trembling, arms wrapping around his neck.
âYouâre insane too, you know. Youâre supposed to wait up there for me!â He sighs, stepping back and looking at you again.
âGod, this body in this dressâŚâ He kisses you then, lips pressing on yours. Youâre clinging to him, sighing into his lips, as his big hands take over your waist, cinched in the pretty wedding gown. âSo beautiful.â
âAnd youâre the most handsome man in the world.â You whisper, looking up at him then, heâs exhaling, blue swirling gaze drinking in your face, as you drink him in, how perfect he looks, how he is your everything.
âOf course I am.â
âYouâre also the most insane.â
He smirks now, grabbing your hand and yanking you along to where the justice of the peace is smiling, watching the two of you. âYou knew that already.â
âYou already kissed the bride!?â Suguru says, hiccuping then, you click your tongue at him.
âToo many shots, Suguru?â
âYeah, yeah. Your fault.â He grumbles, you just giggle.
âHow are you so bright eyed?â Nanami demands, leaning his head back on the bench with a grimace.
âBecause I only had like two drinks, silly boys.â
âSilly boys! Iâm older than you.â Suguru says.
âHmm, still silly.â You stick your tongue out, and Suguru chuckles.
âYou have your hands full.â
âOh, I will.â Satoru says, wolfish grin, wiggling his brows, all of the room is laughing now, even Yuta, before he goes back to looking sick.
âWater.â He pleads, Maki hands him a bottle, he chugs and sighs. âIâll be fine, promise!â
âAhem, is everyone ready?â Says the young man in front of you now, amusedly watching you all, you nod shyly, taking Satoruâs hands now, your own are getting all sweaty with your nerves.
Youâre doing this.
Youâre marrying your Professor.
Youâre marrying the best lawyer there is.
Youâre marrying Satoru Gojo, the love of your life.
Itâs like a dream, but itâs your reality, this goofy, silly, gorgeous man, that since you met him, you just cannot stand to live without. How could you ever spend even a day without being in his arms, without looking into the most beautiful set of eyes that existed? Without your favorite person, who has become so dear so fucking fast, as if heâd always been yours?
âShould I bother to say the typical stuff?â He asks Satoru then, and he chuckles, shaking his head.
âKeep it to the basics. We have our own things to say to each other.â The man nods then, looking at you now.
âThen would you like to go first, with what youâve prepared?â You nod, taking several breaths to prepare. âPerfect, so weâre gathered here to celebrate the union ofâŚâ He says your name, making your heart race faster. âAnd Satoru Gojo. Theyâve both got⌠well, a lot to say as Iâm sure you all know.â
They all laugh, then eyes are on you. You look up into his eyes again, snowy lashes lowered, his face a little more serious, big hands clutching yours tightly, then you know, Satoru is just a little bit nervous too. The most calm and collected lawyer, who can laugh right in the face of any danger, is a nervous thing just like you, something about it melts you even more.
âSatoru, we met⌠well, in a nightclub. Itâs not the most romantic place, is it? But somehow, it was romantic, when I bumped right into you, spilling my drink all over your very nice shirt.â
âIt was four hundred dollars.â
âStupid.â He snorts and you playfully shove him. âLet me finish!â
âAlways.â You blush at his tone, then take another breath.
âIt was romantic regardless, because itâs you, and you make any place in this world something beautiful, with your presence, with your light that just shines from you, with your beautiful soul.â
âFuck off, brat.â He whispers, eyes glimmering with tears. You smile, blinking back your own emotions.
âYou never let me finish my sentences, youâre so annoying, youâre childish, and youâre basically a hyper kid on chocolate.â
âHey!â
âItâs true.â Suguru agrees.
âYou⌠Satoru GojoâŚâ You hold his hand, bringing it to your lips, brushing them along the backside of his knuckles. âYou fight for what you believe in, you are so authentically yourself, no matter what. You hold true to your convictions, and never waver. Youâre so amazing, just as amazing as you like to say you are.â He smiles just a bit.
âI sure am.â
The room rolls its eyes. âYou are also the love of my life. Truly, with you, itâs like I finally have a home. IÂ meant what I said that day, the day I confessed my true feelings, the love in my heart, that I will always be by your side. You never have to worry, or wonder, Iâll be right here. Thereâs nowhere else Iâd rather be.â You say, shaking as you do, overwhelmed by so much emotion.
Now youâre wiping his tears, he huffs, swiping them with the back of his hand, as are your friends, even the usually more stoic Nanami is swiping at his eyes. You feel your own tears falling, as you pour your heart out for him, knowing itâs safe to do so, knowing that.
âYou accept everything about me, without question, you challenge me, make me think, make me do more, do better . You are the best man Iâve ever met, and I know youâll be the best husband. And one day, I hope, an amazing father.â Satoru sighs now, resting his head on yours. âI love you Satoru Gojo, and I will love you, until the day I take my last breath, and even after.â
âShit.â Is all he manages, and you giggle a bit, as now heâs kissing your salty tears, cupping your face.
âIâm ready for this, itâs insane, itâs probably too fast, but our relationship has been fast, intense, a hell of a ride. One Iâm never getting off. I love you.â He kisses you again, your hands gently gripping his wrists as he keeps kissing you.
âYou know youâre supposed to wait?â The man says, but even he has tears in his eyes.
âSheâs a brat, she loves to make everyone cry like her.â Satoru says, and you glare, shoving at him.
âNow, itâs your turn Mr. Gojo. Can you top that?â He teases, clearly he is one of Satoruâs friends. Satoru grins now, nodding, swiping back that silky white hair, and looking down at you, eyes still glassy.
âMiss Brat.â You roll your eyes, giggling at him, looking at Maki for a moment whoâs snuggled with Yuta, tissues smushed on her face with Yutaâs hand, not a sight you thought youâd see. Then you look back at your love.
âProfessor.â You tease.
âI knew you were trouble the moment you ran into me, you were so clumsy you know.â You glare, and everyone laughs. âYou didnât belong there, something about you just seemed⌠different. When I first saw your pretty face, it was like a punch to the gut, like I couldnât breathe for a moment.â
Your turn to be a ball of emotions, you are choking on a sob as he speaks. âYou really felt that way?â You ask softly, he nods then.
âFuck yeah I did, I played it off cool, or tried to, but you tilted my world on its axis, I knew you were so special, without even knowing you. Then, when we reconnected⌠god I couldnât get you out of my head. I thought to myself, if I donât have this girl, I canât even go on, I need her in my life in some way. I couldnât get the feel of your lips on mine out of my mind, like a brand on my mouth.â
His every word intoxicates you, touches you so deeply, how can you keep falling ever deeper into him? âSatoruâŚâ
âI love you so much, I canât even begin to really explain it, me⌠a man who can never shut the fuck up.â You smile, but itâs getting hard to see now, the tears flowing down your cheeks now. âBut you left me speechless, you left me breathless, but then⌠now, I need you to breathe.â
âLike oxygen.â You whisper back, and he nods eagerly, cupping your face gently once more, thumb brushing your lips.
âLike oxygen. I need you, there is nothing without you, you are my world, and I will do everything to take care of you, every day, no matter what.â
âOh SatoruâŚâ Youâre barely hanging on, in this little court house with a beautiful dress, and a gorgeous soon to be husband, saying things you once only heard in your dreams from him. Now, heâs yours.
âDo you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness, and in health, for as long as you live?â He asks now, and you nod, taking the beautiful ring that Maki runs up to you, Satoruâs eyes widen at it.
âOf course I do.â
âThe ring! Itâs badass as fuck.â He says, earning more laughter in the emotional little room, you slide the gleaming jeweled ring on his finger, your own hands shaking so much that he has to hold them again.
âAnd do you, Satoru Gojo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and health, for as long as you live?â
âOh, even after Iâm gone, Iâll always love you.â He says, and fuck... You hope your waterproof makeup is doing its job, because youâre officially a wreck, when he pulls out a gold band that matches your ring, delicate with little diamonds all around it. Your heart swells when he kisses your hand once more.
âI now pronounce you both, husband and wife. I mean⌠you already kissed a ton, but, kiss again.â Satoru grins, as do you, then heâs got you lifted in his arms, spinning you in a circle, you cling to him like you did the night you met, when heâd first kissed you.
Your lips meld together, salty tears mixed with sweet breath, he finally eases you to stand, and your friends are clapping for you all, but your eyes are locked on his, as if he is the only thing in this room, in this world. You choke on your cry, sniffling now, but Gojoâs emotional too, as he strokes your cheek with the backs of his fingers, tilting your chin up.
âI love you, Miss Brat. Wife. Bratty wife.â You giggle again, leaning up and pulling him down by his jacket, kissing him over and over.
âAnd I love you, husband. My Toru.â It takes damn near everything to separate the two of you, friends dragging you apart just to get to reception (basically a big ass party you all are throwing) when all you can think of is fucking your husband .
Six Months Later
âAll done for the day, Professor Geto.â You are interning with Professor Geto, you finally are done with your first year of law school today, the end of a very insane year. Though the school allowed you and Satoru to have class together, they took you out of any running of his internship, for favoritism reasons.
Little did they know Gojo was still hard on you in class, and pushed you to your limits, he certainly wouldnât have given you that internship if you had not earned it, but you were lucky enough that Suguru chose you to do his. It was brutal, long hours, but you learned so much with him, it worked out perfectly.
The bonus was that Satoru, Nanami and Suguru all worked close together, and Maki and Yuta interned with Nanami, so you all saw each other constantly. The six of you were extremely close, even though you all had your own lives, especially you and Satoru now more so than ever.
Suguru smiles at you now, lips quirking up. standing and taking the thick binders you have for him. Youâre the last one there in the office on his team, as you were trying to get all your work caught up to finish the semester, so that you can help Satoru with his next big case. You yawn again, and he pats your head, tilting his own as he studies you.
âYou work too hard, you know. In your condition.â
âHush!â You shut his mouth with your palm, looking around, and heâs chuckling against it. âWhat if someone was here!â
âTheyâre all gonna know next year, anyway, you know youâre gonna have a big ass kid with those Gojo genes.â
âUgh, youâre telling me! Can you tell!?â You turn now, and he hums to himself, smirking now. âOh tell me, already Suguru!â
âNot by your tummy, no⌠butâŚâ He wiggles his brows, and you scowl.
âOh you perv!â You cover your breasts with your jacket, fuming as you realize itâs not buttoning, only to hear more of him snorting in laughter. âShit, youâre right.â
âIâm sure Satoruâs loving that.â You roll your eyes with a smile.
âYou know he wonât leave me alone for two minutes-â
âShnookums!â Satoru pounces into the room now, leaping to you and bringing you into his strong arms, kissing your neck over and over.
âYou all are going to do great, promise.â He says to you both, and you melt, as does Satoru, grinning big at his best friend.
âAnd youâre gonna be the best Uncle, Sugu.â He says, before grabbing your breasts, and you smack his hands, as Suguru blushes, looking up at the ceiling of his office.
âJesus, Satoru.â
âToru, really!?â
âWhat theyâre so comforting to squeeze. FineâŚâ He lets your breasts go, pressing on your tummy instead. âI just love touching you, been all day I just missed my girlâŚâ
âGo on now, good luck with him, love.â Suguru says, waving you all off as Satoru drags you out of the building, you can barely keep up with him as you dart to the car waiting for you, Ijichi is there to greet you both, smiling tiredly.
âMr. and Mrs. Gojo.â You give him a peck on the cheek and a smile, making him blush, before Satoru slides in next to you in the back of the car.
âYou canât just grab my tits like that in front of Sugu!â You huff, shoving at him, and heâs pouting, like heâs an innocent baby, and not a fiend.
âIâm sorry, but theyâre so pretty! I just wanna love on you.â He nuzzles your throat now, pulling you to him, and you sigh as you sink into his embrace, inhaling that scent you love so much, body reacting quickly.
âFine, you get away with it this time. Oh gosh, Toru, everyone will know Iâm pregnant next semester. Iâll be a whale.â
âWill not! Donât be a meanie to yourself. Gonna be beautiful.â He has you on his lap now, sideways, rubbing your tummy gently. You blink back emotions now, and he notices, kissing your lips softly. âPromise you will be.â
âIâm so excited, but so nervous! Do you think Iâll keep up with these studies with a baby?â Your hand joins his over your tummy now, bringing a sense of peace that washes over you, every time youâre with him.
âYou are a nerdy brat, you can do it.â
âHey!â He just chuckles, cradling you in his arms.
âYou can do some at home studies for a while, maybe come back to campus in a bit, you know we can just bring the baby to law school. Get it in early.â
âA little scholar, huh?â
âMmm⌠itâll be a challenge, but you got it. We got it, youâre not alone in this, ever. I promise.â Satoru kisses you deeper now, still gently rubbing your tummy, youâre only three months along so not much has changed yet, but you both know, and can tell the smallest changes.
âI know youâll help me no matter what, we are a team.â You caress his face softly as you speak.
âDamn right, also youâre young, you donât have to knock out law school so fast, itâs not like you canât come with me and learn any time. And Iâll be there to teach you, my favorite student.â
âTeach me, hmm?â You tease now, he grins.
âYes, Miss Brat. You still have a lot to learn, you know. Youâre a good student but you have some discipline issues.â
âMe!?â
âMmm.â Satoru is stumbling with you as you kiss fervently, inside your home now, lips barely leaving yours, only to breathe, you all kick off your shoes, you toss your purse, he tosses his wallet, you yank off his tie, he shoves off your blazer.
Youâre slowly just leaving a trail of clothes and items everywhere, until youâre in your bra and panties, tits overflowing already, aching and tender. Satoruâs full lips part, thin nostrils flaring. Heâs unbuttoning his dress shirt, shaking his head slightly, youâre biting your lower lip, eyes lowering shyly, the whirl of the giant fans overhead cooling overheated skin.
â FuckâŚÂ these tits, lemme see em, baby girl.â He pleads, and you unsnap your bra then, exhaling at how good it feels when theyâre released, they bounce as they do, and Satoruâs on you in a flash, picking you up and sitting you right on the kitchen table, squishing them in his hands.
âMmm, be easy, please.â You whisper, as his thumbs brush over your nipples, making you tremble at how sensitive they are already. He exhales, eyes locking as he presses you back gently, one hand sliding up your chest, the other playing with your breast easier now.
âTheyâre so sexy. Imagine when theyâre all full of milk.â
âToru!â
âWhat, it'll be hot.â Youâre a blushing mess, and he chuckles, kissing down one of your breasts, to your nipple, sucking a peak in his hot mouth. âMmm.â
âMmm!â You both moan as he sucks on one, the pressure between your thighs building, the tension coiling in your lower tummy. âToruâŚâ
âLet me take my time, eager little brat.â He murmurs, now kissing your other breasts, tongue swirling around an areola, before he sucks the nipple in his mouth, making you wetter. Youâre grinding your hips on the table, biting your lip, aching for more and more.
âPleaseâŚâ
âImpatient, hmm?â Satoruâs big hands now slide up your thighs, smirking so sexy as he studies you. âOh, those thighs love to shift for me, rub together, donât they?â
âF-fuck off.â He glares then, yanking you off the table, turning you and unzipping your pencil skirt, you laugh breathless when it gets stuck then. âIâm getting all big already.â
âShut up, you are not. I canât wait till you do though.â He unzips you finally, revealing your lacy panties, he presses you down now, your breasts on the table, heâs kissing a trail between your shoulder blades.
âMmm⌠Toru please touch me.â
âNot yet, patience, remember?â
âFuck that- ow!â He smacks your backside, making you tremble at how good it feels, eyes fluttering shut when he grabs your ass now instead.
âYou know I will still be your professor next semester, expect me to take it easy on you?â He smacks your other cheek now, and your thighs are trembling.
âWell, yes! Iâm pregnant with your little baby lawyer!â
âNo exceptions or favoritism in my class.â He says, acting so stern, you canât take how sexy his voice is.
âBut youâll beat my ass, Professor!?â
âIt looks so pretty with my hand prints.â He smacks each cheek again, stinging and burning, his free hand now sliding up your spine, entangling in your hair and pulling, youâre soaking wet against your panties, craving his touch. âAw, youâre so, so eager, arenât you baby?â
âYouâre a tease, Satoru Gojo.â You whine out, earning that sexy chuckle. âIâm hornier more than ever.â
âI know, I love it. And so wet⌠oh fuck .â Heâs rubbing you over your panties now, which are hopelessly soaked, wet spot soaking through. âYouâre that wet?â
âPlease, ToruâŚâ
âBegging?â
âMmhmm.â Is all you manage, normally youâd both play, a push and pull, tug of war of sorts, but you are needy for him, youâre clenching around nothing, wanting his fingers, his cock, wanting him .
âSo easy for me?â
âJust for you.â You whisper, then he moans, and you hear his belt buckle, you arch up, earning another laugh.
âThat easy!?â
âPut it in, please.â You are begging, pleading, arching your ass up, wanting more and more of his touch.
âFuckâŚâ Satoru is not one to just do that, he loves foreplay, but when he finds your dripping wet folds, pulling your panties to the side and rubbing, heâs moaning. âYouâre stupid wet.â
âI know, I know. Please, just- ah!â Satoru slips his tip in barely, groaning as he feels you, youâre dripping all the way down to the kitchen tile, itâs so bad. You look back at him and watch his face contorted in pleasure, then your eyes roll back as his tip hits your clit, rubbing. âMmm!â
Your clit is twitching under his tip, rubbing on it, and youâre just wetter and wetter, Satoru slides his cock up once more, coated in your slick now, pressing into your entrance, and youâre so ready you fall apart from his tip stretching you. Satoru is groaning, gripping your hips tightly, youâre nearly sobbing itâs so fucking good, when he presses further.
âToru!â
âOh my god⌠youâre so tight.â He whispers, sinking inside fully, so much pressure, youâre cumming then and there, and he stays there for a moment, unmoving, tense behind you. âYou cummin already?â
âFuck it, yes. More, please. Please .â
âNeedy little brat.â Heâs fucking into you now, tip dragging on your g spot, making you stupid, one hand back to pulling your hair, your thighs he spreads, to slide in with a long stroke once more, filling you so full.
You scream out now, hands gripping on the table as if it will tether you, but youâre falling apart under his strokes, getting wetter and wetter, walls clenching tightly around his cock. His balls are smacking your clit over and over, your ass is jiggling with every thrust of his pelvis, an ass he smacks again, stinging as the cool air above hits it, making you tighten around him more in response.
âFeel so fuckin good, baby girl. So goodâŚâ He huffs, slamming in and rolling his hips, tip grinding on your cervix, pulling you more until he has an entire arm wrapped around you.
âYou feel sâgood ToruâŚâ You whisper back, then heâs flipping you, exhaling and kissing you deeply, youâre shivering when he sits you back on the table, sliding his cock back in, cupping your face with a free hand.
âNeed to see your pretty face.â He whispers, and you shudder as heâs sinking deeper, clutching to his bare chest, kissing his lips softly, biting his plush lower lip, before your head falls back, and heâs kissing down your neck.
âLove you. Love you.â You whisper it over and over, now Satoruâs leaning over you, rolling his hips just the right way, until you unravel again for him, he presses every button, pulls every switch, he knows every bit of you. He has known you, the night you even met.
âI love you baby.â He whispers back, your lips slam together, tongues so messy, teeth clicking against each other as you feel his muscles ripple under your hands, as you feel his cock thickening. âGot you pregnant, hmm?â
âYou did, you d-didâŚâ
âMaking you a mommy.â He murmurs, making your thighs tense around his hips, hands clutching in his silky white hair, desperately kissing him now.
âYou did. You - ah - did!â Youâre closer to the edge as your husbandâs thickening now, throbbing in you, and your eyes lock, those glittering blue eyes that you could drown in for eternity, and never want to take a breath.
âGonna fill you so good⌠f-fuckâŚâ Satoruâs crying out right with you, his cock is pumping those ropes of cum inside your velvety walls, filling you so deep. Youâre both drinking each othersâ cries, moans, whispers, as you both come down, and youâre still feeling the aftershocks, pulsing his cum out down between you.
âMmm⌠ToruâŚâ Youâre cock drunk, eyes fuzzy as he comes into focus, Satoru is stroking your hair, sighing, pecking little kisses all over your face now. âHow is it even better than before?â
âI donât know, it is though⌠you never could take me like that. Youâre so slutty pregnant.â
âSlutty!â You glare, and he just laughs again, the sound filling you.
âMmm, still just as tight, just sluttier.â
âOh you- ah!â He pulls out of you then, picking you up carefully, bridal style, even after half a year of getting married, he likes to carry you to the room like this often, and you would be lying if you said you didnât love it.
Marriage has been not without some trials, sometimes you both got on each otherâs nerves, you had little debates and spats. Satoru was messy as fuck, and you didnât like leaving a mess for the cleaners, he thinks thatâs the job anyway, and just wants you to focus on school, or fucking him in every position possible. Or just wants you to look pretty when he gets home.
You are independent and strong willed, he knows youâll never be his little housewife, and you know he really doesnât want that, but he jokes all the time. He always pays for everything, and spoils you, buying too much jewelry, too many clothes, and any new gadget he thinks is cool, sometimes you have to take things back you donât need, and earn his puppy dog eyes.
There are beautiful moments of being married to him, too, like having him constantly be there with you, hold you in his arms at night, and wake up to see his precious face next to yours. And the most beautiful moment so far, was when you all found out youâre having a baby, although you were on birth control, you both were surprised but then both of you had been elated.
You love the little peanut already, thatâs what you all call them, theyâre too tiny to know a sex yet, and they looked just like a peanut on that ultrasound. Satoru and you had it framed and sitting right on one of the dressers in what would soon be the babyâs nursery, you all have set up some of it already. Itâs too early for all that truly, but Satoru got too excited.
And thatâs the best part about Satoru, his excitement, his infectious happiness, in the face of anything, though he always shows you how he really feels, when heâs genuinely so happy, it radiates. He makes even the worst days so much better, massaging your back, buying your favorite cappuccino (decaf now, Satoru is reading too much about babies) or anything to comfort you.
And you comfort your husband, rubbing his neck after a long day, running him a bath and washing that silky white hair, bringing him his favorite drink after work. You both constantly read each other, itâs like you can feel what the other is feeling, a constant connection, a beautiful one.
âWhat are you thinking about, Miss Brat?â Satoru asks softly, heâs sat you on the edge of the sink, starting a hot shower, already steaming in the bathroom, the warm fog filling your lungs.
âHow happy we are. How good this is. It feels likeâŚâ
âPerfect.â
âThat.â He is between your thighs, cupping your face, your head falls back to look up at him. âItâs so perfect, us together.â
âAnd there are going to be three of us soon.â He murmurs, making you smile, looking down at your tummy, itâs a little poochy, perhaps only you and Satoru notice for now.
âA baby Gojo.â You whisper, smiling then, and heâs hugging you tightly, burying his face against your neck. âI want to be the best parent ever.â
âYou will be.â
âAnd theyâll be⌠rich already. Holy shit.â You murmur, Satoruâs family had sent a cool five million for the baby, to have when theyâre eighteen through a trust. Satoru had scoffed at it, but you did appreciate the gesture, of course Satoru had plenty of money, but your future baby Gojo could do a lot with that to start with.
âThey did one decent thing, itâs still fuck them.â
You laugh then. âIâm still team fuck them.â
âNow⌠letâs shower, we have all weekend to relax.â
âYou mean study your case!â
âWell that is relaxing for us.â You step into the hot shower now, head falling back when Satoru begins to suds up your hair, eyes shutting in bliss.
âI so love your hair washing skills.â
âOf course you do. I love washing your hair, little shnookums.â He kisses your forehead after he rinses the fragrant shampoo out, then itâs your turn, but of course heâs so tall he has to sit on the bench seat in the shower for you to wash his hair. âIâm so glad I fucking built this at the right height.â
Heâs burying his face between your breasts now, making you giggle, as the hot water cascades down your back, easing stiff muscles. âI was curious that day when you told me to stand there.â
âHad to be at titty height.â You rinse his hair out now, before he stands, turning and sitting you on the new bench, a pretty black granite heâd recently installed. âI also had it made forâŚâ
You hold your breasts together, and he slips his cock between them, already hard again, you whine out at it, at the sexy, lewd sight of his pretty pink tip pressing up between your lush breasts. âFuck⌠thatâs soâŚâ
âHot.â He finishes, whimpering out now, and you nod, looking up at him, holding your breasts together for him as he pumps, his free hand caressing your face. âGod youâre so pretty .â
âYouâre pretty.â He smirks down at you, now youâre spitting down his cock, making him lose it, he kneels once more, spreading your thighs right on the bench. âAww look, she missed me.â
âYou just fucked- ah!â You scream out when heâs lapping at your pussy, your head is resting back on the tile walls, his mouth devouring your pussy, blue eyes looking up at you, lashes dripping wet, water falling all over his perfect skin. âToruâŚâ
âShh, let me and her talk. Rude.â You laugh but itâs cut off as he sucks your engorged little clit into his mouth, humming on it then, youâre gushing arousal all over his mouth, legs shaking violently, panting as it overtakes you. His hands glide down and up your slick thighs, fingers pressing in as he works you.
Your pussy is drooling down his mouth, heâs groaning as he keeps lapping at you, your screams echoing in the shower now. Youâre starting to come down, so sensitive just his breath makes you jerk, and he relishes in it, in making you so weak and losing all your senses except how good he feels, how your entire body is just humming for him.
âYouâre so yummy, Miss Brat.â Satoru slides back up, sitting on the bench with you now, pulling you into his lap. You look at him, grinding against his length. âLook at you, such a mess.â
âYou make me that way.â Your words damn near slur, the heat of the shower, the orgasms, Satoru himself sapping it all from you.
âI love this bench.â You smile just a bit at his enthusiasm.
âYouâre so cute- ah!â
âCute, huh?â Heâs shoved his full eight plus inches so deep in your pussy, grabbing your ass and slamming you down his length, stuffing you so full.
âToru, fuck !â
âNot so cute, now. Aww, poor baby canât take dick?â You glare, earning his grin, positioning your knees on either side, clinging to his back with your fingers, slipping and sliding, and lifting yourself, breasts pressed against his chest.
âGive it to me, Professor.â You whisper, only for him to pick you up then, pressing your back against the shower wall, fucking into you so deep it hurts, but it hurts so fucking good youâre falling apart in his grasp.
âBratty, slutty student.â He huffs, shoving up, your thighs clinging to his slender hips as he pumps into your eager little pussy.
âIâm a⌠good student⌠fuck, fuck, fuck!â He bites the fuck out of your neck now, with those sharp teeth, you gasp as your pussy is clenching around him.
âA good girl, are you?â
âYes!â You breathe out, between pumps.
âMmm⌠you feel good, but I donât know. Should I let you cum?â
âPlease!â
âSince you asked so sweetly.â He pulls back his head, shoving his cock inside you, watching you, studying you, your eyes flutter shut as youâre about to cum once more, but he grabs your chin. âNo, look at me.â
So you do, you struggle to keep those eyes open, looking at him as youâre cumming even harder than before, so hard youâre crying, tears slipping down your cheeks. âT-ToruâŚâ
âAw, you crying?â You just nod weakly, moaning out, and then heâs pulsing inside you. âSo fucking pretty crying for me, too.â
He busts inside you now, groaning as he finds his release, clinging to your body, crying out, filling you up so full. âYes, yes⌠fill me.â
âTwo loads already, so slutty.â
âYou⌠youâre slutty.â You manage, both of you laughing then, he eases you down on wobbly legs now, holding you by your hips.
âAnd youâre weak.â
âFuck you!â
âI just did.â
âSure did.â Youâre grinning, and you both laugh, before you kiss each other, and clean up further.
Later on, you both are having dinner, while Satoru has his next case sprawled all over the table. You both snuggle up next to each other on the couch as he spreads files, pictures, and notes out on the table, nibbling on take out together, the white boxes and little red symbols and chopsticks, no dishes for you all. You look over the glossy eight by ten photos as you nibble on your rice.
âShe was my age, fuck.â You say softly, as you look at the picture now, she was a pretty young woman, a young environmental activist as well.
âThe worst part, she had a kid.â You sigh, putting the food down, and touching your tummy without thinking, and Satoru wraps an arm around you, protective and strong. âI know, baby.â
âFuck⌠so the suspect is this guy?â You tap a nice looking guy with glasses.
âMmm, yeah but I donât know if I should buy it.â
âYou think heâs a scapegoat?â
âSure the fuck do.â
âSo who are the suspects?â
âHim, him and him. Theyâre all super corporate, rich as fuck, whereas the guy Iâm representing is Pro Bono, so heâsâŚâ
âNot wealthy at all.â You finish.
âExactly, they wanna pin this shit on him. This is something on the higher ups, too.â The distaste is apparent in Satoruâs voice. You snuggle to him now, and he brushes your hair back, kissing your forehead gently.
âWeâll help them, if heâs wrongly convicted, youâre the best defense attorney there fucking is.â
âAnd youâre going to be the best prosecutor there is.â
âImagine us going against each other!?â He laughs then, shaking his head at you. âBet Iâd kick your ass.â
âNah, Iâd win.â
âWhatever!â You both pour over more of the documents together, itâs been a while since you could help with a case with school, but the break will be so lovely, so much time spent with your husband. âIâd win.â
âYou wish, little brat. Damn, our baby is gonna be a menace.â He says, smirking, and you grin so big, images flitting through your mind.
âThe most competitive lawyer ever!â
You both laugh then, eventually setting aside the evidence, Satoru is putting on a movie, but youâre not paying much attention, starting to feel sleep tug at you. Youâre yawning, and Satoru is stroking your waist gently, you snuggle even deeper against his hard body, letting the warmth sink in.
âYouâre always sleepy now. Canât make it past a trailer.â He teases, you sigh, hiding another yawn.
âItâs the baby I think. Itâs like sucking all my energy.â
âGonna be a six foot tall kid.â
âLetâs hope they take after the shorter side of this family!â His shoulders shake with his laughter.
âUgh, family though.â He says softly.
âFamily.â You repeat lovingly, cupping his face and looking up at him. âLet us get some rest, we can study more tomorrow.â
âYou wanna cuddle, hmm?â
âYes.â
âAnything for you, Shnookums.â Satoru carries you to the bed. âSpoiled, lazy little thing.â
âYou spoil me on purpose.â You snatch his best pillow with a wicked grin, earning his narrowed eyes.
âIâll tickle you to death.â
âNo! Fine, weâll share then, meanie.â He snuggles behind you, long limbs taking over much of the bed, even as big as it is, wrapping around you tightly. You feel such peace, so comfortable, you can barely hold your eyes open for another minute.
âYouâre like a little old lady, always crashing out. Drooling.â He says then, stroking your tummy gently, heâs been doing it since he found out. Your hand joins over his own, looking back at him over your shoulder.
âIâm too comfy, your fault.â
âIs it now?â
âAdmit your guilt.â Heâs grinning, youâre trying to keep your eyes open, but Satoru feels too heavenly.
âI admit no fault, brat.â
âMmm⌠contempt of my court.â
âYouâre silly. Go to sleep.â You both smile against each otherâs lips, and you fall fast asleep, dreaming about this baby on the way, dreaming of Satoru holding a baby in his arms, and the love in your heart, like youâll burst.
Satoru studies the smile on your sleepy face, wondering just what it is his pretty student thinks of, before burying his face against your neck, and falling fast asleep, where he feels so damn good, with you in his arms.
Taglist: @jjknanamin @chiyokoemilia @marie-is-in-the-dark @seeing-stars-alt @maskedpacific @aldebrana @toffeebrat @antisocialinlw @trishiepo0 @jkslaugh97 @makingtimemineÂ
One more!! omggg
#gojo x reader#jjk smut#satoru x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x you#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x oc#lawyer gojo#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo#jujustu kaisen
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Hi Leona, congrats again on 1k! I'm here to request for latte art please. I'm a Slytherin and my favorite class is divination. Thank you.
ahhh thank you so much bb đđ divination happens to be my favorite too đđ¤
1k celebration navigation latte art
ăâ
GOOD AS NEW... lorenzo berkshire
You carefully navigated the aisles of Professor Trelawney's dimly lit classroom, clutching a crystal ball in your hands as if it held the future itselfâwhich, according to Trelawney, it very well might. Youâd stayed behind after class to help straighten up, which meant the room was almost empty now, save for a few stragglers and the lingering scent of incense. The crystal ball felt cool and fragile between your fingers, and you found yourself mesmerized by the way the light fractured across its surface.
You barely noticed the figure moving toward you until it was far too late.
Just as you took a step forward, someone barreled into you, shoulder first, with enough force to make you stumble. The crystal ball slipped from your grasp, spiraling through the air before you even registered what had happened. You watched in helpless horror as it plummeted to the floor, shattering with a piercing crack that echoed around the room.
"No!" you blurted, crouching down, eyes wide as you stared at the sparkling shards scattering across the stone floor. The idea of explaining this to Professor Trelawney filled you with a strange dread. It wasnât just any old crystal ball; it was her favorite.
âAre you blind or just in a rush to ruin someoneâs day?â you snapped, not bothering to even look up at the culprit as you carefully inspected the shards.
âOh, Merlin, Iâm so sorry!â came a voice from above you, laced with genuine regret. You glanced up, immediately recognizing him: Lorenzo Berkshire. Youâd seen him around the common room and maybe once or twice in the halls, always with that easy, confident air. Slytherin, like you, though youâd never actually spoken to him.
Until now.
He stared at you with an apologetic look. âHonestly, I didnât see you. Are you alright?â His voice was warm, softer than youâd expected, and there wasnât even a hint of that usual arrogance youâd associated with him.
You sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face as you gave him a dry look. âIâm fine, but I canât say the same for this,â you replied, gesturing to the broken crystal.
Lorenzo winced, dropping to his knees beside you. âIâm really sorry. That was entirely my fault. Here, let me fix it.â He gave you a small, almost sheepish smile as he pulled out his wand. âOne second.â
With a practiced flick, he muttered, âReparo,â and the pieces of glass lifted from the floor, slowly reassembling until the crystal ball hovered, whole and gleaming once more. He caught it gently and held it out to you, his expression softened with what almost looked like genuine remorse.
âThere,â he said, his voice quiet. âGood as new. I⌠really am sorry about that. Guess I shouldâve been watching where I was going.â
You took the crystal ball, feeling some of your initial irritation fade. He did seem genuinely apologetic, and there was a hint of nervousness in the way he watched you, like he wasnât sure youâd actually forgive him.
âThank you,â you said, tucking the crystal against your side as you both stood. âI suppose I can let it slide this time.â You raised an eyebrow, adding with a faint smirk, âBut you should probably consider slowing down. Or, you know⌠investing in glasses.â
He laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. âFair point. Iâll add glasses to my next shopping list.â His smile softened, a touch of playfulness in his eyes. âIâm usually more coordinated, I promise. I guess I just⌠got distracted.â
âBy what, exactly?â you teased, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugged, a faint pink tinge coloring his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. âUm⌠I don't know, just⌠my own clumsiness. Honestly, thanks for not hexing me.â
You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. âLetâs just say you got lucky this time. Next time, though, I canât make any promises.â
âNoted,â he said with a grin, clearly amused by your feigned threat.
He shifted, as if about to say something more, but then hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the crystal ball. âIâm sorry again⌠uhâŚâ He trailed off, a little sheepish, clearly realizing he didnât know your name.
You felt a small thrill at the realization that he was curious enough to want to know. You offered him a slight smile. âItâs Y/N.â
âY/N,â he repeated, nodding as if committing it to memory. A small, almost shy smile crossed his face. âIâll remember that.â
âGood,â you said, hugging the ball to your chest as you started to turn away, a smile playing on your lips. âAnd try not to break anything else, Lorenzo.â
His eyes widened a little in surprise, clearly not expecting you to know his name. But he recovered quickly, offering a lopsided grin. âIâll do my best, Y/N.â
#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x you#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire fluff#enzo berkshire#enzo berkshire x you#enzo berkshire fluff#enzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire x y/n#slytherin boys#harry potter#slytherin#louis partridge#latte art#leona-hawthorne's 1k celebration
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Mariaâs eyes sparkled with mischief as she met his gaze, the warmth of his chuckle only adding to the tension between them. A slow smile spread across her lips, her expression playful but with an undeniable edge.
âMinx?â she repeated, her voice teasing but thoughtful. âI suppose thatâs one way to put it.â
She leaned in just slightly, closing the space between them, her eyes flickering with something daring.
âBold and confident, yes. Trouble?â She raised an eyebrow, letting the word hang in the air. âWell, Iâll leave that up to you to decide.*
Maria, or Mar, stood at a height of around 5'5, and had an obvious Puerto Rican accent as she yelled through an phone about missing some coffee that was due thirty minutes prior. She was about 35, and had graying hair. Having a kid at 17 will do that to you, though. At the very least the kid had moved out and she could finally move on from being a Mother all the time. She was an avian, with long wings that dragged against the ground and feet like a bird's.
Walking briskly out of her office, she ran into Grayson with a huff, stumbling back slightly. God damnit. She was not awake enough for any human interaction.
[-@clinging-to-a-dream :3]
Graysonâs piercing gaze locked onto the woman with a mixture of disdain and something almost like curiosity, his eyes narrowing as if assessing the situation. He stood tall, his broad shoulders looming over her as he spoke, his voice edged with quiet authority.
âApologies, maâam,â he said, his tone steady, though there was an underlying sharpness to it. Without hesitation, he extended a large, calloused hand toward her, offering help with an almost businesslike air. Despite the collision, he showed no sign of losing his balanceâhis solid frame and towering height allowing him to remain unmoved, rooted firmly to the spot like an immovable force.
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Nothing like a gifset to remind me that I really DON'T like dating men actually
#this particular gifset there were two people in a car having a wildly intimate conversation but also lh and jokey#a man and a woman#and then he gets a look in his eye and goes quiet#and then he kisses her#and boy do i remember that#sitting there in the vehicle#having a grand time with a guy#and he goes quiet and i start to think oh is he gonna kiss me what's he thinking how's this gonna go#and the dread#over the years there was less dread#more okay i'm cool with this sure#but like#that's supposed to be an exciting moment yk?#it's supposed to be omg i HOPE this is gonna happen#there's supposed to be sparkles in the air#like when I show my friend my favorite movie and she's about to tell me what she thinks of it and it looks like it's positive and the momen#hangs for a second#as we're both excited#this isn't really a great example but you get it#it's like the moment when your best friend says i love you for the first time#all giddy and nervous and you have to seize the moment and say it back#so anyways friends if you've ever felt this way now you have my experience to think about#one more data point#personal#might delete later
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đ˛đ¨đŽ đ¤đ§đ¨đ° đĽđ˘đ¤đ đđĄđđ đđŤđđđ¤ đŹđĄđ˘đ, đ đ˘đŤđĽ đ đđ đ§đđŹđđ˛
đ°đđŤđ§đ˘đ§đ đŹ: quiet nerd!pleasure dom!choso, heavy praise/light degradation, dacryphilia, choso has a size kink, chosoâs pov, oral (giving and receiving), knife play/no blood, light pain kink, pussy drunk/obsessed choso, squirting, fingering, light begging, light choking
đŤđđŞđŽđđŹđđđ đđ˛ @vampress7; Hi baby girl I hope youâre doing well, I have an idea: nerdy, loner, and unassuming freak choso who absolutely wrecks reader after class during a study session ((I need this so badly))
âHe is wearing those sweat pants, I keep sneaking glances at his cock, I wanna see it. No need to see it, I'm dying of thirst! He can feed me his cum! I don't really care much for giving blow jobs but something about Choso makes me wanna gobble his cock till he is a whiny mess.â
âDamn ily but youâre down too bad for a man you haven't even touched.â
âI cant help it! Have you seen Choso?! I want to hear how he sounds when he cums.â
âArenât yall supposed to study for fridayâs exam you canât fail this one!â
Writen in your text bar; âits hard to focus on what heâs saying. Chosoâs thick arms in his black muscle t-shirtâ
Chosoâs cheeks are burning, his ego swelling, nerves churning, and disbelief whispering. Sliding his fingers through his hair, there is no denying you want him.
Glancing down at his cock, perfectly outlined by his thin sweats. His cock is getting warmer, longer, and thicker with each soft pulse. If you want his cock, you can have it any way youâre willing to take it.
You come back holding the fuzzy stripped criminal. âHe broke my lamp, got it cleaned up but heâs ground.â You bend over for Jasper to jump to the floor, running away from you with his fluffy tail in the air.
Your shorts rising up your soft ass. âIâd hit ya from the back if I didn't want to see the face you make when you take my fat cock first the first time.â Your beautiful eyes widen, locking onto your phone in his hands.
Grabbing his hard cock, stroking himself through his sweats. You glance down. âIm torn between wanting to fuck that bratty mouth outta ya and eating you out till youâre trembling.â Your mouth looks so sweet and fuckable. Youâd look so beautiful sucking his cock with tears running down your face.
âFor me to be a good teacher I need to help you focus. If I help you cum will you pay attention more. We can snuggle while we study.â Holding your phone out for you to grab. Quickly discarding it on the coffee table.
His heart beating faster when you get on your knees in front of him. âIf you were paying attention to the text then youâd know,â tugging his sweatpants down, âI won't be able to pay attention until I hear what sounds come out of that pretty mouth of yours.â
Moaning when you grab his cock, your hand soft, in your hand his cock has never looked so big before. âYou can hear me moaning in your soft cunt. I don't think you understand nnn!â Loudly moaning when you take his cock into your hot wet mouth.
Bobbing your head, taking him deeper with slow strokes soothing the uncomfortable tighteness building in his of his cock. âHoneybun I jerked off to the thought of eating you out before cominâ.â Cupping your cheek, jerking hips fucking your soft wet mouth.
âBeen slutting you out in my head since ya walked into class.â Choso leans his head back, sliding his fingers through his soft dark hair. âWe can do both, Im dying to taste ya sloppy cunt. I'll gag you with my fat cock nnnn oh fuck thatâs iiittt! Grabbing a handful of your hair, fucking your soft mouth till spit is dripping down your chin.
Choso is getting off on your beautiful eyes sparkling with tears that trickle down your cheeks. âAre ya gonna be my whore help me take care of my fat cock?â Pulling you off his cock with a soft pop. His too heavy to stand up, hitting his cock.
Grabbing his cock, smacking his tip on your lips. âWish it stood up, but what can ya do?â He knees wobble when you cup his balls. Lovingly kissing along his cock, easing the ache and tension, with sweet soft pleasure.
Your hand feels so good, his cock softly tingling. Smiling up at him. He can feel his heartbeat in the quickly pulse of his cock. âYouâre so perfectly thick and heavy that you hang, nothing wrong with that handsome.â Licking up his cock, swirling your tongue around his fat head. He groans when watches himself slip inside.
Letting go of your hair, slipping his hands beneath your shoulders. Picking you up, you wrap your soft thighs around his waist. He feels strong holding you close, keeping you safe. âGonna take good care of you, and your sloppy cunt.â
Squeezing your ass, carrying you with one hand. You grab a handful of his hair, and a tingle shoots down his spine when he feels your nails. âBedroom is the last room on the right.â Taking you down the hall. âPlease all I want is you. Wanna be your whore, ruin anyone else for me with your fat cock.â Trailing loving kissing along his jaw, his cheeks burning.
Opening and shutting the door behind himself. âIll show you how badly I've been needing ya.â Gently setting you down, closing your curtains. Taking his shirt off, dropping it on the floor.
Youâre making quick work of taking your shirt and shorts off. Admiring your beautiful body Choso forgets everything heâs doing. You give him one thought when you spread your legs showing him your soft wet cunt.
He needs to make you cum.
Kneeling, grabbing your soft thighs putting them over his shoulder. âSo so so beautiful.â Kissing your soft clit, gently sucking, steadily stroking you with his tongue. Making sure his barbell rubs your clit with his swipe.
Nudging a thick finger into your tight cunt. Youâre perfectly soft and wet, clenching his finger. Slowly pumping his finger, heâs going to find your g-spot. Clenching his head with your soft thighs. Grabbing his hair tugging, he groans from the sweet pain.
Focusing on your sweet spot. Taking pride in how easily you tremble because of his tongue and finger.
âThey say the quiet ones are freaky, what about you? What do you think about when you're touching yourself?â Choso doesn't want to take his face out from between your legs. Heâs found heaven, but he can't ignore your question.
Rising up, causing you to fall on your back, your legs over his broad shoulders. His cock hangs, his tip lightly grazing your soft, wet cunt. âWanna take you to mine, get you high, give you a safe word,â trapping your head in between his hands, âtie you up, drag a knife across your skin, see you squirm, help you cum, hear you cry and beg to be my sweet little whore.â
His cock aches from having you folded up beneath him. âI wouldnât mind trying some freak shit, get a knife from the kitchen.â Kissing your forehead, cheeks, and soft cunt. Carefully slipping your legs off his shoulders.
Choso is quick to grab a large knife from your kitchen.
Leaning over you, âSafe word is red.â Lining his cock with your soft cunt, rolling his hip. Dragging the knife up your side, gently kissing your soft lips. Groaning, grinding his thick cock on your sloppy cunt.
Squeezing your neck, pinning your hips with his, keeping you from squirming too much. Slipping his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss. Youâre so needy, and desperate, digging your nails into his back.
Loosening his grasp on your neck. âYa good sweetheart?â Dragging the knife over your soft nipple, pulling his cock away. Youâre so sexy, stuffing two thick fingers in your sweet cunt. âYouâre getting so sloppy for me.â Curling his fingers, remember where your sweet spot is.
Smirking with pride when you moan, âChooo please please please!â Gliding the knife down your stomach. Marveling at how you squirm, your cunt getting so tight around his thick fingers.
Your cuntâs lips and puffy clit wet, soft and beautiful. âIâm obsessed with how sexy you are beggingâ for me, clenching my fingers.â Pressing the side of the knife to your clit, lightly rubbing your clit.
âIâve been waiting long enough please please fuck me. Need to feel your fat cock in my cunt!â Chosoâs cheeks burn with how youâre looking at him. He wants to remember the look of adoration, lust and pleasure on your beautiful face forever.
Lifting the knife off your clit, kissing her. âI didnât prep ya enough yet sweetheart.â Dragging the knife along your thigh, adding more pressure than before testing what limits you have.
Stroking your clit with his thumb. âNnnn oh fuck.â Pumping his fingers faster. - the pain- pleasure-I didnât think!â You trail off moaning louder, biting your bottom lip, closing your eyes.
Holding the knifes to your neck, âLook at me or Iâm stopping, look at whose making your tight little cunt feel so good.â Smiling when you look at him. âThatâs it beautiful, lemme see the sweet look into your eyes when you cum. Whose slut are you?â
Rubbing your soft clit faster. âYourâs! All yours my tits, mouth, ass and cunt are all yours.â Dragging the knife down your neck, between your collarbones and swirling around your nipple.
âWhat are you? Need to hear you say it beautiful.â Messaging your sweet spot at a steady pace. Youâre quivering, your cunt squelching, making his cock ache with how hard he is. His pulse quickens, making his head throb.
Swiping your nipple with the knife. âIâm your sexy good lilâ slutttt!!! Nnnn!â Youâre squirting on his fingers, fingering your soft, squelching tight cunt. Playing with your puffy clit.
Jerking your hips away, he drags the knife down above your belly. Forcing you to have to keep still, your thick cum trickling from your spasming cunt. âThere are so many nasty things I wanna do to you. Iâm gonna ruin you, make your cunt crave my cock.â Gliding his fingers out.
Sucking your thick cum off his fingers, groaning from the flavor. Dragging the knife to your sloppy, sensitive cunt, sliding the knife around your sweet cunt. Groaning when your soft cunt clenches around nothing. âBeg for my cock.â
Oreo creampieâs m.list
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i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE
thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader
The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, itâs nice to be home.Â
The living room is clean where it hadnât been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, heâd die. It mustâve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean.Â
âHey?â he asks into the open air, wondering where you are.Â
âSpencer!â you yelp from the kitchen, âHey, what took you so long? Itâs almost seven!âÂ
He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. âI know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?âÂ
âI had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.âÂ
He doesnât want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morganâs birthday.Â
Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. Heâs tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasnât heard you, but he supposes he shouldnât. Heâd sort of been hoping youâd text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesnât think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so.Â
âSpence,â you say, your smile of a calibre heâs never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, âI hope you know Iâve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, Iâve been waiting all day, but you canât be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?âÂ
âAm I ready? What did you want help with?âÂ
You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. âTada!â you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. âI rushed to light them when I heard the door,â you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. âA lot of candles, youâre getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I shouldâve got you something sophisticated.âÂ
âYou got me a cake?âÂ
âItâs your birthday,â you say happily. âHappy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, itâs from the Leaven. How fancy is that?âÂ
âWill you sing?â he asks.Â
He doesnât know why he asks. Heâs mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. âIâll sing. Come stand over here.âÂ
You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin.Â
âOkay, and I got you this,â you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.
Itâs a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows itâll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and itâs in your nature to give him your everything.Â
He doesnât look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. âIâm sorry,â he says, but he doesnât let go. You donât make him. âSorry, I justâ Iââ Youâre the only one who remembered. âThank you for the cake.âÂ
You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. âHey, itâs okay. I love you, youâre my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.â You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesnât know. âBut especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.âÂ
Spencer should let go. Anything you want, youâd said. He hugs you until heâs sure youâre sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. âThanks,â you murmur.
âWhat?â he asks. âFor what?âÂ
âFor such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.âÂ
âThe candles are perfect.âÂ
You lean back in his arms. âThank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?âÂ
Spencer really wants another hug. âUm. Cake?âÂ
âGood choice, handsome.â
His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but itâs the best birthday cake heâs ever had.
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Undercover Flames [Logan Howlett]
Summary: It was supposed to be easy: infiltrate the gala, gather intel, and report back. But when a mission takes a deadly turn, Logan is forced to confront his deepest fears as he races to save the woman who means more to him than life itself.
PART ONE OF TWO (part two here)
Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, canon-level violence, Logan goes feral, graphic descriptions, lot's of fighting, feels
WC: 10.8k - MASTERLIST
------
A black limousine pulls up to the grand entrance of the sprawling estate, its tires crunching on the gravel driveway. The mansion ahead is bathed in golden light, a beacon of opulence against the darkening sky. Inside, Loganâs gaze shifts to the woman beside him, his fellow teammate and the only person who can keep up with his banter. You adjust the diamond necklace around your neck, the gemstones glinting in the dim light. Logan has seen you in countless situationsâon missions, during training, in the midst of battleâbut tonight, in that floor-length black gown, you look like someone who belongs in this world of wealth and power. You look beautiful.
âKeep your eyes to yourself, Howlett,â you quip, catching him staring. A smirk plays on your lips as you adjust to fix your hair.
Logan grunts, pulling at the collar of his tuxedo. âNever seen you so dolled up before. Didnât know you had it in ya.â
âIâm full of surprises,â you tease.
The two of you have been dancing around something deeper for years, hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and witty comebacks. But tonight, with both of you playing the roles of a married couple, the lines between reality and pretense are bound to feel thinner than ever.
Loganâs eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his gaze softening as he takes in the way the dress hugs your figure, the way your hair frames your face. You catch the look, and for a split second, the playful atmosphere between you falls away, replaced by a charged silence that neither of you knows how to break.
The driver opens the door, jolting you back to your senses, and Logan steps out, extending a hand to help you out of the car. You take it, your touch sending a familiar shiver down his spine. He holds onto your hand for just a beat longer than necessary, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
âReady?â you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan nods, his grip tightening slightly on your hand. âLetâs get this over with.â
As the doors to the mansion swing open, youâre greeted by the sight of a grand ballroom filled with the elite of society. Men in tailored suits and women in sparkling gowns mingle under chandeliers, their laughter and conversations blending into a hum of affluence. Yet beneath the glittering surface, Logan can sense the undercurrent of danger, the same instinct that has kept him alive for over two centuries. The people here arenât just the wealthyâtheyâre the orchestrators of a new threat to mutants, a group so powerful that even the X-Men have to tread carefully.
âStick close to me,â Logan murmurs as you step into the room. âThese people are more dangerous than they look.â
You roll your eyes with a smile, your arm looped through his as you make your way through the crowd. âYou donât have to tell me twice. But remember, weâre supposed to be madly in love.â
He lets out a low chuckle, one that only you can hear. âRight. Madly in love.â
His words hang in the air between you, loaded with a meaning neither of you dares to acknowledge.
The two of you move deeper into the ballroom, and you can feel the weight of several eyes on you. Itâs no surpriseâLoganâs rugged demeanor and your striking appearance make for a captivating combinationânevertheless, you both know better than to let your guard down. This place is a viperâs nest, and any wrong move could cost you your lives.
âThere they are,â you whisper, nodding subtly toward a group of older men gathered near the center of the room. âOur targets.â
Loganâs eyes narrow as he focuses on them, recognizing the group from the briefings. âTime to make some friends.â
With practiced ease, you and Logan approach the group, slipping seamlessly into their conversation. You introduce yourselves as a wealthy couple from out of town, interested in investing in the right causes. It doesnât take long before the men welcome you into their circle, eager to impress and share their twisted ideals.
âAh, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels, was it?â one of the men, a tall, thin figure with silver hair and a sharp jawline, inquires. His eyes are cold and calculating, a predator sizing up his prey. âWhat brings you to our little gathering tonight?â
âOpportunities,â you reply, a hint of seduction in your tone. âMy husband and I are always looking for the right people to align ourselves with. When we heard about your⌠endeavors, we couldnât resist.â
Logan wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a show of possessiveness that feels all too natural. âMy wifeâs got a keen eye for business,â he adds for extra persuasion, âAnd weâve been hearing a lot about your group. Sounds like youâve got big plans.â
The manâs eyes flick between the two of you, as if his suspicions still linger. âPlans indeed,â he says slowly. âBut only for those who share our vision. Tell me, Mr. Daniels, what is it that you despise most?â
âWeakness,â Logan growls, his eyes meeting the manâs without flinching. âIn this world, youâre either strong enough to survive, or youâre not. And I donât have time for the ones who canât keep up.â
A smile that doesnât reach his eyes spreads across the manâs face. âI see we understand each other.â
You feel Loganâs hand tighten on your waist, his body tense with barely contained aggression. Heâs playing the part, but you know how much he hates being in the company of people like thisâpeople who would kill without remorse, all to maintain some sense of superiority.
âAnd what about you, Mrs. Daniels?â the older man continues, turning his attention to you. âDo you share your husbandâs views?â
You meet his gaze with unwavering confidence, channeling all the poise you have. âAbsolutely. Thereâs no place in this world for those who refuse to evolve. We believe in survival of the fittest.â
That seems to do the trick, the men in the circle nodding approvingly. âWell said, Mrs. Daniels. You two might just be exactly what we need.â
Another man in the group, stockier and with a thick, gray beard, leans in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. âAnd what do you think of the mutant problem?â
You exchange a brief glance with Logan, knowing that this is the moment of truth. If you say the wrong thing, it could blow your cover, but if youâre too vague, they might not trust you enough to share any details of their plans.
âI think theyâve had their time,â Logan says, false contempt bleeding from his words, âand itâs time someone put them in their place.â
The stocky manâs eyes light up with approval, his grin widening. âExactly what we like to hear. You see, weâre not just talking about containment anymore.â He pauses, âWeâre talking about eradication.â
Your stomach turns at the cold-blooded tone in his voice, but you keep your expression neutral.
âEradication, you say?â
The silver-haired man nods. âA necessary step. Mutants are a threat to the natural order, and if we donât act now, theyâll overrun us. But we have a planâone that will send a message to the world.â
Loganâs jaw clenches, his fists itching to unsheathe his claws and tear through this evil group of people. But he forces himself to stay calm, âSounds like youâve got it all figured out,â he manages to get out through gritted teeth.
âWe do,â the silver-haired man replies, his eyes gleaming with malice. âAnd with the right support, we can make it happen. Imagine a world free of mutants, where humanity can thrive without fear.â
You hum in feigned agreement. âTell us more,â you prompt, leaning in as if genuinely interested. âHow do you plan to pull this off?â
Glances are exchanged among the men, a clear sign of their satisfaction with the interest you seem to show.
âItâs quite simple, really,â the stocky man begins. âWeâve been gathering resources and allies from around the world. The most powerful minds, the wealthiest familiesâall united by a common goal.â
âAnd once weâve secured enough support,â the silver-haired man continues, âweâll make our move. Weâll target key mutant populations, taking them out in a way that will serve as a warning to others. Public displays, executionsâwhatever it takes to make them fear us.â
You keep your voice steady, despite the chill that runs down your spine, as you reply, âThatâs⌠quite an undertaking.â
The men chuckle, mistaking your hesitation for awe. âIt is. But itâs necessary. And with people like you on our side, weâll be unstoppable.â
Logan smirks. âCount us in.â
The men smile, delighted with what they believe is newfound support. Logan hates every second of itâdespises having to play along with these monsters. But he knows you both have to get more intel before you can make a move. The mission has to come first, even if it means playing nice with the enemy.
âExcuse us,â you say smoothly, grabbing Loganâs hand and glancing at him with a look that says itâs time to go. âWe need to discuss a few things, but weâll be in touch.â
The men nod, distracted by their own plotting as you and Logan step away, moving toward one of the less populated hallways. As soon as youâre out of earshot, Logan exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
âI need to tell Scott what we just heard,â you murmur quietly, âTheyâre planning something big, and we donât have much time.â
Logan nods, his hand squeezing yours as you walk down the hallway. âIâll keep watch. Make it quick.â
You find a secluded spot near a corner, pulling out the small communicator youâve hidden in your purse. Quickly, you begin to relay the crucial information to Scott and Hank back at the X-Mansion, your voice hushed but urgent as you detail the plans youâve overheard. Logan stands nearby, his senses on high alert, his gaze sweeping the hallway for any sign of trouble.
Itâs too quiet.
The hair on the back of his neck stands up, instincts prickling with the sense that something is wrong. He turns to you, about to suggest wrapping things up when he hears itâa faint noise, like the subtle shifting of fabric, imperceptible to anyone without enhanced hearing.
Loganâs eyes dart toward the source of the sound, muscles tensing as he spots movement down the hall. âWeâve got company,â he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.
You quickly finish your transmission, tucking the communicator back into its spot in your purse. âHow many?â
âToo many,â Logan mutters, his claws itching to come out. âWe need to move. Now.â
Itâs too late. A group of security guards rounds the corner before either of you can make a break for it. Their eyes lock onto you with suspicion, and you can see the realization dawning in their expressions. Logan immediately steps in front of you, his body a solid wall of protection.
âYouâre not supposed to be here,â one of the guards says, his hand resting on the weapon at his hip. âWho are you?â
Logan forces a grin, trying to buy some time. âJust lost our way. We were headinâ back to the ballroom.â
The guardâs eyes narrow, evidently not buying it. âI donât think so. You two donât seem to belong here.â
Another guard steps forward before Logan has time to respond, pulling out a device that emits a faint, ominous hum. The man waves it over you, and Loganâs heart sinks as the device beeps loudly, flashing red.
âMutants,â the guard spits, his voice filled with disgust as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to grab you. âWeâve got ourselves some freaks here, boys.â
A wave of panic surges through you, but you shove it down, focusing on the cosmic energy you can feel crackling at your fingertips. Summoning all your strength, you swing a fist, aiming to land a powerful, energy-charged punch straight into the guardâs face.
But just as you make your move, another guard from your other side grabs your wrist mid-swing and your other arm, twisting them behind your back with brutal precision. The cosmic energy fizzles out instantly, your powers rendered useless by the anti-mutant handcuffs that snap around your wrists with a harsh click. The cold metal bites into your skin, and you feel immense fear crawl its way through your body as you realize how vulnerable you are without your powers, or the use of your arms.
âNice try, sweetheart,â the guard sneers in your ear, his grip on your arm painfully tight as he shoves you forward. âBut youâre not going anywhere.â
Loganâs eyes widen in fury as he sees the guard cuff you, his body trembling with the effort to keep his rage in check. âLet her go,â he snarls, his voice dangerously heavy.
The guard only grins, tightening his hold on you. âOr what, freak? You gonna bark? Gonna bite?â
Loganâs claws shoot out with a metallic shink, the sound echoing through the hallway. He takes a step forward, the feral side of him failing to suppress itself as he glares at the guards with deadly intent. âLast warning. Let. Her. Go.â
Instead of backing down, the guards react with eager viciousness. The one holding you shoves you hard against the wall, his leg sticking out to block your own, pinning you in place. Some others step forward, one landing a brutal punch to your stomach, the force of it knocking the wind out of you. The world tilts, and pain explodes in your ribs as another guardâs boot connects with your side.
Logan sees red.
Something primal surges within him, the instinct to protect you overwhelming every other thought. With a roar that shakes the walls, he launches himself at the guards, his claws slicing through the first one with a sickening crunch. Blood splatters across the floor as Logan tears through them with a ferocity that is terrifying to witness.
He moves like a whirlwind of rage, his claws ripping through flesh and bone with savage efficiency. The guards donât stand a chance against him, but even as he fights, more of them swarm in, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.
âLogan!â you cry out, the fear and pain you feel palpable as you struggle to get free. The guard holding you down slams your head against the wall, and stars burst behind your eyes as the world blurs.
Logan spins around, his eyes wild as he sees you slumped against the wall, blood trickling from your nose, eyes fighting to stay open. The sight of you being beaten, helpless and vulnerable, sends him into a frenzy. He slashes through another guard in his way, his claws dripping with blood as he tries to tear through their ranks.
However, his efforts are futile, the guards are relentless. Their numbers never dwindle, if anything, more and more seem to join the fight. They pile onto him, using their advantage, holding him down to the ground. Logan fights with everything he has, but even he has limits. He can feel the weight of them pressing down on him, can feel his strength waning as they force him to the ground.
âLogan!â you call his name again, breaking through the chaos. He can see you being dragged from the scene, your wrists bound, your eyes locked on his as they pull you farther and farther away.
âNO!â He roars, his voice breaking as he thrashes against the guards holding him down. He has to get to youâhe has to save you.
Yet the more he fights, the more they press down, their combined weight and force overwhelming even his enhanced strength. They slam his head against the cold floor, pain exploding through his skull as his vision begins to fade. The last thing he sees before everything goes dark is your terrified face, the way your lips form his name, and the cold, cruel hands dragging you away into the shadows.
And then, nothing.
----
Logan wakes up to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the distant sound of beeping monitors. His head pounds, and every muscle in his body aches as if heâs been through a warâand in some ways, he has. Groaning, he tries to sit up, but a firm hand presses him back down.
âEasy, Logan,â comes Hankâs calm, reassuring voice. âYouâve been out for a while.â
Logan blinks, his vision slowly coming into focus. Heâs in the med bay, the familiar white walls and harsh fluorescent lights greeting him. Once he finally comes to his senses, and he remembers the events that transpired the previous night, he realizes none of that matters. The only thing he cares about is you.
âWhere is she?â he demands as he struggles against Hankâs hold.
Hankâs expression softens with pity and concern. âSheâs⌠Logan, they took her. Weâre doing everything we can to track her down, butââ
Panic jolts through Logan like a bolt of electricity, drowning out the rest of what Hank is saying. His eyes burn as he wrenches himself free from Hankâs grasp, his voice a gruff, dangerous snarl.
âHow the hell did you get me out but leave her behind? Youâre telling me you saved my sorry ass and couldnât save her?â
Hank hesitates, his features morphing into a pained look, âIt wasnât like that. We were overwhelmed. There were too many of them, and youââ
âI donât wanna hear excuses!â Logan cries, his words echoing off the walls as he slams a fist down on the bed. The metal frame groans under the force of his anger.
At that moment, Charles Xavier wheels in, his imposing presence immediately felt within the confines of the small room. He speaks calmly, trying to cut through the fog clouding Loganâs mind. âLogan, we did everything we could. It was hard enough getting just you. We had no choice but to retreat. If we hadnât, we might have lost you both.â
Loganâs glare couldâve burned holes through steel as he turns to Charles, nostrils flaring.
âI donât give a damn about me! Sheâs out there, alone, with those bastards, and I wasnât there to stop it. I shouldâve been able to protect her.â
His fists clench, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to contain the whirlwind of emotions tearing through him. Guilt eats him from the inside out. The thought of you suffering because he wasnât there to protect you⌠âYouâWeâŚWe left her behind,â he mutters, voice cracking.
Charlesâs voice is firm but compassionate as he addresses the younger mutant. âYou need to rest and regain your strength. When the time comes, youâll be ready to get her backâbut you canât do that if youâre broken.â
Jaw tightening, Logan leans his body forward, holding his head in his hands. His temper is boiling, he wants to tear everything apart until there is nothing left, but he knows, deep down, that Charles is right. And as much as it kills him, he has to bide his time, to heal and prepare for what is to come.
But that doesnât make it any easier.
âHank, get out,â he growls, âGet out before I lose it.â
Hank exchanges a worried glance with Charles before reluctantly nodding. âWeâll find her, Logan. I promise.â
After Hank leaves the room, Logan sinks back onto the bed, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself from exploding. His eyes bore into Charlesâs, who remains, silently offering his support.
âWhen we find her,â he says, his voice low and full of promise, âthereâs no holding back. Iâm done waiting, done with all the excuses. Sheâs mine, and Iâm not letting anything or anyone take her away from me again.â
----
The first thing you feel is the coldâicy, unforgiving, and seeping into your bones. Your head pounds, a dull, persistent ache that makes it hard to think, let alone move. When you try to lift your hands, you realize they are restrained, heavy iron chains biting into your wrists and pulling your arms taut above your head.
You jump to your senses, sharp and immediate, as you force your eyes open. The world is a blur at first, everything spinning and distorted. Then, as your vision clears, the reality of your situation hits you like a slap in the face.
You are in a cell. The walls are made of rough stone, the floor damp and filthy. There is barely any light, just a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, flickering occasionally and casting long shadows that dance across the room. Your dressâthe one youâd worn to the galaâis torn, the delicate fabric shredded and hanging off you in tatters. You can see your own blood between the patches that reveal your skin. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and a deep sense of dread settles in your stomach.
You try to pull against the chains, but your limbs are weak, your movements sluggish. They must have drugged youâthis realization makes your heart race, fear clawing at your throat. You have no idea how long youâve been out, no idea where you are or what they plan to do to you.
A sound from the other side of the cell catches your attentionâlaughter, low and mocking. You turn your head, the movement sending another wave of dizziness through your skull. Two guards stand just outside the bars, their faces twisted in cruel amusement.
âLook whoâs finally awake,â one of them sneers with malice. âThe mutant bitch.â
The words sting, but you refuse to show it. You force yourself to sit up straighter, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as you can muster. âWhere am I?â you demand, your voice hoarse and shaky.
The guard laughs again, louder this time. âYouâre in hell, sweetheart. And thereâs no way out.â
His companion, a stockier man with a scar running down his cheek, steps forward, his eyes raking over you with a look that makes your skin crawl. âThe boss is real interested in you, you know. Heâs got plans,â he smiles, âBig plans.â
You swallow hard, fighting to keep your composure. âWhat do you want with me?â
âOh, it ainât about what we want,â the scarred guard replies, a disgusting grin spreading across his face. âItâs about what you can do. For us. You mutants think youâre so special, so powerful. But look at you nowâall chained up and helpless.â
He reaches through the bars, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back. Pain shoots through your scalp, but you bite your lip, refusing to cry out. You wonât give them the satisfaction.
âLet go of me,â you hiss.
The guardâs grin widens as he leans closer, his breath hot and foul against your skin. âMake me, sweetheart. Oh, waitâyou canât.â
He laughs again, muttering to the other guard about how satisfying this is, and you feel a wave of nausea rise in your throat. You can feel the energy within you, your power that usually simmers just beneath the surface, always ready to be called upon. But now, itâs like a distant echo, muted and weak. The chainsâthey must be suppressing your abilities, keeping you from using your mutation.
âYour little tricks wonât work here,â the first guard taunts, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. âThose chains are special, made just for freaks like you. No powers, no escape.â
You are trapped, powerless, at the mercy of these men and whoever their leader is. You know you canât let them see your fear. You canât let them break you.
âIâll get out of here,â you say, keeping your voice level despite the terror gnawing at your insides. âAnd when I do, youâll regret this.â
The guards exchange a glance, then burst into laughter, the sound grating and harsh in the confined space.
âBig talk for someone whoâs all chained up,â the scarred guard says, releasing his grip on your hair with a rough shove that sends you sprawling back against the wall.
âYouâre not getting out,â the first guard adds, his tone more serious now. âNo oneâs coming for you. Your friends probably think youâre dead already. Itâs been days.â
For a moment, your resolve falters. What if they are right? What if the team thinks youâre gone, or worseâwhat if they canât find you? But then you think of Logan, of the fierce determination in his eyes, the way heâd fought for you before. No, they wouldnât abandon you. He wouldnât abandon you.
âTheyâll find me,â you say, the conviction in your voice surprising even you.
The guards donât laugh this time. The scarred one scowls, stepping back from the bars. âKeep dreaming, mutant. Youâre ours now.â
With that, they turn and leave, their footsteps echoing down the corridor until they fade into silence. You are alone again, the cellâs walls pressing in from all sides. Yet despite the fear, despite the pain, you hold onto that sliver of hope, that image of Logan and the others coming to your rescue.
You arenât going to give up. Not now, not ever.
Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. The drugs are still in your system, making it hard to concentrate, but you wonât let that stop you. You start to tug at the chains again, testing their strength, trying to find any weakness, any way to break free.
It is agonizing, and with every movement, the metal digs deeper into your skin, drawing blood. But the pain keeps you focused, keeps you from slipping into despair. You have to keep going. You have to believe that Logan will come for you.
And when he does, you will be ready.
----
Weeks pass since that fateful night at the gala, weeks that feel like an eternity to Logan. Each day that you remain missing is another day of excruciating uncertainty, each hour that ticks by another reminder of his failure to protect you. The mansion, usually a place of camaraderie and purpose, has become a suffocating prison where he is forced to wait and hopeâtwo things he has never been good at.
Charles Xavier is relentless in his search, utilizing every resource, every connection, and every ounce of his telepathic abilities to track down the organization that has taken you. The X-Men work tirelessly alongside him, scouring the globe for any trace, any whisper, that could lead them to you. Logan is a constant presence in the war room, his patience worn thin by the endless dead ends and false leads. Heâs ready to go after them with nothing but his claws and a vendetta, but Charles insists on a plan, a strategy that wonât just rescue you but will dismantle the threat for good.
Finally, after weeks of frustration and relentless searching, they find somethingâa lead that could change everything.
Charles is in his study, surrounded by a tangle of maps, files, and reports, his mind stretched to its limits as he sifts through the chaotic swirl of information. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, he finds itâa faint, almost non-existent mental signature, hidden deep within the shadows of his mind. Itâs the psychic equivalent of a whisper, a delicate thread that, when tugged, reveals a location: a remote island, far off the coast, where the organization has set up a secret base.
This base, as he quickly pieces together, is where they are holding you, along with other mutants they have captured. Itâs heavily fortified, nearly impossible to reach by conventional means, and shielded against most telepathic detection. The mental signature he finds slips through only because itâs so faint, a brief lapse in their otherwise impenetrable defenses.
Charles spends days verifying the information, cross-referencing it with the intelligence theyâve gathered over the weeks. Every detail lines upâthis is it. This is where they have taken you, and this is where they will launch their attack.
With the location confirmed, Charles knows he has to get the team together and act. Act fast.
----
Time loses all meaning in the cold, dark cell where you are held captive. The days and nights blur together, an endless cycle of hunger, pain, and hopelessness. The cold stone walls, once foreboding, have become your only companions, and the silence is a constant reminder of how alone you are.
Your dress is taken hours after you awake, replaced with a rough, beige prison uniform that itches against your skin. The fabric is thin, offering little protection against the freezing temperature. Your wrists and ankles ache from the tight cuffs they keep you in most of the time, the metal leaving angry red marks that never seem to fade.
They barely feed youâjust enough to keep you alive, but never enough to give you any real strength. The meals are a cruel joke, infrequent and consisting of nothing more than stale bread and murky water that tastes like rust.
What makes it truly unbearable isnât the food itself; itâs the way you are forced to consume it.
Chained to the wall, your arms shackled above your head, you canât even feed yourself. Every day, like clockwork, one of the guards enters your cell, a twisted smirk on his face as he carries a small, dented tray of food. He kneels beside you, holding the bread just out of reach, as if daring you to try and grab it.
âHungry?â he taunts, waving the bread in front of your face. âYou look like you could use a bite.â
You glare at him, your stomach growling with hunger, but you refuse to beg. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how desperate you are. In the end, your bodyâs needs always win out, and you reluctantly part your lips, letting him shove the stale, crumbling bread into your mouth.
The guard never makes it easy. He pushes the bread in too far, making you gag, or holds it just out of reach, forcing you to strain against your chains, the metal digging painfully into your wrists. When it comes time for the water, he tilts the cup too quickly, spilling most of it down your chin, leaving you with just a few precious drops to quench your thirst.
âPathetic,â he mutters, wiping the spilled water off your face with the back of his hand in a mockery of kindness. âCanât even eat without help.â
You swallow the bread, the dry crumbs scraping down your throat, doing your best to keep from choking. The water that follows is barely enough to wash it down, leaving your mouth dry and your hunger only partially sated.
Itâs a humiliating, degrading experience, one that leaves you feeling even more powerless than the chains ever could. And thatâs exactly what the guards want. Each meal is an exercise in control, a reminder that you are at their mercy, that they hold all the power.
Somehow, that still isnât the worst of it all.
Guards come daily, sometimes in pairs, sometimes alone, always with that same twisted grin on their faces. You have learned to anticipate their visits, to prepare yourself for the taunts, the jeers, and the beatings that inevitably follow. They seem to take pleasure in your suffering, their laughter echoing off the walls as they deliver blow after blow, leaving you gasping for breath on the cold, hard floor.
Every time they come, they mock you, their voices dripping with contempt. âWhere are your precious X-Men now, huh? Guess they forgot about you. Must be nice knowing no one cares enough to come get you.â
You bite your lip, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. But inside, the doubt begins to creep in. How long has it been? Weeks, maybe more? Surely they would have found you by now. Surely Logan is out there, tearing the world apart to find you. But as the days drag on and the beatings continue, it becomes harder to hold onto that hope.
One day, after an especially brutal session where they leave you bruised and bleeding on the floor, you find yourself laughingâa bitter, hollow sound that startles even you.
âWhatâs so funny?â one of the guards sneers, looking down at you with a scowl.
You lift your head, your gaze locking onto his, something defiant sparking in your eyes despite the pain. âDo you guys get off on seeing people in pain? Is this a fetish or something?â
The guardâs expression darkens with disdain, and he steps forward, delivering a swift kick to your side that makes you gasp, the air rushing out of your lungs. âShut up!â he barks.
You cough, tasting blood on your lips, but you canât stop the words that tumble out. âIs that all youâve got?â you rasp, pushing yourself up onto your elbows despite the throbbing in your ribs. âIâm starting to think youâre not very good at this.â
The guardâs face twists into a snarl, and he raises his hand to strike you again, but the other guard grabs his arm, pulling him back. âEnough,â the second guard says, though his voice is more cautious now. âWeâre not supposed to kill her. Not yet.â
They leave you there, crumpled on the floor, your body aching. As much as it hurts, as much as the beatings wear you down, you cling to that small act of defiance. They havenât broken you. Not yet.
----
The tension in the war room is suffocating, the air thick with urgency and dread. The X-Men gather around the long, sleek table, the holographic map of the enemy compound glowing in the center, casting an eerie blue light across their faces. Scott stands at the head of the table, his expression stern as he outlines possible infiltration points, while Jean, Ororo, and Hank listen intently.
Logan sits at the far end, his posture rigid, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. He doesnât want to be hereâdoesnât want to waste time with plans and strategies when all he can think about is you. But he knows that going off on his own, especially in his current state, would only end in disaster. So he forces himself to stay, to listen, even though every second feels like a waste.
His hands clench into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white. He can barely focus on Scottâs words, his mind consumed with images of youâfrightened, abandoned, injured. The thought makes his blood boil, his claws itching to extend and tear through anything in his path.
âLogan,â Jeanâs voice cuts through his thoughts. âAre you with us?â
He glances up, meeting her concerned gaze. He knows she can feel his turmoil, his barely restrained anger, and that only makes him more frustrated.
âIâm here, arenât I?â he snaps.
Ororo shoots him a warning look. âWe need to stay focused, Logan. Losing your temper wonât help her.â
Logan grits his teeth, biting back the retort that rises to his lips. He knows sheâs right, but that doesnât make it any easier to control the storm of emotions raging inside him. âJust tell me when weâre movinâ,â he growls, his tone laced with impatience. âIâm not sittinâ around any longer while theyâve got her.â
âWe all want to find her, Logan,â Scott says, âBut we have to do this right. If we go in guns blazing, we could get her killed.â
âAnd if we wait too long, sheâll be dead anyway.â
âLogan,â Hank interjects, trying to be the voice of reason. âScottâs right. We have to be smart about this. Weâre dealing with people who have resources, power, and a deep-seated hatred for mutants. Theyâll be expecting us.â
Jeanâs voice cuts through his thoughts again, this time in his mind, her telepathy reaching out to him. Logan, I know how much she means to you. Weâre doing everything we can to bring her back. Trust us.
He shoots her a glare, not appreciating the intrusion, but he doesnât push her away. Jean has always been the one who could reach him, even when heâs at his most stubborn. Iâm not lettinâ them keep her from me any longer, Jean, he thinks back, his mental voice raw with emotion.
You wonât, Jean replies, her mental tone firm but soothing. We wonât let that happen. But you need to stay with us, Logan. Weâre stronger together.
âWhatâs the plan?â he asks, breaking his stupor.
Charles exchanges a glance with Scott, who nods and steps forward to explain. âWeâll approach under the cover of night. Ororo will create a storm to mask our presence, and weâll use the Blackbird to drop in undetected. Jean and I will handle disabling their telepathic defenses so we can get a read on the situation inside. Hank will take out their communications to prevent them from calling for reinforcements.â
âAnd me?â Logan growls, his eyes locked on the islandâs location.
âYouâll be leading the assault,â Scott replies without hesitation. He can sense the violent need rattling within Loganâs bonesâcraving to avenge you. âOnce weâve neutralized the outer defenses, you and I will go in together. Our primary objective is to get her outâeverything else is secondary. We can always go back to finish the job."
Loganâs fists clench at his sides, his claws itching to be released.
âWhen do we leave?â
âTonight,â Charles answers from where he sits at the table. âWeâve waited long enough.â
Logan remains by the map while the team disperses and begins to prepare, his eyes fixed on the small island in the middle of the vast ocean. This is it. After weeks of waiting, weeks of imagining the worst, he finally has a chance to make things right.
He can almost feel the cold metal of the anti-mutant handcuffs around your wrists, the bruises on your skin from the guardsâ brutality. The thought makes him see red, but beneath the rage is something even more powerfulâa fierce determination to see you safe, to get you out of there and back where you belong.
Logan will lead the charge, and God help anyone who stands in his way.
As the team assembles, suited up and ready for the mission, Charles wheels over to Logan, placing a hand on his arm. âWeâll bring her home, Logan. And weâll make sure this never happens again.â
He nods, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than ever. âWe will,â he says, a dangerous growl clawing its way out of his throat, âAnd when I get my hands on them, theyâll wish theyâd never laid a finger on her.â
With that, the team boards the Blackbird, the weight of the mission pressing down on them as they soar into the night. The storm Ororo has summoned rages around them, the skies dark and foreboding, as they approach the island. Every second brings them closer to the moment of reckoning, and Loganâs focus sharpens to a razorâs edge.
âIâm cominâ for ya, darlinâ,â he murmurs under his breath, the words a promise to himself as much as to you. âJust hold on.â
----
âApproaching the drop zone,â Ororoâs calm voice comes over the comms, though the storm she controls outside is anything but calm. Lightning splits the sky, momentarily illuminating the jagged cliffs of the remote island below, their destination hidden within the darkness.
Scott cuts through the tension. âAlright, everyone. Remember the plan. Jean, Ororo, and I will handle the outer defenses. Hank, take out their communications. Logan and I will lead the assault inside. Our primary objective is to find her and get her out.â
Logan barely nods, his eyes locked on the ramp as it begins to lower. The cold wind whips through the interior of the Blackbird, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the earth below. And underneath it all, Logan can smell themâguards, weapons, blood.
âReady?â Scott asks, glancing at Logan.
His response is a rough, feral growl. âLetâs do this.â
With a sharp nod, Scott activates the drop sequence, and Logan is the first out, dropping into the storm with the grace of a true predator. He lands in a crouch, claws out, eyes scanning the perimeter. The island is as fortified as they feared, with high walls, watchtowers, and heavily armed guards patrolling the grounds.
But none of that matters. He has one focus, one goal: finding you.
The rest of the team lands behind him, moving quickly, quietly, and efficiently. Ororo raises her hands to the sky, intensifying the storm, the wind and rain becoming a blinding force that conceals their approach. Lightning arcs overhead, briefly turning night into day, revealing the outlines of guards scrambling to respond to the sudden onslaught.
Scott gives the signal to move in, and the team splits up, each member heading to their designated targets. Jean and Ororo focus on the outer defenses, disorienting the guards with telepathic illusions and powerful gusts of wind. Hank slips into the shadows, his agile form disappearing into the underbrush as he makes his way to the communications hub.
The Wolverine moves like a shadow, traversing the rain-soaked night with deadly silence. He can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, every sense heightened as he approaches the main compound. The guards are on high alert, but they are no match for the X-Men. He watches as Jeanâs telepathy turns their own weapons against them, as Scottâs optic blasts tear through their defenses.
But as the team advances, the guards regroup, their numbers swelling as they pour out of the compound. They arenât going down without a fight. Logan spots a heavily armed squad taking position near a turret, their weapons trained on the team. They open fire, a barrage of bullets slicing through the air.
âJean!â Scott shouts.
Jean extends her hands, a telekinetic shield flaring to life just in time to deflect the incoming fire. The bullets bounce off harmlessly, but the force of the attack makes it clear this isnât going to be easy. The guards are better prepared than expected, their movements coordinated, their strategy clear: delay the X-Men as long as possible.
Logan growls in frustration, his claws itching to tear through the enemy lines. âWe need to move, now!â he snarls, his voice barely audible over the storm.
Ororo nods, her eyes glowing white as she summons a powerful gust of wind, sending the guards sprawling. Scott seizes the moment, firing a series of blasts that take out the turret and send the remaining guards scattering. Still, even as they advance, more guards appear, swarming from every direction.
Hank emerges from the shadows, his blue fur slick with rain as he tackles a group of guards attempting to flank the team. He moves with agility and precision, disarming them with brutal efficiency before disappearing into the darkness once more.
Logan pushes forward, his senses locked on the main compound. Every muscle in his body is taut, ready to react, as he closes in on the entrance. But the resistance only grows fiercer the closer they get. A squad of heavily armored guards appears, their rifles spitting fire as they advance in formation.
âOroro, cover us!â
Ororo unleashes a torrent of lightning, the bolts crackling through the air and striking the guards with dead-set accuracy. Itâs almost like a scene from the gala, the guards coming in endless waves, their numbers never faltering.
Loganâs patience snaps. He shoots forward, his claws slicing through the rain, his cry echoing across the battlefield. He crashes into the line of guards, tearing through their armor as if it were paper. Blood splatters the ground, the metallic scent mixing with the rain as Logan carves a path through the enemy.
Scott and Jean are right behind him, their combined powers devastating the remaining guards. But the compound is heavily fortified, and as Logan bursts through the first door, a new wave of guards meets them head-on.
These are the elite, the best of the best, and they fight with a cold, calculated precision that makes them more dangerous than the others. Jeanâs telepathy is their saving grace. She reaches into the minds of the guards, sowing confusion and fear, turning their own thoughts against them. But the strain is visible on her face, the effort of controlling so many minds at once taking its toll.
âJean, hold on!â Scott calls.
âIâm⌠trying,â Jean gasps, her voice strained.
Logan knows they canât keep this up. They have to find you, and they have to do it fast. He slams his claws into another door, splintering it into pieces, only to be met with a hail of gunfire from the guards inside. He ducks, rolling to the side as Scottâs optic blasts provide cover, the two of them working in tandem to clear the room.
âMove!â Scott shouts, and Logan surges forward, his claws tearing through the last of the guards in the corridor.
The air is thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder, but Logan doesnât care. He can hear itâthe faint sound of muffled cries, the rattling of chains. His heart pounds in his chest as he moves forward, faster now, driven by the desperate need to reach you.
Then he sees it: two hulking mercenaries guarding a heavy steel door. They are well-armed, and this time, their eyes hold no uncertainty. These are the final line of defense, the ones meant to stop anyone from getting to you.
They open fire, the bullets ricocheting off the walls, but Logan is too fast, too eager to be reunited with you. He ducks and weaves, his claws gleaming as he closes the distance. With a guttural roar, he leaps at them, his claws slashing through flesh and bone with a sickening crunch. The guards crumple to the ground, lifeless, as Logan stands over them, his chest heaving with exertion.
Without wasting a second, Logan slams his claws into the door, the metal screeching as it gives way under the force of his rage. He rips the door off its hinges, tossing it aside as if it weighs nothing. Inside, the air is heavy with the smell of damp stone and fear. And there, in the dim light of the small cell, he sees youâchained, battered, but alive.
You are slumped against the far wall of a small, dank cell, your wrists bound with the anti-mutant handcuffs, your body bruised and battered. The sight of you, so broken and vulnerable, makes Loganâs heart twist with desperation and longing. All of his fury immediately floods out of his system. He crosses the room in two strides, his claws retracting as he kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he reaches out to touch your face.
âHey, darlinâ,â he whispers, âIâm here. Iâve got you.â
You stir at the sound of his voice, your eyes fluttering open as you try to focus. When you see him, a weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips. âLoganâŚâ
âShh,â he soothes, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. âYouâre gonna be okay. Iâm gettinâ you outta here.â
He quickly reaches for the handcuffs, his claws slicing through the metal with ease. The moment they fall away, you feel a sudden surge of power within you, like a dam breaking, your abilities rushing back after being suppressed for so long. You slump forward into his arms, too weak to hold yourself up. Loganâs heart breaks at the feel of your frail body against his, but he holds you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.
âCan you walk?â
You nod, though itâs clear the effort costs you. âI⌠I think so.â
Logan helps you to your feet, his arm supporting you as you lean heavily against him. Every step is a struggle, but heâs right there with you. Making your way out of the cell, the sounds of battle grow louder, the chaos of the X-Menâs assault reaching its peak.
âWe gotta move fast,â Logan mutters tensely, âBut Iâm not lettinâ go of you. Weâre gettinâ outta here together.â
He keeps a firm grip on you, his entire focus on getting you out of this hellhole. The whole island around you is in shambles, the walls of your prison shaking with the force of explosions and the sharp crack of energy blasts. The X-Men are relentless, cutting down the remaining guards with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Scott and Hankâs voices echo through the comms, issuing orders and coordinating the teamâs movements.
Everything fades into the backgroundâthe sounds of battle, the flashes of light, the scent of blood and smoke.
All Logan can concentrate on is the fragile feel of your hand in his, your fingers moving shakily against his rough skin, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggle to keep going.
âStay with me, darlinâ,â he rasps, urging you, âWeâre almost out. Just hold on a little longer.â
Your fingers tighten around his, as if letting go would mean losing him again. The two of you move as one, your bodies pressed together as you navigate through the debris and destruction. The storm outside mirrors the one within him, but as long as youâre with him, he knows he can weather it.
When the exit finally comes into view, the cold night air hits you both, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of the compound. The Blackbird is waiting, its ramp lowered, and the sight of it brings a surge of relief so powerful it nearly buckles your knees. But Logan is there, his arm wrapped securely around you, practically carrying you up the ramp.
Finally in the jet, the familiar hum of the engines fills the cabin, a soothing backdrop to the storm raging outside. Neither of you cares about the storm or the battle left behind. The only thing that matters is that youâre together.
Logan guides you to a seat, but instead of sitting beside you, he pulls you into his lap, holding you as close as he can. You donât resist, your arms wrapping around his neck, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded. In many ways, he is.
Hank approaches, concern etched across his face, but Logan barely glances at him. His focus is entirely on you, his hand brushing your hair back from your face, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that have begun to fallânot from pain, but from the overwhelming relief of being safe, of being with him.
âYouâre safe now,â he murmurs, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses into your hair. âIâve got you. Iâm not lettinâ you go.â
You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, your tears soaking into his shirt as you cling to him. Each touch, every whispered word, acts like a balm to the wounds you have endured. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his heart pounds against your chest.
âI knew youâd come⌠but you guys took a lot longer than I was expecting,â you whisper, trying to bring a hint of your usual humor into your voice, âmade me look a little stupid in front of those guards.â
Loganâs arms tighten around you. âIâm here, sweets. Iâm right here. And Iâm not goinâ anywhere.â
He continues to kiss your hair, his rough, calloused hands gently cradling your face as he wipes away your tears. Neither of you wants to let go, the fear of losing each other again too fresh, too real.
Loganâs lips brush against your temple, a tender, lingering kiss that conveys more than words ever could. âIâve got you,â he repeats, over and over again. âNothinâs gonna happen to you again.â
You nod, unable to speak, but your grip on him tightens, your heart finally beginning to calm as you rest in his arms. For the first time since your capture, you feel safe. Truly safe. And itâs all because of him.
----
Returning to the mansion after the rescue is a blur of activity, concern, and overwhelming relief. The moment you touch down, youâre rushed to the med bay, surrounded by familiar faces, each one filled with a mixture of worry and hope.
The sterile white walls of the med bay feel oddly comforting now, compared to the cold, damp cell you were held in. Youâre laid gently on a bed, Hank and Jean immediately setting to work, checking your vitals, assessing your injuries. Their voices are calm and reassuring, but you barely hear them. Your mind is still reeling, your body still trembling from the whole ordeal.
Logan never leaves your side. Even as Hank and Jean move around you, speaking in low tones about your condition, heâs there, a grounding force. He holds your hand through it all, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. Whenever your eyes flutter open, his are there, locked on yours, filled with a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart ache.
Hank and Jean make sure youâre well-fed, insisting on regular meals to help you regain your strength. Plates of warm, nourishing food are brought to you, and though you have little appetite at first, Loganâs gentle encouragement coaxes you to eat. He sits with you, holding your hand while you slowly nibble at the food, his deep voice murmuring soft words of reassurance and comfort.
âJust a little more, darlinâ,â he says, his tone comforting. âYou need to get your strength back.â
You nod, taking another bite, the warmth of the food spreading through you, bringing with it a sense of safety and normalcy that you hadnât felt in what seems like forever.
Nights are the hardest. The darkness brings with it the memories of the cell, the guards, the pain, and the fear. You often wake in a panic, your heart racing, the shadows of the past closing in around you. But every time, Logan is there, pulling you into his arms, whispering reassurances until the terror subsides.
Logan, for his part, is dealing with his own demons. You can see it in the way his jaw tightens when he thinks you arenât looking, the way his eyes darken when he hears you gasp in pain or when your hand trembles as you reach for something. Heâs haunted by what happened, by the fact that he hadnât been able to protect you from the start. You know heâs carrying a heavy burden of guilt, and it tears at your heart to see him so troubled.
He tries to hide it, of courseâtries to be strong for you. However, in the quiet moments, when the mansion is still and the only sound is the soft beep of the heart monitor, he lets his guard down. He sits beside you, his head bowed, his hand holding yours as if afraid you might slip away if he lets go. And in those moments, you can see the depth of his pain, the way it eats at him from the inside.
On one occasion, after a particularly vivid nightmare leaves you shaky and breathless, Logan pulls you into his lap, holding you close as he murmurs words of comfort. As you cry, he holds you tighter, his voice breaking as he whispers, âIâm sorry. Iâm so damn sorry.â
You pull back just enough to look up at him, your heart breaking at the sight of the tears in his eyes. âLogan, it wasnât your fault,â you say, as many times as you need to, if it means heâll stop feeling this way. âYou saved me. You found me.â
He shakes his head, his grip on you tightening as if trying to anchor himself. âI should have been there sooner. I should haveââ
âNo,â you interrupt, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. âYou did everything you could. You saved me. You brought me home.â
His eyes close at your words, a single tear slipping down his cheek. âI canât lose you. I donât know what Iâd do if I lost you.â
âYou wonât,â you promise, and you mean it.
----
When youâre finally discharged from the med bay, it feels like a victoryâa hard-won battle that leaves you both relieved and eager to reclaim your life. Your strength has returned, slowly but surely, and now, after weeks of healing and recovery, youâre ready to start training again. The thought of moving your body, of pushing your limits, fills you with a renewed sense of purpose.
But thereâs one thing you hadnât counted onâLogan.
Ever since the rescue, heâs been by your side, a constant, unyielding presence. At first, you appreciated itâyou truly didâhis steady support, his silent vigilance, the way he seemed to always know when you needed a comforting word or a strong arm to lean on. Yet now, as you step back into the training room, ready to test your limits again, his presence is starting to feel more like a shadow you canât shake.
âLogan,â you say, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice as you stretch, your muscles still tight from the weeks of inactivity. âYou donât have to watch me like a hawk. Iâm fine. Really.â
He doesnât respond right away, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall, his sharp eyes never leaving you. The intensity of his gaze is almost suffocating.
âI know. Youâre strong,â he finally says, âBut that doesnât mean Iâm just gonna stand by and let you push yourself too hard.â
You sigh, rolling your shoulders as you turn to face him fully. âIâm not made of glass. I need to do this. I need to get back to where I was. The fight isn't finished.â
He pushes off the wall, his expression hardening as he takes a step closer to you. âAnd Iâm not sayinâ you canât. I just⌠I donât want you to go through this alone.â
Something in his voice makes you pause, the frustration fading away as you look at him more closely. Thereâs a tension in his posture, tension that hadnât been there before, and the way heâs looking at youâit isnât just concern. Itâs something deeper.
âIâm not alone,â you assure him. âIâve got the whole team behind me. Iâve got you.â
He holds your gaze for a long moment, letting the moment pass between you, and then he exhales deeply, as if bracing himself for what heâs about to say. âYou know, when you were gone⌠I told Charles I wouldnât hold back anymore.â
His words catch you off guard, and your brow furrows in confusion. âHold back?â
Logan takes another step closer, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right way to explain.
âI told him that if we found you, if we got you back safe⌠I wasnât gonna keep my feelings locked up anymore. Iâve been doinâ it for too long, and when I almost lost you⌠it made me realize I canât keep pretending I donât care as much as I do.â
You know what heâs trying to say. The charged energy between you, all the banterâit was never just friendly. It was more than thatâsomething neither of you had ever acknowledged out loud, but it was there. Youâd never been just teammates, and deep down, you both understood that.
He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle. âIâm in love with you,â he confesses, his voice deep and hoarse, filled with all the emotion heâs kept bottled up for so long. âIâve been in love with you for a long time, but I was too damn stubborn to admit it. But after what happened, after goin' through all thatâŚâ
He lets his voice trail off. Your heart pounds in your chest, the truth of his words resonating deep within you. Youâve always sensed the undercurrent of something more between you two, something that made every shared glance, every sarcastic quip, feel like a promise unfulfilled. Hearing Logan finally admit it, finally put words to what had always been there, makes your breath catch, your mind soar with joy.
âI know,â you confess back, âI think Iâve always known. But I was afraid to push, afraid to break whatever it was we had. Iâve felt it too. I always have.â
Loganâs eyes widen slightly at your confession, relief flooding his features, the hard lines of tension softening as if a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders. For a long, heart-stopping moment, the two of you just stare at each other.
Then, as if pulled together by the same magnetic force, you and Logan surge forward simultaneously. The distance between you vanishes in an instant, and your lips meet in a fierce, passionate kiss that speaks of all the pent-up passion and unspoken words youâd both kept buried for so long.
His hands roam your body with an urgency that borders on desperation, as if heâs making sure this is realâthat youâre truly there, in front of him, kissing him. His fingers trace the curve of your back, the line of your shoulders, and then tighten their grip as he pulls you even closer, his touch firm and possessive. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding onto him with just as much need.
The kiss is everythingârelief, passion, loveâall rolled into one overwhelming, breathtaking moment that makes your head spin and your knees weak.
When you finally break apart, gasping for breath, Logan doesnât move away. His forehead rests against yours, but the distance between you seems to close even further, if that were possible. His hands grip you tightly, as if youâre the only thing anchoring him to reality. Heâs consumed by you, by the feel of your body against his, by the taste of your lips, by the sheer relief that youâre here, safe, and his. His breath is ragged, his heart pounding, and when he opens his eyes, theyâre filled with a raw, burning intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.
âGod, I donât want to let you go,â he whispers.
His hands roam your back again, as if reassuring himself that youâre really there, that youâre not some illusion that will slip away the moment he loosens his grip.
You smile softly, though your heart is still racing from the intensity of the moment. âI donât want you to let go either,â you whisper back. âBut⌠I still need to be independent. I need to be able to stand on my own two feet.â
His gaze tightens a bit, and you can see that heâs torn between the overwhelming urge to protect you and the understanding that youâre right. His eyes search your face, as if trying to reconcile his deep-seated fear with the reality of who you are.
âI just⌠I donât know how to give you space,â he admits, âNot after everything thatâs happened.â
You smile gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. âYou donât have to step away,â you reassure him. âBut you do have to let me stand beside you, not behind you. Weâre in this together,â you kiss him again, âTheyâre still out there. The mission isnât over.â
Loganâs hands tighten on your waist for a moment, as if his instincts are against the idea of giving you any distance at all, against the idea of you throwing yourself back into the fight. But then, after a long pause, he slowly, reluctantly nods. âIâll do my best,â he murmurs. âI canât promise I wonât want to keep you close⌠but Iâll try to give you the space you need.â
Your heart warms at his words, recognizing the struggle heâs willing to endure for your sake. âThatâs all Iâm asking for,â you reply, your voice tender as you lean in for another kiss.
[END OF PART ONE]
-----
A/N: Phew! Part one done, and part two is on the way -- it'll be up by the end of the weekend. Please comment or send me a message if you'd like to be tagged in the next part. Hope you liked the story!
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett#logan howlett fic#logan howlett x reader#logan x reader#wolverine#x men#deadpool 3#deadpool movie#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#the wolverine#wolverine smut#logan howlett imagine#james logan howlett#x men movies#marvel imagine#marvel fic#marvel fanfiction#wolverine angst#logan howlett angst#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you
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Golf - LN4
*:ď˝Ľďž Summary: In Portugal, Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell, and Maxâs girlfriend Pietra go golfing, with Pietraâs single friend (you) tagging along. You struggle with the game, prompting Lando to offer hands-on lessons.
*:ď˝Ľďž Word count: 1298
ŕ¨ŕ§
The warm Portuguese sun bathed the lush green golf course, casting soft shadows over the rolling hills. The faint scent of freshly cut grass filled the air as the group of four made their way towards the first hole. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell, his girlfriend Pietra, and Pietraâs friendâa single woman, fresh-faced and smiling despite her clear inexperience with golfâwalked together, laughter bubbling up between them as they teased one another.
Pietra nudged Max playfully as he adjusted his glove, âYou know you're only here to look pretty while you lose, right?â
Max scoffed. âWeâll see who loses when I sink this birdie.â
Lando laughed, shaking his head as he carried his golf bag. His eyes, however, kept straying to the woman walking beside Pietraâyou. You had been quiet at first, observing the banter between the group, but it didnât take long for you to find your rhythm. Your natural charm had won the guys over quickly, but it was Lando who seemed most intrigued by you.
You were unsure about this whole golfing thing; youâd never played a round in your life. But when Pietra had invited you to join them on this trip, the allure of sunny Portugal and new adventures was impossible to resist. Plus, you werenât going to lieâspending time around Lando was hardly a bad thing.
After the first few holes, it became obvious that you were, well, not the best golfer. You swung the club a few times, and while your effort was there, the technique... not so much. Your ball either went nowhere, or far off course. Each miss was followed by giggles from Pietra and lighthearted teasing from Max.
âYouâve got this,â Pietra grinned, leaning on Maxâs arm, as you tried yet again.
Your swing was way off. The ball barely moved. You cringed, immediately breaking into laughter.
âThatâs it,â Lando said with a mischievous smile, stepping forward. âTime for a lesson.â His eyes sparkled with something more than just amusement, his dimpled grin sending a flutter through your stomach.
You raised an eyebrow, but couldnât stop the smile pulling at your lips. âOh? Youâre going to teach me how to golf?â
âWell, someoneâs got to save you from yourself.â He gave you a teasing wink, his accent rolling off his words in a way that made your heart skip. âMax certainly wonât.â
Max snorted, raising his hands. âIâm no teacher. Good luck, mate.â
You shook your head, amused, but when Lando stood next to you, a little closer than necessary, you felt a warmth rise in your cheeks. He placed his hands over yours, adjusting your grip on the club. His touch was firm, but not forceful, guiding rather than instructing.
âFirst, you need to relax,â Lando said softly, his voice close to your ear. âYouâre too tense.â
You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken at the proximity. His body was warm, his presence so magnetic that you were barely able to focus on his words. You could feel his breath against your skin as he adjusted your arms, moving them into position. He leaned in a little more, close enough that the scent of his cologne filled your senses.
âLike this,â Lando murmured, his hands guiding the motion. He stood behind you, his chest lightly brushing your back, and for a moment, you forgot you were supposed to be learning how to golf.
The rest of the group had quieted, either lost in their own conversation or deliberately giving the two of you space. Pietra, ever the romantic, watched with a knowing smile.
âOkay,â Lando continued, still guiding your movements. âNow, on three, swing. One⌠two⌠three.â
Together, you swung, and to your surprise, the ball sailed smoothly across the grass, not far, but far better than any of your previous attempts.
You turned, eyes wide. âI did it!â
Lando grinned down at you, pride in his expression. âSee? Itâs all in the technique.â
You laughed, a little embarrassed but mostly happy. âI guess I just needed the right teacher.â
He gave you a playful nudge with his elbow. âOr maybe Iâm just that good.â
The flirting between you and Lando was subtle, woven into each shared glance and teasing comment. It wasnât overt, but the tension between you was undeniable. Every time his hand brushed yours as he handed you the club, or when his fingers lingered on your back as he showed you the proper stance, it sent little sparks through your skin.
âOkay, letâs try again,â Lando said, stepping back into position behind you. This time, his touch was more casual, but it still held that underlying tension that made your pulse race.
You swung again, and though the ball didnât fly as far, it still went in the right direction.
Lando gave a mock sigh. âGuess Iâll have to stick with you for the rest of the day. Youâre not ready to be let loose just yet.â
âIs that so?â You shot him a playful look, fully aware of how close he was standing to you. âAnd here I thought I was getting better.â
âYou are,â he said, his voice soft and sincere. âYouâre just not ready to leave the pro yet.â
You couldnât help but laugh at his confidence, but something about the way he looked at you made the laughter die on your lips, replaced by a different kind of awareness.
-
The day went on like that, filled with stolen glances, light touches, and gentle teasing. The others gave you space, Max and Pietra happily absorbed in their own world, but there was a sense that everyone knew something was happening between you and Lando.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden hues over the course, the group decided to call it a day. Max and Pietra walked ahead, leaving you and Lando lingering behind, still chatting quietly.
âThat wasnât so bad, was it?â Lando asked, his eyes catching yours as you strolled beside him, golf clubs slung over your shoulders.
You shrugged, smiling. âNot bad at all. But I donât think Iâll be challenging you to a game anytime soon.â
âMaybe we could practice again,â he suggested, his tone light, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. âI could give you some more lessons.â
There it was againâthe tension, the unspoken something that had been building all day. You felt your heart race, your stomach doing little flips at the idea of spending more time with him. Alone.
âI think Iâd like that,â you said, your voice soft as you looked up at him.
Landoâs smile widened, his dimple showing once again. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.
Neither of you moved for a moment, the world around you seeming to fade as the connection between you intensified. You werenât sure who moved first, but suddenly, you were standing even closer, the air between you charged with possibility.
âLando,â you whispered, unsure of what to say next, your heart beating fast in your chest.
But before you could say more, Maxâs voice rang out from ahead. âOi! You two lovebirds coming or what?â
You both jumped back, laughing at the interruption, though the moment wasnât lost. Landoâs hand found yours for a brief second, giving it a gentle squeeze before he let go, his eyes promising that this wasnât the end of whatever was brewing between you.
âYeah, weâre coming,â Lando called back, a grin on his face.
As you made your way back to the group, your heart felt light, your cheeks warm from more than just the sun. Golf might not have been your game, but LandoâLando was a whole different story.
ŕ¨ŕ§
*:ď˝Ľďž Notes; thank you for reading, I hope yâall enjoyed! Also a BIG thank you for all the love on one of my last story; Lazy mornings!
#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris#lando x you#lando x y/n#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#formula one x reader#formula one x you#f1 fluff#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1#f1 2024#formula racing#formula one#golf course#golfing#max fewtrell
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Good Luck, Babe
Š thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE
Pairings: College Student Natasha Romanoff x College Student Female Reader
Word count: 7.1k
Tags | Warnings: +18, smut, ANGST, jealousy, cheating (we're cheating on Steve with Natasha), Natasha has a penis, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, fingering (r receiving), dirty talk, car sex, mirror sex, hate sex (?), choking, slapping, dacryphilia, blowjob (Natasha receiving), breeding kink only if you dare to squint, Natasha fucking r like a guitar, if I missed something I am going to throw hands
Author's Note: Iâll be back in 3 weeks I guess, I already scheduled some chapters for my fics, one each week. For this week, I serve you this one-shotđ¤˛đ This is something I wrote when I was supposed to be studying, lol. The title says it all. I did not proofread this one and I decided to remove some parts because I feel like it's getting too long. I hope yâall are doing okay! Enjoy!
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â§
âI realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.â
âOh, you intend to be quiet?â
You furrowed your brows at her question, âYeah, why would I be loud?â You asked innocently, not aware of the redhead's innuendo, your back was facing her as you started to remove the heels you have been wearing.
âWell, if I am going to fuck someoneâs girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.â
â§
You stirred from your sleep in the middle of the night, woken by the gentle sound of Natasha's snore. As you looked up at her, her auburn locks lay scattered, half-veiling her face in peaceful slumber. You gently pulled the strands aside, you admired the way her features were soft and unguarded in sleep as if she didn't drive you into the brink of ecstasy a while ago.
You watched, entranced, as the steady rise and fall of her chest painted a tranquil rhythm, like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.
Her eyelashes fluttered softly, like fragile butterfly wings beating in the night.
Soft breaths escaped her lips and with each exhale, her warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, enveloping you in comfort and security.
Your fingers traced the marks that marred her otherwise smooth skin. There were long, deep scratches on her back as you clawed to her dear life when she rammed into you, bringing you both to the peak of your own highs.
Unable to resist the urge, you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
âI love you, Natasha.â
â§
Natasha was behind the wheel of her convertible and you were riding shotgun. You both planned to get away before the graduation, a secret escape for just the two of you.
Yes, it was a secret escape, just like your clandestine affair. For the past year, you had been meeting secretly, your passionate trysts hidden away from the prying eyes around your campus.
How could one imagine that the epitome of perfection in the eyes of many, from students, professors, and school staff had chosen a band guitarist to share your deepest desires and secrets with?
The fact that you, the student body president of the College of Liberal Arts, the volleyball captain ball, the campus' debate team leader, and the devoted girlfriend of the campusâ student council Steve Rogers has been in an entangled affair with Natasha Romanoff, the school's band guitarist, was kept strictly under wraps.
Only a select few were aware of the tangled web you both were weaving behind the scenes. A few that only you, Natasha and her sister Yelena know about the affair that youâve been keeping closely a guarded secret.
With your hands held high up in the air, you relished the feeling of the wind whipping through the open top of Natasha's convertible. The rush of air against your skin felt incredibly free and exhilarating.
As you stood there in the open wind, blissfully unaware, Natasha watched you intently, cherishing the unguarded moment between the two of you. Taking in every detail as she glanced at you the way your hair tousled in the breeze, the sparkle in your eyes as you smiled and the way your pink sundress fluttered in the wind. It was in these small moments, when she could watch you in your carefree state, where she could openly watch you and admire your carefree happiness without the need for secrecy or hiding.
Unlike when you were on campus Natasha could only watch you from a distance. Whether it was her playing with the band during a night blast events your campus would trimonthly organize, searching for your familiar face in the crowd, or her sitting in the audience far enough for her not to be seen by you, watching you shine in a debate competition you joined.
Just for once, it's only the two of you, completely unburdened by your secret affair.
âHow did your send off go by the way?â Natasha asked, as she put her hands on your lower back.
âAs usual, every player, even the new recruits had to spike a ball into me!â you rolled your eyes in the air. You glance at the redhead who is staring admiringly at you, you smile at her, biting your lip when she slowly dragged her hand all the way down to the curve of your ass.
âTwo hands on the wheel, Romanoff.â
Natasha chuckled, tearing her right hand away from you, you slumped on the passenger seat as she did so, âAnd coach just told me that Bishop will be the next captain ball.â
âShe's in the same position as you, right?â Natasha asked, now putting a hand over your thighs, unable to resist the temptation to touch you.
âDuring her residency coach had to train her as an opposite because we had filled the quota for each position. She was originally middle.â
Natasha hummed at your response. Her fingers can't help but stray, tracing patterns on your thighs. Her hands begin to move of their own accord, sneaking higher and higher up your thighs with every pass.
Her touch sends shivers down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat as her fingers make contact with your sensitive skin. You can't help but let out a soft moan, involuntarily arching towards her touch.
âNatasha,â you warned softly.
Her gaze flickers to yours innocently but she doesn't stop, her fingers continuing to trace patterns on your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, âWhatâs wrong?â She watches you carefully, her hands pausing in their ministrations as she waits for your response.
âStop the car,â you demanded and she didn't hesitate. Her eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror, spotting an empty side street just ahead. She swings the car in that direction, pulling over and turning off the engine in record time.
She barely has time to register your movement before you're on her. Your legs straddling her, your body pressed close against hers as you take control of the situation. Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she grins, her hands coming up to grip your hips and pull you closer.
She trails kisses down your neck, softly nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, careful not to make any marks even though she has been dying to mark youâto make you really hers.
Without warning, she thrusted her fingers deep inside you.
âOh, Nat!â You cried in pleasure as she drove you higher and higher. Her fingers move faster, her thumb applying more pressure to your clit. She can feel you trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
âI can't believe you didn't wear any panties baby,â she chuckled, âwhat if someone saw my pussy while you stood there in your seat huh?â
âI-I, Iââ
âClose baby?â She smirked on your neck, she added another finger curling in your tight walls that made you gasp and buck harder towards her digits.
âNat, Iâm gonâ, Iâm gonnaâŚâ you trailed off, finally hitting the peak of your orgasm. You chased your own breath when Natasha pulled you into a deep kiss and you let her dominate you again as she pushed her tongue onto yours.
She smirked at you as she pulled away, âYou always loved quickies, baby.â She teased, licking her digits that were coated with your arousal.
You hummed, placing your forehead on hers, âBecause that's what only we can afford.â You said in a small voice, your breath fanning over her mouth.
âNot now though, we have all the time in the world.â Natasha replied as she stroked your cheek, the pain was evident in her voice as she spoke. You both never really had time alone inside the campus without prying eyes or suspicions of others. The only time you have is this, when you two would plan a night out every month or when Natasha would occasionally do late-night visits where she would sneak into your dorm and the two of you would spend the night making love to each other.
âThatâs the thing, Nat. Weâre on our way back to the world, the real world,â you kissed her neck all the way up to her jaw and to her lips. You eyed her and kissed her nose before moving away from her lap back to the passenger seat.
The drive to the campusâ dorm complex was quick just like the quickie you had half an hour ago. Natasha pulled the car to a quiet secluded area and got out of her car. âIâll pick you up tomorrow?â Natasha asked as she opened the passenger door, you stepped out with your training bag that you brought with you.
âSteve will pick me up tomorrow,â you said as you looked at her, you placed a kiss on her cheek, âBut I for sure will see you tomorrow, alright?â
You and Natasha had agreed upon certain rules during the course of yourâŚaffair and one of those rules was that you would never mention your boyfriend's name when she was present. In this moment, however, you inadvertently forgot about this rule and his name slipped from your lips without a second thought.
Natasha just concealed her jealousy and aching heart but when you softly leaned on her, your head comfortably resting on her shoulder it was quick to soothe her. She then asked, âYou don't want me to accompany you upstairs?â
âI might not let you go if I let you come with me.â You confessed but the redhead knew this too. Your eyes, however, betrayed your hidden desires, silently pleading with her to disregard any resistance and come to the dorm with you.
âBaby, don't give me those eyes,â Natasha softly whined.
You chuckled and painfully tore yourself away from your secret lover, âGood night, Nat.â
â§
It is Tony's tradition to host a party before the school year comes to a close and has become a much-anticipated event in your campus. But this year the party held a somber undertone as it marks the end of the journey for your entire batch. Tomorrow is your graduation day and everyone will finally embark on different paths. So this night will hold a memory for all of you as you hold a bittersweet celebration bidding farewell to school days and the journey you had together.
Your boyfriend, Steve, just picked you up at your dorm and as soon as you arrived at Tony's place, your eyes scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of your secret lover. Despite Steve's firm grip on your hand, your attention was elsewhere, the need of seeing your secret lover making your heart skip a beat. You tried to remain composed, pretending to engage in conversation with Steve.
âI finished my graduation speech, love,â he told you, his voice cutting through the loud party music. Your mind was preoccupied with searching for your secret lover and you only half-listened to his words, caught up in your own thoughts.
âWhat? Sorry baby,â you apologized, your attention finally shifting to him.
âI said,â he held both of your hands and pulled you closer to him, eager to pull you away from whatever is distracting you, âI just finished my graduation speech,â he whispered to your ear.
You smiled, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheek proudly, âMy council president.â Eyes shining with pride and happiness for himâgenuinely.
Steve is a quintessential all-rounder; a true gentleman who excelled academically and was a beacon for the students as he is the student council president.
He is a good boyfriend too. He was consistent in picking you up from your classes, walking you back to your dorm. You couldn't help but notice that he possessed a mildly possessive nature, because he seemed to want to keep you shielded, no, away from the outside world because your life just revolves around the campus, gym, organization faculty, and dorm and your boyfriend made sure of that.
Whenever you attended training, tune ups or participated in debates, Steve is always there, observing and sometimes engaging in your activities. He had a subtle ego, where he'd train you, play as your opponent during debates and literally break you, pushing you through your limits because he told you that he wants you to do good, do betterâhe wants you to win.
He doesn't want losers and he always wins and you knew that the day he won your âyesâ when he asked you on a dateâhe always gets what he wantsâhe always wins and everytime you let him.
âStop giving Y/N those blue gooey eyes, Rogers,â Tony's joke broke the moment between you and Steve as he offered drinks. âLovebirds, drinks?â You cringe at his words, it doesn't feel right to you.
Steve accepted a cup for himself but when you were about to get one for yourself he swiftly interjected, shielding your hand away from the tray declining the offer on your behalf. You gave Tony a strained smile, âIâm good, Tony, thanks.â
How did you even bother to get one when he never lets you drink alcohol or engage in any activities he deemed unsuitable for himself when you were out together? You often felt trapped and restricted, as if you could never truly enjoy yourself when youâre with him. He constantly kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring your compliance to his rulesâmaking you feel constantly monitored and controlled like right now youâre basically trapped and isolated in the corner, his towering body shielding you away from the crowd in the party.
Sure, he is a good boyfriend.
âStop, fucking in the corner blondie!â You heard his friend Sam shout at the distance and Steve just gave him a finger but still facing you.
Steve is never the one who fucks around, he always maintained decency and in factâhe is a celibate and no one knew actuallyâjust you. It was an agreement to the both of you when your relationship began which you completely agreed and respected but what he didn't know was that you were secretly breaking that agreement by satisfying your desires every night with your secret lover.
And your secret lover, concealed by the presence of others at the party, watched despite Steve's imposing frame blocking her view. She watched as you laughed at his words and planted a kiss on his cheek every now and then. She watched Steve as he wrapped your hands around his neck, you looked happyâtoo happy she thought, considering she knew the truth about your secret. And the secret in question? Is her.
She clenched her jaw as you placed a final, chaste kiss on Steve's cheek, she almost lost it when your boyfriend tried to attempt to kiss your mouth but you gently stopped him by placing a finger on his lips, keeping him at bay and chuckling slightly as you finally walked away from him and from the crowd of the party.
â§
You managed to convince Steve that you could make it back to your dorm alone, insisting that you'd see each tomorrow at graduation rites. Steve begrudgingly agreed, though you could tell he really wanted to walk you back as he usually did.
As you walked back to your dorm complex in the chill of the night, the absence of your secret lover weighed heavily on you. You didn't see a glimpse of the redhead tonight, she was nowhere to be seen at the party, leaving you to wonder where she disappeared to.
You took a deep breath before opening the door of your dorm only to be greeted by none other than your secret lover who you have been looking for the whole night.
âOut early in the party huh?â
You bit your lip pretending to not be shocked by her presence, you forgot that she had duplicated your dorm key, âI realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.â
âOh, you intend to be quiet?â
You furrowed your brows at her question, âYeah, why would I be loud?â You asked innocently, not aware of the redhead's innuendo, your back was facing her as you started to remove the heels you have been wearing.
âWell, if I am going to fuck someoneâs girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.â She stepped forward and grabbed your hips, you sucked in a little breath as she inhaled in your neck. âSo tell me, will you be loud for me? Y/N? Will youâŚscream my name?â She husked, her breath warm against your skin.
You turned to her, green orbs dilated as you looked straight at her eyes.
âDonât I?â You whispered in a very dangerous tone as you ran your thumb against her lips, âalways,â you caressed her cheek and traced your fingers along her tense jawline, âscream your name?â
A growl ripped out through her, she immediately grabbed your hips and turned your back on her front. Her lips found your neck and she sucked and bit gently, leaving a faint mark. With a swift movement, you yelped a little as Natasha pulled your left leg up, causing your skimpy dress to roll up even further. Her hand instinctively went up to the back of your thigh, gripping it tightly.
You didn't notice that you were both facing your vanity mirror. Natasha's eyes darkened while yours widened as you looked at your reflection through the mirror. Natasha's right hand sneaks through your panties, finding its way to your core. She begins to rub gentle circles, causing you to gasp and lean back against her.
âFuck!â
Natasha's left hand grips your thigh with the same precision and strength as when she holds her electric guitar during their gigs. Meanwhile, her right hand continues to strum your core like how she played a wild solo on her guitar.
She was the artist and you were the art.
âOh yes, yes ah!â
Your moans fill the air, her fingers moving with a skilled rhythm that could make any musician jealous. To her, your moans and the sloppy sound of your pussy are like music to her ears, a symphony of pleasure that she herself is producing. Your moans crescendo, becoming louder and more frequent as she pushes her fingers in and out of you while her thumb continues to strum your clit. Your moans are like a song she is composing right this moment and the only lyrics is her name.
âNatasha!â You moaned out in pleasure.
Her breath hitches as she continues to pleasure you. She leans in close to your ear again, her voice a low purr. âOpen your eyes and look in the mirror.â
You hazily opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was her smokey eyes filled with lust, desire, and pleasure. You then dragged your gaze down to her digits disappearing inside your cuntâthe sight only brought you closer to the edge.
âC-cumâplease let me cum,â you whined, a tear falling down your cheek. You can feel her lips curling into a predatory smile on your neck as she hears your plea. She doesn't respond with words, instead choosing to increase the tempo of her fingers.
âOnly if you open those pretty eyes of yours and look at the mirror, detka.â
You squeezed your eyes shut before managing to open them again, looking straight at her through the mirror.
âCome and scream my name.â
âOh fâfuâNatasha!â
You finally fall over, throwing your head back on her shoulder, a triumphant cry escaping your lips as she feels your body tremble against her. As the waves of pleasure subside, Natasha removes her fingers and you watch her in the mirror as she brings them to her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied purr. She immediately catches your trembling body, still recovering from your orgasm, she then carries you into a bridal style and gently places you to the bed.
âI love you, Y/N.â
You hummed pulling her by her leather jacket, âPlease stay, Natty.â
Natasha watches as your eyes flutter closed, she carefully extracts herself from your embrace, but you cling to her, your grip tightening on her jacket. Natasha pauses, her heart heavy in her chest as she looks down at your sleeping form. She knows she had planned to talk to you tonight, to finally come clean about her feelings, but now that the moment is here, she can't just bring herself to wake you up.
She takes a deep breath, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. She remembers the first time she saw you, how easy it was to slip into her role as a recluse and simply observe. You were the most popular student on campus, an achiever, the captain ball, always surrounded by a group of admirers. It made it all too easy to keep her feelings under wraps. That's why she couldn't believe the moment her sister told her that you wanted to meet her and it ended up with you in her car, begging her to let you come.
It wasn't long before things took a turn. You would find yourself asking her to come to your dorm after your classes were over, even if Natashaâs class isn't, she would immediately have an early out just to go to you only for the two of you to spend the night relentlessly fucking each other until neither of you could move anymore.
One time her sister brought her to your game. And she saw you struggling to keep up with the rest of your teamâhaving a bad day to play. She watched you go to Steve and how he threw you your towel and handed you your tumbler being the supportive boyfriend that everyone thinks he is when he is acting like an entitled self-proclaimed coach just watching you, not even cheering or hyping you up.
And before she knew it, when you walked towards where she sat during the game completely shocked at her presence, she leaned enough for everyone not to noticeâshe offered to fuck you as a reward if ever you win the game. Only if she knew that you have a game, she would bring everything she thinks you might need, sheâll bring you a jug of water, different colors of kinesiology tape, hell, she would buy you new shoes. But right now motivation is all she can offer because it's too high of a risk if she did all these things.
It was the first time she had seen you play because it was one of your rules, for her not to show up whenever you're in a competition, games, tune ups or in an event organized by you or your organization. You had explained to her that you preferred to keep things hidden, no, low-key, to avoid attracting unwanted attention that could arise from others noticing the two of you. She agreed, not even thinking a bit of it because she wanted you safe as you hold a lot of titles in you. She doesn't want to ruin your image though it breaks her heart not being able to watch you win and be successful in each game or competition.
Would that still be important if after you win it was her you would spend the night with where sheâll see you in all your glory as she makes you feel like a champion once more?
At first, keeping your affair a secret had been easy. It was a necessary precaution, one that she understood and respected. But as time went on, Natasha found herself yearning for more.
Sometimes she wishes she would be the one youâre running to after you won a game. She wanted to be able to cheer you on from the sidelines as you won game after game, competition after competition, events after events. She wanted to be there every time you win and every moment of lossâsheâll be there no matter what.
But that will happen anymore, Natasha could already feel the weight of the unknown future bearing down on her. This was it, the moment she had both been looking forward to and dreading. You two are graduating tomorrow, new chapters, new beginnings and things aren't still settled for the both of you, you never opened up, you never told her where you stood in thisâŚclandestine affair.
And that made her want you more. She yearned to be by your side, proudly and openly. She craved for the day when she didn't have to hide her feelings for you or keep her presence a secret. She hoped for the day when she could stand beside you, not as a shadow, not a secret but as a partnerâyour lover.
Is that too much to ask for?
â§
The sun was beating down on the graduates and their families, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they chatted and laughed, snapping pictures and the studentsâgraduates hugged each other tightly, tears streaming down their faces as they said their goodbyes.
Natasha's eyes frantically searched for you. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her trencher, every second feeling like an eternity as she scanned the sea of facesâand there you were standing with Steve and she assumed his familyâdeep in conversation and laughter.
In the midst of the chaotic crowd around you, both of your gazes met and everything else faded awayâit felt like the whole world stopped and itâs just the two of you.
You snapped back to reality as Steve pulled you into a warm embrace and kissed the side of your head, his family looking on with teasing grins. But you couldn't help but feel a twinge of cringe because you knew Natasha was watching all this happen.
âLove, Iâll just go see my friends and Mom.â You said, pulling back from Steveâs suffocating embrace. You gave him a small convincing smile as you tried to get yourself away from the situation.
When he nodded you immediately excused yourself to his family and ran towards the direction where you last saw the redhead. Before you could even go away there was a hand who stopped you from walking-running, you gasped as warm and strong arms pulled you into embraceânot a suffocating one.
âHey beautiful.â
âNat.â You sighed, leaning closer to her. Her scent envelopes your senses.
You were suddenly jolted back into reality, and swiftly disentangled yourself from Natasha's embrace. You could see the pain flickering in Natasha's eyes as you retreated hastily. You despised yourself for causing her this, yet you couldn't explain your actions just yet. It wasn't that you didn't care for herâquite the opposite, but the fear of exposure and being not accepted prevented you from being out with her freely.
How you wished you could tell her that.
âY/N, I need to talk to you.â
âNat, I need to find mom, weâŚâ you trailed off, unsure on how to tell her, âweâre gonna have lunch with Steveâs family.â
Nat's eyes searched your face, sensing the turmoil within you. She seemed to want to say something but held back, her silent gaze speaking volumes. You didn't miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes and the sorrow etched on her face. You were all too familiar with this. So, you swiftly reassured her, placing a gentle hand against her cheek, silently begging her to focus on you.
âNat, don't forget our week-long plans,â you reminded her softly, your thumb tenderly caressing her cheek. âIâll be all yours, just you and me.â
Natasha despised how effortlessly you could coax her, and yet, she surrendered willingly as she always didâher love for you overriding all the resistance. Every time you whispered sweet reassurances and gave a comforting touch, she melted, her resolve crumbling effortlessly.
She could never say no to you.
Just as you were about to lean in to steal a kiss from Natasha, a sharp call of your name pierced through the air.
âY/N.â
You turned around to see your mother watching the two of you, âMamaâŚâ
How you wished she didn't see you lean in for Natasha and to alleviate the awkwardness, you introduce them both to each other.
Nervously, you began, your voice quivering slightly, âMom, this is NatâŚâ you trailed off, unsure on how to introduce your lover because you cannot just introduce her as your lover yet since your mom knew about Steve and âfriendâ just didn't seem adequate to describe what you shared with Natasha, not if you both know what each other tasted like. The thing between you and Natasha was too complex, too dangerous, too intense to be boxed into a single label.
You looked towards Natasha, offering a strained smile, silently begging her to make a good impression. Your mother was known for being judgmental at times, and the last thing you wanted was for her to disapprove of the person dearest to you.
Natasha took the initiative, greeting your mom, âNice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,â and she extended a hand. However, your mom's gaze remained fixed, her eyes honed in on the intertwined fingers of your hands with redhead. The subtle gesture didn't escape your mom's keen eyes.
Sensing your mom's penetrating stare, you quickly withdrew your hand from Natasha, creating a bit of distance between the two of you. Your mother seemed lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality and reaching out to shake Natasha's hand.
âCongratulations.â She greeted with her unreadable expression and the redhead gave her a warm smile and thanked her.
âSteve and his family are waiting for us.â
You nod, acknowledging your mom's reminder before she started walking away. You turned towards Natasha and you found her looking down, she then handed you a box and whispered, âYou should go.â
Despite the aching in your chest, you managed a feeble smile, holding the box she had handed you. It is a necklace with a guitar pendant similar with the electric guitar she's using during her gigs, âIt's beautiful.â
No reply came out from the redhead and her silence is making you hard to leave, you longed to remain hereâto embrace her. Your heart clenched in your chest as you attempted to suppress the tears threatening to spill, âI'll see you, Nat. Okay?â
Natasha stood there, her eyes fixated on you as you walked away. A soft whisper escaped her lips, lost in the air, wishing that these words are enough to make you stay.
âI love you.â
â§
Two months had crept by since your graduation day and the affair with Natasha remained a secretive yet constant part of your life. The thrill and passion you shared with her continued to burn brightly, with neither of you daring to mention the status of the affair. The question of what it meant would remain locked away, hidden beneath layers of secrecy.
Not until you kept another secret from your secret lover herself.
âSo when are you going to tell me about it?â Natasha's voice was cold as she cut through the silence, her anger barely contained.
You froze under her intense gaze, your body shaking as you fought back tears.
âI...I'm sorry,â you whispered.
Shaking her head, Natasha continued, her eyes flickering with hurt and anger. âEngaged? And you didnât tell me?â
Your tears finally cascaded down your face as you relived the memories of four days ago, when Steve had proposed to you. How could you say no? He decided to propose to you in front of his parents and your mother. And the sickening weight of expectations and the pressure of you saying yes to him had overwhelmed you causing you to yield without hesitation.
Natasha had learned about the proposal from Steve himself and he had even made a joke about her reuniting with the campus band and playing at your wedding.
It was no secret because you were planning to tell her, of course you are, you were just looking for the right time but when she showed up at your apartment minutes ago, her intoxication evident in her glassy eyes and the strong smell of alcohol that hung heavy got to her, you knewâbut you didn't know that it came from your fiance himself.
Natasha's voice cracked in anger and despair, âI did everything you wanted! I followed your rules, your demands. I stayed away when you asked, I played along to keep ourâŚfuck!â She suddenly broke off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks. âRelationship isn't even the right word. We're not even a couple, right?â
âStupid,â she chuckled, âstupid! stupid, stupid!â Natasha unleashed a punch to each word, slamming into the wall next to her. You flinched and fought the urge to soothe her but she turned to you, tears streaming down her face.
âI played along toâŚâ she choked back a sob, âto keep you!â She spat, pointing a finger on you.
Maybe it was too much to ask for.
Her words hit you like a knife to the heart, causing you to physically flinch. Your tears welled up and fell uncontrollably, your whole body quivering with sobs as you struggled to hold yourself together.
âSorry.â
Your heart was heavy with guilt for causing Natasha so much pain. The single word didn't seem enough to fix the hurt you had done, but it was all you could manage in this moment.
âI just wanâŚâ she breathed, âI just want you to be mine.â
âI am yours, Natasha.â You managed to immediately say between sobs, placing your palm over your chest emphasizing each word.
âAre you?â Her brows knit together, âwith that ring on your finger?â
Natasha approached you and with every inch she advanced, you slowly retreated, your body moving back in response to her encroaching presence. Natasha finally stood close, her body towering over you. You could feel the heat of her breath on your skin, infused with the strong scent of alcohol. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath she took.
âY/N you were never mine to begin with and I had to live up with that.â
You were looking away from her, arms wrapped tightly around yourself in a protective manner. Natasha's fingers gently guided your chin, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. Her touch was electrifying as she slid her fingers down to your arm, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
âI chose to live up with that.â
Her movements were slow and deliberate as she took your engagement ring off your finger and examined it before letting it bounce to the carpet of your bedroom.
âEngaged, hm?â Natasha smirked, the pads of her thumb wiping the tears running down your cheek, âdid you let Steve finally fuck you after you said yes to him?â
You breath hitched at the question but you immediately shook your head sideways, her hands slipped at the back of your neck and hissed.
âI am the only one who can make you say yes over and over again.â
âNatasha, y-youâre drunk,â you stuttered, you would never deny the redhead but you feel uncertain and scared around her right now.
She heard you but she didn't care, she then pulled you into a bruising kiss. Her lips were cold and demanding, silencing any further protests. She held the back of your neck tightly, âShut up.â
She walked you backwards as she kissed you, the kisses becoming sloppy with each step. You felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees and as she kissed you deeply, you slowly sank down onto the mattress.
âLie down.â
âNat, pleaseâŚwe can talk lateââ you were cut short when she shoved her forefinger in your mouth. She watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, finally giving up, your lips sucking gently around her finger.
You chased her finger when she removed it out your mouth then your gaze went down as she moved to remove her belt. Her movements were deliberate as she undid the buckle and pulled it from the loops of her pants, causing them to fall open with her boxers.
Natasha's hand wrapped around a fistful of your hair, harshly tugging your head forward and forcing you to kneel in front of her. Your hands instinctively held her the back of her legs for support, her length inches on your faces as if you knew what to do, your hands slowly reached out to touch her. You wrapped your fingers around her shaft, feeling its thickness and hardness, your thumb rubbing the tip with the pre-cum that covered it.
âOpen your mouth,â she plainly said, a command rather than a request. Your lips parted slowly and without a second she pushed forward, easing herself into your mouth. Natasha's expression hardened as she gripped your hair, her hips bucking forward aggressively. She thrust into your mouth without remorse, tears welled in your eyes, but she remained unmoved, solely focused on her own pleasure.
She fucked your mouth ruthlessly, her thighs trembling with the force of her movements. Your nose was pressed against her pelvis, your eyes watering from the rough treatment. The only sound was the sloppy wet noises of her thrusting and your muffled cries.
Natasha was one to fight her moans and grunts back, but she was unable to hold them as she unleashed a thick, hot load directly into your mouth. The force of her orgasm sent ropes of cum shooting down your throat, making you choke and gag on the sheer volume.
In a sudden move, Natasha yanked you up by your hair, her cock slipping out of your mouth with an audible pop. She took a step back, leaving you panting and disoriented, your mouth agape, tears falling down your cheek, spit on the side of your lips and her cum inside you mouth. She reached down and yanked your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. She spat into your open mouth, watching as the saliva mingled with her cum.
âSwallow.â
She squeezed your chin, applying pressure until your throat opened up. You looked straight into her eyes, you felt the lump of cum and spit lodge in your mouth, and then you swallowed the liquid sliding down your throat.
Natasha released her hold on your chin and hair, her voice taking on a dismissive tone. âBed,â she ordered, turning away from you to clean herself up. You scrambled to your feet, quickly making your way to the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin.
Natasha hovered on top of you, you tried looking into her bloodshot eyes but you couldn't see anything. You couldn't see her. Her eyes didn't sparkle the way it did when you two were making loveâŚis this even making love?
You wanted to make it up to her, you wanted her to use you for what you did to her. For hurting her, it is all that you could do as of nowâitâs all that you could offer. But you wanted her to talk to you through it like she always had, but right now she doesn't seem to care about what you need.
Natasha locked her knees on yours, her thighs squeezing tight to keep you pinned in place. She surged forward, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You could smell the alcohol on her breath as she trailed kisses down your body. She then nipped at your skin, her teeth sinking in hard enough to leave bruises. Right now, she didn't care. In fact, she wanted you to be marked, marked by her and not by your stupid fiance.
âN-NatâŚSteve might comââ before you could even finish your sentence, Natasha slapped you hard across the face, the sting making your eyes water.
âDon't fucking say his name when you're underneath me,â she snarled and as if losing her patience she harshly pulled you by your thighs towards her. Without giving you a chance to protest, Natasha thrust into your core with a ferocity you hadn't expected. You could feel yourself stretching around her, each movement of her hips sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.
Natasha folded your thighs towards your chest, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You eyed her, tears ready to fall down as she fucked you with reckless abandon. She was like a different person, all rough edges and sharp angles, her usually composed, sweet, and caring nature replaced by a harsh, uncaring desire. Her usually gentle features were twisted into a snarl, her eyes cold and hard, lacking the warmth and spark that usually dwelled within them.
You couldn't help but wince as she thrust into you again and again, the pain dulling the pleasure, yet you let her continue. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as you bit back a moan, your mouth agape in a silent scream as she took what she wanted.
You
You tried to claw her back, but she was too quick for you. She wiggled and before you knew it, she had gripped both of your hands on her own, pinning them above your head. She didn't want you to touch her and the realization stung.
She then suckled your tits hard, biting and pulling on them until you cried out in pain and pleasure. The rough treatment and seeing you in pain seemed to turn her on more, and she then continued to abuse your sensitive breasts.
âSay you're mine,â at least just this moment.
âNatasha, Iâm yours, Iâm yours.â You moaned reassuringlyâgenuinely and you wanted her to see it, to feel it. âIâI'm yours, I'm you...yours,â you breathe, having a hard time to utter a word as she rammed into you.
Natasha's eyes become glossy again, she shook her head sideways as if she's trying to remove what you just said in her head that is now finally ingrained, she asked you to say it, of course you would say it back, but it sounded real and she hated it.
âYou're not,â she slurred, âbut I am going to make you.â
Natashaâs grunts grew louder, more primal as she neared her peak. Her face contorted, eyes screwed shut, and her movements became jerky, uncoordinated. She touched your lower abdomen to feel her cock bulging in and out. She was close, so close, and you could do nothing but lie helpless beneath her, tears leaving a trail on your cheeks as she held you down and used your body.
She finally let out a guttural growl, her body spasming as she emptied herself inside of you.
At least in this way she could make you really hers.
You jolted awake from the dream as the sound of your baby's cry made you alarmed. It's an instinct that you developed since you had your baby, whatever sound she made you'll be quick to get or coo her, doesn't matter if you're in the shower, cooking or asleep.
You slowly sat in the bed, wiping the sweat that glistened on your neck. You breathed in and out to calm yourself. It was a dream, just a dream, you're not new to it, it's same dream you always dream. It did happen but it never failed to visitâhaunt you even in your sleep.
It was a dream but what you're living right now is a nightmare.
You looked over at Steve's body, deep in slumber beside you, the sight of him only causing a lump to form in your throat. The tears began to well up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, unable to bear the ache and guilt any longer.
You quietly moved away from the bed, the sound of your baby's cries growing louder with every step you took. Your heart swelled as you reached the crib, carefully picking up your child and cradling her in your arms. You gently shushed your baby, cooing softly as you fixed the red hair that had become mussed during her sleep, her little face scrunched up as she wailed.
âShh, mommy's here.â You whispered as you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision to fight back your own tears.
As if she was actually listening to you, her cries became silent as her small chubby hand reached up, her fingers wrapping around the delicate chain of your necklace. She tugged gently and your heart skipped a beat as she pulled the guitar dangle free, holding it in her tiny grasp.
You gently rocked your baby, cooing soft lullaby as you tried to soothe her back to sleep. But as you looked down at her, her green orbs shimmering with unshed tears was looking innocently straight at you. Your heart shattered at the sight and the tears you'd been holding back began to fall, softly dripping onto your baby's soft skin.
âI love you, little one.â
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#black widow#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff au#natasha romanoff fanfic#black widow x reader
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I love your work, and Iâve been creeping on your master list and itâs so good đâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸âŚ pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that theyâre true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that heâll reject her cause heâs in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and thatâs when Az realizes it too and smut ensues đŤśđâ¤ď¸
Since You Have A Lover
pairing : azriel x afab!reader
warnings: angst babe, torture too (oopsđđ¤Ł), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then weâre gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better đŤŁ
thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but iâm so happy youâve been enjoying đđ
oh andâŚeducate a girl. wtf is afab?đ respectfully ofc
â
Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.
The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.
Itâs instinctual to be jealousâto compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.
Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. Theyâre too caught up in each other to realize youâve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.
Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesnât send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.
Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. Thereâs a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.
Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but youâd recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.
A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.
Youâre unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. âOh,â The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. âGods, Iâm sorry.â You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book sheâd dropped in the collision. âIâm so sorry, I wasnât watching here I was going.â
âThatâs not like you.â
A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. âIâm not quite myself at the moment.â
Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and youâre infinitely grateful that she doesnât call you out on your state of disarray. âWant me to walk you to your room?â
âNo.â You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. âNo, I think Iâm going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.â
âItâs three in the morning.â
Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.
She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.
You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.
Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."
--
Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.
Distracting, at the very least.
But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.
Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees youâd come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. âNesta?â
The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. âNot quite.â
It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.
The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.
--
The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.
Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.
It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?
The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"
A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."
Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.
"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"
"Around three."
Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lordâs better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."
The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"
Nestaâs tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately youâd attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. âShe didnât leave me a map with a drawn out routeâshe just said she needed air.â
âWhile crying?â It wasnât intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. âWhat happened?â
âI donât know,â Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. âI was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balconyâI offered to walk her to her room but she justâŚâ A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. âI let her go.â
âNesta.â Feyreâs slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nestaâs shoulders squaring on the defensive.
âIâm not some evil bitch, I waited up!â She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isnât truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because sheâd felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that sheâd made a grave mistake. Nestaâs shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. âI waited.â
Azrielâs already out of the room without a word.
He didnât have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.
His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.
And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elainâs cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallwaysâthe kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.
Heâd pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.
Itâs been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. Heâd never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.
The words act as fuel, Azrielâs senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until theyâd returned with something he could work with.
Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.
And they were soaked in your blood.
â
You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earthâthe perfect dungeon.
One youâd been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azrielâs side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limitsâwondering to see just how far youâd go just to be near him.
To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.
All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation youâd found yourself entangled in.
Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and itâs a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands donât move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.
Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.
âI always did love that look.â Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasnât. âWhen panic shifts into realizationâtruly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.â
Delicate?
Youâd never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.
Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, itâs beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. âCome a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.â
The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and heâs too coward to brawl fairly. âAs tempting as that is, it wonât be me who plays with you tonight.â Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.
Heâs not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. Sheâd inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his formâno matter how misplaced it was.
âIâll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.â
âSo much fight in you,â Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. âI canât wait to see how long it lasts.â
Breathe.
Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and itâs easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and heâd just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times youâd been in a similar situationâyou, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.
Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.
The cell wasnât very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.
Just stay alive long enough to get help.
âWhat do you want from me?â
Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no lightâproving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. âMany things,â He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. Heâs too cocky. Too comfortable. âBut first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.â He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. âI want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.â
Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.
Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.
Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
A smile works its way across his faceâone so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. âI hoped youâd say that.â Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldnât imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.
One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.
Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.
Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.
âWho are you?â
He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. âYou can call me the Butcherâeveryone else does.â
âHow original.â A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. âWell, Butcherâcome make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? Itâs starting to chafe a bit.â
His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting doorâa lock sliding into place. âYou donât really want me to do that.â For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. âIf youâre as stubborn as I think you are,â The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. âYouâll need something to hold onto. It helps with the painâŚfor a time.â
Breathe.
âThen letâs just get this over with, shall we?â
Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beardâthe only thing about him that wasnât perfectly trim and proper. âNot a fan of foreplay?â
Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. âIâm more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.â
Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. âYou know,â Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. âUnder entirely different circumstances, I think I mightâve actually liked you.â
The switch flips so fastâtoo fast for you to catch but itâs impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.
Itâs hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and youâre certain that itâs intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.
Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.
The masculine baritone of Azrielâs teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.
You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcherâs left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.
Thereâs a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldnât be an option for you. âTell me about the Made ones and I can stop.â
âI donât know anything.â
Just stay alive long enough to get help.
âYou live there with them,â Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. âYou share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets arenât shared as well?â Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. âTell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.â
âEven if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?â
Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. âYou say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian youâre always seen around?â
A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconsciousânot enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.
Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too muchâwhen you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.
The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. âWeâre coming, just stay awake.â
The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subsideâa side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.
Itâs all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. âRhys they wantâ they wantâŚâ
So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voiceâAzrielâs voice bellowing your name. âStay alive.â He mutters over and over and over when heâs finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. âDo you hear me? Donât you dare fucking die on me.â
You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.
All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.
It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.
â
Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.
"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."
He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."
"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."
Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"
"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."
Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"
"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."
"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"
"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance toâ. What the hell were you thinking?"
The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minuteâtoo fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."
Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."
Just like that, all the spitfire youâd prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. âYour mate.â
Azriel doesnât confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.
âYou know?â
âHow long have you known?â
Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if thatâs what it took to get to its other half. âA while.â
âAnd youâve said nothing.â He says, tone sounding almost defeated. âWhy wouldnât you have said anything?â
âBecause, Az,â The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. âYou wouldnât have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.â Youâre quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. âBesides, the bond is a choice not a burden and thatâs what it wouldâve been for you if I spoke up about it.â Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. âNow, if youâll excuse me, Iâd really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.â
A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."
"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."
"I'll manage."
"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."
Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platterâhe keeps his eyes trained on your face.
Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadnât noticed youâd been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.
Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."
"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"
"I felt something for youâsomething stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and itâs as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing youâruining the peace I feel when Iâm with you wouldâve broken me.â
Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. âAz, you donât have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.â
âThen, please donât reject it.â His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. âDonât reject meâthis is all Iâve ever wanted.â Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. âCan��t you feel it? This rightness.â
Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azrielâs eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.
Not one reaches your radar.
The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossedâa prophecy fulfilled.
When Azrielâs lips finally brush against yours, itâs like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadnât known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensityâthe burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.
One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. âAzriel,â You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.
âMate.â
A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. âI want you.â
âYou have me,â He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. âEven when my bones are rotting in the dirt, Iâll belong to you. My mate. Mine.â
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I BET ON LOSING DOGS.
pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader
PART TWO
summary: you were the epitome of sunshine, and coriolanus? he was like the storm, the rain, and the everything in between.
warnings: SPOILERS from the movie & book, SMUT (protected cause we wrap it before we tap it! p in v), losing virginities to each other, snow (cause he himself needs a warning), toxic relationship, coriolanus is only in it for himself, mentions of losing virginity, you practically giving everything to snow and getting zero in return
authorâs note: erm this is kinda long idek where tf i was going with this, first time writing smut on this account LOL so it might be bad. also this isnât proofread so there might be mistakes, just ignore! as always, reblogs and comments are so greatly appreciated, enjoy reading + kisses đ
You were the epitome of the sun itself, the sparkle, the light, and most importantly, the brightness. Despite being filthy rich, you were still that sweet sunshine Y/N everyone grown to love, the heir to the Cicero family.
Coriolanus Snow hated that about you. Not only were you everything he was not, but you lived such a lavish and easy lifestyle that it made him sick. Why was he stuck eating cabbage while you were off eating the finest thin slices of meat in the Capitol made by your chefs? It wasnât fair, it just simply wasnât.
âWell, Coryo!â Your sickeningly sweet voice fills his ears like a mantra.
He turns around, a smirk plays on his face. âMy Y/N.â
Hearing him call you his made your heart flutter. You loop your arm through his, passing through the other academy students who were engrossed in their conversations
âFinally the star pupil.â Arachne Crane says, a glass of posca in her hand. âLovely shirt youâve got there. What are these cunning buttons? Tesserae?â
He looked at the shirt, shrugging. âHm? Are they? Mustâve why they reminded me of the maidâs bathroom.â
You held his hands in yours. You knew of Coriolanusâs home life, how he wasnât so lucky like you to have a gigantic home filled with lovable parents. His mom had died during childbirth, Coryo mentioning to you once how he was supposed to have a little sister. His fatherâdied in the hands of rebels.
âHave you tried this lamb? It's scandalous.â Felix suddenly spoke up, taking a bite of the food that was currently on his plate.
âDidnât daddy teach you table manners?.â Festus sneered, watching the other boy in disgust.
âMaybe he would have if he wasnât so busy running the country.â Felix snapped back
Coriolanus took a deep breath in, already feeling overwhelmed by his classmates arguing.
After the announcement of the assigning of mentor to tributes, you could tell Coriolanus was upset. Although he wouldnât let anyone see, he was visibly anxious and quite frankly, annoyed.
âI mean, cmon, how could it that I got the worst district?â Coriolanus says, head in his hands. âHe hates me. He really does.â
âWho hates you Coryo?â
âDean Highbottom! Isnât it obvious?â He cries out, hands flinging into the air. You slightly flinch back, never seeing your boyfriend in such state. âHe hates me Y/N. He adores you.â
âHe doesnât adore me,â you say, feeling like you were stepping around eggshells talking to Coriolanus.
âHe does!â Coriolanus screams in anger, getting up in a hurry.
âWait, no Coryo, Iâm sorry.â
But your words arenât enough, theyâll never be for Coriolanus Snow, so he walks out without a second thought.
- - -
The next day, Coriolanus apologizes. Itâs a breathy, quick 5 second apology, but you being so youâaccepted it without a second thought.
You loved Coriolanus, so it didnât matter how much he hurt you.
âIâll make it up to you tonight,â he says, placing a soft kiss on your lips.
You felt quite excited, you and your boyfriend hadnât exactly gotten to that stage in your relationship, so thinking about sharing an intimate moment with him filled you with giddiness.
His tip had entered carefully through your folds, making you slightly wince as it bullied its way to your walls.
âCoryo..â you breathe out hazily, doe eyes coming to meet his. He sucked in his breath at the sight, never has he felt anything as good as this.
He tries so hard convincing himself he doesnât love you. That thisâit meant nothing to him. He was just here for your money, your possessions as the only daughter of Cryon and Hermione Cicero. But as he felt your nails claw its way into his back, he lets out a slip, a tiny whimper that makes your head foggy.
He spilled into the condom, pulling out with a hiss. Although you told him you were clean, and it was fine if he didnât wear one, he simply couldnât risk it. He wasnât going to accidentally bring in a child into the world, having no intentions of taking care of anyone besides himselfâmaybe Tigris, and his Grandmaâam.
âI love you,â you say quietly as you sat up, watching him discard the plastic into your trash bin.
âIâm hungry, arenât you?â He says, putting his shirt on. It kinds of pains you at his total ignorance of the intimate words you just shared, but you nod your head.
âI could use some food,â is all you say, putting on your pajamas from earlier. âWhatâre hungry for Coryo? Iâll ask the chef.â
- - -
Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom had allowed all the mentors and their tributes roam the arena for about 15 minutes, letting them think of ways to win the game.
You were talking to Bobbin, a boy from District 7 whom youâve had become closer with these past few days.
Suddenly, the loud scream of Felix catches your attention and before you knew it, loud bombs filled the air as tall lights fell to the ground near you.
âCORYO!â You scream, coughing loudly at the dust filling your lungs.
âQuick Y/N, we donât have time!â Sejanus screams, grabbing ahold of your hand.
âBut Coryoââ
Meanwhile, a tall pole had crushed Coriolanusâs arms.
Well, he thought, this was it.
This was how he was going to die. His girlfriend and best friend hand in hand as they ran out of the arena, the sickening feeling of betrayal filled his guts.
âWhatâre you doing?!â One of the tributes screamed at Lucy Gray, who was struggling to get the giant metal off Coriolanusâs arm. âRun while you can you idiot!â
But she doesnât bother, only focusing on getting Coriolanus out. And she does, successfully, before all went black.
- - -
âCoryo? Oh Coryo!â You say, hugging him softly to ensure you werenât hurting him.
You had felt so guilty after everything had happened. You shouldâve never ran off with Sejanus, Coriolanus was your boyfriend, you shouldâve saved him.
âIs Lucy Gray okay?â Is the first thing he croaks out, which makes your heart slightly crack.
âSheâsâsheâs okay Coryo.â You say, brushing a few blonde curls out of his eyes.
âAnd where were you?â He says, gaze slowly turning into anger. âI was going to die, Y/N.â
âI know! I was going toââ
He cut you off. âBut you didnât, now did you?â
His bitterness towards you makes you want to cry, tears already forming at your lash line.
âOh now youâre crying?â It seemed like everything you did seemed of inconvenience to Coriolanus, but he opens his arms, letting you reside in them as you let out a few tears. âAlways the crybaby, Y/N.â He says, hand holding your head as you buried your face into his chest.
- - -
Coriolanus Snow never believed in love. Not when he used to look at his mother and father when they were still alive, and not when he found himself a girlfriend, you.
Your relationship was merely another step stone towards success, Coriolanus viewed it. You were the heir of your family, you had countless amounts of money, and you were easily fooled by his advances. To Coriolanus, he had hit the jackpot, regardless of loving you or not.
So why did he feel so weird watching you interact with Sejanus? Sure, he considered the former district 2 boy his best friend, but it was only because Clemensia had been spending time at the hospital. The flu, Dr. Gaul described it; but Snow knew better. He was there when she had gotten bit by the snakes, and to be completely honest, if she hadnât, heâd probably have dated her instead of you.
Clemensia Dovecote was way more smart, and he knew he wouldnât fall inlove because they were both after the same thing. Power.
But with you, you were head over heels for Coriolanus. It almost made him sick, if it werenât for your family name.
He clenched his jaw as he saw you throw your head back, hitting Sejanusâs shoulder as you hysterically laughed at something he had said.
What was so funny? Nothing was funny in the Capitol, not now. Maybe he was bitter, he shouldâve never cheated in the games. It was stupid, and now he was getting the punishment of getting sent to 12 as a peacekeeper for 20 years.
Fuck, he really shouldnât have cheated. And now he couldnât even use his girlfriendâs family name as a way out.
He really shouldâve known better. He knew you loved him, but he didnât think youâd love him so much so that you begged your father to let you stay in 12 for a while to be with Coriolanus.
If thereâs one thing about youâitâs that youâre a Daddyâs girl by heart, and of course, your father had once again served your request with a silver spoon. He hated that about you. He hated it. You got things too damn easily.
âHi Coryo!â You say, making your way to him. Your beautiful sundress made him gulp, and he wanted nothing more but to snatch you away, pulling it off so he could get inside of you. But he couldnâtâhe was in 12, much to his dismay.
âY/N,â he says, placing his peacekeeper gun to the back. âTalking to the scums?â
âTheyâre just people from the district,â you say, frowning at his rudeness. âTheyâre nice, Coryo. Real nice, youâd like some of them.â
Coriolanus scoffs at that. How oblivious and stupid you were. Him, Coriolanus Snow, liking some of the district 12 citizens? What a fucking joke.
âGo along now Y/N, Iâll see you later.â
You nod, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before you left, leaving the other peacekeepers to whistle at Coriolanus who only responds with an eye roll.
When later eventually comes, he was packing away the Jabberjays in their metal cages, Sejanus being right next to him.
âI saw you earlier,â Coriolanus says nonchalantly, âtalking to that woman in the window. What are you playing at Sejanus?â
Sejanus scoffs, shaking his head. âTheyâre gonna escape Corio. Leave the districts. And Iâll be helping them.â
Coriolanus sucks in a breath, âis Y/N all in this too?â
God, he hoped Sejanus said no. But then again, itâd give him an advantage if he had said yes.
âShe is,â Sejanus says, continuing to tell Coriolanus of the plan.
Without Sejanus knowing, Coriolanus had tuned the jabberjay so it could record back the whole conversation. When Sejanus finally leaves, Coriolanus sneaks to where the train bringing the birds back to the Capitol stood, placing the jabberjay in it to send it to Dr. Gaul.
If anything, Sejanus was a blocking point in Coriolanusâs way, and getting rid of him and you were like killing two birds with one stone.
- - -
The next day came and you were peacefully talking to one of the younger girls in the district when youâre suddenly pulled away along with Sejanus.
âHey! What the hell!â You scream, thrashing in the unfamiliar peacekeeperâs hold. âGet off me!â
You and Sejanus struggle, and Coriolanus almost wants to step in and get you out of his fellow peacekeeperâs arms. Almost.
âCoryo! Tell them theyâve been mistaken!â You cry out, locking eyes with your so called lover.
âYou two have been charged with treason towards the Capitol.â The peacekeeper says, his cold gaze and strong hold on you makes you let out a whimper.
âTreason?â You say, âthere has to be a mistake! Call my father! Call my father!â
âIâm afraid your father canât get you out of this one, Miss. Cicero.â
He drags you and Sejanus up the main stage of the district. âEveryone! Pay attention! This is what will happen if you are disloyal to the Capitol!â
Another peacekeeper points a gun behind Sejanusâs back as the peacekeeper who was holding you earlier pokes your back with the cold metal. You felt terrified gazes of the citizens of District 12, including Lucy Gray, stare at you.
âCORYO! TELL THEM!â You scream, begging with your eyes. âCoryo, please. Please.â
But Coriolanus Snow stands still in his spot, not budging a thing.
You thought he had loved youâor at least, cared for you. You gave him shelter when he was at his worst, you gave him your virginity, you held him when he cried about how unfair Dean Highbottom was, you let him into your home, and you always were there for him. You practically did everything for Coriolanus Snow. And what did you get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
âYour Coryo wonât save you.â The peacekeeper snarls, before firing the gun.
Two gunshots go off, and the body of yours and Sejanus fall to the ground in an instant.
Coriolanus Snow almost wants to barf, his eyes closed for a minute before reopening them again.
Had it really been worth it? Ratting you and Sejanus out so he could get home to the Capitol faster?
He thinks so when your family and the Plinths give him their fortune as a thank you for being such a good boyfriend and friend towards their son and daughter.
If only they knew, though. But Coriolanus would never let that happen, because no matter what, Snow lands on top.
And this? It was just the beginning.
#coriolanus is so mitski coded if he wasnât a launtic#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#hunger games x reader#the hunger games x reader#ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine
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Falling for the Star
Nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader
Summary: You meet actor Nicholas Alexander Chavez at a gala, sparking an intense romance. As passion builds, you navigate the challenges of his fame, facing public scrutiny and personal doubts. Through steamy moments and emotional struggles, you both fight for a love thatâs worth the spotlight.
Wc: 10.7 K
Smut, fluff, drammaaaaaa
The moon hung low in the Los Angeles sky, a silver crescent illuminating the sprawling city below. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation as you cautiously approached the entrance of the exclusive charity gala at a luxurious rooftop venue. The invitation had arrived with bright golden lettering, but in truth, you had almost turned it down. The mere thought of mingling with celebrities, the glitterati, and Hollywoodâs elite had been overwhelming. Nevertheless, a gentle push from a close friend, coupled with a curiosity that ignited within you, led you to this moment.
As you stepped through the large glass doors, the atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace. The soft notes of a live jazz band floated through the air, a blend of elegance and vibrancy. Lush greenery adorned the venue, with fairy lights twinkling like stars overhead, and champagne glasses clinking gently as laughter erupted around you. You took a moment to appreciate your reflection in the mirrored walls, wearing a stunning emerald green dress that hugged your figure perfectly. It cascaded to just above your knees, with delicate lace details accentuating your collarbone, making you feel both empowered and graceful.
You scanned the room, your heart racing, when your eyes caught sight of him â Nicholas Alexander Chavez. He was standing across the room, effortlessly charming, with an easy smile that lit up the dimly lit space. His attire was flawless, a tailored navy suit that complemented his physique, making him look like he had stepped right off a magazine cover. His dark curls framed his face, and the spark in his eye held an undeniable allure. You felt an involuntary blush creep up your cheeks as your gaze lingered, making you acutely aware of how stunning he truly was.
Just as you thought you might have imagined the connection, Nicholas glanced in your direction. His gaze met yours, and an electric thrill surged through you, igniting a pulse of energy that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You quickly averted your eyes, pretending to study a nearby artwork, though you could feel his stare still lingering.
With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you decided to get a drink from the bar, hoping to calm the fluttering in your stomach. The bar was swarming with well-dressed attendees, all lost in their own animated conversations. You ordered a glass of sparkling wine, and just as you turned to survey the party, you bumped into a broad shoulder.
âWhoa there,â came a deep voice, smooth as velvet.
You looked up, instantly recognizing the familiar face. Nicholas was standing right in front of you, a playful grin on his lips that made your heart skip a beat. âLooks like youâve fallen for me already,â he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
You tried to keep your composure, laughing nervously as you brushed your hair back. âWell, I might be a clumsy drinker,â you shot back, a lightness in your tone that surprised even you.
âThe drinks arenât the only thing that sparkles here,â he replied, his gaze simmering with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. âIâm Nicholas, by the way.â
âY/N,â you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.
âNice to meet you, Y/N,â he said, leaning closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. âWhat brings you to this shindig? Iâm sure you could have found somewhere more exciting to spend your evening.â
You chuckled, feeling more at ease. âBelieve it or not, I was contemplating staying home and binge-watching my favorite series. But the charity cause pulled me inâalong with the chance to dress up a little, I suppose.â
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. âAnd whatâs your favorite show?â
Do you really want to know? Itâs quite embarrassing,â you replied, a sheepish grin spreading across your face.
âEmbarrassing? Nah, I want to hear it,â he insisted, his playful demeanor captivating you further.
The conversation flowed easily from there, a delightful exchange filled with laughter and banter. It was clear that he was down-to-earth, someone who didnât take himself too seriously despite his rising stardom. He listened intently, leaning against the bar with relaxed confidence that made you feel at ease.
As the night progressed, you found yourselves inching closer, the chemistry undeniable. With every stolen glance and shared laughter, the space between you seemed to shrink. Everything else faded away. Just as you felt the urge to lean in, the crowded bar suddenly erupted into laughter, startling you back to reality.
Nicholas chuckled, his gaze holding yours captive. âLooks like weâre commandeered. How about I steal you away for a moment before we get swallowed by the masses?â
âLead the way,â you said, your heart racing as he gestured toward a quieter section of the venue.
Working through the sea of guests, you found a reprieve on a balcony that overlooked the stunning LA skyline. The city lights glimmered like a cascade of stars, and for a moment, it felt as if you were both the only two people in the world. The evening breeze danced around you, carrying the sweet scent of blooming jasmine from nearby plants.
Nicholas leaned against the railing beside you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You know," he said softly, the music from inside blending into the background, "Iâm glad you came tonight. You have this energy about you, something refreshing."
our heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone leaving a weight on your chest. âAnd Iâm glad I bumped into you. I didnât expect to meet someone like you tonight.â
Just then, the moment felt charged, his gaze intent as he held you captive. You could sense the potential for something deeper, something more than just a fleeting encounter at a glamorous gala. But before you could react, a friend called out for Nicholas, interrupting the silence that had built around the two of you.
With a reluctant smile, he turned back to you. âI have to go, but I hope we can pick up where we left off.â
Me too,â you replied, biting your lip, hoping it spoke volumes about what you felt.
He flashed that dazzling smile again. âHereâs my number. Call me. Letâs not let the night end like this, okay?â
You took the slip of paper, your fingers brushing against his as you felt a shiver of delight at the contact. âI definitely will,â you promised, watching as he faded back into the crowd, leaving you breathless and craving more.
The gala had been a whirlwind of elegance, laughter, and glittering lights. You had spent the evening swirling through rooms filled with celebrities, each moment feeling like a scene from a movie. But the real magic began when Nicholas Alexander Chavez approached you during the afterparty, his charming smile effortlessly stealing your breath away. Now, you found yourself on the rooftop of a trendy Los Angeles venue, the city sparkling below as the cool night air wrapped around you.
Nicholas's deep voice carried a playful tone as he arched a brow, âSo, did you come here to dazzle everyone with your beauty, or is there a hidden talent I should know about?â
You chuckled, leaning back against the railing, your fingers brushing his casually. âDazzling was the aim, but I didnât expect to run into anyone like you tonight.â
The atmosphere was charged; the intimacy of the rooftopâcomplete with twinkling fairy lights strung overheadâset the perfect backdrop for your budding connection. Below, L.A. hummed with life, yet up here it was just you and him, everything else fading away.
âTell me more. Whatâs it like being a dazzling star in your own right?â he asked, running a hand through his dark hair, drawing your attention to the way the moonlight caught the angles of his jaw.
What can I say? Iâm just a regular person who got lucky,â you replied, trying to infuse some levity into the conversation even though your heart raced in his presence. âBy day, Iâm probably just a boring desk jockey, but at nightâŚâ you trailed off teasingly, âI become the queen of charity events.â
His laugh was warm, infectious. âA queen, huh? Iâve always wanted to meet royalty.â He leaned in closer, the scent of his cologneâa mix of cedarwood and something distinctly himâinvading your senses. Living in a dream, you felt that maybe, just maybe, it wouldnât break.
âIâm not sure how much royalty I am,â you said, feeling daring. âBut I do know how to throw a fantastic ball.â
âCare to demonstrate sometime?" he winked, but then his smile softened. âI think itâs important for people to see beyond the lights and glitz. Thatâs what I try to show in my work too. Thereâs more to me than whatâs at surface level.â
You considered his words, your gaze locked on the sincerity reflected in his eyes. âWhat do you want them to see?â
Nicholas ran a hand along the back of his neck, a habit you found endearing as he looked for the right words. âThat Iâm just⌠well, Iâm just trying to figure it all out like everyone else. Being in the spotlight can make things so complicated.â
I can only imagine,â you murmured, absorbing the weight of his confession. It felt nice to know he shared this vulnerability, drawing you closer to him. The edges of the conversation had shifted, moving from playful banter to something deeper.
As he spoke, his hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Time slowed as you both lingered over the lightest of touches, an entire world of unspoken words swirling around you.
Do you think the stars are what they seem?â he mused, his voice lowering as he locked eyes with you. âOr just another layer of a persona?â
Sometimes they seem so perfect,â you replied, barely above a whisper. âBut underneath, theyâre human too.â
Nicholas smiled, and in that moment, the air felt thick with expectation. He leaned closer, and you could almost taste the warmth radiating between you. The moment elongated, both of you dancing around your desire, a symphony of unfulfilled tension hovering just inches apart.
Then, the serene bubble popped with a shout from below; a group of fellow gala attendees had spilled onto the rooftop, laughter spilling and echoing into the night. The connection between you and Nicholas fractured. He stepped back, breaking the moment like glass shattering on concrete.
âMaybe we should join the party,â he suggested, though you could hear the hint of disappointment in his tone.
âYeah, letâs not keep the others waiting,â you said, your own heart sinking at the missed opportunity.
But as you both made your way back downstairs, the chemistry lingered electric in the air, weaving around you like a warm embrace. Nicholas walked close; he brushed against you, and goosebumps raced down your arms. You caught fleeting whispers from the crowd as you rejoinedâwords of admiration and intrigueâas if the guests could sense the bubble of tension that encapsulated you both.
Each glance exchanged with Nicholas sparked further anticipation. You could feel his gaze on you, a warmth that made your cheeks flush. As the evening progressed, small moments of contact sent your heart racing. The lightest brush of his fingers on your back as you maneuvered through the crowd made your breath hitch.
Finally, the night reached its peak, and you found yourself standing at the edge of the rooftop once more, feeling slightly more at ease and anxious all at once. âThank you for tonight; it was⌠amazing,â you said, leaning against the railing.
Nicholas turned to you, a soft smile curving his lips. âI had a great time too. But I have a feeling this is just the beginning, isnât it?â
His voice held a promise that sent butterflies dancing in your stomach. âI hope so,â you replied, allowing a shy smile to break through your facade.
âIâd like to take you on a proper adventure,â he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. âHow about we escalate this?â
âEsclare? Iâm intrigued.â You crossed your arms, wanting to feign nonchalance but failing miserably.
Tomorrow. Just you, me, and no distractions,â he proposed, excitement bubbling within you at the thought. This was more than just flirting; you could sense things moving to another level.
You could hardly find the words. âIâd like that.â
With a grin that lit up his face, he nodded. The tension hanging in the air was undeniable, and you felt it wrap around you like a heavy blanket woven from the threads of your growing connection. As he leaned close, just hovering as if weighing the options, the world faded into nothingness.
And just then, in that brief moment, everything felt just right. Because in this vast city of stars, you had found one that was distinctly Nicholas, and you were ready to explore wherever the nightâor your blossoming relationshipâmight lead you next.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across your room as you stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection. Tonight was more than just another evening. This was a date. A date with Nicholas Alexander Chavez, the charming actor who had stolen your attentionâand heartâat the charity gala just days ago. You felt a delicious blend of nerves and excitement bubbling within you, urging you to make the right choice. After rummaging through your closet, you finally settled on a sleek, midnight blue dress. It hugged your curves just right, striking a perfect balance between elegant and alluring. The fabric shimmered slightly under the light, mirroring the glint of anticipation in your eyes.
As you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and a hint of perfume, you couldnât help but smile at the thought of what was to come. Nicholas was not only stunningly handsome but also had a down-to-earth charm that made your heart race. You picked up your phone, your fingers trembling as you checked the time. You were supposed to meet him at a secluded restaurant hidden away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi, a secret oasis in the bustling city.
The short drive to the restaurant was a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. What would you talk about? Would he lean in closer like he did at the gala? Would you have chemistry over dinner? The mere thought made your heart flutter, and you could feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks.
The restaurant was everything you could have imagined and more. Nestled on a quiet street, adorned with twinkling lights and soft music, it had an intimate atmosphere that instantly set your nerves at ease. As you walked in, you spotted Nicholas seated at a small table in the corner, his dark hair tousled just right, wearing a casual yet stylish outfit that emphasized his toned physique. He looked up and met your gaze, his smile lighting up the space around him, and suddenly, all the anxious thoughts melted away.
âHey, you look incredible,â he said, standing to pull out the chair for you.
âThank you! Youâre not so bad yourself,â you replied, your voice playful, but your heart raced at the closeness of him.
As you settled into your seat, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You spoke about the gala, sharing laughs over the awkwardness of celebrity encounters, and Nicholas shared funny behind-the-scenes stories from the show. There was an undeniable chemistry, a palpable tension that lingered in the air between you. You couldnât help but lean in a little closer, wanting to soak in every detail of his expressions and the slight huskiness of his voice when he laughed.
The waiter appeared, taking your orders, but your focus remained on Nicholas, who effortlessly carried the conversation. He spoke of his childhood dreams, his journey into acting, and his love for the craft. âI never thought Iâd end up here,â he admitted, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and humility. âItâs surreal, to say the least.â
âI canât imagine how challenging it must be,â you said, genuinely admiring his dedication. âBut Iâm glad youâre here. Youâre incredibly talented.â
The way his eyes softened at your words made your heart skip a beat. âI appreciate that. It means a lot coming from someone like you,â he replied, his gaze lingering on you, making the room seem smaller, just the two of you in your own world.
As dinner progressed, the food became secondary to the moments that were passing between youâslight touches when handing over his plate, the warmth of his gaze locking onto yours. Each shared smile felt like a silent promise, and you found yourself leaning in as if drawn by an invisible string. There was an undercurrent of desire, thick and tangible, yet neither of you was willing to break the spell just yet.
After the main course, you shared a decadent dessertâa rich chocolate lava cakeâplayfully feeding each other bites as laughter echoed softly around you. The sweet treat punctuated the sweetness blooming between you. The laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist.
Nicholas studied you, his expression serious yet softening the longer he watched. âCan I ask you something?â he said, his tone turning unexpectedly sincere.
âOf course,â you replied, your throat dry with anticipation.
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. âWhat do you want in life? Beyond what you do, beyond this moment?â
Your heart raced as you stared into his deep brown eyes, sensing the authenticity of his question. âI want to experience life fully. I crave adventure, connection, and authenticityâlike what I feel right now.â You held his gaze, feeling exposed yet free.
âAnd do you feel that with me?â he asked, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
You bit your lip, nodding slightly. The air thickened with unspoken words, and as you opened your mouth to respond, your heart pounded in anticipation of his next move.
Just then, the waiter returned with the check, ruining the moment as you both leaned back, the tension momentarily shattered. After settling the bill, you found yourselves back on the sidewalk, the crisp night air washing over you as you walked under the stars.
Nicholas slowed his pace, walking closely beside you, the hum of the city fading into the background. As you approached your doorstep, the atmosphere became charged with unspoken possibilities. He turned to you, his gaze deep and sincere. âI had an amazing time tonight,â he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into that smile that made your heart flutter.
âMe too,â you replied, trying to contain your excitement.
With the height of tension building, he stepped closer, your body instinctively responding to his proximity. His hand brushed against your arm, sending tingles through your skin. Time seemed to freeze, and you both leaned in, breaths mingling, hearts racing.
But then, a car passed by, its headlights illuminating the moment, reminding you both of the world outside. He didnât pull away, but rather hesitated, drawn to you yet respecting the moment. âCan IâŚ?â he began, stepping even closer, leaning in as though daring to close the distance between your lips.
âPleaseâŚâ you whispered, your heart hammering against your chest, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of his kiss.
But then, he pulled back slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. âI think Iâll save that for next time,â he said with a smirk, leaving you both breathless and wanting more, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air like the sweetest poison.
As you both stood there, the connection cemented, deepened yet oh-so tantalizingly just out of reach. You knew that this was only the beginning of a whirlwind romance that neither of you could resist.
The days after your last date with Nicholas were an intoxicating mix of anxious anticipation and exhilarating daydreams. He had called you the very next day, his voice smooth and inviting, as if the warmth of the previous night had never really faded. You felt the thrill of those moments linger in your veins, and every text he sent only stoked the flames of your imagination. It was with a flutter of nervous excitement that you prepared for this eveningâa dinner at his cozy apartment.
Standing in front of your mirror, you ran a hand through your hair, taking in the reflection of your carefully chosen outfit. You had settled on a flowy, olive-green dress that hugged your curves just enough to leave an impression while still retaining an air of elegance. The fabric floated around your legs as you moved, and you decided on a pair of simple yet chic heels that accentuated the subtle tone in your skin. A touch of makeup polished your look, enhancing your features without overshadowing your natural beauty.
As you stepped out of your apartment, the evening sun cast a golden glow over the city. It seemed to mirror the excitement building within you for tonight. Each heartbeat was a reminder of what might lay aheadâa chance to get to know Nicholas in a way that was private and personal.
Nicholas' place was tucked away in a quieter part of Los Angeles, the streets lined with palm trees that swayed gently in the evening breeze. When you reached the front door, he opened it with a smile that lit up his whole face, making your heart skip. He was wearing a soft gray sweater that clung to his frame and fitted jeans, effortlessly stylish yet comfortably laid back. âYou look stunning,â he said, his eyes dancing over your figure.
âThanks! You clean up pretty well yourself,â you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.
He ushered you inside, and it was exactly as you had imaginedâstylish yet inviting, decorated in a way that felt uniquely him. The living room was warmed by soft lighting, highlighting the modern artwork that adorned the walls. A fluffy beige couch faced a modest kitchen where the smell of garlic sautĂŠing filled the air. Nicholas grinned cheekily. âI hope you like Italian. I may have gone a little overboard with the pasta.â
You laughed, feeling instantly at ease. âIâm not complaining. It smells amazing!â
As he led you into the kitchen, the playful vibe between you flared like a spark. You slipped off your heels, enjoying the coolness of the wooden floor beneath your feet. âLetâs get to work, shall we?â he said, reaching for a bottle of wine.
âWine first?â you teased.
âOnly if you promise to help me cook,â he shot back, amusement dancing in his eyes.
You accepted a glass, savoring the way his fingers brushed against yours as he handed it to you; the simple gesture sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. As you both prepared dinner together, Nicholas cracked jokes about his culinary skillsâclaiming he was still trying to impress his motherâand you returned his playful banter, playfully questioning his choice of ingredients.
âIs this how you charm all the ladies?â you asked with a smirk as he accidentally spilled a pinch of salt into the sauce.
âOnly the ones who can keep up,â he replied, winking at you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary on your lips.
You could feel the warmth pooling inside you, a thrilling mix of nerves and intrigue. Raising an eyebrow, you leaned closer, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne mingling with the aromatic fumes wafting from the stove. âA challenge, huh? I think Iâm up for it.â
His hand found its way to your waist as he moved around you, the touch intentional yet innocently casual. The heat radiated from where he held you, and the atmosphere thickened with unspoken desires, tension carved from every shared glance.
Dinner was a successâdelicious and slightly chaotic, filled with laughter and lively conversation. Afterward, you both settled on the couch, the remnants of the meal cleared away. A bottle of wine was uncorked, and as the rich liquid flowed into your glasses, so too did the deeper conversations about life, ambition, and art. You shared pieces of yourself, opening up in a way that felt natural and liberating.
Nicholas listened intently, his focus unwavering, his eyes piercing through the dim light in the room. He shared stories from his childhood, the ups and downs of navigating fame, and the pressures that came with it. Each story unveiled another layer of the man you were growing to admireânot just his on-screen charm but the authenticity that lay beneath.
As the night wore on, the conversation took a flirtatious turn, lingering touches transitioning into palpable tension. The air was thick with anticipation, the quiet intensity building like a crescendo in a symphony. You could feel the magnetic pull between you, every brush of his hand against yours awakening a fire deep within.
In a moment that seemed suspended in time, he looked at you intently, a thousand emotions swirling in his gaze. âYou have no idea how captivating you are,â he said softly, his voice low and husky.
Your heart raced, and you could barely find your voice. âAnd you have no idea what youâre doing to me,â you replied, your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest.
Just as the tension reached its peak, it snapped, and before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, urgent and filled with the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve in your body. His hands cradled your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and you melted into him, shared moment of longing finding its release.
Your heart raced, and you could barely find your voice. "And you have no idea what youâre doing to me," you replied, your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest. Just as the tension reached its peak, it snapped, and before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, urgent and filled with the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve in your body. His hands cradled your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and you melted into him, every shared moment of longing finding its release.
His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses. You gasped as his teeth gently nipped at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. "I love how you react to my touch."
You pulled him closer, your hands exploring the hard muscles of his back. "I want more," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Nicholas smiled, his eyes dark with lust. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt.
He lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes taking in every inch of your body. You stood there, vulnerable and exposed, yet feeling more confident than ever. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, making them harden instantly. You moaned, arching your back to press yourself against him.
Nicholas's mouth found your nipple, his tongue swirling around it before he took it into his mouth, sucking and nipping gently. You cried out, your hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place. He moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention, making you squirm with pleasure.
His hands moved down your body, tracing the curve of your hips before slipping under the waistband of your skirt. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it gently through your panties. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "I can't wait to taste you."
He slid your panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. You stepped out of them, standing before him completely naked. Nicholas knelt down, his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart. You braced yourself against the wall as his mouth found your pussy, his tongue licking you from your opening to your clit.
You moaned, your hips bucking against his face. Nicholas gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he continued to lick and suck you. His fingers found their way inside you, pumping in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin.
You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. "I'm close," you gasped, your hands clutching his hair. Nicholas looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire. "Come for me," he said, his voice commanding. And with that, you did, your body convulsing as your orgasm ripped through you.
Nicholas stood up, his lips covered in your juices. You pulled him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "I want you inside me," you whispered against his mouth. He smiled, his cock hard and ready against your stomach. "I want that too," he said, his voice filled with lust.
Taste yourself on him, the taste of your desire and pleasure. He laid down next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.
As your bodies cooled down, Nicholas whispered in your ear, "That was incredible." You smiled, your body still humming with pleasure. "It was," you agreed, your voice soft. Nicholas kissed your shoulder, his hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach.
The sun hung in the sky like a lazy star, casting golden rays on the bustling streets of Los Angeles. The city had a certain energy at noonâa buzz of laughter, chatter, and music that thrummed in the background as you and Nicholas made your way to a quaint cafĂŠ. You felt the familiar flutter in your stomach every time you laid eyes on him, this charming man who had flipped your world upside down since that fateful gala.
He was effortlessly stylish in a light denim jacket over a fitted t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled as though heâd just rolled out of bed. You, on the other hand, wore your confidence like your favorite dress; a royal blue sundress that swayed lightly with every step. The perfect dress for a casual afternoon felt like it had a purposeâto catch his eye, and today, it worked.
As you approached the entrance, Nicholas waved to a couple of fans who recognized him. They squealed in delight, their phones snapping pictures. A small smile played on his lips, but you could see the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. This was one of those moments when the reality of celebrity life hit hard.
You exchanged glances, your heart racing irrationally as he opened the door for you. âAfter you,â he grinned, revealing that perfectly straight line of teeth. Entering the cafĂŠ felt familiar and safeâa hidden gem filled with small wooden tables, rustic decor, and soft background music. As you settled in, the sunlight kissed your foreheads, creating a cozy atmosphere.
âSo, are you ready for your first official sighting as my girlfriend?â Nicholas teased, leaning back in his chair, his arms casually resting against the wooden surface of the table.
Your cheeks flushed at that labelâgirlfriend. It was surreal how quickly everything had escalated since that magical charity gala. "Iâm not sure Iâm ready for the spotlight yet,â you replied cautiously, stirring your iced coffee with a straw, trying to mask the nervous excitement rising within you.
Nicholas leaned forward, his hair falling slightly into his eyes as he spoke softly, âYou donât have to be. Iâll protect you from the madness, I promise.â His intensity sent a jolt through you, an understanding of why youâd been drawn to this enigmatic man in the first place. There was sincerity in his voice like you were the only two people in the world at that moment.
You suddenly felt exposed in the cafĂŠ filled with fellow patrons, but the air between you shifted as he reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly over your hand, a gesture so innocent yet electrifying. You fought to maintain composure; it was as if the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of you drowning in each otherâs gaze.
You laughed softly, attempting to lighten the mood. âWhat happens if we get caught in the act, huh? A scandalous photo of Nicholas Alexander Chavez holding hands with âmysterious girlâ? That'll definitely pique the tabloidsâ interest.â
His laughter echoed your own, bright and genuine. âRight? Theyâd paint me out to be a heartthrob dating a ânobodyââthe things theyâll come up with!â He mirrored your playful tone, clearly enjoying the idea.
Just then, the bell above the cafĂŠ door jingled, and a few patrons turned their heads to you. You pressed your lips together, not wanting to draw attention but unable to hide your reaction. You required a steady heartbeat, but somehow, being out with him felt exhilarating, like you were both part of a bit of magical fiction.
After placing your order, you focused on light conversation, sharing stories of your work and traveling. But as you delved deeper, the atmosphere began to shift. You spoke of dreams and ambitions, and he listened with such intent that the heat between you grew palpable. It was as if you were no longer just a fan but two souls connecting, sharing experiences that transcended the celebrity facade.
âSo, whatâs your greatest dream?â he asked suddenly, his gaze unwavering, making you feel like the center of his universe.
âI suppose I want to create somethingâŚâ you said hesitantly. âSomething that resonates with people, like a book or a novel that could help someone out there feel less alone.â You bit your lip, unsure whether your vulnerability would push him away.
A smile of encouragement spread across Nicholas's features. âI love that. You have such a kind heart, wanting to uplift others. But I have to admit, I always thought your first dream would be to become an actress.â
You chuckled, shaking your head. âNo, thatâs definitely not my path. Iâll leave the acting to you.â
âBut youâd be fantasticâgive it a try!â His enthusiasm shifted the conversationâs tone.
At that moment, your eyes locked, and the world around you faded again. His compliment lingered. In a cacophony of noise, it felt serene, amplifying the longing and tenderness brewing in the air.
As you finished lunch, Nicholas paid the bill, but before you could rise, he leaned in closer, whispering, âWant to take a walk? I think we could enjoy this beautiful weather.â
You nodded, heart racing as the waiter smiled knowingly at you both. The walk turned into a leisurely stroll down the picturesque street, but the quiet chatter and laughter from other customers filled the air. As couples passed, holding hands and giggling, doubt crept in. Would you fit into his world? Did you belong in a love story where the media followed every footstep?
Suddenly, someone shouted, âNicholas!â from behind. You turned to see a group of people snapping photos and shouting questions.
Nicholas held your hand tighter, his protective instincts kicking in as he led you away, heart pounding. âDonât worry; I wonât let them overwhelm you,â he reassured you, leading you down a quieter alleyway.
âHiding from the paparazzi already?â you teased, the wild energy of the afternoon igniting a playful spark.
âI think for now, itâs better to avoid the spotlight⌠but I promise weâll get used to it together.â He winked, the cheeky grin returning to his face.
Just then, you felt itâhis fingers brushing lightly against yours as you navigated the narrow space between two buildings, the electricity crackling and their connections sparking:
His eyes met yours, the air growing thick with unexpressed emotions and unspoken promises. It was a moment that reminded you there was still magic in the world.
As you turned, you collided against him, leaning into his warmth, your pulse racing. âYouâll keep me safe, right?â you murmured, inviting vulnerability.
âAlways,â he whispered, leaning ever closer, tantalizingly close yet challenging the rules of what was appropriate.
And in that sanctuary away from prying eyes and flashing cameras, you both indulged in the escalating tension, knowing the path ahead lay somewhere between public dreams and private desires. You were ready to embrace it.
The early morning sun poured through your window, casting a warm glow across your room. The excitement bubbling in your stomach was contagious, filling your thoughts as you prepared for a weekend that promised to be life-changing. Nicholas had invited you to a secluded beach house for a romantic getaway, a break from the intensities of the public eye and the constant buzz of Los Angeles. This was your chance to explore what had been building between you, surrounded by soft sand and the gentle sounds of the waves.
You slipped into a light sundress, the fabric flowing gracefully around your legs as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The vibrant colors highlighted your features, and you couldnât help but smile at your reflection. Today wasnât just another day; it was the beginning of an escape, a chance to relax and truly be yourself around Nicholas.
Arriving at the meeting point, you spotted Nicholas standing by his car, his face lit up with that captivating smile that made your heart race. He wore a casual ensemble: fitted jeans and a simple white T-shirt, yet he looked effortlessly handsome. As you approached, he greeted you with a warm hug, and a rush of butterflies fluttered through your stomach at the contact.
âReady for the best weekend of your life?â he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
You nodded, unable to form words. Instead, you climbed into the passenger seat, unable to suppress a grin as he slipped into the driverâs seat beside you. The car hummed to life, and with a quick glance your way, he put on a playlist of lighthearted tunes, instantly setting a cheerful tone for the road trip ahead.
As you pulled away from the city, the congested streets gave way to open roads flanked by tall trees and endless skies. You chatted about everything and nothing, laughter spilling easily between youâstories about childhood, your favorite places, dreams you hadnât shared with anyone before. With each passing mile, your connection deepened, growing from a spark to a flame.
âDo you ever get used to the whole celebrity thing?â you asked, curiosity guiding your question.
Nicholas chuckled softly, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. âHonestly? Sometimes it feels like a double life. The lights and glamour, yes, but then thereâs just normal me, you know? I love moments like thisâaway from it all."
His candidness made you smile. âI can only imagine. What do you do to escape?â
He glanced at you, a playful glint in his eye. âIâm a pro at finding cozy little spots. But nothing quite like this weekendâwith you, everything feels just right.â
The complimentary exchange of your thoughts flowed effortlessly, a gentle rhythm establishing between you both. Just as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you arrived at the beach house, a charming retreat nestled on the shore. The scents of salt and sea breeze welcomed you as you stepped out of the car.
âWelcome to paradise,â he declared theatrically, throwing his arms wide to encompass the view. The house was stunning, with large windows that framed views of the ocean, its soft roar beckoning you forward.
You took in the surroundings, feeling the magic of the setting. It was everything youâd dreamed of for a special weekend. Inside, the decor was warm and inviting, a mixture of coastal charm and modern amenities. Nicholas stepped over to the kitchen, a place where the eveningâs culinary adventure would soon unfold
kitchen, a place where the eveningâs culinary adventure would soon unfold.
âAny requests for dinner?â he asked, already pulling out pots and pans as if he had been preparing for this moment.
Your eyes lit up. âSurprise me! Just nothing too spicyâIâm not great with heat in my food,â you replied, good-naturedly teasing.
s he began preparing the meal, the kitchen transformed into a lively atmosphere. You took a content seat on the counter, watching him work. âYouâre quite the chef,â you commented, impressed as he expertly diced vegetables, contrasting with the actor persona you had become accustomed to seeing on-screen.
âOh, I dabble. Cooking is one of my favorite escapes. Want to help?â
He reached out, grabbing your hands and pulling you down to the floor, guiding you to stand beside him. The two of you continued the evening, creating delicious dishes and sharing flirtatious banter, his playful touches igniting electricity between you as he moved in close, his hands often resting on your waist or brushing your arms.
As the aromas of a delightful meal filled the air, the atmosphere gradually shifted. Dinner was served on the terrace, a beautiful candlelit setup overlooking the ocean. The flickering lights danced softly in the evening breeze, creating an intimate sanctuary away from the world.
With each bite, your conversation took on a deeper tone, revealing your hopes, dreams, and fears. Nicholas shared stories about his upbringing, moments that shaped him, and you reciprocated with your own stories, revealing layers of your life you rarely discussed. There was raw honesty in your exchanges, and the chemistry between you both became palpable.
Eventually, you transitioned from the terrace to the cozy living room, still wrapped in the warmth of each otherâs company. A half-empty bottle of red wine sat on the coffee table, two glasses clinking softly as you filled them. Sparks of laughter and connection intertwined as you prepared to settle down.
Finally, as he leaned back against the couch, he turned toward you, a serious look replacing the lighthearted atmosphere. âCan I tell you something?â he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
You nodded, curious.
âIâve never felt this way about anyone before. Thereâs something about you, something that pulls me in.â
Your heart raced, the raw honesty of his admission echoing loudly in the stillness of the room. You shifted closer, his gaze intoxicating.
âMe too, Nicholas,â you whispered back, your pulse quickening.
In that charged moment, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Nicholas leaned in, brushing a stray hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. The tension between you escalated, magnetic and electric.
He paused, searching your eyes for permission. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was no denying the longing that sparked in the air.
Then, in an instant, all the teasing and banter that had built up between you both broke free. His lips met yours in a flurry of passionâsoft, sweet, then deepening as he cupped your face in his hands. You melted against him, surrendering yourself to the intoxicating warmth of the moment. Yet, just when things began to escalate, you pulled away, breathless.
Time skip
It was one of those gloomy afternoons when the clouds hung low like a shroud over the bustling city. You had planned to spend the day curled up with a book and a cup of coffee, a comforting escape from the whirlwind of emotions that had become your life since dating Nicholas Alexander Chavez. However, as you scrolled through your phone, your relaxed intentions swiftly turned into a sensation of dread.
Your heart sank as you stumbled across the latest gossip blog, its headline screaming about Nicholasâs alleged romantic involvement with a co-star on set, someone whose name you recognized all too well. The article painted a scandalous picture, dripping with insinuation and wild conjecture. The infamous paparazzi photos were splashed across the screen, showing them laughing together: a moment that seemed innocent enough but was now twisted into a narrative that pricked at your insecurities.
hough you knew better than to believe everything you read, the fear gnawed at you. How could you ignore the whispers that echoed through your social media feed, fueled by both envy and intrigue? Your relationship with Nicholas had come with its share of challenges, but today felt particularly heavy.
You tossed your phone down, feeling the walls of your small apartment closing in. The truth was that the euphoria of dating a celebrity was fading, and the pressures were beginning to take a toll. You felt like a shadow of your former self, scared that the spotlight on him would ultimately burn you both.
Later that evening, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, the scent of spaghetti sauce filling the air, an attempt at normalcy. Just as you were about to plate up dinner, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a call from Nicholas, and your heart quickened.
âHey,â you managed to say, feigning nonchalance.
âHey, you! I just wrapped up for the day. How are you?â His voice was warm, inviting, grounding, despite the distance.
You took a deep breath and forced yourself to reply with enthusiasm, but the words caught in your throat. Silence stretched between you two as you contemplated how to broach the topic that loomed between you. Nicholas finally broke the silence, concern lacing his tone. âYou there?â
âYeah, just⌠saw something online.â You could hear the pitiful waver in your voice.
âWhat did you see?â He sounded wary, the weight of his career pressing down on both of you even over the phone.
You took another deep breath, knowing you had to be honest, yet fearing the repercussions. âThe rumors about you and Jade âŚâ
âJade?â His voice instantly hardened, the warmth vanishing. âWhat rumors?â
You quickly explained the article, feeling more exposed with each word. You could almost feel him stiffen through the line as he processed the information. âThatâs insane. Itâs purely professional. Weâre acting, Y/N! Itâs work!â
âI know that,â you responded, a twinge of frustration creeping into your voice. âBut everyone else doesnât. I canâtâ I donât think I can handle this. All this scrutiny⌠itâs overwhelming.â
There was a heavy silence before he spoke again, his voice brimming with tension. âSo youâre just going to believe what strangers think? I thought you knew me better than that.â
our heart raced as you protested, âItâs not that easy! Youâre living in a different universe! Iâm just⌠just trying to figure out if I fit into it.â
Are you saying you donât want this?â His voice cracked, and you could feel the heat of the confrontation rising.
âI donât know!â Tears pricked your eyes. âMaybe Iâm just scared⌠scared that this isnât real, that Iâm just a passing thought for you.â
âY/N, pleaseâdonât say that.â His voice softened as if he could sense the fracture in your heart. âYouâre not a passing thought. Youâre everything to me. Iâm just trying to keep everything balanced.â
âIs that really what this is about?â you asked, barely above a whisper. âCan you even make time for me with your crazy schedule?â
âIâm trying!â he snapped back, frustration spilling into the conversation. âCanât you see Iâm trying?â
The emotional storm swirling around you started to feel unbearable. âYouâre not the only one whoâs struggling, Nicholas. I love you, but I canât keep fighting this war of doubts, not when every new headline feels like a dagger to the relationship weâve built.â
His silence felt as heavy as the dense clouds outside. Finally, he sighed deeply. âI wish you could see how much I want this to work.â
Then show me,â you challenged, your voice trembling with vulnerability. âShow me how much I matter.â
A long pause hung in the air before he said, âI need you to trust me, Y/N. Iâm all inâjust give me the chance to prove it.â
The tension was palpable, a push and pull of raw emotions crashing in waves against the shore of your relationship. You both wanted to bridge the gap, but scarring doubts lingered like ghostly whispers, refusing to be easily banished.
âAlright,â you finally breathed, torn between belief and fear. âIâll try.â
Good,â he replied softly, the warmth creeping back into his voice. âJust donât shut me out, okay?â
âI wonât. I promise.â With that, you decided to let the conversation end for now. A bittersweet sense of hope flickered within you, but still, the tension lingered, unresolved, heavy between you like a storm waiting to break.
As night fell, you wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing for clarity. Your heart ached with uncertainty, leaving you to wonder if love could be enough to weather the darkest clouds. You just hoped that amidst the chaos, Nicholas would find a way to show you that your place in the storm was secure.
long shadows cast across your living room as you sat curled up on the couch, surrounded by a fortress of pillow cushions. The remnants of a half-eaten tub of your favorite ice cream lay abandoned beside you, and the TV buzzed in the background, but you couldn't concentrate on the screen. Your mind was tangled in knots, replaying everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks since that fateful argument with Nicholas.
He had stormed out after you accused him of being too wrapped up in his fame and his new co-star, Jade. You hadn't meant it to sound so harsh, but doubt had crept in, nurtured by the gossip blogs that twisted every picture of Nicholas and Jade into scandalous narratives. The backlash on social media was relentless, and it had hurt to see the way his fans celebrated every interaction with her. The moment had spiraled out of control, and you hadnât seen him since.
Part of you had fought to suppress the nagging voice that whispered you were better off without him. But deep down, you knew that was a lie. Your heart ached with longing; the laughter you shared, the way his dark eyes sparkled when he told you stories from the set, and the intensity of the moments when it was just the two of you. It all felt like a dream slipping away and leaving nothing behind but confusion.
As you stared wistfully out of the window, a sudden vibration from your phone nearly startled you, pulling you from your reverie. Your heart raced as you picked it up. The screen lit up with Nicholasâs name, and for a moment, you hesitated. A part of you wanted to ignore it, to keep your distance and maintain the facade of being strong and self-sufficient. But the longing was almost unbearable, and you answered.
âNicholas,â you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribcage.
Y/N,â he replied, his voice warm yet laced with an urgency that set you on fire. âCan we talk?â
âYes,â you whispered, emotions swirling like a tempest inside you. His tone seemed both reassured and uncertain, a blend that made your stomach churn with anxiety. A few moments later, he announced, âIâm on my way.â
You nearly dropped the phone, panic intertwining with excitement in your chest. âWhere? How?â
Just⌠meet me outside?â The call ended abruptly, leaving you both exhilarated and apprehensive. You sprang to your feet, the ice cream forgotten, rushing to compose yourself. You combed your fingers through your hair and replaced your sweatpants with a casual but flattering outfit. The wait felt like an eternity as you hovered near the window, glancing outside between drags of breaths.
Then you saw him, stepping out of an Uber, his familiar silhouette striking against the late afternoon sun. His hair tousled and a hint of stubble adorning his jawbone, he looked as if he had just walked out of a magazine coverâstunningly recognizable yet painfully human all at once. Your pulse quickened, a rush of love and anxiety engulfing you, surfacing just as he approached your door.
When you opened it, he stood there, his face a mixture of determination and vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings. The moment hung heavy between you, neither of you quite ready to bridge the gap that had formed during your time apart.
âCan I come in?â he asked softly.
You nodded, stepping aside to allow him entry, and as you closed the door, a weight settled on your chest. He turned to face you, and in that instant, memories of laughter and shared moments flooded back, heavy with what you both had built amid the chaos of his celebrity life and escalating pressures.
Look,â Nicholas began, running a hand through his hair, a gesture you recognized as one of frustration. âI flew back from shooting just to talk to you. I needed to understand whyâŚâ He trailed off, searching for the right words.
âWhy I doubted you?â you supplied, your voice catching in your throat. âWhy I called out your relationship with Jade as something it wasnât?â
Exactly.â He drew closer, his intensity drawing you into a whirlpool of emotions. âYou have every right to feel insecure, and if I made you feel that way... Iâm sorry. But I want you to know itâs always been you for me. The glimpses of my world you saw were never meant to keep you out. It was never just publicity for me. ThisâŚâ He stepped back slightly, motioning between you two. âThis is real.â
Tears stung your eyes at the sincerity of his words. âWhat about the rumors? People sayâŚâ
People say a lot of things. I let the noise drown out our silence. I thought I could handle it, but losing you... itâs the worst part of all this.â His voice smoldered beneath layers of vulnerability. âIâd give up everything if it meant keeping you close.â
You swallowed hard, the echoes of his confession wrapping around your heart. âBut can we manage this? Can love withstand all the chaos surrounding you?â
He took a step closer, invading the space with his presence, his warm breath mingling with yours. âWe can fight for it. The world can be loud, but I want every moment I can steal with you. The quiet parts. The messy ones. The fights when we disagree. All of it.â
He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and for a moment, everything else fadedâthe doubts, the scrutiny, the world outside. It felt just like those stolen moments you had experienced before. âWhat if I canât handle the spotlight?â you asked, your heart racing as you met his gaze.
Nicholas took your hand gently, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. âThen Iâll ensure you never have to face it alone. Iâll be there, holding your hand through every ordeal, every misunderstanding. We can figure this out together.â
His voice dropped to a husky whisper that made your heart flutter. The intensity between you was palpable, the distance collapsing into closeness until your lips were just inches apart. Your breath mingled with his as the weight of uncertainty melted into a spark of connection.
âI might need some convincing,â you teased lightly, searching for a way to ease the tension that had built. Nicholas grinned, and that boyish charm made your insides tingle.
"Then allow me." He closed the gap, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting everything you had been missingâdesire and warmth swept over you like an all-consuming flame, melting away your fears. It was electric, each brush of his lips reminding you why you had fought so hard against doubt.
His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue teased your lips. You parted them, inviting him deeper, and he accepted the invitation with a hungry groan. His fingers trailed up your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before they tangled in your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss.
You melted into him, your body pressing against his as your hands explored the contours of his chest. The feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips made you ache for more. You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and he trailed soft kisses down your neck, making you shiver.
You taste amazing," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. "I could kiss you all night."
And I could let you," you whispered back, your voice barely audible over the music. "But I have a feeling there's more you want to do."
He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made you shiver. "You're right, I want to see you," he said, his voice rough with need. "Every inch of you."
You smiled, slowly unbuttoning your blouse as his eyes followed your every move. He reached out, helping you slip it off your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin and sending shivers down your spine.
You're gorgeous," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he traced the line of your bra with his fingertips. "And I want to taste every inch of you."
He leaned down, his lips claiming yours once more as his hands unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. You gasped as his mouth found your nipple, his tongue circling the sensitive bud before taking it into his mouth. You arched against him, a moan escaping your lips as he sucked and teased, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip as he made his way down to your waistband. He unbuttoned your jeans, his fingers brushing against your skin as he slid them down your hips. You stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but your panties.
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You're amazing," he said, his voice a low growl. "And I want to make you feel amazing."
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down until they joined your jeans on the floor. You stood before him, completely naked, as he took a moment to appreciate every inch of your body.
"You're perfect," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Absolutely perfect."
He led you to his bed, laying you down gently before joining you. His hands explored your body, his touch gentle yet firm as he traced the line of your thigh, his fingers brushing against your most intimate place. You gasped, your hips arching against his touch as he slipped a finger inside you, his thumb circling your clit.
You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me."
ou nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as he added another finger, his pace increasing as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.
Come for me," he whispered, his voice a command as his thumb pressed against your clit. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.
He kissed you gently, his fingers still inside you as he slowly pulled them out. You could feel the emptiness, the ache for more, and you knew that you wanted him inside you.
e rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, his cock hard and ready against your entrance. You guided him inside, gasping as he filled you completely. You began to move, your hips rising and falling as you found your rhythm.
He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he met your thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound that filled the room. You could hear your own moans, the sound of your breath as it caught in your throat, the feel of his cock inside you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.
"Faster," you gasped, your body aching for more. "Harder."
He obliged, his hips thrusting upwards as he met your downward strokes, his cock slamming into you with a force that made you cry out. You could feel the pleasure building again, your body tensing as you rode him, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support.
Yes," you gasped, your body convulsing as another orgasm washed over you, leaving you breathless and shaking. You could feel him inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his own release, his body tensing as he came with a low groan.
You collapsed against him, your body slick with sweat as you struggled to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.
"That was amazing," he said, his voice a low murmur as he kissed the top of your head. "Absolutely amazing."
You smiled, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "It certainly Was"
Nicholas drew you closer, kissing you deeper, his hands weaving into your.
âLetâs not let anything come between us again,â he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.
âI want that too,â you replied, the tension of unresolved issues still swirling in the air. But there was something vibrant, something alive in the way his gaze held yours.
Nicholas paused, his expression turning serious once more, âIâll fight for you, Y/N. Always.â
_________
BYEEE LONGEST FIC EVER.. #needthat
Comments are much appreciate I love it đ
#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez#nicholas Alexander chavez x reader#smut#fluff#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas chavez fluff#nicholas chavez fanfiction#nicholas chavez x reader#x reader#drama#i need that man so bad#so hot and sexy
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Sending another thought that I canât think of a way to elaborate on to your magnificent mind
Aaron Hotchner with his assistant whoâs rambling (like every other day) about random stuff and sheâs just like âI want kids somedayâ and Hotch is like âoh yea?â And sheâs like âyea! And if I ever have kids I hope theyâre just like Jack, heâs such a little angelâ blah blah blah and poor Hotch is screaming in his mind like YOU COULD HAVE JACK??? BE HIS STEPMOM????
Sorry Iâm absolutely feral for them ily bye
BUSINESS OF MAKING BABIES - A.H
a/n: i took this in a slightlyyyy different direction but ugh same im so feral for these two!!!! thank you for your most amazing request! i <3 you!
masterlist
pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader
warnings: references to baby making!!!!!!
wc: 0.6k
Aaron needed to get work done, but his focus was more trained on the delicate patch of skin that connected your shoulder to your neck, smooth and glowing like you'd just stepped out of the sun. You smelled delectably good, which was sending his neurons into overdrive. You were saying something, formulating and articulating thoughts from that perfect brain and through your also perfect mouth.Â
He was concentrated on making sure you knew he was listening, nodding and humming every so often as you continued on your tangent, hands waving dramatically through the air, heels clanking on the floor in his office as you paced the room. His gaze moved to your thighs, only for a second, he was a gentleman after all.Â
"And she's just, you know, popping them out left and right, and I'm over here like, Hello? Can I get a turn? I'm not asking for much, just a sweet guy who's willing to, you know, help me out with the whole baby-making thing."
You stopped dead in front of his desk, placing your hands atop the wood as you let out a melodramatic sigh. This caught his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours.
"You want kids?" The words left his mouth before he could filter them. "Isn't that a bit premature at your age?"
"Okay, Grandpa," you giggled, plopping yourself down in the chair before him. "And, of course, I want babies. They'd be the cutest, hopefully just like Jack. He's the sweetest, isn't he?"
Hotch felt his heart plummet to his stomach, jaw clenching and unclenching as he rubbed his thumb along the rough edges of his chin. "Yeah, he's pretty great."
You sighed again, a common occurrence in this conversation, as you stood up and moved around the desk before plopping yourself down on it. Your calve grazed accidentally against his thigh. You absentmindedly adjusted a wrist full of charm bracelets, creating a gentle jingling sound that should've annoyed him, but it did anything but.
"Honestly, though, who even needs a boyfriend these days? I could totally just take the whole donor route for the baby thing. Easy-peasy!"
Hotch's response came after a brief, flustered pause, during which he seemed to search for the right words. Clearing his throat, he managed to look anywhere but at you as he carefully said, "Ah, yes, I suppose you could... do that."
In an effort to regain some semblance of control over the situation, Hotch took a deliberate sip of the somewhat stale coffee sitting on his desk. However, before he could swallow, you bounded off the desk, eyes wide with sudden realization.
"You know what? You would be a great donor."
The coffee in Hotch's mouth nearly made a swift exit as he choked, trying to comprehend what you had just said.
Hotch opened his mouth, attempting to form a coherent response, but before he could broker a single word, you had both hands on his shoulders.
Your eyes were sparkling as you took in his face. "Yeah, like, you have great hair--totally not receding--perfect eyes, great skin..."
Your rapid-fire compliments left him momentarily speechless, a rare flush making its way to his cheeks.
"Well, I--" Hotch began, but your excitement had already taken the reins before he could even navigate through his thoughts.
"I can totally see it; we'd have such cute kids!" you gushed, practically dancing towards the door as if your dreams were almost tangible in the air.
Hotch watched you leave, stuck in his chair, dumbfounded and momentarily lost for words. A bemused smile formed on his lips as he realized he didn't hate the idea at all.
No sooner had the door closed behind you than Morgan appeared, looking thoroughly baffled. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between Hotch and the door you had just exited through.
"Since when are you and Miss Pretty in Pink in the business of making babies together?"
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