Max Fanart Brawl Stars Novels & Stories

It is raw, primal, unbreakable. The three pairs move toward each other, their bodies drawn like magnets, like the universe itself has decided this moment was destined to happen. A collective sigh of relief escapes my lips. The Mate Bond Brawl is over. For the first time in what feels like forever, there will be no more fights over mates. No more broken hearts. No more deaths to satisfy an archaic law. This, this is what was meant to be. I'm glad that Arinthal and Tharros now understand that I'm not theirs. Had Kaiden not been too far gone, I'm sure he'd have mate his mate as well.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

The golden boy image was completely shattered, replaced by someone who looked almost feral. Liam was still standing in the same spot, his chest rising and falling rapidly like he'd just finished running sprints. His fist was still clenched, and I could see a small cut on his knuckle where it had connected with Caleb's nose. His eyes were dark and fierce, completely focused on Caleb like he was ready to throw another punch if needed.

Lanton is bellowing at Haris, who is uncomprehending. He throws a punch at him and immediately Haris falls to the ground. Lanton now stands on top of the boy and starts throwing more punches at his face, Haris tries to fight back but can't because he is almost paralysed. "Lanton, stop it! Stop it!" I shout at him. "Lanton!" It's Dimas who does something, he pulls Lanton and pushes him away, going to check the state of Haris, who is groaning on the floor. I run towards him and realize that his face is bloodied.

With a gasp, a nearby waiter turned and scurried to grab a broom. Thalía was suddenly standing next to him. She held out a small towel. Gabriel took it. “Gracias. (Spa for ‘thank you’)” “Gabri, you’re wasting your time with her,” Thalía said quietly, nodding toward Calleigh. “You’re going to get hurt, you know that.” “You’re wrong.” Gabriel wiped the blood off his hand with the towel. The cuts were superficial.

"Cranberry glitter glue. The holy grail of preschool warfare." An eyebrow twitched. Barely. But it was more reaction than she'd gotten yesterday. "I thought maybe we could do a little art therapy. Or just glue random objects to the scary wolves outside. Whatever works." No laugh. No smile. But the silence had shifted. The chair beside her scraped back. Not the angel. The other one. The always brooding demon of vengeance in black. Of course. He appeared like smoke—unannounced, uninvited, carrying gravity in his wake. He didn't speak at first. Just looked between them with a sharpness that felt like being dissected. His gaze dropped to the toast between them. Then to the glitter glue tube in h

(In Valentino's POV) "È il bastardo morto?" (“Is the bastard dead?”) I asked already knowing that he would never do that because he knew how much I enjoyed killing people. "Nessun capo! Solo catturato." (“No boss! Only captured.”) He answered and I smirked knowing that he will be my new plaything.