#I couldn't carry a conversation in a bucket

[encryptedlunacy]

In order to have fun things like Life Experiences and Hobbies you have to stop avoiding people and go and socialise oh nooo

[eu-nicola]

one night

summary: one night with Max left a problem that you didn't talk to him about

warnings: pregnancy, and idk you tell me

word counter: 8005

author’s note: english is not my first language

The night was charged with a strange electricity that you didn't know how to explain. It was one of those improvised meetings in the house of a mutual friend, where laughter and talk mixed with the low sound of the music. You had known Max all your life, shared years of friendship, confidences and mutual support. He had always been your refuge, the kind of person who could read you with a single look.

That night, however, everything felt different.

Max was sitting next to you on the couch, closer than usual, and you couldn't help but notice every detail of his presence. The way his fingers played with the edge of his glass, the sound of his deep laughter when someone told an absurd joke, and how his eyes seemed to look for yours more than necessary. You tried to ignore it, attributing everything to your imagination, but it was useless. There was something there, something that both seemed to feel but did not want to admit.

The night advanced and the hours became more blurry. Most of the guests had left, leaving only a small group of close friends. But even they began to disappear, until you found yourself alone with Max in the dimly lit room.

"Another glass?" he offered you, getting up to fill your glass of wine.

"I don't know if I should," you replied, laughing softly, but you accepted anyway.

The conversation became more intimate, the topics more personal. They talked about the moments they had shared, how they had changed on time. At some point, Max leaned towards you, his expression more serious than usual.

"Have you ever wondered...?" he began, but left the phrase in the air.

"What?" you asked, feeling how your heart was racing.

He shook his head, as if he had decided not to say it. But his eyes told you something he couldn't put into words. Then it happened. A moment of courage - or madness - led you to close the distance between the two. The kiss was unexpected, intense, full of years of repressed feelings that finally found a way out.

The night continued between caresses and whispers, the outside world disappearing completely. For a few hours, everything felt like it was fine, as if this was what both had been waiting for without knowing it.

But the next morning, reality struck like a bucket of cold water. Max was in the kitchen when you woke up, his movements tense, avoiding your gaze. They barely spoke, an uncomfortable silence that looked nothing like the dynamics they had had for years.

"Last night..." he began, scratching the back of his neck, "it was... unexpected.

"Yes, it was," you admitted, pretending to feel a tranquility that you didn't feel.

They both knew that something had changed, something they couldn't ignore, but they didn't know how to handle it either. So, slowly, they began to move away. Messages that were previously constant became sporadic, and then non-existent. The calls stopped. His absence hurt, but you didn't know what to do about it.

Weeks later, while trying to move on with your life, you realized that something was not right. Morning sickness, constant fatigue, and the absence of your period led you to buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy, your hands shaking while you waited for the result.

Two lines. Positive.

Your mind was filled with questions, fears and doubts, but one thing was clear: the baby was Max's. And although your first instinct was to call him, reason prevailed. Max had been in a serious relationship with Kelly for a while, a woman who had a little daughter whom he had accepted as his own. You knew he was committed to that life, and you couldn't ruin it all.

You decided to keep quiet. You would raise your baby alone, without complicating anyone else's life. But deep down, you knew that this secret would not be easy to carry. The life you had shared with Max felt like a distant memory, a "and if" that would never have a response.

You refused to think too much about what it implied. The more you thought about it, the more you sank into a whirlwind of contradictory emotions: fear, sadness, pride, and a kind of determination that you didn't know you had. You knew that your life would change drastically, but you also knew that you didn't want Max to be part of this new chapter. Not because you didn't trust him, but because his life was already defined, and you didn't want to be the person who broke it to pieces.

The decision was clear to you: you needed space, distance, something that would help you start again without Max's shadow and his responsibilities. So, little by little, you began to prepare your escape.

First, you stopped frequenting the places where you knew you might meet him. You changed your phone number, blocked almost all mutual friends on your social networks and pretended that you needed "time for yourself" when someone asked about your disappearance. Weeks passed, and your pregnancy began to be harder to hide. You looked in the mirror every morning, noticing the changes in your body and reminding yourself why you were doing it.

One day, after a visit to the doctor, you sat in your car and made the final decision. You looked at the familiar streets around you, the places that had always been your home, and you knew it was time to leave them behind.

London. You had always wanted to live there, and now it seemed like the perfect opportunity to start over. Without telling anyone but your boss, you submitted your resignation, packed your things and booked a plane ticket. The plan was simple: you would settle in an apartment, work in your family's company as they had wanted so long, and raise your baby away from any possibility of Max discovering the truth.

When you arrived in London, the city greeted you with a cold and humid air, typical of early autumn. You moved to an apartment in a quiet area, with enough cafes and parks nearby to keep you busy.

Then you had disappeared from the digital radar for months. Your social networks, which used to be full of spontaneous photos, updates and everyday moments, had been left in absolute silence. You hadn't posted anything for a long time, and although you kept looking from time to time, reviewing the stories and publications of others, you made sure not to leave any traces of your presence. It was as if you had become a ghost that I watched from a distance.

People began to notice your absence. You knew it because, when reviewing your old posts, you found endless comments asking you where you were. "Everything okay?", "We miss you", "Why haven't you uploaded anything?" some said. Others simply left emojis, hearts, or words of support. But even when nostalgia for your previous life invaded you, you still didn't respond.

It wasn't exactly fear, but a feeling of wanting to protect this very personal stage. The pregnancy had been a roller coaster of emotions: illusion, uncertainty, and moments of loneliness that you fought remembering why you were doing this. Your little world in London had become your refuge, and sharing it with the rest of the world still didn't seem necessary to you.

But everything changed when the month came in which you decided to know the gender of your baby. The doctor's appointment was marked on your calendar, and you couldn't deny that you were excited and a little nervous. It was a strange feeling, as if knowing the gender made everything even more real, as if the baby that grew inside you began to take the form of a person you would soon meet.

The doctor's room was lit with a warm light, and the constant sound of the monitor filled the air. You lay back on the stretcher, taking a deep breath while the doctor applied the cold gel to your belly. The screen in front of you showed the blurred silhouette of your baby, and you felt that knot in your chest that always invaded you when you saw it.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked, with a smile.

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment they told you was unforgettable. A child. A child who would soon become the center of your world. You smiled as tears accumulated in your eyes. For an instant, all the doubts, fears and difficult decisions vanished, replaced by pure and simple happiness.

That same afternoon, while you were walking back to your apartment, you decided it was time. For the first time in months, you felt the impulse to share this part of your life with others. It wasn't out of pressure, or to please anyone, but because you wanted to celebrate this little miracle you were waiting for.

You took a couple of pictures, wearing a white dress that highlighted your belly. The brightness of your skin, the pride in your eyes and the shy smile on your face were more than evident. You weren't the type to plan great revelations, but you knew you wanted to do something special.

You sat on the edge of your bed, carefully selecting the images and writing a description that reflected how you felt:

"After months of silence, I finally want to share the reason why my world changed. I'm expecting a beautiful baby, a boy who will arrive soon to light up my life. I can't explain in words the joy and love I feel knowing that I will be a mom. Thank you to everyone who has been asking about me and worrying in silence. I'm fine, better than I've been in a long time. 💙”

You took a breath before publishing it, hesitating for a moment. What would happen if this reached Max's ears? You knew I would do it but you pushed those thoughts away from your mind and pressed the publish button.

Within minutes, notifications began to flood your phone. Comments of surprise, love and congratulations appeared one after another. "Congratulations!", "You're going to be an amazing mom!", "A child? What a thrill!". The answer was overwhelming, and as you read them, you felt a warmth that enveloped you.

You allowed yoursellelless to smile again. For the first time in a long time, you let the world know a part of your new reality.

You didn't expect all that to go so far. After posting the news on your social networks, you felt a mixture of relief and vulnerability. You had shared your truth with the world, but you couldn't control who could see it, how they would react or what they would say behind your back.

Then Max's message arrived.

It was almost ten o'clock at night and you were on your couch, with your legs crossed and a bowl of ice cream in your hands, responding to the hundreds of comments that kept coming. Your phone vibrated, and when you looked at the notification, you felt how the air left your lungs.

It was a message from Max.

"Congratulations to you and the baby's father. I hope you are well. Really, I'm glad to know that you're happy."

You were frozen, reading and rereading the message as if you were unable to process it. How did he get your number? Who had told him? Why had I decided to write to you after so long? All these questions crowded into your mind, but none had an immediate answer.

You didn't know what to do. The most instinctive part of you wanted to ignore it, as if you had never seen the message. But another part, more emotional, I knew that would not be fair. He had been kind, had respected the distance, and had not hinted at anything that could complicate things.

You put the phone aside, squeezing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You had to answer, but what to say? You couldn't reveal the truth, that was clear. But you didn't want to sound cold or distant either. So you took your time, thinking about every word, every semicomon, before writing:

"Thank you, Max. I'm fine and so is the baby. I'm glad to hear from you."

You hit "send" before you could regret it, your heart beating hard while you waited, not knowing if he would answer. Every vibration of your phone made you jump, but the minutes passed, then the hours, and nothing else arrived.

Silence was a relief and torture at the same time. On the one hand, you were grateful that he didn't insist, that he didn't ask questions that you couldn't or didn't want to answer. But on the other hand, you wondered what he would be thinking, if he had really believed your version.

That night, before going to sleep, you thought about his message over and over again. It was so typical of Max: courteous, respectful, but letting out that closeness that had always existed between you. You knew him well enough to know that he must be curious, even if he didn't say it.

Max didn't write to you again. There were no more messages, calls or contact attempts. And although one part of you hoped it wasn't like that, another, more practical, deeply thanked him. The conversation had been at a neutral point, without complications or confrontations, exactly as you wanted.

The days passed with a strange tranquility. Since Max's message, you had not heard from him again, and life in London was on course. Your daily routines had become a kind of comfort: working from home, walking through nearby parks and mentally preparing for the arrival of your baby. But that calm was suddenly broken when your family called you with news that you did not expect.

You were lying on the couch, reviewing a list of things for the baby, when your mother called you. Her voice sounded excited, almost as if she was holding herst out so as not to scream with joy.

"We have something to tell you," he said, without even saying hello first.

"What happened?" you asked, anticipating that something important was coming.

“Your father and I have decided to go back to Monaco. The company is doing better than ever, and we believe it is the perfect time to return home. We've been away too long.”

The news hit you like a gust of cold air. Monaco Your lifelong home, the place where you had grown up, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you. But also the place you had left behind when you moved to London, in search of a new beginning.

"When do you plan to move?" you asked, trying to sound calmer than you felt.

"In a few weeks." We want you to come with us, of course. It's time for us to get back together, especially now that you're expecting a baby.

The proposal left you silent. You knew that your mother didn't say it with bad intentions; she was excited about the idea of having her first grandson around. But for you, the decision was not so simple. London had become your refuge, the place where you had managed to rebuild your life away from everything that tied you to your past. Returning would mean facing everything you had been avoiding, starting with Max.

Monaco was not a place where you could easily hide. Your family was well known, with important connections in the business and social circles of the city. If you came back, everyone would be behind you with questions. And even worse, there was a high probability that you would cross paths with Max during the Formula 1 break.

The following days were a storm of thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, the idea of being alone in London terrified you. With the baby on the way, you knew you would need support, and your family had always been by your side in important moments. But on the other hand, returning to Monaco meant opening a door that you had closed with so much effort.

You sat in front of the window of your small apartment one night, looking at the city lights while reflecting. You were mature enough not to worry about what people would say, but facing Max was something else. You knew each other, and you knew that his presence had an effect on you that you had never been able to fully control.

Finally, after days of thinking and rethinking, you made a decision.

You would return to Monaco.

It wouldn't be easy, but you were tired of living in fear. You didn't want your child to be born in a place where you felt isolated and vulnerable. Your family was important to you, and you knew you could trust them to support you, even if they didn't fully understand why you had made certain decisions.

The next day, you called your mother to give her the news.

"I'm going back with you," you said, your voice firm but with a touch of nervousness.

She couldn't hide her joy. He started talking about the plans for the trip, how they would organize everything so that you were comfortable. His enthusiasm made you smile, although a part of you was still restless.

The weeks passed in the blink of an eye. You packed your things, silently saying goodbye to London and the small shelter you had built there. When the day of your departure came, you looked for the last time at the streets that had become your temporary home, promising yourself that, whatever happens in Monaco, you would be strong.

The plane landed in Monaco at sunset, and the view of the city filled you with a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness. It was as if a part of you had never really left. But you knew the real test was yet to come. Max was there, somewhere, and sooner or later, you would have to face him.

It didn't take long for that, "The event" as your family used to say was something typical: a great meeting in one of the most exclusive lounges in Monaco, where the closest families could live together. Your parents had organized it as a kind of welcome to resume old connections after returning to the city. From the invitation, you knew that it would be inevitable to cross paths with people from the past, but you didn't think too much about who might be. There were so many names, so many familiar faces, that you assumed you could stay on the sidelines without drawing too much attention.

You dressed up with care that night, choosing a simple white dress that enhanced your figure. The fabric flowed gently over your growing belly, marking it delicately without being too flashy. You left your hair loose, with natural waves, and applied light makeup. You wanted to see yourself well, but without trying too hard.

When we arrived at the event, the room was already full. Laughter and conversations filled the air, and the children ran back and forth while the adults met in small groups. There was something familiar in the atmosphere, something that transported you to the years when you had also been a girl in those meetings. It was at one of these parties where you met Max.

Years ago...

You were a restless girl, full of curiosity and not afraid to talk to anyone, even if they were older than you. Max, on the other hand, was more reserved, even a little grumpy for his age. However, somehow, you found a way to break his serious facade. With your energetic personality, you managed to let my guard down. To everyone's surprise, he, who always seemed uncomfortable in these meetings, got along with you from the beginning. In those days, both became inseparable, exploring together every corner of these events while the adults chatted.

Returning to the present...

That memory made you smile a little, but it also made you feel a knot in your stomach. You tried to shake the nostalgia and focus on the night. You walked among the guests, chatting with those who approached you, most of them congratulating you on the pregnancy. Although you felt out of place, you tried to stay calm.

That's when you saw it.

Max was standing near one of the tables, dressed in a dark suit that sat him spotlessly. He was accompanied by Kelly, and her little daughter. The air seemed to disappear from your lungs instantly.

He also saw you.

For a second, your eyes met, and his expression changed. He seemed surprised, maybe even uncomfortable, but he immediately regained his composure. You, on the other hand, felt that your heart was beating so hard that it was hard for you to breathe. Instinctively, you turned on your heels, looking for a way out. You weren't ready to face him, even less with Kelly by his side.

But Max was faster.

Before you could disappear into the crowd, he and Kelly approached you. His every step made the panic inside you increase. You wanted to run, excuse yourself, anything to avoid that moment, but there was no escape.

"Hey!" Max said, with a smile that seemed contained, as if he was also dealing with something internal. His voice was warm, as if the months of silence between you had not existed. He pointed at Kelly and said—: “This is Kelly, my girlfriend.”

Kelly smiled politely and held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she said. Max has told me that you two have been friends since you were little.

Your mind was going a thousand per hour, but you managed to force a smile and shake his hand.

"Yes, that's right. For... many years” you replied, striving to keep your voice stable.

Max, as if he wanted to relieve the tension, added with a more relaxed smile:

"It's amazing to see you here, and congratulations again, both for you and for the baby's father.”

The words "baby's father" echoed in your mind like an echo. Kelly also congratulated you, and although there was nothing in his words that sounded malicious, you felt that your whole body tensed up.

"Thank you," you managed to say, nodding with a shy smile.

You couldn't take it anymore. You made up the first excuse you could think of.

"Excuse me, I need to go get something to drink." It has been a pleasure to see you.

Before they could say anything else, you walked away with quick steps, feeling the eyes of both of them fixed on your back. You didn't stop until you were far away, in a corner of the living room where you could catch your breath.

Your heart kept beating hard, and your hands were shaking. You had managed to get out of that conversation, but the meeting had removed all the emotions you had tried to bury. Max was there, and although you hadn't admitted it out loud, seeing him had made everything feel real again.

The night continued as a blur of superficial conversations and forced laughter. Every time Max and his little family appeared in your line of sight, you found a way to dodge them, pretending that someone else required your attention. You kept busy talking to acquaintances, checking your phone and serving yourself lemon water in an attempt to distract yourself. All in vain. His presence weighed like a cloud on you, a constant that you could not ignore even if you tried.

As soon as you finished pretending to be interested in a business conversation, you decided you needed a break. The bustle of the living room began to suffocate you, and the fresh air outside seemed like the perfect solution. You walked towards the gardens, feeling the relief of the silence as you left the music and laughter behind.

The sky of Monaco was clear, and the city lights were reflected in the nearby water. You recharged against a railing, closing your eyes and letting the breeze caress your face. For a moment, the world seemed calmer, less complicated.

Until you heard his voice behind you.

"It's not very typical of you to escape from the party."

You turned quickly, with your heart racing. Max was there, with his hands in his pockets and an expression that you didn't know how to interpret. He seemed relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel that he had come with a purpose.

"I didn't escape. I just needed a little air” you replied, trying to sound casual while your hands fiddled with the railing.

Max approached, leaving enough space between you, but enough to make his presence impossible to ignore.

"It was nice to see you today. I didn't expect to find you here," he said, his words loaded with something you couldn't define.

"I say the same," you replied, looking at the horizon instead of him.

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again.

"Your family must be excited about the baby and his father too. I'm sure they're spoiling you a lot.”

You smiled slightly, although his tone made you feel a pang in your chest. You decided it was better to be honest before he continued to assume things.

"They are happy, yes. But my baby doesn't have a father.”

Max seemed to stop in his tracks. His expression changed, and for a moment he seemed to be looking for the right words.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know."

You looked at him then, meeting his look that seemed sincerely hurt.

"Don't do it," you told him, your tone firm but without hardness. “Don't be regretted. I'm happy, Max. My family is happy. I can't ask for more. This child will be surrounded by love, and that's all that matters.”

Max nodded slowly, but his eyes continued to reflect something else, something he didn't say out loud.

"I always thought you would be an incredible mom," he said after a moment, with a small smile.

You forced yourself to smile too, although his comment stirred you inside. You wanted to change the subject, prevent the conversation from taking a more emotional turn, but Max was the one who spoke first.

"I want to be in your life again."

His words were like a direct blow to the chest. You looked at him, stunned, trying to understand exactly what he meant.

"Max..." you started, but he raised a hand, interrupting you.

"I'm not saying that I'm going to get into something that doesn't belong to me. I just... I want to be part of your life again, as we were before. I could be a good uncle for that little one," he added, with a smile that seemed sincere, although also somewhat sad.

That was too much for you. His words, his tone, the way he seemed so sure of wanting to be close but at the same time setting limits... It was a reminder of what had been and what it could not be. You felt your heart tighten, as if the air became denser.

"I would love to have you back in my life, Max. You've always been a good friend” you managed to say, although it was hard for you to keep your voice stable.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on yours for an eternal second. Then he looked towards the house, as if something was calling him back.

"I'm glad to hear it. See you inside," he said softly, before turning around and walking towards the living room.

You stayed there, watching how his figure disappeared between the lights of the party. You felt a mixture of emotions that you couldn't fully decipher. There was something reassuring in knowing that he wanted to be in your life, but also something deeply painful in hearing the words "good friend" come out of his lips.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lump in your throat. You knew that the best thing was to return too, but before you needed a few more minutes to pull yourself together.

When the night finally came to an end, and while you were helping your mother say goodbye to the last guests, you felt the exhaustion creep into every fiber of your body. Between smiles, short conversations and the unexpected meeting with Max, everything had been a whirlwind of emotions. You went up to your room, closing the door behind you and letting out a long sigh. You had succeeded. You had survived that night without collapsing, although the cracks in your facade were deeper than you wanted to admit.

You took off your dress carefully, letting the fresh air ease your skin. You put on a comfortable nightgown and got rid of the makeup with slow movements. Every step of your nightly routine was an attempt to distract you from the only thing that really occupied your mind: Max. The conversation outside, his insistence on wanting to be back in your life, his words loaded with a meaning that you refused to interpret... Everything kept spinning in your head.

When you got into bed, you took your phone out of habit, checking notifications and messages before going to sleep. That's when you saw it. A message from Max.

Max: "Good night. I liked seeing you tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat when you read it. You didn't expect me to write to you, not after what they had talked about. You thought about ignoring him, but you knew you couldn't. Something inside you drove you to respond.

You: "Simely. It was nice to see you."

You sent the message before your mind could stop you, and just a few seconds later his answer came.

Max: "I don't know if this sounds weird, but I feel like I've missed you more than I thought."

You bit your lip, your fingers floating on the screen as you decided what to say. Finally you wrote:

You: "It doesn't sound weird. I've missed you too."

The conversation flowed with a naturalness that baffled you. Talking to him was like returning to something comfortable and familiar, as if the months of distance had not existed. They talked about trivial things at the beginning: how he was, how you were, small anecdotes of the event that had occurred while you were escaping to the garden. But then he wrote something that made you stop.

Max: "We should have a coffee or something. Really catch up."

Your first reaction was to doubt. You knew it wasn't a good idea. Seeing him was to risk letting your guard down, saying something you shouldn't have, opening doors that you had closed for a reason. But, at the same time, the idea excited you. You wanted to see it. I wanted to see it.

"I'd love to," you finally wrote, almost with fear.

Almost instantly came his answer:

Max: "Tomorrow? I have something in the afternoon, but I'm free at night."

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. You knew you shouldn't accept, but your fingers were already writing.

You: "It's okay. Tomorrow night."

They quickly confirmed it, deciding the place and time, and after a few more messages, he wrote:

Max: "Sleep well. See you tomorrow."

"You too," you replied, even though you knew that sleeping was the last thing you would do. You put the phone aside, but your mind was still at full speed.

As you settled in bed, you looked at the ceiling with a sigh. You had done something you knew you shouldn't have done, and the anxiety of what could happen consumed you. But, at the same time, a small spark of emotion lit up inside you.

The idea of seeing him, of talking to him face to face after all, made you feel like you were playing with fire. And yet, you found yourself counting the hours for the next day.

The next morning the day began in a rather routine way, although you felt a slight tingling in your stomach when you remembered your plan for later. After a light breakfast, you made sure to review your to-do list, and among them was the doctor's appointment. Although all the previous reviews had gone well, it always gave you a little anxiety to attend. You wanted to make sure that your baby was perfect, that everything went as it should.

You put on a loose and comfortable dress, choosing a pastel shade that highlighted the shine that lately your pregnancy had given to your skin. You looked in the mirror quickly before leaving, noticing your already noticeably rounded belly. You had reached that point in pregnancy where it was impossible to hide it, and although you felt proud, there were times when that reality made you think about everything that was to come.

The clinic was calm when you arrived. After signing some papers and waiting a few minutes in the room, they called you to go to the doctor. She was a kind woman, someone you fully trusted and with whom you had developed a good relationship since you arrived in Monaco.

You lay down on the stretcher while they did the routine ultrasound. The screen lit up with the image of your baby, and as always, your eyes filled with tears of pure emotion when you saw it.

"Everything looks perfect," said the doctor, smiling as she checked the measurements and heartbeat of the little one. “He is growing well and has a lot of energy, as always. Have you felt good?”

You nodded.

"Yes, although he's been a little restless today. I don't know if it's me or him.”

The doctor laughed softly.

"Probably a little bit of both. They feel our emotions, did you know? If you're anxious or nervous, he feels it too.”

You were thoughtful with that comment. It was true that you had been nervous since you woke up. The idea of seeing Max again, of sitting in front of him after so long, had you in a constant state of anticipation.

"I guess he's right. Today I have... an important day.”

You didn't go into details, but she gave you an understanding look.

"Well, try to relax." He's fine, you're fine. Enjoy your day and make sure you rest.

When you left the clinic, the mid-morning sun greeted you warmly, but you still felt some restlessness in your chest. You knew there was no reason to worry about the baby, but the conversation with the doctor left you thinking. Your little one was connected to you in a way that no one else could be, and his well-being was completely up to you.

The rest of the day was spent in a blur of domestic activities and small errands, but your mind always returned to Max. You wondered what it would be like to see him again, this time in a more intimate environment. Would he be nervous like you? Would it still be as easy to talk to him as it had been last night?

As the afternoon progressed, you noticed that your baby kept moving. Every time you tried to sit down for a moment to breathe, he kicked or settled down, as if trying to get your attention.

"What's wrong, little one?" you murmured, placing a hand on your belly. “Are you also nervous about tonight?”

The thought made you smile, although you felt a knot in your stomach. You caressed your belly with gentle movements, trying to calm it down and calm yourself down in the process.

You sighed as you looked at the clock. Every minute that passed brought you closer to the meeting, and although you were nervous, a part of you couldn't wait.

The afternoon was sliding into the night, and with each passing minute, you felt how anxiety was taking over you. You repeated to yourself over and over again that everything would be fine, that there was nothing to fear, that it was only Max. Max, your lifelong friend. Max, who was now much more complicated than you had ever imagined.

When it was time to get ready, you went into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. There was something different about you, a mixture of emotion and tension that made you feel like you were about to cross an invisible line. The dress you chose was simple but elegant, a dark blue tone that highlighted your skin and concealed your belly. You left your hair loose, falling in soft waves on your shoulders. The makeup, just enough to give a touch of color to your cheeks and highlight your eyes. You wanted to look good, but without looking like you had tried too hard.

While you were putting on the last touches, your phone vibrated on the table. You took it with slightly trembling hands and read the message.

"I'm outside. I'll wait for you."

You toom a deep breath before answering.

"Ok."

You picked up your bag, taking one last look at your reflection before leaving the room. You went down the stairs calmly, although your heart was beating hard in your chest. When he opened the front door, there he was. Max Verstappen, waiting for you next to his car with a smile that, despite all the time that had passed, was still the same you remembered.

"Hello," he said softly, his eyes running over you for a moment before returning to your face. “You look... good.”

You smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you. You too”

Max was dressed casually but flawlessly, a dark shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly. I had always had that ability to look good without much effort. He opened the car door for you and, once you were inside, he circled the car and sat behind the wheel.

The journey was comfortable, although full of silences that spoke more than words. Through the reflection in the window, you watched him sideways. His firm hands on the steering wheel, the way he concentrated on the road, everything was so familiar and at the same time so distant.

Finally, they arrived at a small secluded, discreet and cozy restaurant, a place that Max had chosen carefully to avoid curious glances. Upon entering, you were greeted by a warm atmosphere, dim lights and tables separated enough to ensure privacy.

"It's a quiet place," he said while helping you sit down. “I thought we would be more comfortable here.”

You nodded, grateful for your consideration.

"It's perfect."

You both asked for dinner, and for a few minutes, the sound of the cutlery and the soft background music filled the space. But soon, the conversation began to flow.

"So..." you said, breaking the ice. “How is everything? Life, the team, your relationship?”

Max took a sip from his glass before answering.

"Life... is fine. Busy, as always. The team is doing well, although this year has been more complicated than I expected. And Kelly...” he paused briefly. “We're fine. Things are stable, which is good for me, for P.”

He mentioned his girlfriend and stepdaughter naturally, but you couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest. You forced yoursellsel on your smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. You know I've always wanted you to be happy.”

Max looked at you with an expression that seemed to contain more than he was willing to say.

"And you?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. “Why did you disappear like that? One day you were here, and the next, you were gone. Without a word.”

You tensed up a little in your chair, fiddling with the edge of your glass. You had known that question would come, but you were not completely prepared to answer it.

"It was something... I needed to do," you finally said, choosing your words carefully. “London was an opportunity to start again. And... I didn't want to complicate anyone's life.”

Max frowned slightly, his eyes looking for yours.

"Complicate life for whom? To me?”

The air seemed to become denser between you. You avoided his gaze, concentrating on the napkin that you now held between your fingers.

"You already had many things in your life. You didn't need... more complications.”

Max was silent for a moment, but his eyes didn't turn away from you.

"We were always friends, remember? No matter what happened... that doesn't change.”

The sincerity in his voice disarmed you, and for a moment, you felt that the weight of the last few months was about to collapse on you. But you stood firm, smiling softly.

"I know. And I'm glad we can talk like this, like before.”

The conversation continued, returning to lighter topics: childhood memories, career anecdotes, moments they shared before everything got complicated. But, deep down, they both knew that there were things that remained unsaid.

When dinner ended, they both left the restaurant, the night in Monaco unfolded calm and cool, with a gentle breeze that caressed your skin. You felt strangely light, despite everything that dinner had moved in you. You thought the night had come to an end, but Max, standing next to you in front of the car, seemed to hesitate before saying goodbye.

"Are you tired?" he asked, with a look that contained more than what his words said. “Because... if you're not, we could go for a walk.”

You were surprised by the invitation, but a part of you, the one that was still looking for any excuse to prolong the moment, did not hesitate to answer.

"No, I'm not tired. I would love to walk a little.”

Max smiled, a soft smile that lit up his face for a moment. He walked by your side, and soon they both left the restaurant behind and went into the quietest streets of the city. The night in Monaco was a spectacle in itself, with the lights reflected in the sea, the distant sound of laughter and music, and the constant murmur of the nightlife that unfolded around it. But at that moment, nothing seemed to matter more than the presence of the other.

The silence between you was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it felt almost like a conversation in itself, a pause that allowed both of them to think about everything that had been left unsaid for so long. They walked at the same pace, their steps synchronized, and from time to time your fingers brushed his, which caused a small chill that ran through your body.

Finally, it was Max who broke the silence. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he feared to alter the stillness of the night.

"I like walking with you at night," he said, with a sincerity that took you by surprise. His eyes looked at you sideways, looking for your reaction.

Your heart turned upside down, and you bit your lip before answering, allowing a soft smile to form on your lips.

"I like it too. I enjoy it.”

And you meant it. There was something intimate at that moment, a connection that didn't need words. The world seemed to have reduced to you two, walking together under the dim lights of Monaco. The breeze was fiddling with your hair, and Max noticed it, because his eyes stopped a second longer on you, before looking away.

Both continued walking in silence for a few more minutes, until both of you reached a small viewpoint that overlooked the port. The lights of the yachts and the soft waves of the water created an almost magical atmosphere. You leaned on the railing, contemplating the landscape, but aware that Max had come closer, until he was a few centimeters from you.

"It's beautiful," you commented, trying to stay calm, although your heart was beating hard.

"It is..." he replied, but when you looked up, you realized that he was not looking at the landscape. He was looking at you.

The atmosphere became denser, loaded with electricity that seemed to envelop them. You felt trapped between the desire to maintain that closeness and the need to step back, to protect yourself from what that moment could mean. But you didn't move.

Max leaned slightly forward, resting his arms on the railing next to yours. His fingers brushed yours, and this time he didn't move away. Neither do you.

"I missed this," he murmured, with a voice so low that you barely heard him. “I missed being with you.”

His words disarmed you. You felt a lump in your throat, but you tried to stay calm.

"Me too..." you admitted, almost in a whisper. I missed this, you.

Both stayed like this, in silence, letting the moment last, feeling the closeness of the other. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had saved for months, but you held in. You didn't want to ruin it. Not yet.

Max turned his face towards you, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His blue eyes, intense and full of contained emotions, met yours. The world around him disappeared, and all that existed was that look, that instant in which the past, the present and the future seemed to collide.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, with a softness that almost made you lose your balance.

Your breathing quickened slightly, and without looking away, you replied:

"To me too."

The silence that followed was different. It wasn't uncomfortable or empty.

But before either of them could do or say anything else, Max took a step back, breaking the spell.

"We should go back," he said, his voice a little more controlled. “I don't want you to get too tired.”

You nodded, grateful and at the same time disappointed. Both began to walk back, this time more slowly, as if prolonging that walk could change something.

When both got to the car, Max stopped before opening the door for you. For a moment, he seemed to doubt, as if he was about to say something important. But instead, he just smiled.

"Thank you for tonight. I needed.”

"Yeah. Me too..." you murmured. “Thank u.”

He leaned slightly, as if he was going to say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, but he stopped halfway. Instead, his fingers gently brushed your hand before opening the door. You got into the car, still feeling the warmth of his touch, and when he left you at home, they both said goodbye with a smile that said more than words could express.

That night, while you were lying in your bed, with the breeze of Monaco coming in through the window, you thought about every detail of that walk. In his gaze, in his words, in the touch of his fingers. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to dream about what could have been... and what it could still be.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

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Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[judeswhore]

trick or treat

summary: jude just has to give the pretty trick or treater his number

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

notes: you can find my masterlist here. i don’t like this :( but oh well

"i wanna go to this house." elena stated, tugging lightly on your hand to turn you towards a house with a red door, her gaze fixated on the pumpkins set on either side of the entrance. she'd chosen that house, you knew, because of the great big "welcome" sign stuck to the front, each word dripping fake blood. whoever owned the house had done a better job at decorating than anyone else on the street and it immediately had the little girl thinking of the sweets she could get from inside.

before you could argue against it she was pulling you along with her, her bucket, already half full, swinging happily at her side. elena was a family friends daughter, a feisty seven year old who you'd been babysitting for years at this point and trick or treating on halloween was a tradition for the two of you. like every year she'd gotten you to dress up and this years costume was a simple fairy, a pretty green dress with fake wings that kept snagging on fences as you walked past. elena was a witch.

"hurry up!" a very bossy witch.

with a huff you let her drag you up the path, your eyes trailing along the windows of the house which seemed so dark you wondered if anyone was even home. elena was quick to knock on the door, bucket held in front of her as she flashed her biggest, brightest smile. her missing front tooth made her sickeningly adorable to most people and had definitely played a hand in why she'd gotten so many sweets.

there was a few moments of complete silence and you watched the little girls smile falter a slightly, her head turning so she could frown up at you. "where are-" her words were cut short when the front door finally swung inwards, her smile returning immediately. "trick or treat!"

the smell of pizza and tinkle of laughter hit your senses immediately, multiple voices overlapping each other to the point you couldn't make out the loud conversation happening just inside the house. the doorway had been taken up by an overly large body, all long legs and broad shoulders, cutting through the light that was spilling out from the hallway. something caught in the back of your throat, a noise halfway between a gasp and a cough when you lifted your eyes and met his gaze.

he was stupidly good looking. the kind of good looking that only ever brought trouble and heartbreak and your tummy was a riot of flutters over the crooked smile he was throwing your way. definitely your way. elena was too small to even be in his eye line. there was a spark of mischief in his dark eyes despite the sleepy look about them, all heavy lids and pretty lashes and you wondered just how many girls had gotten in trouble over those eyes.

you must have been staring in silence for more than a few moments because elena suddenly let out an impatient huff, her elbow digging harshly into your leg. she was glaring at you. “say it.”

the boy in the doorway cocked an eyebrow, presumably about the attitude and glanced between you and the girl at your side, curiosity sparking his gaze. with a roll of your eyes, you attempted a smile, one that seemed a little wobbly under the attention of someone so hot and raised the little pumpkin bucket you’d been carrying.

“trick or treat.” if possible, the boy’s smile grew even bigger, a full toothy grin that did something to your heart that surely wasn’t healthy. he leant a little against the doorframe, hands tucked into the front pockets of his grey joggers. the movement made his shirt stretch out a little over his chest and you cursed elena for choosing this house. why would she choose this guys house when you’re dressed as a knock off tinkerbell in a dress two sizes too small?

“depends,” there was a playful lilt to his voice and your body burnt as he shamelessly ran his eyes over the length of you. he lingered a little on your thighs, over exposed in your stupid dress, and again on your boobs, straining just a little beneath the green material. if your heart jumped anymore it was going to give out. “are you my treat?”

oh.

“i-uh- i’m not-“ you stumbled through a few potential answers, none of which would fully come out because your brain had stopped short and left you unable to form a coherent sentence. he was flirting. you were certain that was flirting and you were floundering like an idiot because no one this hot should be flirting with a girl in a stupid tinkerbell costume. the glint in his eyes seemed a little brighter at your response, his smile more a teasing smirk and he was standing a little straighter, almost looking proud of the effect he was having on you verbal abilities.

“excuse me, sir, you’re supposed to give us treats.” elena’s voice cut through your momentary daze and had you snorting a laugh, your finger knocking her witches hat askew.

“elena, don’t be rude.” you tried to sound firm but her glare at the lack of sweets was overly amusing. the little girl was about as scary as a kitten.

“no, she’s right. gimme a second.” the boy disappeared back into the house and elena turned her gaze up to you, catching you red handed with your eyes glued to his ass. she was grinning manically, hopping from foot to foot.

“he likes you.” she singsonged, rattling the sweets in her bucket until you pressed a hand over hers in hopes of getting her to stop. it didn’t stop the next words from tumbling out of her. “he was looking at you the way my dad looks at my mum before they start kissing.” she grimaced at that, clearly not happy about her parents public affection.

“he was not. stop being a gossip and fix your hat.” the hat was still sitting awkwardly on her head and she fumbled with it for a few seconds while trying to set it straight. she opened her mouth, no doubt to say something else ridiculous, but the pretty boy had reappeared in the doorway, a tub of sweets and chocolate bars held in his hands.

he dropped to a crouch in front of elena and shook the tub. “pick whatever you want.”

“do i just get one?”

“elena.” you muttered her name through a sigh but the boy was shaking his head, that grin curling his lips again. for a second you were distracted by his thighs, the thickness of them as he balanced in front of the little girl and only tugged your gaze up when he spoke again.

“no, it’s okay. y’can take as many as you want, don’t want you casting a spell on me to make my ears fall off.” he teased and elena giggled, seemingly just as charmed as you by his smile. she dug around in the box, brows furrowed as she searched for what she wanted.

“i wouldn’t make your ears fall off.”

“no?”

“no. i’d turn you into a frog.” she dropped a mars bar into her bucket before rifling through the treats again. the boy gave a thoughtful hum as he watched her knock a bag of haribos to the side.

“forever? or will you turn me back if i’m good?” he asked, shaking the tub just a little so she could see the sweets tucked at the bottom. you watched his jaw work as he chewed the inside of his cheek, your attention snagging on the stubble growing over the sharp line and across his chin. you were surprised by how badly you wanted to feel the roughness of it against your palm.

“nope. you have to kiss a princess or you’ll be a frog forever.”

“what about your friend? if i kiss her will i be saved?”

“yn’s not a princess. she’s a fairy.” elena gave him a “duh” sort of look that had him huffing a laugh but you were too busy trying not to think about kissing him. it was ridiculous to be so worked up about a stranger.

“well i don’t think i know any princesses.”

“then you’re going to have to live as a frog.” elena had absolutely no sympathy for the situation, completely unbothered as she dropped her final chocolate into her bucket with a grin. she shook the pumpkin. “chocolate is my favourite.”

“you’re also not allowed it past 6pm.” you pointed out, peering into the bucket with a grimace because her parents were going to kill you for all the chocolate bars. you’d promised light trick or treating but elena was taking home a whole chocolate factory.

“you’ll have to eat it in secret.” the boy told her as he straightened up, his gaze darting from you to the little girl. “i’m sure you could ignore one sugar rush for the sake of halloween.”

“you wouldn’t be saying that if you were the one who had to lure her into bed when she refuses to come out of the tree house.” that earned you a snort and a smile pulled at your lips. at your side elena started to tug on the bottom of your skirt, clearly eager to try a few more houses before her bedtime. you knocked your bucket against hers. “say thank you.”

“thank you for the chocolate, mister!” she beamed up at him and his laugh was full this time, a musical sound that made your tummy dip dangerously.

“don’t eat it all at once.”

“i won’t.”

“she will.” you mumbled and elena glared, pulled a little harsher on your skirt. you turned a smile towards the boy in the doorway. “thanks for the chocolate. you should’ve just given her a mini mars bar and told her to shove off.”

“and risk turning into a frog? nah.” he dipped his hand into his joggers and pulled out a slip of paper, held it out to you with a smile. you took it with a curious frown, felt your heart leap at the scrawl of numbers, JUDE and TEXT ME, written underneath.

“what’s this?”

“your treat.”

[boopiemadz]

Fem!Reader x Travis where they get into an argument and y/n walks out/runs away, and it’s winter so it’s like snowing like crazy. Then Travis doesn’t stop looking for her the next day when he realizes that she’s gone

such a great idea! again sorry if this is a little rushed but I love getting requests!

also, if anyone wants to be moots dont be afraid to reachout, id love to connect. and req are open!

feel free to ask anything or simply say hi!

WARNINGS!

Death, Fem! reader

[Stumble in the dark]

---

Winter. 

Harsh yet delicate. Snow falling into place, breath becoming visible, hunger becoming unbearable. Due to the fact that rations are running out, Travis and Natalie have started going back out to hunt again. The weather never faltered, not like everyone had thought it would. And belt soup wasn't going to tie them over much longer. 

You never liked Travis going out there in the snow. Ever since the two of you started sneaking off together, he sort of became a shelter, a place for you to belong. It started out innocently enough, the two of you sneaking away to get some time to talk, overtime the connection grew, and you couldn't deny the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever his hand brushed past yours. At some point the lines between friends became more blurred, brushing hands turned into holding them, stolen stares turned into stolen kisses, friendship turned into something more.

When winter came, solace grew. But in the midst of that cold, you found yourself in Travis’s warm embrace, every moment filled with ache yet hope was right there in the form of your coach's son, who against all odds, decided to love you even in the most hopeless moments. 

---

Natalie and Travis had gone out to see if they could find some game a while ago. You never liked him being out there, even with all the layers you insisted he wore. When he went out you tried to distract yourself, play cards with Akilah, read a book, braid Lottie's hair. But nothing ever stopped you from worrying if he'd come back. 

Today it was your turn to take out the shit bucket. You swear the draw is rigged. So after a few hours trying to distract your mind from wandering to a dark place you finally zipped up your jacket and layered up to take the trek and dump the bucket. 

The cold wind on your face stung, eyes squinted and dry all the while smelling the stench of the bucket you were carrying. Walking through the woods alone was creepy, it felt like someone or something was watching you. 

That's when you heard footsteps. Then voices. You recognized them immediately as Nat and Travis. At least taking out the poop bucket had one up side. 

So you made your way to the voices, wanting to run into the pair and ask how much longer they were going to be out, the relief of knowing where they were overtaking the fear of unknowing. But as you got closer something in you stopped. Standing behind them about to say something when the conversation between the two shifted, and all you could do was stand there and listen.

---

Natalie spoke softly, “You ever think about what happens if we make it out of this?”

“I don’t waste time on what ifs.”

“I mean with her. You two have been... close. Doesn’t just go away.” 

He hesitates, jaw clenching. Eyes stay on the ground.

Travis speaks low,  “Yeah, well. Out here, things go away all the time.”

Natalie flinches slightly.  “Damn, okay. That’s cold.”

Travis responds fast, with urgency, “It doesn't really mean anything.”

And that’s the moment your heart pangs in your chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Your heart stutters,breath catches in your throat. You stand there silently, then turn and walk off without a word. 

A Few Seconds Later, after you've walked away, the conversation continues.

There’s a silence that settles over the snow, eerie and sharp.

Travis  speaks quietly, more to himself “I didn’t mean that.”

Natalie stops walking. “Then what did you mean?”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the path where you had just been.

 “I meant... I didn’t think it’d be this real. That I’d care this much. That losing her would scare me more than anything else out here.”

Travis whispers “And now I don’t know how to hold onto her without hurting her.”

---

The wind screams against the cabin walls, sharp and furious, like it’s trying to claw its way inside. Snow falls heavy outside, blanketing everything in a thick white silence. The fire flickers, casting dancing shadows across tired, distant faces.

You sit in the corner, knees pulled to your chest, arms tight around yourself. You haven’t spoken since you got back. Not a word. Not since you heard him say it.

Not since you heard him say you weren’t supposed to mean anything.

You can feel him watching you. His footsteps crunch across the floorboards, and he stands in front of you. “You okay?” Travis asks, low, cautious.

You don’t answer.

He shifts, searching your face. “Did something happen?”

You look up, and your voice comes out quiet, cold: “You tell me. Did we happen?”

His brows furrow. “What?” he breathes.

You meet his eyes now. Let the weight of your hurt fall squarely into his chest.

“You said it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

You watch the color drain from his face.

“…You heard that?”

You let out a short, joyless laugh. “Yeah. Right after you said it’s not real. That people go away all the time.”

He looks like he’s been sucker punched. Like something inside him just cracked in half. He takes a step closer, panicked. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that. I—”

“Then say what you did mean.”

You’re standing now. Arms crossed. Heart pounding like a drum.

“Because I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how you could hold me like I’m the only thing that keeps you together—and then go talk like I was nothing more than… comfort. A phase. Something to throw away before it could throw you.”

He stammers, mouth open, eyes wild. He looks like he wants to run or scream. Maybe both.

“You want the truth?” he blurts. “You make me forget. I forget how messed up this place is. What we’re stuck in. I forget that people disappear out here. That I already lost Javi. That I could lose you too.”

You feel that one deep. Like a blade twisting.

“So what?” your voice wavers. “You’d rather make me think I didn’t matter? That way it won’t hurt when I vanish too?”

He steps forward. Voice raw. “I’m trying to protect us. I’m trying to protect you.”

“By denying what we are?”

“By not needing you too much,” he snaps. “Because when I need people, they die.”

You blink hard, fighting the sting behind your eyes.

“I’m not dead yet,” you whisper.

The room goes quiet, the fire crackling in your ears.

“But I can’t sit here while you pretend like I never mattered.”

You move to grab your coat. Hands shaking. Breath hitched.

He reaches for your arm. “Don’t go out there. You can’t even see the trees in this snow.”

You look him in the eye, throat tight. “I already feel lost in here.” A beat. “At least the cold’s honest.”

You turn, open the door, and let the frozen wind smack you in the face. It burns. It bites. But at least it’s real.

He calls your name behind you, “Y/N!”

but you don’t turn back.

You walk into the white.

And the door slams shut behind you.

---

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Two hours? Three? Maybe more. Time stopped mattering once the snow swallowed the trail behind him.

His legs burn. His hands are raw. His lips are cracked from the cold. He can’t feel his fingertips anymore.

But he keeps going.

Every branch looks the same. Every shadow feels like a trick. But the thought of stopping makes his stomach twist.

You’re still out here. Alone. In this.

And it’s his fault.

The trees sway around him like ghosts, their skeletal limbs heavy with snow. He stumbles again, his knee slamming into a rock hidden under the powder, but he forces himself up with a pained grunt.

He can’t stop. Not until he finds you.

The wind quiets for a second, and in the silence, he hears it: his own heartbeat, racing, thudding in his ears like it’s trying to drown out the memories.

Your laugh. The way your nose crinkles when you smile. The way your fingers hooked into his jacket when you kissed him like he was something precious.

God, why didn’t he just say it? Why did he pull back when he could’ve leaned in?

Why did he let fear speak louder than love?

He presses a hand to a tree, chest heaving. Snow falls in clumps from the branches above, but he barely notices.

“I should’ve just told you,” he whispers. “I should’ve told you I love you.”

He does. He does.

Not the safe kind of love, distant, quiet, buried under fear. But the kind that terrifies you. The kind that grabs your ribs and doesn’t let go. The kind that makes you want to stay alive in a world that’s doing everything to make you forget why.

And he let it go. He pushed you away because the thought of needing you hurt more than the thought of losing you.

But now? Now the idea of losing you makes everything else feel like a slow death.

“Please,” he breathes into the silence, almost praying to the wilderness, begging. “Let me find her. Just let me find her. I’ll fix it. I’ll say everything. Just let me find her.”

He stumbles on, through trees that blur at the edges of his vision. The wind howls again, loud and angry. And still, he shouts into it:

“I love you! Do you hear me?” His voice cracks. “I should’ve said it before. I should’ve said it!”

His throat burns. His shoulders shake. And still, he walks.

Because no matter how much the cold claws at him, no matter how far he has to go,

Losing you is worse.

---

It’s the barest flicker of color in a sea of white that catches his eye.

Travis stumbles, rubs the snow from his lashes, and blinks hard. His whole body aches. His lips are cracked, his fingers numb. He’s been calling your name until his throat gave out, and even now, he’s rasping out broken, voiceless pleas like a prayer.

But then he sees it, your jacket, nearly hidden beneath a snowdrift, curled beneath a pine, so still it takes a moment to register that it’s you.

“Y/N.”

The name tears from his chest like a sob.

He collapses to his knees beside you, shoveling snow away with shaking hands. Your face is cold. Your lips pale. He leans close, presses trembling fingers under your jaw, holding his breath. There. A faint pulse.

He lets out a choked noise, something between a gasp and a thank-you-God sob.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, hold on, please, just hold on.”

He lifts you into his arms. You don’t stir. You’re limp against him, head lolled against his shoulder, breath shallow.

But you’re alive.

And he will not lose you now.

---

He crashes through the front door with snow in his hair and desperation in his voice.

“Move,move! I need blankets! Water, hot water, now!”

Mari gasps. Someone else is already running to help. But Travis isn’t hearing words. He’s moving on instinct, laying you by the fire just long enough to strip off your jacket, to feel the frozen wetness of your clothes.

“Come on, come on,” he mumbles under his breath, unbuckling your boots, rubbing at your arms. Your skin’s like ice.

He carries you again, into the attic where the tub was already steaming, and he doesn’t wait. He strips you gently, reverently, like you’re glass, like you might shatter if he moves too fast.

Then he lowers you into the water, slow and careful, and you flinch, just a little, from the heat. But that tiny twitch is everything.

He kneels beside the tub, scooping water into his hands and pouring it over your arms, your shoulders, your neck. Whispering your name. Softly. Over and over.

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here.”

He doesn’t leave your side.

He changes the water when it cools. He wraps you in every blanket he can find. He sits with you on the edge of the bed after, holding your hand as your breathing evens out and your body starts to shake from the slow return of warmth.

---

It’s hours before you speak. You'd move to sitting by the fireplace in the main room, just staring at the fire.

Your voice is weak, barely audible. “Travis?”

He jolts up from where he’d been sitting at your feet. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face is pale and tight with exhaustion and fear.

“I’m here,” he breathes, reaching for your hand. He wraps it in both of his, pressing it to his lips like it might vanish if he lets go.

You blink at him slowly, trying to remember. The snow. The tree. His voice. Then warmth. Then now.

“You found me…”

He nods. His throat tightens. And then he looks down, like he can’t quite hold your gaze when he says it.

“You could’ve died.” The words crack open something in his voice. He shakes his head, a bitter, broken laugh under his breath. “And I would’ve never forgiven myself. Never.”

You start to sit up, and he helps you with a gentle hand behind your back. Blankets fall around you, warm and heavy.

“You didn’t mean for me to hear that,” you whisper.

He flinches.

Silence.

Then, his voice. Quiet. Honest. Raw.

“No. I didn’t.”

He runs a hand over his face, leans forward like he’s carrying the weight of everything he hasn’t said. His voice shakes when he speaks again.

“I said those things because I was scared.”

You blink, watching him carefully.

“Scared of me?”

He shakes his head. “No. Scared of how much I need you.”

He lets the words hang there, like they might tear him apart.

“I’ve lost too many people. And I thought… if I pretended we didn’t matter, maybe I wouldn’t lose you too.” He swallows hard. “But then you were gone, and I realized, I already did.”

Your breath catches. He looks up, eyes glassy but finally meeting yours.

“I love you.”

It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s real.

“I love you, and I would rather lose you knowing we loved each other with everything we had… then keep pretending it doesn’t matter and still lose you anyway.”

You don’t speak right away.

You just stare at him, heart thudding, throat thick.

And then, quietly, finally, you reach for him.

He exhales, a deep, shaking breath of something like relief. Like forgiveness. He leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours, tears slipping silently down his cheeks.

Outside, the storm is ending.

Inside, so is the silence.

---

[lovelywritten]

COMFORT

—pairing : Gilbert Blythe x fem!reader

—summary : An unfortunate accident has you inevitably stuck with Gilbert Blythe—which your father had absolutely no hand in.

—content : sfw, fluff, mutual pining, poetic gushing of reader completely lost in her mirage of defenseless affliction for Gilbert

—word count : 2k

Dark stains ranging from light grey to smokey black smeared all over the townspeople's crestfallen faces, a residue of the fire accident that had taken place at the Gillis' family home.

The remnants of the fire took over their house walls. If it weren't for Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, the Gillis' residence would've been left with nothing but ashes. The house structure and foundation were still intact. Its durability remained a wonder, however.

It was fortunate that no one was injured from the catastrophe. The only casualty was the concrete house itself which had layers of ashen smudges creeping up its scorched walls.

When the fire had been vanquished, the people went to the patriarch and matriarch of the Gillis' to share their concerns and somehow alleviate their distress over temporarily losing their home and refuge. Small talk, yet still laced with sincerity.

Avonlea was a small town with a limited number of residents occupying it. They may be awfully spiteful sometimes, especially when it comes to those who take pleasure in gossip, but they sure are compassionate and genuine, if not every one.

Your father made his way to approach Gilbert Blythe. ❝Gilbert, good lad. Might I trouble you for a favor?❞ His tone was inquisitive, yet the vague certainty and subdued confidence in his eyes did not go unnoticed by the younger male.

❝Of course, sir. May I ask what it's about?❞

❝Could you possibly escort my Y/n home? It seems that my daughter is set on offering comfort to her dear friend.❞ The facial expression he conveyed seemed to be dejected and hopeless. As hard as he tried to play it out, Gilbert could see through your father—at some point.

He did not want to interject, though. Nor dare to confront him about it. Gilbert did not seem too keen to expose him, instead he appreciated your father's not-so-well-hidden intentions to play match-maker.

Mr. L/n had his fingers on his temples with his brows slightly furrowed, no doubt expressing helplessness. ❝It's just that I promised my wife I would be back as soon as possible after things here have settled down...❞ He then laughs slightly, thinking back on what had happened before his departure towards the site of the regretful incident. ❝We almost couldn't leave the house when M/n became too panicked and worried for our safety, you see.❞

Your father shoots him a careful and hopeful look. His spirits seemed to be more lifted and assured when Gilbert nodded with a smile. ❝I'd be happy to walk Y/n home, sir.❞

❝Thank you, Gilbert. My wife and I appreciate it. I'll be off now then, good night.❞ He did not even wait for a reply from the younger male.

Gilbert watched the older man walking towards the path leading to his home—well, in long strides with graceful haste more like.

His gaze then falls over you. You appeared to be the image of serene and composed, yet the strands of your h/c curls frame your face with an ethereal unruliness in them, given the accident that occured at the Gillis' family house. Who would still look presentable after that? The people who stayed home, obviously. Everyone who wanted to help scurried over to offer their aid as soon as the news reached them. Including you and your father.

While your father took the buckets back with him, you were only carrying a cozy shawl sprawled over your shoulders to warm you up from the biting cold of the night.

You and the girls were formed in a small group. With a look of compassion and gentleness in your expression, you shared a conversation directed to Ruby as the recipient of your good intent. ❝I would be delighted to accommodate you and your family to our humble residence, Ruby…❞ You started with a soft smile, in a genuine benign manner towards your dear classmate.

Ruby was hell-bent on refusing to stay with Anne and wanted to be with you and even considered staying with Diana. She had a conflicted facial expression etched on her face with her brows furrowed. Her mouth opens in an attempt to refute.

But then, you spoke again with the same tenderness. ❝But I think you should accept Anne's offer and spend some time to get to know her better. It could do you good, the both of you.❞ The calm temperament you reasoned with seemed to be taking effect since you've made your serenity contagious to Ruby.

Diana was quick to put in more words for Ruby to agree, knowing where you were going with this. It would be beneficial for not only Anne and Ruby, but also to your other classmates who always seem to misunderstand Anne. Maybe spending time with Anne would change the perception of the girl into a more positive note if they get to know each other better and resolve past ill sentiments that Ruby once had for Anne.

❝Y/n is completely right, Ruby. I've always had fun whenever I am with Anne. Please give her a chance as I have?❞ Diana casts a careful and cautious look over her sandy-blonde friend.

Eventually, Ruby nods her head—albeit hesitantly.

Diana wraps her arms around Anne as she bids her farewell. ❝I'll visit soon, all right?❞ Your brunette friend leaves the three of you with a wave of her hand and follows after her father who waited for his daughter by the tree.

Speaking of fathers, you don't seem to locate yours as you scanned around the area. At all.

Gilbert's tall stature does come to your line of sight, though.

You gulped lightly, as you seemed to struggle looking away from him. You forced yourself to focus your attention back to your friend. Pulling yourself together, you smile softly at her. ❝It's all right, Ruby. You're in good hands.❞ Being the good friend that you are, you tried to comfort her with the dulcet rubbing of your hand against her wool-clad arms. When her expression relaxes, only then did you talk again.

❝I shall take my leave now. I'll see you two tomorrow, yes?❞ Your eyes trained to Anne then to Ruby's.

Anne was more enthusiastic than Ruby to reply—which you can understand because Ruby had just lost her home and would be spending time with a girl she did not exactly want to associate herself with given what the others negatively perceived of Anne.

Before you knew it, someone fell into step with you. Looking up to your side, you came face to face with the one and only Gilbert Blythe. Your brows slightly shot up, surprised at the sight of him when his house was the other way around.

❝Gilbert, I—wha...❞

❝Your father requested that I accompany you.❞ He explains, appearing completely unbothered by the reason at all. If anything, he seemed relaxed. Delighted, maybe?

And then there was this slightly upturned smile playing on his lips that sent your mind in a frenzy as he looked at you with a certain intent—something that you couldn't quite decipher.

Quickly composing yourself, you replied with a steady voice. ❝I'm sorry to trouble you then, Gilbert. Father can be quite the worrywart when it comes to his only daughter. ❞

❝It's no trouble at all, Y/n. It's my pleasure to take you home. ❞ He grins so easily at you that his stare becomes quite difficult for you to maintain.

You stayed silent after that, simply looking ahead of you—trying to ignore the racing of your heart at his words. Maybe you were overthinking it. But the way he composed the structure of his words were ambiguous, you couldn't help it.

There were endless words to choose from. Like: walk you home. But, no. He just had to choose ❝take you home❞ did he? His implications were vague if he was actually referring to your house or—

Yeah, you were overthinking things.

It might not be as complex as you imagined.

It would only be a few hours until dawn arrives. So much for sleep. You were sure that your friends—who actually cared about Ruby sacrificed their sleep just to be with her earlier and lend a helping hand to her family.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the sudden gush of cold wind passed, causing you to slightly shiver. You tightened your shawl around you. No doubt, even your fingers were icy cold.

Just then, you felt something heavy set upon your shoulders. Startled, your fingers came into contact with something warm—which you noticed were actually Gilbert's knuckles as you clutched the plaid material he draped over your shoulders.

Your eyes captured his ever mesmerizing, enigmatic, warm chestnut brown hazel eyes, softened with genuine concern. You weren't even aware you had both come to a standstill.

You cleared your throat slightly before you looked away, continuing to tread back home. With him.

When you glanced back at him, his eyes were sparkling in bliss with the corners of his mouth pulled up into a disarmingly boyish grin that had you utterly captivated.

You did not even realize you mirrored his smile with a shyer one. But you were far too late to be self-aware. Gilbert had already seen it. You could have playfully shoved him with the way you saw his smile widening teasingly. Instead, you scoff softly—in sheer amusement at the situation with a smile gracing your lips.

Finally you reached the plinth of your home. You paused, contemplating—not knowing what to do exactly.

Biting your lower lip lightly, you divert your attention from the door, turning around to face him. He has a calm and relaxed expression on, his body language was at ease as he returned your gaze with a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

❝Good night, Gilbert.❞

His mouth parted, stretching to a full-on winsome grin. ❝Definitely.❞

Your eyebrows slightly twitched at the cryptic implication of his reply. You felt yourself purse your lips together, feeling a warmth swarm up your face.

He took a few steps backward with his body still lingered towards your direction. ❝See you later.❞ When he saw you smile softly, he waves at you.

He stood there still. As if waiting for you to make your way inside the house first before he could set his mind at ease and depart.

Giving him a peace of mind, you crossed the threshold and closed the door with a soft click. His face was the last thing you saw before it completely shut.

Oh, yes. It would definitely be a good night. You thought with a smile creeping up your lips as you made your way upstairs to your boudoir.

This interaction of yours with Gilbert barely even consisted beyond that of at least fifty words. Yet he had you on a chokehold, didn't he?

Those infuriatingly expressive, enchantingly mysterious, earth-shatteringly gorgeous empyrean hazel eyes. And that dangerously mind-blowing coy curl of the lips, and knee-numbing honeyed words were all to blame. How can someone deserve such power assigned so carelessly to a single being—destined to wield it without even being self-aware of his complete leverage over you?

Good God, you may be forsaken for all eternity for as long as Gilbert Blythe lives.

Maybe this was why Ruby was utterly infatuated with him for a long time. His charm was disarming. With no hope of breaking free from his reigns he so blissfully unaware he brought upon you.

You were not immune.

A/N : this was supposed to be a blurb, but as you can see I may have gotten carried away-- Also, I am aware that the setting for this scene was during early morning, however I just felt that night time would have been more fitting for this

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Chilling

Masterlist

Pairing: Henry X Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with the blacksmith's boy since you were both children. One day, he stumbles into into the apothecary, covered in blood and wounds, asking for you. As the last survivor of the hunting party, you start to suspect what has changed him.

Tags: fluff, eventual smut, werewolves, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, danger, some death, gore,

Chapter 1

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village into a shroud of cold shadows. In the dimly lit apothecary, you moved with purpose, tending to the sick under the warm glow of flickering candles.

The room smelled of herbs and remedies, a comforting scent that enveloped the two children and their mother nestled under thick furs. Your hands moved carefully, wrapping the children tightly as you spoke to them in a soothing tone.

"You see, this medicine is made from a special herb. It's like a little helper for your body," you explained, your eyes meeting the curious gaze of the youngest child.

"Why does it smell sour?" the girl asked.

You chuckled, “To me, it smells like oranges. Trust me, after a few sips, you'll feel much better and be playing with your siblings again."

Turning your attention to the reluctant boy, you's smile remained unwavering. "I know, it doesn't taste like your favourite sweets, but it is still good stuff. Drink up, and you'll be back to your adventures in no time."

The boy eyed the tea suspiciously and reluctantly took a sip.

As you comforted the children the mother's discomfort became apparent. Her forehead is damp with fever. You placed a damp cloth on her forehead and she sighed.

"You'll be alright," you assured before ushering the kids into another room, telling them to drink their tea.

Returning to the mother, you reassessed the situation. The bucket beside her bed was full, and she was wiping her mouth. A realisation dawned on you. You delicately asked, "Have you been intimate recently?"

The woman nodded, and understanding swept over. She was with child.

In that moment, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of Rebecca, the village healer, and your mentor.

Rebecca entered the apothecary, shaking off the snow from her cloak and depositing a basket of herbs and roots onto a table. "The cold has arrived sooner than expected this year," she sighed, eyeing the flickering candles that cast shadows on the walls.

Her gaze shifted to you, engaged with the now cleaned-up woman. A knowing smile played on Rebecca's lips as she assessed the situation. "Congratulations, Lucy. Wonderful news,"

As you helped Lucy with a wash basin, you made small talk about breaking the news to Michael, Lucy's husband. In the midst of their conversation, you couldn't resist asking, "How do you do that? Can you read minds?"

Rebecca snorted, not confirming or denying the accusation.

After everyone was cleaned up, children tucked back into bed, and Lucy given a herb to induce sleep, Rebecca noticed the weariness in your eyes. "The night has almost fallen. You should get some rest,"

"What about you?" You asked.

Rebecca dismissed you with a wave, "Don't worry about me. You've been working too hard. I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn't have to do the work of five people."

You chuckled, "Especially with winter colds."

The howling wind outside and the distant howl added an eerie soundtrack to their conversation.

"Sounded louder," Rebecca commented cryptically.

Perplexed, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The howling," Rebecca replied, your tone filled with a solemn warning. “One was louder than the rest…”

Oblivious to the ominous undertone, you shrugged and packed your things. "I haven't noticed. If you're okay here, i'll take that offer to go home."

As you opened the heavy wooden door, Rebecca cautioned behind you, "Be careful, y/n. No shortcuts."

With those words echoing in your mind, you donned your cloak and stepped into the biting night, leaving the apothecary behind, the wind carrying with it an unsettling howl.

As you ventured through the village on your walk home, the air grew colder, and darkness descended. Winter's biting cold pierced through your cloak, urging you to quicken your pace. The villagers had retreated indoors, leaving the streets eerily quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps echoing and the wind whooshing through the creaking, naked trees. The quietness was haunting, a stark contrast to the usual lively hum of the village.

Passing the dressmaker's shop, you glanced into the window, where a distorted reflection of a beautiful dress beckoned. You cast a brief glance down at your own worn garment. You've worn it almost every day for three years. The fabric clung tightly, showing your growth over the time.

A sudden snap to your right shattered the silence, and you spun. In the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes seemed to stare back at you. A gasp caught in your throat, and you broke into a run. The chilling wind whipped at your hair as you sprinted toward your brother's farmhouse at the edge of the village.

Reaching the safety of the familiar door, you stole a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding. There was nothing but the winter night. You hurriedly entered the house, shutting the door with a shiver, leaving the cold and the unsettling encounter outside.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You closed the heavy wooden door behind yourself, and the warm glow of the farmhouse kitchen welcomed you. Your brother, his wife, and their three children sat around the sturdy wooden table, eating a hearty stew from a pot placed at the center.

Will, holding the twins and little Mary devouring your small bowl, greeted you with understanding smiles. "Sit, eat."

As you filled your plate, your brother's wife picked at the sleeve of your worn dress, the dirt from the day's work evident.

"Can you mend this for me, Sophie?" you asked her.

Sophie nodded, "Of course! Leave it with me tomorrow, and I'll have it done by the morning. Can you wear something else in its stead in case it takes me some time?"

You pondered your dress options while taking a scoop of the stew. "I have my festive dress, but there's also my grandmother's old work dress. It's a bit big, though."

Sophie grinned mischievously, "Festive dress it is, then. Remember the harvest festival? The butcher's boy couldn't take his eyes off you."

Blushing, you chuckled, gaze drifting to the window. Your mind lingered on Henry, the blacksmith's nephew. You secretly had a crush on him since you were both children

He lost both his parents and older brother to cholera. Had to grow up fast, becoming the first to apprentice at his uncle Jen’s smithy at the age of ten.

You, only seven years old at the time, found him captivating, though your friends didn't share the sentiment.

You were quite chubby as a child but harsh winters and harvests have made it difficult to stay that way. The same applied to him, although unlike you, who became thinner, Henry bulked. As the years passed, he transformed from a lanky, sickly boy into a broad and capable young man, drawing lots of attention from the village girls with his tall build, strong arms, constantly covered in veins and dirt from working at the smithy.

Despite the two of you being friendly enough, Henry hadn't seemed to notice you much, always engrossed in his important errands at the smithy.

Sophie's voice brought you back to the present. "The butcher's son is handsome and well-off. Perhaps think about it?"

"Perhaps." you considered.

As Sophie departed for bed, you cleared the table before removing your dress, leaving it for Sophie. You settled down on your bed in the kitchen in your night dress, covering yourself in a heavy wool blanket and turned your head to the side.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

In the midst of the night, you found yourself in a dream.

You wandered through a frost-covered forest, shadows dancing beneath the moonlight. Distant howls of wolves echoed, and Henry 's figure emerged from the mist.

As you approached, he turned, revealing the handsome face you often found herself dreaming of.

Henry 's deep brown eyes held a warmth.

"Y/n, my y/n" his words muffled in your dream but you still found your heart beating loudly.

"Yes, Henry." you gasped.

Henry 's arms enveloped you, pulling you closer in a tender embrace beneath the moonlight. He lifted your chin up to meet his lips in a soft, tender kiss that lingered minutes after he pulled apart and trailed kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, where he lingered, playfully nipping at your collarbone.

You gasped.

"I want to sink my teeth into you..." He whispered. You felt your cheeks burn, along with the rest of your body.

Suddenly, the dream shifted. The forest darkened, and the wolves' howls intensified. A giant figure, cloaked in shadows, appeared. Your heart raced as you recognized the glowing eyes from your earlier encounter.

"I want to sink my teeth into you." The figure whispered. Your pulse picked up as the dream twisted into a chaotic dance of uncertainty.

You woke up with a start.

The farmhouse was silent, bathed in the soft glow of the hearth. you lay in the quiet darkness, the dream fading.

Unable to shake off the disquieting feeling, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb your family, and donned your warmest attire. The creaking floorboards betrayed your departure, and as you stepped outside, the winter night embraced you once again.

The village slept peacefully, shrouded in a blanket of snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as you made your way to the apothecary. The flickering candlelight within revealed the familiar shelves of herbs and potions.

Rebecca, already awake, greeted you with a knowing smile. "The threads of fate weave a complex tapestry," Rebecca mused. "Your dreams may hold clues to the challenges ahead. Stay vigilant, you, and trust your instincts."

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of the proposal, Bradley wants to make sure all three of you are on the same page. And as happy as you are, you're still having a hard time deciding how to best merge your past with your future.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley held you in the grass for a long time while you clutched that baseball in your hand. He couldn't remember another time he felt so calm as Everett ran around in the grass tossing a ball up in the air and catching it. 

"Will you move in now?" you asked, setting your heart covered baseball in the grass and running your fingers along Bradley's mustache and stubble. "Ev and I both really want you to."

"Yeah, Kitten. I'll move in," he promised. "Right after the three of us have a conversation about expectations, okay? It's really important to me that we're all on the same page."

"Oh my god," you groaned, crawling up his body to get better access to his lips. "How are you this perfect?"

"I just needed to get my priorities straight," he said between kisses. "I never meant to hurt you like I did before, you know that, right? I just never in a million years thought that I'd meet anyone like you and Ev and fall in love so hard."

You just whimpered and snuggled up on him again. But once Everett started bugging to play baseball again, you pulled Bradley to his feet. This time Bradley put on the catcher's gear and let Everett pitch to you, which was honestly pretty funny. 

"Am I good enough to play on the rec league, too?" you asked as you missed another pitch.

"No," Bradley and Everett replied in unison as you laughed. 

"But that's okay, Mommy! Bradley loves you anyway even though you aren't that good at baseball."

"That's true," Bradley replied, removing the mask when they were done playing. "Being good at baseball was not a prerequisite. She just needed to understand and appreciate our love of the Phillies," he added, giving Everett a high five.

"Can we come to your game?" Everett asked, eyes wide as Bradley scooped him up along with his gear bag. You carried the bucket of balls back to the Bronco with your special ball right on the top of the pile. 

"Kiddo, you can come to as many games as you want. And later today or tomorrow, we can talk about me moving into your house, okay?"

"Okay!"

"But I'm not going to stay in the extra bedroom," he said seriously. "So we can talk about that too." He wanted Everett to understand that he wasn't going anywhere, and that he was going to marry you as soon as he could. As soon as you wanted to. 

Once he got Everett buckled in, he helped you load everything into the back. You had some grass stains on your shirt, and your clothes were all rumpled, and Bradley was so in love with all of it.

"Come here," he whispered with a smile as you slipped into his arms right where you belonged. "Can we get married tomorrow?" You laughed and he buried his face against your neck. "Please, Kitten? I'm dying for it now!"

"Bradley, we've been engaged for an hour."

"That's a pretty long time," he replied, enjoying the feel of your hips in his hands. 

"We can talk about this later." You giggled and kissed him until Everett started whining that he was starving for lunch.

---------------------------

The Independence Day party at Maverick's hangar was in full swing by the time the three of you arrived in the Bronco. There was almost nowhere to park, but Bradley found a spot next to Bob's truck. 

"Bob came?" you asked, eyeing his truck. "I think Molly's working today. Something about double overtime."

"I don't know why she didn't just take the day off," Bradley mused, killing the engine. "Does she really need the extra pay? It's not like Bob isn't her glorified sugar daddy now."

"What's a sugar daddy?" Everett asked from the backseat.

You glared at Bradley and muttered, "Yeah, Bradley. Try explaining that one to a seven year old."

He had the decency to look a little concerned before turning back to look at your son. "Uh... I think that Bob bought a lot of candy for your Aunt Molly."

"Ohhh," Everett replied. "Yeah, that makes sense, because she likes snacks. Do you think he'd buy some for me, too?"

Bradley cleared his throat and nodded slowly. "I think so. Just as long as you don't call him a sugar daddy," he muttered.

"Ev, why don't you go say hi to Bob and Natasha," you said, pointing out the window. "I see them right there. But don't tell anyone about the baseball ring yet, okay?"

"Okay!" Ev called, and then you and Bradley were alone in the front seat, and you started laughing.

"Really? A sugar daddy?" you asked.

"I'm sorry, Kitten! I'm still new to all this dad stuff."

Your lips parted in a soft smile as you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled toward your fiance. "But you're already really good at it," you told him when he welcomed you onto his lap. "It's like you were tailor-made for us."

You kissed along Bradley's neck and he pulled you snug against him. "The two of you are perfect for me," he grunted, watching the sunlight catch your diamond ring. "Let's get married soon?"

"Okay," you agreed, your lips teasing his ear. 

"Did Danny ever give you a ring?" he asked, unable to help himself. 

"No. And I should have never married him. He obviously didn't want to but felt obligated to."

"I hate that guy," Bradley growled. "I'll be so much better."

"You already are," you promised him. "But would you mind if we don't tell anyone we're engaged yet?" you asked, and Bradley pulled away from you. He watched you remove your ring and reach for the glovebox. 

"Why not?" he asked, clearly upset as you put the ring inside and closed it.

You quickly placed a dozen little kisses at the corner of his mouth. "I want to tell Molly first. That's all."

"Oh," he replied, nodding as he rubbed his hands along your legs. "Sure, Kitten. We can tell Molly first."

You liked how he said we, like you were all part of a team now.

"I love you, Coach," you whispered, kissing him before you hopped down out of the driver's door and into the hot sunlight. Bradley jumped down behind you with his hand at your back, and he led you toward Everett.

"Mommy! Can we get changed and go play in the splash pad? Please?" he begged just as Nat strolled up and gave Bradley a kiss on the cheek. 

"I'll take him over," she said. "I've already got my bathing suit on, and Mav set up some changing stalls."

"Thanks, Nat," you replied, handing Everett his swim bag. 

"Kitten," Bradley groaned, wrapping his arms around you. "It's killing me not to tell her we're engaged."

You giggled and tucked your hand up inside his shirt. "You can tell her tomorrow, okay? Just let me tell Molly first."

Bradley just melted into your touch. He had his hands all over you the rest of the day as you ate burgers and chatted with everyone. He even ducked inside the tiny changing tent with you, kissing you all over as you tried to put on your leopard print bathing suit.

"I haven't seen this since the tee ball swim party," he groaned, slipping his index and middle fingers underneath the strap at your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I love it when you dress up like a kitten for me."

You bit your lip. "I did wear this to the pool party just so you'd notice it."

"Mmm," he hummed, letting his fingers stroke your nipple through the fabric. "Oh... I noticed it, Baby."

You let his hands slip lower to your hips. "And now, after you move in, I can dress up for you all the time."

"Fuck," he groaned, his lips finding the pulse point in your neck and sucking gently. "Please, let's get married next week."

You laughed softly and shook your head. "We'll talk about it later, Coach. You need to get changed so we can go splash with Ev." Then you brushed his erection softly with your hand before ducking outside. 

When you walked away, you heard him cursing softly, and the smile on your face felt like it was stuck there permanently. You were getting married. A second time. To Bradley. A man who loved your son every bit as much as he loved you. And he wasn't afraid to show it or talk about it. He wasn't afraid to let you know what you meant to him. You had never experienced anything like this before.

"Mommy!" Ev called out, soaking wet and holding up two water balloons.

"Don't you dare!" you told him, but he just held one out to you.

"Let's get Bradley," he whispered, looking past you. When you turned, you saw him heading your way in his swim trunks, pushing his aviators up on his nose. 

You nodded at Everett. "Absolutely." And then you watched as your balloon managed to hit Bradley in the shoulder right after Everett's hit him square in the chest.

Bradley looked up in shock. "Oh, it's on," he growled, and you tried to hide behind Everett as Bradley stormed closer with a playfully angry look on his face. 

"We need more balloons!" Everett screamed, pulling you toward a large bucket filled with them. Then the two of you launched dozens of water balloons at Bradley. Everett's accuracy was a lot better than yours, and Bradley pretended he was getting more and more wounded with each balloon he took to his body.

"You're too good!" he gasped at Everett, dropping to his knees on the splash pad while Everett laughed. Then he ran over and tackled Bradley with a big hug. You could hear Bradley tell him, "Hey, your pitches are looking great, kiddo," while Everett hugged him around the neck. "So proud of you."

"Thanks, Coach," Everett replied, and Bradley kissed him on the top of his head before scooping him up and standing. 

"But I don't know if I can trust the two of you now," Bradley said, squeezing your butt as he walked toward the sprinkler. "Some family you turned out to be. Getting me soaked before I was ready." He walked into the spray of water, and you listened to Everett scream with laughter as Bradley got both of them even more soaked.

Then Nat and Bob joined in, and you wished Molly was here. Because you had to be the one to remind Bob to put on more sunblock in her absence. And you didn't want to text her a picture of your ring, you wanted to tell her in person about it. You wanted her to see it and be excited for you. 

If she had the day off tomorrow, you'd try to stop by after work and tell her. But for now you'd just enjoy the rest of the first day of your engagement. You ran toward the sprinkler and wrapped your arms around Bradley.

----------------------------

"That's a familiar sight," Maverick said as the sun was dipping lower in the sky. Bradley gave him a funny look as he held a very sleepy Everett in his arms. "It's just that you look so much like Goose. And Everett looks like he could be your son." The words hit Bradley right in the heart.

"I want him to be," he managed, voice raspy with emotion. 

Mav nodded and grinned before looking at the ground. "You picked a good one." Bradley looked where Mav tilted his head and saw you talking to Bob. "Well, both of them."

He held Everett a little tighter as he slept, head on Bradley's shoulder. "Thanks."

Mav patted him on the back as he took Everett to the Bronco where he started to stir. "Where are we going?" he asked in a sleepy little voice that made Bradley smile.

"Home. You can sleep until we get there. Gonna watch fireworks on the back deck and have a snack."

Everett just nodded and then fell back asleep, his head tipped to the side. Bradley buckled him in and waited patiently for you to finish saying goodbye to Bob. 

"You think he'll be my brother-in-law someday?" you asked with a laugh as you climbed in next to Bradley and glanced back to check on Everett. 

"You know," Bradley said, scratching his chin as he started the engine, "yeah, I do."

"Good," you replied, opening the glove box as Bradley drove down the long drive to the main road and turned toward the sunset. He breathed a sigh of relief as you slid your ring back onto your finger and examined it in the golden light.

"It's so pretty," you whispered, taking Bradley's hand in yours. "Thanks for letting Ev help pick it out."

Bradley scoffed and squeezed your fingers gently. "You think I could have done it without him? Not a chance. I almost texted Molly for final approval."

Your laughter filled the Bronco, and Bradley smiled as he got on the highway toward your house. "She would have ruined the surprise!"

"I figured," he mumbled, kissing your knuckles. "Better to keep it a secret between the boys."

You were quiet for a little while as Bradley drove. Eventually you turned toward him and whispered, "I do think we should get married pretty soon."

"Yes," he agreed. "We're both off on Saturday...."

"Please!" you laughed. "I didn't have a real wedding before. So I'd like to plan something this time. Nothing crazy, but a real wedding would be so nice." Your voice was soft and dreamy. 

"Anything you want, Kitten. Anything. I mean it. I'm already getting the things that are most important to me: you and Ev. So whatever and whenever works for me." 

When Bradley pulled into your driveway and thought about how he'd be living here soon enough, you unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap.

"Watch it, Kitten," he whispered as you rubbed yourself against him. "We've got company, Baby." 

"I know," you replied softly, kissing his lips. "I just love you so much, and today has been kind of wild, but I want you to know that I can't wait to marry you."

The way your hand slid up to rest over his heart while you kissed him had Bradley ignoring his own caution. He let his lips and mustache trail along your neck as he reached for the button of your shorts.

"Can we go watch fireworks?" Everett asked through a yawn from the backseat. Bradley closed his eyes and sighed, kissing you one more time.

"Yep," he grunted. "It's almost time." Then he carried Everett inside after you unlocked the door. He got both of you settled on the back deck under a blanket, and then he made some popcorn and carried it out just as the first fireworks lit up the sky. 

Bradley sat next to Everett who held the bowl of popcorn. "This was a really good day," Everett said, the colors reflecting in his eyes.

"I loved today," you added, turning to look at Bradley as you ate some popcorn.

"Yeah," Bradley said with a deep sigh. "I got to spend it with my family."

-------------------------

Everett was looking a little worse for the wear, snuggled up against Bradley as the fireworks ended. 

"Can we all talk for a minute?" Bradley asked when it was just the three of you sitting quietly under the moon glow. 

"Okay," you agreed as Everett nodded.

"I just wanted to say," Bradley started before pausing for a beat. "Kiddo, I'm going to move in with you and your mom. If that's okay with you."

"Yeah!" Everett cheered, perking up. 

Bradley kissed his forehead. "But I'm not going to move into the extra bedroom, okay? Your mom and I are going to get married, hopefully pretty soon. And I'll move my stuff into her big bedroom."

"Okay," Everertt agreed. "Maybe we can turn the other bedroom into a Phillies room or something."

"Hey, that sounds great," Bradley agreed, laughing as you rolled your eyes. 

You ran your fingers along your son's cheek so that he was looking at you. "Ev, Bradley is going to be part of our family. For real."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Bradley asked, and Everett's gaze snapped back to him. "I'll be around all the time. You understand?"

Everett nodded enthusiastically. "Does that mean you'll be my dad soon?"

Bradley met your eyes, and your heart started pounding. His gaze was questioning, but you weren't sure exactly what you wanted to say here. "He'll be your stepdad, Ev."

Everett still looked a little concerned as he wrapped his arms around Bradley's neck. "Can I call you dad?" he asked Bradley, and you felt tears in your eyes. All you wanted was for your son to have everything he deserved. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Danny and child support and Everett's face in tears.

But Bradley held him tight and nodded against his neck. "If you want to. And if it's okay with your mom."

When Everett looked at you, a smile crept along your lips. "Yeah, it's okay with me."

Then you listened to the two of them in quiet conversation before Bradley took Everett inside and carried him up to bed. You followed them up the stairs but went into your bedroom and let them have a few minutes to themselves. You contemplated changing into something cute to wear to bed with your fiance, but you ended up sitting on the bed wiping away your tears instead. And then after a while, Bradley walked in, and you could tell he had been crying as well. 

He paused next to the bed and you asked, "Are you okay?"

A nod was all you got right away. Then he rasped, "He called me dad. While I got him ready for bed."

"He loves you."

Bradley looked up at the ceiling. "Listen, I had every intention of walking in here and absolutely ravaging my wife-to-be. I swear. But instead, I think I just want to hold you first."

How could anyone possibly disagree with that? You reached out for his hand and pulled him into bed with you and into your arms. "I love you, Coach."

"Fuck, Kitten," he groaned against your neck as you hugged him. "I didn't think I would end up crying so much the day I got engaged. Actually... I never really thought I'd ever get engaged. Especially not to a mom."

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off with his lips on yours. "But you're right, Kitten. I was tailor-made to be with you. And Everett."

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed all of the words from your lips. You were left softly sighing as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, the prickle of his mustache on your skin driving you crazy for him.

"I was going to put on something cute to celebrate with you tonight," you whispered. 

"No, no. I love that stuff, you know that. But you're perfect just like this." Bradley kissed you through your grass stained clothing before he started to remove it. "Perfect."

When he took his time like this, it was almost better than when he went wild. Bradley ran his nose along your lace covered breasts, his thumbs grazing your sides, skimming down your ribs. Wordlessly, he moved every bit of your clothing before he pulled his shirt over his head. His skin was hot beneath your hands, and the sound of his heavy breathing filled the space. When his lips met your bare breasts, you whimpered. His big palms were on your hips, holding you in place as you spread your legs wide for him.

His words were too soft, the sound of your whimpering nearly drowning him out as his lips and mustache met the sensitive skin below your belly button. 

"Bradley."

His hands left your body, and you heard him work his zipper down. But then his mouth was on your pussy, kissing and licking you as your fingers tangled in his hair. And he would be here every night with you. When he wasn't deployed, he'd be in bed with you, right here, every night. 

"Bradley," you whispered again, this time with a little sob. You were going to marry him, and he would always be there with you. 

He swiped his tongue slowly up to your clit before kissing you there. "Kitten?"

You pulled him up by his soft hair and wiped away your tears. "I love you." Then his lips were on yours, and you could feel his cock at your entrance. The way your body welcomed every part of him, like you'd been waiting for him, had you wrapping your leg around his waist. He groaned softly against your lips as he sank into you, filling you up. But he didn't move yet. Not for a few minutes. He just stretched you in the most wonderful way while you pulsed around him, and he told you everything he was going to do now that you were engaged.

"I'll move in next weekend, Kitten," he whispered against your neck. "And then I'll start doing your yardwork, because you kind of suck a pulling weeds, Baby."

"Hey," you whined, with a laugh that turned into a moan as he pushed himself deeper inside you. 

"I'll pay half the bills. And I'll make breakfast in the mornings. And you can pack my lunch. And I'll play baseball with Ev, because I love him. And then I'll fuck you all night, because I love you."

His words got ragged as he started to thrust. And as soon as he was moving, his rough hairs harsh against your wet clit, you could feel the pressure building inside you. After a few more strokes, you were whining his name, and he was smiling against your lips. Bradley fucked you slow and steady through your orgasm, drawing it out and making your sweat-slick body shiver beneath him. And he went nice and slow until he was grunting and spilling himself inside you. 

Your fingers dug into the back of his neck as he kissed you hard. "Please don't make me wait too long to marry you. To be Ev's stepdad for real."

"I won't." 

As he panted on top of you, a plan was already forming in your mind. You tried to hold back your grin as you thought about it. Bradley would love it, and so would Ev. If it was even viable. But you'd have Bradley all to yourselves soon enough, and he could help you plan it out. 

A little while later, as you were snuggled up with Bradley, nearly asleep, he whispered, "I told Everett I'd take him to the park tomorrow evening. Thanks for sharing your son with me."

You laughed softly, and then you froze up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stroking up and down your spine with his rough hand.

You propped yourself up to look at him, unsure if you should even say anything. 

"Kitten. Did I say something wrong?"

"No," you whispered, shaking your head slightly. "It's just that... I never told you this, but I don't want to have anymore kids, Bradley." You bit down hard on your lip as he studied your face. 

He looked a little surprised but not disappointed. "Oh. I mean, I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest. I guess I thought the three of us would be perfect, you know? Happy."

You heaved a sigh of relief and wrapped your arms around him again. "Yeah. The three of us. Happy."

---------------------------

The following day, after work, you put your ring back on and drove to Molly and Bob's condo. Bradley was picking Everett up from summer camp, and you'd have a chance to talk to your sister alone for a few minutes if Bob wasn't back from base yet.

You knocked on their door loudly before using the key they gave you to let yourself inside. 

"Come in!" Molly called out, and you found her in the living room, under a blanket, eating chips and watching reality TV. "Hi!"

You laughed and plopped down next to her. She looked tired as you kissed her cheek. "They working you too hard?" you asked, running your hand across her forehead. "Molly, you look exhausted."

She yawned and snuggled into your touch. "I'm so fucking tired. These double shifts are killing me. I thought it would be an easier adjustment to all daylight shifts than this! But they keep asking me to pull extra hours, because we're short staffed."

"That's not good," you whispered with a frown as she yawned again. But she just brushed you off.

"I'll be fine after Bob dicks me down and I get a good night's sleep again tonight for work tomorrow."

"Oh, I didn't really need to know that, but thanks?"

She nodded at you with a serious look in her eyes. "I love him. He's the sweetest man in the world. And he has a big cock. I'll be just fine. Don't worry about me."

As you cleared your throat to try to change the subject, Molly reached for your hand and screamed, "What is that?!" She started pawing at your engagement ring, kicking her blanket to the floor and jumping up. "You're getting married!"

You laughed at your wild eyed sister standing in front of you in a sports bra, boxer shorts and mismatched socks. "I'm getting married!" you confirmed, and she screamed again. "He asked me yesterday."

"Oh my god! Bradley really went all in on the ring, huh?" she asked, pulling it off your finger to examine it. "I mean...damn! He probably thought you'd say no if the ring sucked. Look at the size of this thing!"

"I wouldn't have said no!" you told her, laughing as she pretended to be blinded by the sparkle. "Ev helped him pick it out."

Molly screamed again. "Ev helped?! Okay, Bradley can stay forever, I guess."

The two of you were on the floor laughing and sharing the bag of chips when Bob walked in wearing his khaki uniform.

"Mo, it's uniform time, Honey," he said with a grin, but then he saw you on the floor with some chips halfway to your mouth, and he blushed. "Oh... you're here too... that's great." 

"Hey, Bob," you said before shoving the chips in your mouth and standing. "I was actually just leaving, so feel free to have uniform time."

He still looked embarrassed as you patted his cheek. "Oh, um..."

"I just stopped by to tell you both that Bradley and I are getting married. Hopefully pretty soon." You held up your hand, and Bob pulled you in for a hug. 

"Ugh," Molly groaned from the floor. "He's going to be my brother-in-law."

"You just told me how happy you were for me!"

"I am," she confirmed. "I just kind of like to pick on him. It's fun. And easy."

You rolled your eyes and hugged Bob tight. "Stay tuned for a wedding date, okay? I just need to make a few phone calls." Then you turned to leave, but Molly followed you after she kissed Bob.

"You can stay for dinner, if you want."

You smiled and put your high heels back on. "Nah, I don't want to interrupt uniform time."

Molly grinned like the devil, but she said, "I ordered some cute shirts for both of us and Ev to wear to the rec league games. But the Bradshaw on the back of yours is going to have a whole new meaning now! Are you going to ditch Danny's last name?"

"God, yes," you groaned. "As long as it's okay with Bradley."

"And what about Ev?"

You puzzled her question in your mind for a moment. You'd been waiting for the child support from Danny to kick in. But you'd probably be waiting a lot longer. He wasn't going to hand it over to you willingly. But you just knew that Everett was going to want a new last name as well, and honestly it made you want to cry. 

"I'm not sure," you whispered, forcing a smile and kissing Molly one last time. "Go have fun with Bob. I'll see you soon." 

And when you got home, Bradley and Everett were there, eating a pizza they brought back after playing in the park. Bradley jumped up to get a slice ready for you, and you hugged him around his middle while Everett told you about his day.

-------------------------------

Ev called him dad! He's moving in! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 27

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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[wcbblife]

Paige as a girl/boy mom HCs!

a/n: So, keep in mind that some of these could be switched. Like this is just me exponentially running my mouth. I actually might do another part. Enjoy!

Boy mom:

Paige would absolutely be too excited for her son to be strong and old enough so that she can play with him. You constantly have to remind her to be patient and to at least wait until he can walk.

She would 100% put a basketball in his hands the second he has his first steps. I actually think she would even do it while he is still using his baby walker. Once he actually makes a basket, she’ll run laps around the house screaming because she enjoys the belly laughs her son makes.

She would read him stories and get too involved. Especially if they’re comics. She’ll be shouting out the sound effects and you have to walk into them bursting into fits of giggles. They both would have matching pouts once you tell her that he’s past his bedtime. (Btw she's definitely the fun mom).

Video games. That’s it. Although you two had a conversation about getting him into video games later in life, as soon as he set his eyes on Paige playing, he had been so adamant about playing that you both gave in.

She buys him a new set of clothes literally every other day.

“Babe, just imagine him in this. He’ll look like a little gentleman.” Like it's crazy how much clothes he would have.

She definitely takes him to her practices sometimes and even teaches him as soon as he shows any type of interest in basketball. (This reminds me...Paige would never push her kids into one particular sport BUT she would push them into an active lifestyle so trust she will always be doing something with them.)

Him and KK would be besties btw. Even when he used to babble out incoherent words, I can just imagine how chaotic KK would be with a baby boy and Paige would 100% not make anything better. “Bababa.” Your baby blows a raspberry. “You heard him!” KK shouts, turning to him, “Damn little man, I couldn't have said it better myself.” “KK, language.” You deadpan.

Once he’s out of that fragile baby faze and into that toddler stage, I get the feeling she’ll definitely fling him around (safely ofc). Like she’ll pick him up and just throw him to the couch or on to his bed, loving the sound of his laughs.

Beach days go crazy with them two. Literally two kids. Sandcastles, water fights, beach volleyball. I get a feeling they go home completely covered in sand and Paige carries him back to the car while he’s too sleepy to open his eyes.

She’s just so fun. Always in an adventure with him especially if it’s really active. Like camping, surfing, hiking …etc.

Horror/Space movie nights with a pillow fort and popcorn.

Whenever she does anything fun with her teammates or travels for her games, her first thoughts are about you and him and how much fun you guys could have. Def keeps a bucket list of places for you guys to visit

You’ve definitely found her sound asleep in his bed with him curled up to her side. It happened when you ask her to put him to sleep after practice but she’s way too tired herself to get up and out of his room.

You think she secretly enjoys playing with his toys more than he does lol. Like you’ve definitely found her playing with them while he's long gone.

She could not cook for shit in the early days of your relationship but as time went on, she learned just to be able to cook for you guys. I actually envision her as a grill dad lol. She’ll definitely wake up early in the morning, step out into the cold weather and cook you guys some breakfast.

"If they punch you, punch them back harder." Mom.

Paige strikes me as a mother that would particularly show an abundant amount of love for her boy. She recognizes that, just like girls, boys need reassurance and love.

You constantly find them breaking into fits of laughter and giggle alone. It's the cutest thing ever.

Girl mom:

Paige is absolutely smitten and head over heels even before the baby girl is born. She’ll lay her head softly on your stomach and talk for hours to her.

Once she’s born though it’s a whole other side of Paige. She’s usually clumsy, but you never see her be so cautious like when she’s holding the girl. Literally sloth pace once she has her in her arms. Honestly kinda funny.

She’d be way too excited and paint everything pink and have everything ready for her MONTHS before she’s born. Before she was born, you'd catch her just looking or sitting around the nursery room all alone.

Geeks about small girl clothes. Especially dresses and little sandals. You have to constantly deal with her sending you a bunch of pictures of clothes whenever she goes shopping with messages like “We’ll have a little princess walking around in our house soon.” or “I can’t wait to put this on her babe.”

Paige will 100% let her daughter put on makeup on her and it doesn’t matter how bad she looks; she’ll walk out with it on in public if her daughter asked her. Just imagine her sitting in a chair that’s wayyy too little for her, hunched over as your daughter tries her very best to apply some of that cheap kids makeup. omg.

Puppy eyes work on her almost too easily. And it’s hilarious.

“Hey…What did I tell you about candy at this hour?” Puppy eyes “Hmmmmm. Fine. But don’t tell your mother. And this is the last one!” Or… “I’m too tired honey…” Puppy eyes “Fine, let’s go.”

She does her signature hairstyle on her daughter’s hair, and it makes you laugh because she turns into a miniature version of Paige. Talking about a miniature Paige...trust that her daughter would literally copy her mother's sass.

Same with the makeup, Paige would let her daughter paint her nails. She always gets made fun of in her practices, but she couldn't care less. Strangely I think she would actually like going through her game pictures and seeing the chipped and uneven colors all over her nails because it was her baby girl who did them.

Protective as hell I’m afraid. Like she will not hesitate to smack the shit out of someone or scream at them if they're being weird or disrespectful or mean etc.

Matching fits. I think she would love to either match fits or color with her daughter (and son too dont get me wrong). Especially when showing up to games and they’re photographed together.

Watching princess movies with her is Paige’s favorite downtime activity. After a tough match or practice she absolutely loves getting home to her angel and just lounge around on the sofa while watching “The Princess and the Frog.” Especially when they either both fall asleep, or her daughter falls asleep and she carries her back to her room.

You’ve definitely found her sleeping on the floor next to the crib in the early days.

Paige in a rocking chair with her daughter sleeping on her. >>>>

Instagram feed would be full of her daughter's pics without her face. Even if fans know what she looks like she still likes to do it.

Paige would find it strangely soothing to play with her daughter's hair or even fiddle with her tiny little fingers absentmindedly.

[leclarifies]

this was meant to be a late night ramble but i got carried away. will format once i'm on my pc, was written on my phone. not proofread or checked for grammar. also i wrote this in two hours so..............

tl;dr: my take on how the both of you will cope with one of max's worst crashes to date.

tw: crash, max having major injuries after the crash, struggles with alcohol abuse.

you had never been one to ever criticize someone for their choice of profession, especially not when it came to something that paid as high as this, but you wondered if you would ever see your boyfriend in one piece after every race.

it was nerve-wracking of course, seeing him go 350km per hour and hoping his car doesn't fuck itself up and end up in a barrier before then catching into flames. he was good at his job, he loved to drive the damn car so why was it such an issue then?

max didn't understand it either. one moment you would be happy for him and the next you'd be ridden with anxiety whenever he would step into the car, he would always reassure you though. the car was fine, he got the world's best engineers working on his car, that he would be safe.

you didn't understand what had happened though, one moment he was overtaking norris and the next he was in the barrier, a gasp escaped your lips and tears brimmed your eyes when you saw car number 1 in the barrier.

you wanted to claw yourself up there and pull him out of the car yourself but you were being restrained by a few red bull mechanics, telling you that it's gonna to be okay and the marshalls were going to get him out in one piece.

"max? are you alright? talk to me mate."

no response. that's when people started panicking.

max wasn't fine, he wasn't okay. so much force had hit him, he was going max speed when he hit those barriers. he couldn't feel his face, couldn't feel his arms and legs. he felt numb, and it scared him. his ears were ringing and the helmet was suffocating him, he needed air. right now.

he didn't know what happened next, through his blurred vision he could only guess that he had been pulled out the car and his helmet was pulled off his head, he could breathe better but not by much.

the next few moments were just a black void.

you were hysterical when you found out that he was being sent to the nearest hospital, the medical center said, 'it's too big of an injury for us to handle here.' you felt like you were the one dying when you heard he had to go through surgery. you knew he shouldn't have picked this profession, it's insane. how was any of this legal and approved by the government? you didn't know.

you weren't given the specifics because you were neither lawful spouse or family, and his family was hours away from being able to come visit him so you had to sit there and wait for him to come to before you could even know what was going on with him. his profession never scared you quite like this did before.

being in a coma wasn't something on his bucket list, he prayed that he would never go through an accident as traumatic to have to be in a coma.

max could hear the voices, they weren't the clearest. he could hear bits and pieces, but never the full conversation. it was almost as if he was half-asleep and the world around him was just so incredibly quiet. he didn't know what he would do or say to you when he woke up, he was most worried about what you would say. maybe kill him before the injuries from the crash could? max wanted to chuckle from that but nothing came out from his lips, just soft breaths. signaling that he was still alive in there to the outside world.

slowly, he would start hearing and feeling less and less of what happened in the world around him. no longer being able to hear your beautiful voice, and that's what hurt the most, not knowing if you were there with him or not.

you had stayed by his side almost everyday when that happened, not wanting to leave even when the visiting hours were unavailable. always waiting nearby in a coffee shop or booking a hotel room the closest to the hospital in order to be there as soon as visiting hours started.

life felt so empty. you were used to his playful banter and teases but you hadn't heard his voice in two weeks now. you weren't religious, having some religious trauma in life, you would never devote yourself to some invisible god ever again, but you prayed. you prayed to that invisible man upstairs to wake him up, that if he were to wake up, you would start going to church, but that didn't come.

you just wanted him to get better, to open his beautiful blue eyes, look at you and tell you that he loved you. faith was hard to come by but you would always come back to that disgusting sterile smelling room and hold his hand gently, some days you would talk to him, some days you would sing to him but it didn't matter what you did because you would always be there. never missing a possible moment where he would wake up.

the doctors said it didn't look good. they hadn't been medically inducing him in a coma for a week now, he should be conscious by the first few days of taking him off the medically induced coma and you didn't know what to think. you were scared.

you had told him so many times that it made you anxious that an accident like this would happen, that he would get in that car and you couldn't see him anymore but you didn't know it was going to be this soon.

at first you couldn't believe it, it had been almost a month since you heard his voice last. he couldn't be, right? he was the most talented driver you knew, there was no way he was in a coma after a big crash. he was always careful, never taking risks that was unnecessary, right?

you were in denial, you knew it. everyone knew it. you were spiraling out of control and there was nothing anyone could do about it, unless they would magically wake max verstappen out of his comatose state.

there was a hole left in your chest when you realized that maybe he was never going to wake up from this, that you would never see his beautiful blue eyes anymore. slowly, you started to lose hope. visits became far and few between, you just wanted to get away. not wanting to see the day that his family decided that there was no more hope for him and to pull the plug.

you buried yourself in work, not wanting to think, not wanting to feel, just wanting to focus on anything else other than the gaping hole in your chest.

drinking became your best friend, hitting up bars as soon as you finished your shift. downing shot after shot, your friends and his friends were all concerned, always asking if you needed anything, if you needed them and that they were there for you, but frankly you didn't care about anyone else.

coming home drunk wasn't something that was far and few between anymore, it would be every other night, then every night and then sometimes you would sneak a flask in when you were at work. just something to numb the pain of losing your boyfriend. it wasn't enough though.

you were angry.

who cared about all of those other people when the person that mattered the most was in a hospital bed? waiting for his own death that wasn't even entirely up to him? you were angry, you wanted to scream at anything, at someone.

why did it have to be him? why did it have to be your max? why did it have to be him at the wrong place at the wrong time? why? why? why? he did nothing wrong, all his life he was a saint. he was never cruel to anything or anyone in his life, all he did was try to please the people around him, why did it have to be him?

you wished you had the answers, you still prayed. almost like a devoted follower of that stupid god most of the population of the earth believed in. you laughed at the irony of your desperation, no amount of praying or bargaining could ever bring him back, it was too late but damn, if you didn't try you knew you'd regret it.

max's family checked up on you often, sophie and victoria being the ones to ask you how you were. you always appreciated them checking up on you when you knew that they were hurting the most out of all of this, they were his family afterall. you were just... the girlfriend. your feelings were not important in this equation.

trudging through life without waking up next to him was painful, the small pitiful meows coming out of sassy and jimmy were almost even more painful. the reminder that you were in his apartment, with his cats but without him. when was he going to wake up? when were you going to wake up from this bad dream?

a ring from your phone had woken you up from your drunken adventures from the previous night, you wanted to yell at them for interrupting your sleep. you wanted to sleep forever, maybe even be in a comatose state similar to max so then you would be able to wake up together.

"hello?" you mumbled through closed eyes, very much annoyed that whoever this person was, waking you up from your sleep. you didn't even bother to check the called id.

"you need to come down to the hospital, right now."

you haven't scrambled up and got dressed any faster than you just did, you didn't bother doing your hair or even brushing your teeth. one second you were in your shared apartment, the next you were in your car, speeding past the streets of monaco to get to the hospital, maybe breaking a few laws and going as fast as an f1 car.

"schatje."

you were crying when you got there, burying your face in max's chest, you wanted to yell at him, for leaving you alone for two months too long but you didn't have it in you. his hand found its way to your hair, petting your head. a gentle kiss was left against your temple as you continued to cry against his chest, you couldn't form words, basically inconsolable.

you were eventually able to peel yourself off of him though, his hand firmly wrapped around yours, mainly for your comfort and not his. the doctor's had explained that he had to slowly learn to walk and speak again because he was in a coma for so long but the first words out of his mouth when he first became conscious was schatje which made you cry a little bit more. some of his friends and family came throughout the day and he could recognize who they were, just had a hard time speaking.

it was only at the end of the day where you two had a time for yourselves, just basking in the presence of each other, finally being able to see his pretty blue eyes look at you.

"lay... ne-next to me..?" max asked, his voice a bit scratchy for not being awake in two months, tilting his head a little to the left, a little quirk of his which you thought was cute and complied with his request. he wrapped his arm around yours after scooting to make space for you, the both of you just laying there in each other's presence, not wanting to let go.

max didn't understand how much time had passed and understandably so, but he missed you. it felt like he had just gone to sleep and succumbed to his injuries but for you, it felt like a lifetime without having to see the love of your life. the atmosphere was quiet, but comfortable. seeing max alive and in one piece was all you needed before slowly drifting off into sleep, and for once the nurses didn't kick you out after checking in on max.

recovery was hard, max had been told that he suffered damage when he got a concussion from the crash. his spine had been mostly intact but since he suffered injuries to his brain, he had to learn how to walk and talk again.

"what about happiness?" a therapist had asked max as he sat across from her. they were doing some exercises to train max's speaking, something that the doctors had mentioned would help max recover faster. max's face lit up before pointing to you, who was sitting next to him, "nice try max, but you understand what i mean."

a giggle left your lips before he tried again, with a pout dancing on his lips, "joy, winning a race?" he tilted his head cutely before the therapist let him have the answer, it was cute. he was cute but he was a fighter.

the moment the doctors cleared him of any sustaining injuries, he was ready to get on the track again, only after six months after the crash.

"you can't be serious max," you shook your head as you paced around the apartment, "it's only been six months... you should just rest for the remainder of the season and get in next year. i don't understand the rush, you have your life in front of you to compete, what's wrong with waiting a few more months?"

max shrugged, he realized after the crash that he in fact did not have his entire life to race. what if his life was taken early and he couldn't spend the rest of his life with her, what then? he didn't want to waste any time. he wanted to get his head in the game while he was at his prime and get it over with before retiring and getting away with her on a private island and living there for the rest of his life.

he didn't want to race for the remainder of his life, nope. he wasn't like alonso who was going to be on the track when he's old and frail and no longer in the top teams. he wanted to win, and that's what he was going to do, to win. he knew that him coming back so soon even after his injuries were going to be hard on you, he was scared to even bring it up in the first place.

it had only been a few months, and he was so ready to come back to racing. his fingers were basically itching for it, but he was very mindful with how you were going to feel, he always was. he hinted at it a couple times before, but her response was always different than what he wanted.

max sighed when you were obviously going to be upset with his decision, "look, i know you're worried and you do not want me in the car so soon, but you have to trust me—"

you set your back straight before looking him dead in the eyes, "i trusted you six months ago! look where that got us!" you didn't mean to yell, but you were scared and you did not want to lose him because he was driving a silly fast car. max looked hurt, and rightfully so. you sighed before you walked over to where he was on the couch, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, which he welcomed with open arms, "i'm just worried, okay? you being in that coma was the scariest thing in my entire life. i even lost hope, do you understand how scary it was for me to lose hope?"

max nods before landing a kiss on your lips, wanting to reassure you that he made a mistake and that it wasn't going to happen again. he didn't mean to leave you for those two months, but he knew that he was never going to do that to you again. he didn't want to hurt you anymore than he already did.

"trust me, i'm not gonna make the same mistake twice and i'm gonna make you proud."

and max never did. he got in the car the next week, ready to fight. baring his teeth for anyone who could get anywhere close to him. he closed out the season with multiple trophies, even though the driver's championship was out of reach.

he celebrated that season with a big smile on his face and you knew it was the right decision to let him get back to racing. as much as you didn't want to admit it, he loved racing more than he loved you and you were okay with that. you were okay with being second to his ambitions and dreams because that's what good girlfriends do, let their boyfriend's risk their lives driving silly fast cars if that meant it made them happy.

unfortunately, you anxiety wouldn't go away even after all the constant reassurance your boyfriend gave you. the nights where you were alone, wondering whether if max was going to pull through still haunted you.

of course, alcohol was still a problem for you. you turned to it when you felt like you didn't have a choice. some nights, on particularly rough anxiety ridden nights, you would sneak out. just grab a drink or two to soothe your heart. it wasn't long before max caught on though.

"where have you been?" max had asked as you entered their apartment after coming home from work, it wasn't like you came home late and came home absolutely drunk which is why you didn't think he was suspicious. there had been a break between the current races, which is why he was home before you were.

a hiccup breaks the silence as you close the door behind you, you lock eyes with max and you can see the disappointment floating in his eyes, that's when you knew that he knew but you weren't sure how much he knew.

"answer the question, liefje," max sternly spoke up once again, walking towards you, in his eyes was a challenge. he was waiting to see whether you were going to lie to his face or not. he could practically smell the alcohol from there, he went out drinking a lot too, being a formula one driver meant parties like there was no tomorrow.

you didn't know what to answer with, so you answered as vaguely as possible, "i was out with some friends," hoping that the answer you gave him would satisfy him enough without him asking too many questions, you tried to brush past him but he held onto your arm.

max had heard stories from his friends, telling him that you weren't at a good spot after the accident. that you turned to drinking and it seemed like nothing could help except for max himself.

he took one whiff and he knew it was alcohol, "which friends?" he asked, not wanting to let you slip from his fingers, he knew how dangerous alcohol addiction was and he wasn't going to let his girlfriend fall into the grasps of it.

"work friends, max— let go. i want to take a shower," you tugged on his hand that was holding onto your arm, but he was unrelenting. he stared you down, not convinced with the bullshit answer you gave him. he knew you had been out drinking, it wasn't even race week. you didn't have an excuse.

max's eyes softened, he knew that somewhere deep inside of you that you were struggling, that you needed help but you just didn't know how to reach out. was it hard to reach out to him? has he made himself so unapproachable after the accident?

"talk to me, what's going on with you?" max's grip on your arm has softened but you could only sigh and look away, you didn't know how to face him. yes, you were struggling but you didn't know how to bring it up. just like everything in your life, you needed someone to comfort you and tell you it was going to be okay and that there were people there for you, but you were stubborn almost in a similar fashion to him.

you only looked back up at him when max squeezed your arm and the eyes that looked back up at him were no longer hard and guarded, but full of vulnerability and glassy, "i—"

"you've been drinking?" max cut you off and finished your sentence for you, now you knew how much he knew of your struggles. you swear it wasn't supposed to get this bad, you promised yourself you would stop on the weeks where he didn't have races, or maybe just stop altogether but that was easier said than done.

"yes," was all that left your lips and that was the day that max swore he was going to get you through this.

max had offered to take a break like you suggested for the rest of the year, just to ease your nerves but you told him that it was a hard no for you. you knew that it was going to get much worse if you got too used to his presence, the cycle would just repeat itself once he got back into racing.

this time there was another road to recovery, just not for him. max had been nothing but helpful, always offering you help, even offering to pay for your rehab. you contemplated whether you even wanted to go or not, you didn't want to feel weak. to feel like there was something was wrong with you, that you were a freak but at the end, after endless heart-to-heart conversations with max, he was convinced you to go.

the first few months were hard, there was no way you could attend the races while going through rehab so you had to just suck it up and go through it without watching. max felt bad, of course he did. that was the love of his life that he put in that rehab center, but he knew he had to make tough decisions if he wanted you to get better.

he felt horrible not having you there for even some of the races, not because he sent you to the rehab center but because he missed you. he knew that the accident hit you hard, but not this hard. he didn't understand how much anxiety racing did to you, and he was beating himself up for it.

he should've seen the signs, should've reached out sooner before they could fester into something as serious as alcohol addiction but there was no use in beating himself up for something he didn't do in the past, as least he was doing it now after he saw the signs of you struggling.

the initial withdrawal symptoms were insane, if you weren't in rehab, you would've probably relapsed the first day there. it was hard for you and you were trying your best, and you did. overtime, you were recovering and that's all that mattered.

max had received updates of course, he requested them. he wanted to see how you were holding up, if there were any signs of improvement. the therapists there all said that you were doing splendid, that she might get out in a few months which was great news to max.

it would only take you another six months to fully recover and the first thing you did when you saw max when he picked you up was jump into his arms, he breathed out a sigh of relief after not seeing you for a couple of weeks. he could live like this.

both of them had their own battles to fight through but the most important part was that they both overcame both battles, never forgetting to support eachother, even when one lost themselves along the way.

[amorgansgal]

A Full Heart

Hi, it's me again, being very broody and wanting Halsin to have so many babies! Inspired by @neontokyoo's post here I wrote a little something something about Halsin being a girl dad and having twins, because I just couldn't resist, ok??

Halsin x Female Tav

‘More girls and twins to boot, I don’t envy Halsin, that’s going to be a lot of work!’ 

Halsin had been tending the kitchen gardens in Reithwin when he heard voices float through the windows and it made him stop his work. His oldest daughter, Lyra, was still toddling about happily, her hands covered in mud (which he had to make sure she didn’t end up putting in her mouth) and she’d been eagerly ‘helping’ him as much as a two year old could. They had to replant a couple of things that weren’t ready to be cooked in the kitchen, though it warmed his heart to hear her hysterical laughter at a tiny little carrot. 

‘Baby carrot!’ she had crowed as though it were the funniest thing in the world. 

Now, he was distracted and continued to listen in to the conversation. Elves often had twins, so the fact that he now had two new babies wasn’t too much of a surprise and he had sensed them long before they were born. He had been thrilled that not only was he going to be a father again, but twins were seen as a blessing in Elven culture.

‘I know, he must be so disappointed that she’s given him more girls. Still, she’s young, still time for him to have a son.’

‘Not that young,’ someone else said sniffily. 

His blood simmered with irritation that they would speak so dismissively of his love, especially when she had been through the hells to birth their children and all of them were happy, healthy and safe. Why would they think that this wasn’t a blessing? Boy or girl, it hardly mattered as long as the child was happy and healthy. And he was delighted with them. Ara had been born with an almost disgruntled, dissatisfied look on her face as though she were appalled she had been forced to leave her safe, warm home. And Thalia had cried loudly, until she got to hold her twin’s hand while being held on Tav’s chest. Halsin almost wept at how perfect and beautiful they were.  And in comparison to himself, Tav was young and there was plenty of time to have more children - well, at least he hoped so. If Tav decided three were enough he wouldn’t force them to bear more, but truth be told, he had been hoping for five or six children.

He inhaled deeply, calming himself and got to his feet, quickly swooping Lyra up so she let out a little shriek of joy. Halsin smiled at her and picked up the basket of vegetables. ‘Come, let us put some rumours to rest and wash your hands and face, so your mother can see you.’

‘Stuff and nonsense, he’s always loved looking after the children, after all he was delighted when-’ one of the gossiping women was saying when he strolled into the kitchen. 

‘Oh Halsin!’ one of the older women cried out, he was glad to see the group at least had the decency to look ashamed. After a long silence, she continued, ‘We were just saying-’

‘I know full well,’ he put the basket down and carried Lyra over to a bucket of water, she happily splashed her hands in the cold water and squirmed when Halsin attempted to rub her hands with a bar of soap. It slipped from his grasp and fell into the bucket with a loud plop. Lyra giggled and reached in to grab it, the soap momentarily shot up to the surface and then disappeared again.

‘Slippy soap!’ his daughter cried out.

He fished the soap out and continued to clean his daughter’s hands. He almost felt a little bad that the women were nervously watching him, waiting with baited breath as to what he would do or say. He was no longer archdruid, he wasn’t exactly going to berate them especially in front of his child, however much he would like to. Once Lyra’s face and hands were clean from the mud, he lifted her back up.

‘Rather than speaking behind mine or my loved one’s back, I will assure you I am quite happy and content with three girls. If we have sons, then all well and good, but my heart has never been more full or delighted than with my daughters. We are not in the cities anymore, where such foolish, simple minded rules and beliefs exist concerning a man’s expectations of his wife or lover. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ he said. ‘I must see to Tav.’

He did not wait for the women to speak further, but left the room. Lyra clung to him tightly and beamed up at him. He smiled at her, that look of adoration and happiness was all he lived for, what did he care if anyone else pitied him or thought he was weak or foolish for not being disappointed? As they approached their house, Lyra wiggled excitedly.

‘Mama?’ she asked.

‘Yes, we’re going to see Mama, and your new little sisters.’

[bambi-kinos]

Hello! I found your perspective on the phone conversation between Paul and Hunter quite intriguing, and I've pondered over it for a long time. Firstly, I'd like to emphasize that I don't believe Paul harbored any malice. Regarding his content during that phone call, I think it was more of a defense rather than an outlet for venting. He emphasized that John had also hurt him, and we all know he was under immense condemnation at that time. Meanwhile, Hunter is a journalist and a recognized biographer. Furthermore, I think when Paul feels mentally distressed, he sometimes inadvertently engages in behaviors that expose him, contrary to his usual cautious demeanor, even putting himself in jeopardy. For instance, the arson in Hamburg and the marijuana incident in Japan. Paul even mentioned in an interview that when he reflects on what happened in Japan, he suspects it was because he wanted to end the tour but couldn't take that step, so he subconsciously did it. Paul wanted to defend himself and vent his feelings, and his conversation with Hunter might have been such an unconscious act.

I do think you are right and I see what you're saying: Paul still has feelings and he wanted to vent, maybe to a new party that hadn't heard it all before.

That being said I'm still having a hard time with the belief that Paul was completely blindsided and betrayed etc by Hunter writing the whole thing up and that the conversation was recorded. It was one thing when Heather Mills did it, but Hunter Davies the experienced biographer and media man with a vested interest in The Beatles?

I can accept that Paul was not in a great headspace and maybe he didn't think it through but I also think that a lot of his comments are specifically very pointed and even threatening. Why did he mention writing a book about John when Yoko and Cynthia were both dead and that he, specifically, knew things about John neither of them did? He knows what Yoko is and he also has that knowledge burning in his heart whenever she tries (ineptly) to be sly. Yoko claims to be John's soulmate and Cynthia could never let go of the aesthetic she carried of the man she loved (that John ultimately could never live up to because humans are people and not statues on pedestals.) But why would Paul say such a thing that creates expectations in people who keep their ears to the ground? It's a comment that doesn't get a lot of attention unless of course you are someone who is obsessed with the media and tracks everything even remotely related to you. Which John and Yoko had a history of doing, especially closely tracking Paul's activities.

I dunno. I do see what you mean and obviously Paul is a very emotional guy under all the guff. But I just don't believe he wasn't at least somewhat aware of what he was doing and who he was talking to. The threat to write a tell-all, specifically after Yoko and Cynthia kicked their respective buckets, that was just a little too pointed for me to ignore. It's not even certain if Paul really intended to write such a book, it seems more to me that this was a grenade that he was throwing at Yoko specifically. And a "leaked interview" from Hunter Davies, a credible Beatles source, would be the perfect way to sink that knife between her ribs. She always touted herself as John's soulmate and blah blah blaaaaaaaaahhhhhh but there are still things about him that she does not and will never know. I have to believe that a controlling and vindictive personality like Yoko would spend years gnawing on her own liver over such a comment. She's tried to get back at Paul for it but every time she does Paul just has to lock his eyes into the back of her head and remember all those precious moments with John that he had that no one else knows about.

Idk. It's definitely my personal bias but I just can't imagine a genius level PR pioneer like Paul not knowing what he was doing to some degree. Even if the phone call started out genuine I think it's very possible that he put together some ideas on the fly while he was talking and then spat them out because he realized at the last second what Hunter would do. And who's to say there wasn't a tell tale "click" of Hunter turning the recorder on?

Thank you for the ask, I appreciate it!

[wewanttofu-kanimeboys]

Soft Chouji x Alpha!Reader

“Don't eat that, Chona,” Chouji struggled to bend down to take the grass out of your daughter's hand. Despite giving birth to the twins a year before, Chouji was struggling with diastasis recti. His abdominal muscles being separated and overstretched during the pregnancy, along with his rough birth, made recovering difficult. 

“Careful,” you rushed to his side to keep him steady as he stood up. 

“Sorry,” Chouji sighed. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We should be getting back before the twins ruin their dinner with grass and dirt.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and scooped the twins into your arms with a squeal from both girls. You walked home slowly, not wanting Chouji to strain himself. The four of you stopped by your home to wash the girls up and grab the girls’ overnight bags. It would be the first time they would stay at their grandparent's house. Chouji’s parents were so excited to have the girls but you knew Chouji was nervous. It was going to be his first heat since having the girls. He had been cleared for sex months ago, you had been at that appointment with him, though he had been avoiding the subject since.

“Are you sure you have both the girls and their bags?” Chouji asked. “I could carry something.”

“I got it,” You assured him. The walk to his parent's house was short and Choza greeted the four of you at the door. You got the girls’ shoes off and they ran off to play with the toys their grandparents kept at the house. 

“I’m sure the two of you are excited for your first heat alone since the twins were born.” Choza winked at the two of you. 

“We’re just ready to be able to sleep past sunrise. Those girls are up with the sun every day.” You squeezed Chouji’s shoulder as he tensed up. You could hear the girls squealing in delight and had a feeling your mother-in-law was sneaking them candy. You decided to steer the conversation away from Chouji’s heat right away, “Let's go see what those two got into now.”

“Ya,” Chouji gave you a small smile. The three of you went to the kitchen to see Chouji’s mother was in fact giving them candy, “Mom, you’re going to ruin their dinner.”

“They are Akimichi. They’ll still have plenty of appetite for dinner.” she chuckled. “Alright to the table with all of you, I’ll finish bringing out the food.”

You helped Chouji to the ground and wrangled the girls into your and Chouji’s lap. Chouji’s mother had made a huge spread, way more than needed, as you couldn't eat an Akimichi portion and Chouji was just picking at his food. You were preoccupied with trying to figure out if it was just nerves from leaving the girls for a few days or something else. 

Once dinner was over, Chouji and you showered the girls with kisses and hugs before leaving. Chouji and you were more upset than the girls, though you knew they would get upset later when they realized you were gone. You tried not to be too worried for the girls and focus on Chouji. The two of you got home and started getting ready. 

“I’m going to get our food ready, you go wash up,” you said and kissed his forehead. Chouji nodded and went to the bathroom.  You prepped some easy meals and got all the snacks into a bucket to keep in your room. Chouji was dressed and in bed when you came in. You set the box of snacks down and laid in bed with Chouji. “Hey, are you okay? Is your stomach still giving you pain?”

“I’m fine,” chouji shrugged and rolled on his side away from you. “I don’t was to talk about it.” 

“Chouji…” You sighed and leaned over him pushing his hair out of his face, “You're about to start your heat. We have to talk about this now. What's wrong?” 

“Nothings wrong…” Chouji mumbled. You sighed and stroked his cheek. You took a few minutes to think about your next move. 

“Is it about your stomach? The doctor said that you wont hurt it and you’ll have your surgery to help fix it next month.” you sighed. 

“You’ll think I’m ugly.” chouji wouldnt look at you.

“Chouji,” you sighed, “You are the handsonest omega ever. Youre stomach issue isnt going to changed that. You had twins, these things too happened. I love you forever.”

“I’m a Akimichi. Expansion is our signature.” Chouji wiped tears from his face.

“Thats not the same, Chouji.” You kissed his forehead. “Sweet pea, youre still the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen.”

“You promise.” he cuddled into your side. 

“I promise I’ll love you forever.” You held him close. “I like how soft you are. It makes for the best cuddles.”

[rainbow-wheels-aria-charlie]

Ch. 7 Thoughts Meaner Than Reality

"Where did you learn to fight? You seemed to take things under control pretty quickly..."

Doubt carrying their suspicions directly at a very exhausted Aria

"Well, I grew up with 7 sisters"

Flatly, very bored of the routine conversation that needn't happen, at least according to Aria.

Concernedly still staring at Eni, she continues to be blasted with questions until a familiar sight catches Aria's eye,

(Red's back...)

Watching her approaching, headphones in, and looking at her phone. A slight tug at the side of her lips

"I'll call if I think of anything"

She says cutting off the investigator mid sentence. She propels herself back over to Eni who has now been bandaged and cleaned thoroughly.

"How you doing, Killer?"

With a smirking tone drizzled in sarcasm

"Oh, you know, splitting faces and taking names"

Eni responds with similar tone and demeanor

"Hey let's go over here."

Now attempting to pull Eni to the other side of the ambulance; Eni is immediately suspect of the sudden change in attitude and begins swiveling their head looking for the cause of the change

"Ahhh, so it's not Bianca."

A devilish smile creeping their entire face as they stare at the unsuspecting approaching young woman.

"Who's Bianca? Anyways, come over here so we're not seen"

Tugging at their loose fitting top

Eni begins waving frantically and with large motion, while watching for Red's response

"Heyyy!!"

Aria clamps her hand tightly over Eni's mouth and now forces them to sit in her lap as her cheeks fill with additional dark color.

"Are you f***ing insane??"

"Rell don'd you wand do dalk do fhem?"

Muffled and disfigured speech leaking through the seams and breaks in the hand attempting to silence them

"What?"

Gasping for breath then whispering,

"Well, don't you want to talk to them?"

"I never said that!"

Turning their face to the floor but not before her eyes manage to catch a glimpse of Red who is about 3 meters away now

"How did she not notice the ambulances or the lights..?"

Now noticing Red is wearing sunglasses despite the fact the sun has now nearly completely set

"Maybe it's because there wasn't a certain *someone* there to notice... Why don't you talk with them?"

Earnest expression as they fix the bandage that was shoved around thanks to the hand-over-mouth-maneuver

"I dunno, I just felt vulnerable given the circumstances..."

Heart clutching her ribs, pain emanating from her brow, eyes ever fixed on every micro movement from Red

"Hmmm, chicken."

Smugness taking the place of the concern and buckets of snark ready to be tipped over

Slapping Eni's arm,

"Am not!"

"Are so! Do you even know their name yet? They live in the same damn apartment and you barely even talk with them"

"I do too know her name!"

Skeptical eyebrow hopping up with attention,

"Okay, smarty pants, what's her name?"

"Re- I mean, Charlie!"

Flushing with frustration at her own slip up

"Uh huh, I knew it! You just call her whatever nickname you thought up when you first saw her"

Teasing prodding littering their banter

"Sooo, doesn't mean I don't *know* her name. Besides, we've only talked like twice I don't want to have to explain how and why we were in a near lethal encounter. I don't want to scare her off"

Caressing her own arm and folding into herself. She takes a portion of her hair and tucks it nearly behind her ear as she attempts to glance over to where Red - Charlie - may be.

As her eyes float to the top of the stairs, she can see the dark silhouette of Red as she seems to have turned around to look at the emergency vehicles. She takes an earbud out, pauses a moment, then turns back and shuffles into the building.

Wonder flashes across Aria's face as a thousand thoughts race through her conscious checkpoint,

(Did she notice me? Why didn't she call out? Did she call out and I couldn't hear? She didn't seem concerned about all the emergency vehicles. How come she only noticed at the very end there when they were least noticable? Did she see Eni? Why didn't she check on us after seeing this soiree? Does she not like me? Did I offend her at the cafe? Oh no, what if she thinks I was following her? Does she hat-)

Watching this all unfold, Eni eventually interrupts the storm of thinking,

"Hey. Don't overthink it. Do you wanna still head to that party? Totally no worries, if not. I'm gonna hang with you regardless"

Consternation building up in Aria's body, she relaxes 40% with Eni's questions,

"Ye- yeah, yeah I think so."

Sly smile dipping their lips into their cheeks,

"That was a multiple choice question and you answered with an essay."

Cheerfully poking Aria

"Oh, haha, right, yeah I meant let's still go."

"Very well, would you like me to push?"

Hopping up off the garden bricks they were leaning onto and positioning themself at the corner of Wheels

"Yeah, if you don't mind driving"

Exhaustion finally taking its toll on her body language, she sinks deeper into Wheels, and forces a smile to Eni

"Alrighty, hang on! Zhhhhoooooooommm!!"

They take off at a brisk jog as Eni deftly devours the pavement with their paces as Aria belly laughs and ardently giggles

*Boom, doom, boof* they pound on the door while leaning against the wall, facing Aria. Aria, perched at the edge of the doorway, is chuckling to herself, still having thoroughly enjoyed the trip over; Eni still huffing with each breath

The door slowly creaks open,

"Mmmyesss, who dahres distuhrb mine slumbah??"

With a horrible mockery of an English accent and a cartoonish older man's voice reminiscent of knocking several rocks down a cliff

"Tis I, Eni of G'Ma"

Eni responds in a similar fashion

"Hwell, hwell, hwell, hwhy didn't you say so?"

The door opens completely as a young man built of Rock and Stone stands in the entrance wearing a tank top entirely too small for his well built frame. His shoulders look as though they could sneeze wrong and snap the straps in thirds. He's wearing yellow shorts with pineapples dotted about them

"Did you bring an offering this time?"

Smiling evily

[aaeeart]

The "Probe"lem

Prompt: Truth Serum

Summary: Kanan runs into probes during a mission, Ezra helps.

Tags: fluff, humor, friendship, mild hurt/comfort, rescue, team bonding, platonic relationships, canon compliant, one shot

Word count: 1,896

Read it on AO3 📖

Or under the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

The dimly lit corridor echoed with the hum of a lightsaber blade and the deflected beeps of small red laser bolts as Kanan Jarrus deflected the attacks of three incessant imperial probe droids with practiced grace. But being blind and fighting opponents without a living signature in the Force, that is to say, relying solely on one's senses, could only get you so far. Especially, Kanan thought, when he couldn't seem to hit the droids however much he tried. He tried reaching for his comms three times now, each resulting in a very near miss by the probes. With a warning shooting through his skull so intensely it felt like a slap from the Force itself, he leapt to the side, slamming his back into the wall just as he sensed the three laser bolts fly in the spot he just vacated. He sighed a shaky breath of relief and raised his saber again as he sensed more attacks.

"Uh, Spectre 6 to all Spectres," Ezra's voice crackled through Kanan's wrist comm, and his heart leaped with excitement. "I see a lot of bucket heads running in the eastern port direction."

"That's our cue, Spectre 6," Hera said. "Let's pack it up, everyone. Confirm all Spectres."

Oh, thank the Force.

Kanan patiently waited for everyone to confirm they heard Hera.

"Spectre 1, confirm," Hera said.

The thought only crossed his mind that he could try to activate the comm with the Force and got the payback in the form of one of the laser bolts grazing the back of his hand. He hissed and banished the thoughts, focusing on the danger all around him again. He had to trust his friends would realize what his silence meant. Hopefully sooner than the troopers closed in.

"Spectre 1 come in!" Hera demanded over the comm, eerie quiet being her only answer. Ezra was running now, following the troopers trying to guess where they were aiming to get in case the commotion was because of his master.

"Spectre 2," Ezra called into his comm. "I'm going after the imps."

"Copy that, Spectre 6. Other Spectres near the port?"

"Negative, Spectre 2." Sabine said. "Spectre 4 and 5 are closer to the Ghost. Should we-"

"No, the Ghost will be faster-..."

Ezra tuned the conversation out as he sensed a familiar presence. Kanan was hyper-focused on something, Ezra could tell. "I think I have him! Stand by!" Ezra barked into the comm.

He picked up the pace, jumping over the flat roofs, and with one fluid leap, he was falling towards the dark space port, using the Force to slow his fall and gracefully landing. "Oof..." Ezra grumbled when a painful pulse spiked through his legs.

He didn't land gracefully.

Frowning into the darkness, he picked a door and dashed through it into the baggage area. The halls were empty, the lights in only the emergency mode, bathing the white halls in an eerie green light. Ezra closed his eyes and focused. Kanan's controlled fear rippled through the Force and gave the padawan direction. Ezra vaulted across the checkpoints, and his legs carried him towards the hall to another terminal. And now he could hear him. And the droids. Indeed he could see his master now, and the four probes levitating around the blind Jedi. Ezra watched for a full five seconds as the man's blue blade swirled around deflecting the laser bolts one by one. And then he noticed Kanan was facing only three of the droids. And the fourth one was levitating a little too close.

"Kanan!" Ezra shouted, igniting his green saber and running towards the droid as fast as he could.

"Ezra," Kanan turned back with a fond smile, only for it to be replaced by tightly gritted teeth as the droid he didn't see coming sent a laser bolt straight to his shoulder.

Kanan grunted and stumbled on his feet, barely deflecting the incoming bolts. Ezra chastised the droid by a really rude name before jumping on it and running his blade through its top.

"Kanan! Look out!" Ezra jumped in front of his master, deflecting more shots while Kanan gratefully let his guard down as he spoke to his wrist comm. "Spectre 1 to Spectre 2, we need a pick-up!"

"On our way, Spectre 1."

"Sword and shield?" Ezra smirked at Kanan deflecting the bolts as he had before, finding it hard to deflect them directly at the spider-like droids.

"I'm the shield then." Kanan retorted, slurring his words, making Ezra look back at him in concern. But he didn't argue as Kanan jumped in his place. Ezra drew his blaster and waited for the right moment.

"Now!" the two Jedi barked in unison, Kanan dropping to the ground, and Ezra shooting three quick bolts right into their glowing red orbs for eyes. "Uh oh." Ezra stammered.

"What?" Kanan struggled to get back on his feet, and Ezra quickly took his flailing arm to pull him up.

"I think the droids are self-destructing." Ezra said in a panicky voice. "And aiming right for us! We need to-!"

Kanan extended both of his arms towards the droids and made a clapping motion, and the droids slammed into each other and fell harmlessly to the ground.

Ezra whistled. "How did you know they wouldn't explode?"

"I didn't." Kanan said, wiping sweat from his forehead and leaning his fists on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Then his hand went to a smoking spot on his shoulder and gripped it with a hiss.

"Oh right!" Ezra took Kanan's hand away and tried to see the damage. "Doesn't look too bad."

"Yeah, Hera will kiss it goodbye with one of those tooka patches." Kanan laughed humorlessly.

"These things are the worst." Ezra mused, looking around for the fallen droid and dropping on his knees next to the remains, tugging at its various appendages. "Probes just carry these with them?" Ezra frowned, finding a syringe with a clear fluid.

"These what?"

"Needles. What is that about?"

"Truth serum most likely. For...."

"Mind probing. Hence the name." Ezra reached for the syringe and tried pulling it out.

"Don't mess with that thing," Kanan warned. "We should get going before the company comes."

"But we should take it with us," Ezra argued, trying to wiggle the vial free. "Could come in handy if we need to-..." Ezra stiffened as he noticed the stormtroopers on each end of the hallway. "You jinxed it!" Ezra complained to his master, while Kanan instead of answering lit his saber.

"Lower your weapons, Jedi scum!" The commander closer to Ezra demanded. "We have you surrounded!"

Ezra frowned, letting go of the syringe, but as he tried to get up, an iron grip on his collar tugged him back down, and a sharp sting in his arm made him yelp and draw his saber, slashing the not-so-dead probe, jerking the needle out. "Dank Farrik!"

Which, in turn, startled the troopers. "FIRE!" yelled the commander, and panic ensued. There were red laser bolts everywhere as the troopers frantically started firing, and the Jedi shielded. Some deflected bolts found their targets, some fired bolts found the opposing troops, and normally Ezra would've liked to have said something about that, but the dizziness settling in his body made it difficult to just focus on staying alive.

"Spectre 1! Spectre 2! Take cover!" Zeb shouted from their comm wrists, and a second later, a colorful explosion went off just behind the commander.

Kanan covered his head on Zeb's request when the explosion went off, and when he reached out with the Force, he could sense some of the troopers stumble about blindly. "Sabine..." Kanan frowned at the dreamy voice saying the name. It sounded like Ezra.

"Kid? What happened?"

Ezra giggled—giggled? "Art, master, art," he spoke.

Kanan's worry deepened. He quickly reached Ezra's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You were messing with the probe!" he barked accusingly.

"Yeah!" Ezra said brightly, swaying on his feet. "You told me not to!" He added as if he was giving Kanan a priceless piece of information.

Suddenly, the commander's voice came through the smoke. "Fire! Fire, you useless good-for-nothing-" To the troopers' credit, they started blasting, but it was impossible not to hear the commander's squeal: "Not on me!" during it all.

Kanan drew his saber, defending both himself and Ezra, who apparently found all the commotion funny. Thankfully, Zeb suddenly charged through the troopers like a solid wall with Sabine right behind him, taking out the more fortunate who avoided Zeb's Bo rifle.

"Come on, you two! Your ride's outside!" Sabine shouted over her shoulder, tossing more grenades at the surrounding troopers, their white armor getting splashed with bright colors.

Kanan turned to Ezra, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him move in the right direction. Only for a brightly colored blinded stormtrooper to slam into his side, making the Jedi lose his balance, in turn slumping into Ezra and taking them both to the ground, knocking off Kanan's mask.

Kanan growled in frustration, ready to jump back up when Ezra placed his hand on top of Kanan's head, completely disconcerting the Jedi. "You know, Kanan," Ezra said in a serious tone. "I always wanted to tell you that you have really nice hair. Like, really nice. How do you manage it?"

Kanan stared for a complete 3 seconds before he gave into a sincere guffaw, even in the midst of battle. "I guess I've just been lucky," he replied, feeling a genuine sense of warmth from Ezra's unexpected compliment.

"Don't dig this thing though," Ezra frowned, moving his hands to Kanan's full beard. "Makes you look like an old fart."

Kanan let out an exasperated sigh, pulling Ezra to his feet. "Remind me to teach you how to resist mind probes," he grumped, dragging the kid after Zeb and Sabine.

"You're just not ready to hear the truth, master!" Ezra chirped. To Kanan's immense relief, Ezra actually drew out his saber and deflected the laser bolts coming their way, giving them not only the space to make their way to the Ghost but Kanan the opportunity to summon his fallen mask.

The four stayed on the open ramp, Sabine and Zeb shooting back at the troopers, Ezra and Kanan deflecting.

"Not what you see every day." Zeb commented.

Kanan looked at his friends in confusion.

"Oh, Sabine gave the bucket heads a paint job." Ezra explained, as they filed in, the ramp closing. "Not her best work." Ezra shrugged.

"Excuse me?" Sabine growled.

"Just saying, imps looked like they were headed to a crazy rave party, how's anyone gonna be able to tell it was us and not them having fun?"

There was a long silence before; "Okay, did he finally lose it?"

"He got hit with a truth serum." Kanan grinned.

Now it was Zeb's turn to smile. "Did he now?"

Ezra frowned and opened his mouth while pointing a finger at Zeb, but before he could say anything, the ship shook, and he lost his balance. Kanan tried to catch him and groaned in pain when Ezra grabbed his shoulder, and now both of them crumpled in a heap on the floor.

"Alright, people," Hera called from the ladder, Chopper on her heels. "Fun's over; let's give our Jedi some space."

End

[skatermusic]

"Where are you headed this time, dear?" Elliott asked from his study.

"Oh, just gonna kick Pierre's ass. Don't wait up for me." Taylor answered.

Elliott simply nodded, engrossed in planning out his next novel. Then, his husband's words hit him, and he sprung to his feet. "Taylor, what do you mean?" Elliott asked, hands on Taylor's shoulders.

"Heard from Sam that the piece of shit's been taking credit for my produce. He bought one of my bottles of ancient fruit wine for his mom's birthday, and Pierre had the audacity to claim that he brewed it himself." The farmer was fuming by this point. He unsheathed his Galaxy Sword. In the other hand, he pulled out his phone and opened a text conversation between himself and Sam. "Get a load of this, babe."

The picture in question was of the farmer's best friend holding the bottle of wine mentioned earlier. In lieu of the "Blackwood Farm" label was a label from Pierre's General Store.

Elliott was appalled. "Well, I never!"

"Yep. I almost wish I'd let Joja settle in so I could sell my stuff there instead."

Elliott hugged the farmer. "I'm so sorry he did this. Surely Mayor Jodi will realize once she opens her birthday present?"

"Hopefully. Unless she throws the book at him, I may as well fly my stuff to the city instead." And Taylor easily could. Not only did he possess a private pilot's license, but, just before he pulled a "Fuck this, I'm out," from his job at Joja, he used his cut of his grandfather's inheritance to become the owner of a Cessna, which was parked just outside.

"I definitely wouldn't fault you for that. We do speak of the same individual who placed a bucket of water atop the door and revealed my secret to everyone in town."

"That son of a bitch!" As if Taylor hadn't already lost enough respect for the man. If Pelican Town wasn't such a tight-knit community, that could've ended with his husband being experimented on, or being an attraction for a water park!

"Agreed, and he is not the only one. Who do you suppose was in on this act of betrayal?"

Of mother-fucking-course, the douchebag who used to call himself mayor paid Pierre to do it. Yoba forbid the man spent his money on improving the town. Instead, he made a gold statue of himself and, apparently, paid shopkeepers to expose townsfolks' secrets.

Normally, Elliott would never condone violence, but he would happily make an exception for Pierre. "Remember not to tread any blood on the floor, darling. That will be an absolute nightmare to clean."

With a kiss from his husband, Taylor was off.

Just as he was about to enter the store, he saw his father in law leaving, groceries in hand. "Hey, Pops." Taylor greeted.

Willy noticed the amount of weapons the farmer was carrying. "Headed to the caves, my boy?"

"Not exactly."

Taylor and Willy walked to the saloon, where he told the fisherman everything.

"Trust me, son. I had a bone to pick with them both. Lewis was picking his teeth off the floor just before he got locked up, and after Pierre let Elliott's secret out, I had half a mind to buy a Joja membership."

Taylor patiently waited for the "But....."

"Sure, Pierre's a scumbag, but I couldn't bear the thought of the community centre being destroyed."

"Yeah, that's fair."

"Lewis deserved everything. May have broken my hand, but like hell do I have any regrets."

"What should I do about Pierre, Pops? Can't just let him get away with this."

"That's the thing-you won't. And I have an idea."

Taylor's phone buzzed, his husband's name appearing on the caller ID. He answered the phone. "You're on speaker, hon, and your dad's with me. I caught him up, and he has an idea."

"Ah. Do tell."

"One of you will blow the whistle on his ass, just like we did to Lewis." Willy explained. "The Flower Dance is right around the corner, and Pierre always uses Taylor's goods for the buffet table."

"Sounds like a plan. I think Elliott better do it, Pops. You know how I am when I'm pissed."

"Happily, darling." Elliott agreed.

With the plan made, all that was left was to wait for April 24th.