#angst but happy ending

[amberjazmyn]

she waits💔🫶

pairing : f1 grid x platonic fem!williams driver reader

summary : williams driver francisca benedict grew up without a mum after being abandoned by her. she never got over it and still waited for her. and maybe that was why her fellow f1 teammates was so against her constant want and longing for her mum. this will chronical francisca's life when she's a kid, teenager and now an adult with her own family.

warnings : parent abandonment, mentions of emotional childhood abuse, tears, pregnancy, happy ending

a/n : i love the song "she waits" by supernatural's rob benedict's band louden swain. even though i cannot personally relate to the song since i did not experience either parent abandoning me and my brother, i still love it and think it's a gorgeous song with so much emotional meaning to those who can relate to the song. also yes, i have made this into an f1 one-shot don't @ me

a/n : reader is french and husband's name is hayden.

have faith, promises were made. you just take care and behave, you left and now you are saved, the path it walks you away. 

francisca shouldn't be upset anymore. it was no longer news that francisca's mum left her and emotionally abused her when she was a much younger kid. now as a teenager, it still hurt her feelings when her mum fell through on a promise she had made to her daughter and the rest of her siblings. francisca's mum was the best at giving excuses after making countless promises of coming back to her family. 

"...allez cisca, aie confiance. elle nous a promis…maman nous a promis qu'elle serait là, alors elle l'est aussi!" julian, francisca's younger brother was so hopeful and it broke her heart as she sighed c'mon cisca, have faith. she promised us...mummy promised us that she'd be here so she has too!

"je sais qu'elle nous l'a promis, julian, mais bébé, elle n'a jamais tenu ses promesses," francisca sighed as julian sniffled, upset that his older sister was telling the truth i know she promised us julian but bub, she's ever ever followed through on these promises

of course, because julian was still young, the youngest of the dubois' siblings, he still had faith and belief in his mum. he still couldn't understand why all his older siblings were so against their maman. he didn't know why they were always so mad at her and why they'd constantly spew their hate for the woman that gave birth to them and then just left them. 

"je sais…je veux juste… je veux juste ma maman…" julian cried softly as francisca felt awful for the little boy who had no idea why their mother just up and left i know...i just...i just want my mumma

"…je connais bubba, moi aussi… je le sais aussi…" francisca sighed as she picked up her brother and hugged him tightly i know bubba, i do too...i do too...

just like she was told to do by her dad, francisca took care of herself and she behaved. her mum left and she was saved and now the path was left for her to walk it and see where it took her. whether that was to her dream of joining formula one as the first female driver in decades or not. of course, she'd always wait for her mum, she'd wait for her for eternity but she knew her mum would never come back. especially when it was clear that her mum never loved her and the kids she gave birth to. or the man she married. it was clear she wanted a whole new life for herself so, that's what she did. and now, it was up to her now ex-husband to pick up the pieces that were broken forever. 

and meanwhile the house is empty, the floors lay naked and weary. the walls, barely hanging on, carry on and she waits for you. 

francisca never thought she'd see this house again. today, francisca was back in montmatre, france due to summer break and being begged by her husband who wanted to visit her hometown. and because she couldn't say no since the rest of her family still lived in montmatre, she decided that after some breakfast and a slow morning, she'd take her husband on the drive from their apartment in monaco up to montmatre and check it out. see if it still looked the same or see if her dad had changed it like he had planned to do since the day his wife abandonded the family and his kids. even though she genuinely never thought she'd ever want to see the house again, her ego was forcing her to check it out. especially after being told by her husband that he wanted to see where she grew up. because even though she and her husband were married, she had waited this long for him to visit montmatre because of everything in regards to her mum. just to see if it would still have the painful connotations it did before she decided to leave montmatre when she was seventeen for monaco to further her fight in getting into formula one. 

so, it shouldn't have surprised her and made her heart physically hurt when she got out of her car and walked to the front door to see the house as it looked now. but it did make her heart physically hurt. the house was empty. the floors laid naked, weary and worn in from all the abuse it had been given by her and her siblings. the walls, were barely hanging on. the wallpaper clearly ripped off so aggressively that it had basically destroyed the walls as well. and even though francisca shouldn't think this and hadn't thought of her in years, she still waited for her mum even though she had carried on with her life without her. she still yearned to be loved and appreciated by that woman. if anything, she just wanted to know why. why did that woman decide to marry that man, have all those kids and then just decide one day that she was just going to leave. 

sniffling, francisca was embarrassed as her husband rested his chin on her shoulder, "...you alright baby?" hayden's soft voice whispered behind her in english as francisca held back the sob that was waiting to be heard

"no...i just...i don't get it...i don't understand why we weren't enough for her, you know? were we not good kids? was dad not a good husband?" francisca's voice shook as hayden sighed, turning his wife around and hugging her properly 

"i know babe. i know what it feels like...and i highly doubt it was your guys' fault. i think a hundred per cent it was her fault. you were more than enough for her, the whole family was, and she didn't know how to appreciate that. it scared her that she could have people that loved her and she ran away because she didn't how to deal with it like an adult," hayden whispered as francisca nodded her head and smiled at her husband

she knew the pain of her husband's own abandonment by his dad and how that affected him. which was why it was so easy for hayden to comfort francisca when she'd get upset about her mum's abandonment. so she was glad that when she told that side of her to hayden, she felt safe knowing that he could relate to her, as depressing and so dependent it sounds, it meant that they both had something traumatic that they could relate to. it was something they could bond over because they knew what it felt like to be abandoned by a parent, by someone who was supposed to love unconditionally and love them. 

"yeah...she was probably scared but, why couldn't she just be the one to break the generational trauma? why does it have to be me and my siblings?" francisca now felt mad as hayden sighed, biting his lip as he shook his head

"i don't know darling but, if you don't break the generational trauma right now, then who will?" hayden spoke as francisca nodded her head, knowing she couldn't argue with that so she didn't 

"no one would. it'll continue happening each generation that's created so, the cycle ends here," francisca breathed in heavily as she clenched her fists as hayden smiled, feeling proud of his wife

"atta girl. let's go, we don't need to be here anymore," hayden smiled as he held his hand out for his wife as the benedicts then left the house that held many a bad memory 

last night you left like a bird, fly away and never be heard. the wind, it's cold and absurd but man, you gave her your word.

as francisca and the rest of the dubois family slept peacefully, there was a sudden slam of the front door. this made all the siblings jolt awake as francisca clambered out of her bed, down the hall, down the stairs and to the front door whilst the rest of the brothers and sisters fell back asleep. where her father, john dubois stood as he sobbed. wailing for his wife, hollie-anne dubois to come back as he opened the door back up again after hollie-anne had slammed it shut. begging for her to not leave him and the family. apologising if he had done something wrong that caused her to up and leave, abandoning their children. and this worried francisca. as the third oldest child but first oldest of the girls, she rushed to be with her dad. wanting to comfort him and wanting to know what had happened. 

"...papa? que fais-tu? qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" an exhausted francisca muttered as she cuddled up next to her dad at the front door that was opened for the dark early morning hours to see daddy? what are you doing? what's wrong?

"ahh…cisca, chérie! que faites-vous ici? tu devrais dormir!" john sniffled, trying to wipe away his tears before kneeling down to his young daughter's height ahh...cisca, honey! what are you doing here? you should be sleeping!

"j'ai entendu la porte d'entrée claquer, ça m'a fait peur…où est maman? est-ce elle qui a claqué la porte d'entrée?" francisca was scared, sure, her mum wasn't a great mum but that was still her mum and she adored her mum when she shouldn't be i heard the front door slam, it scared me...where's mummy? was it her that slammed the front door?

"ouais chérie. c'est maman qui a claqué la porte d'entrée…" john whimpered, not even trying to stay strong as francisca's eyes started to tear up as well, her dad's big oversized shirt she was wearing as her pyjamas made her look even smaller as john looked at her yeah honey. it was mummy that slammed the front door

"…où est-elle allée ? est-ce que maman va revenir?" francisca whimpered as her eyes welled with tears and her bottom lip shook as john shook his head, closing his eyes where did she go? is mummy going to come back?

"je ne pense pas, petite fille. elle semblait à peu près certaine qu'elle n'allait pas revenir…" john then shivered, as did francisca, the wind cold and absurd for this time of year as hollie-anne vowed to never do the very thing her own mother did to her i don't think so baby girl. she seemed pretty certain that she wasn't going to come back

"...mais…mais elle a promis qu'elle ne partirait pas…son petit doigt m'a promis qu'elle ne ferait pas ce que grand-mère a fait..." francisca's teary voice broke john's heart because he remembered that pinky promise that hollie-anne made with francisca when she was actually somewhat of a nice mum but...but she promised she wouldn't leave...she pinky promised me she wouldn't do want grandmummy did

"...je sais qu'elle l'a fait, petite fille, mais... j'ai peur que ta maman ne soit pas douée pour tenir ses petites promesses...." john trailed off as he finally picked up his eldest daughter to bring her back into the house since it was below freezing and it was getting late i know she did baby girl but...i'm afraid your mummy is not good at keeping her pinky promises

but francisca wriggled out of her dad's grip and she stepped out to the front porch step where she and her father were not even a minute ago. tears streaming down her small little cheeks as she just looked into the darkness of the montmatre chill and she waited. she waited as long as she could before john knew better to leave his daughter out of the house like this. bringing francisca back inside the house was a struggle but once he picked her up and brought her inside, closing and then locking the front door, she couldn't fight anymore. she was too weak and exhausted, falling asleep out of pure exhaustion of her tears on her daddy's shoulder as he walked them upstairs and into daddy's room. john knew his daughter wouldn't be able to stomach falling back asleep in her own bed. so, he let his six-year-old daughter sleep in his bed with her for the next four months, right up until she turned seven. 

and meanwhile the house is empty, the floors lay naked and weary. the walls, barely hanging on, carry on and she waits for you.

moving into a new house with her boyfriend hayden should have excited francisca. it was a happy occasion. francisca left paris to move out of france and live in monaco with her boyfriend. however, walking into this new house felt eerily similar to her childhood home back in montmartre, france. the one that haunted the adult in her sleep every night. the one that her father and youngest brother julian still lived in. the one that took years for her father to get rid of everything that had connotations to his ex-wife that just left that one evening with no other word of warning but a measly letter that john had later found after francisca had finally cried herself to sleep that night that hollie-anne left. but that was exactly it, no matter where francisca moved to, every single house she's moved into, it reminded her of her mother. especially when it was a house that was empty, the floors naked with no rugs or carpets or worn in from the years of it being lived in. the walls were new and pristine but to francisca, she saw the walls in the same way she saw herself, barely hanging on. 

"...cisca, bébé, tu dois arrêter de faire ça à chaque fois qu'on déménage. tu te tues à petit feu en pensant que partout où on va c'est montmartre et ta mère..." hayden sighed, feeling bad that his girlfriend felt like this because he knew exactly what it felt like, he too had a parent abandon him cisca, babe, you need to stop doing this every time we move houses. you're slowly killing yourself by thinking everywhere we go is montmartre and your mum

it was his dad that abandonded hayden and his family but, he still knew what parental abandonment felt like. he had to live with it and still lives with it every single day but, he doesn't let it constantly control his life. he wasn't doing what francisca does which is every new place they move into, bring in the memory of her mother that left. 

"...je sais que je dois arrêter mais je…je ne peux pas ! je ne sais pas comment!" francisca sighed as she plopped herself onto the new velvet couch - which, when she really thought about it, was definitely nothing like the couch she had in her childhood home in montmartre i know i need to stop but i...i just can't! i don't know how!

"yes you do, francisca, you just don't want to stop it. and i know that because i did the same thing for a little while too but, i eventually stopped it because i realised i knew how to stop it, i just didn't want to because i thought if i stopped bringing my dad into every situation that my world would end. but, as soon as i stopped bringing dad into everything and waiting for him, my life became better and i didn't think of him everywhere i went. and i was so much happier knowing that i could live without him and that i no longer had to wait for someone who was never going to come back..." hayden was exhausted, hence the english response and not french, but not of his girlfriend but of the pain she was putting herself through every single day 

hayden really did love francisca but he didn't love that she couldn't let go of the woman that abandoned her. all because somewhere inside of her, there was still the little six-year-old francisca that stood outside that front door in a cold montmartre chill waiting for her mummy to come home the very same evening she up and left. 

"...you're right hayden. i do know how to stop it and i don't want to stop it because if i do stop it, i feel like i'll never get the answers i deserved. the answers that that little girl all those years ago deserved...and i want answers hayden, i want to know why she decided to leave! i want to know why she thought it was a good idea to just leave my family alone in the late night montmartre chill. i want to know what we did that made her leave us!" francisca cried in english as hayden softened immediately, not that he was fighting her or mad, he just hated seeing the hurt and pain that was still etched on his girlfriend's face 

"i know babe but that's not healthy. and it's not going to do anything to actually help you. even though it may seem like closure, it's not actually going to help you. it's only going to make you fall into a deeper spiral of the what ifs," hayden soothed as he pulled francisca in for a hug as she nodded her head

"yeah...you're right..." francisca whispered as she sniffled and pulled out of the hug as she then saw all the boxes filled with everything that she and hayden had brought with them to fill their new house with

"...well, how about we make this house a home? it shouldn't stay empty cause then that'll be boring..." francisca smiled as hayden's eyes lit up with joy as he nodded his head

"..that's an amazing idea, cisca. i'd love to do that, let's start with this room we're in now and go from there..." hayden smiled as francisca nodded her head as her tears were gone and her joy had returned

even though today was a win, tomorrow was a whole other story because she was always going to wait for her mum. but, right now, she didn't feel like she needed to because it was clear that right now, she wasn't going to come back. and francisca was okay with that because she was with hayden and in a new house where her mother wasn't. 

she can't hear anything they're saying, she can't believe what is true. it doesn't make sense what they're saying, she can't see anyone but you. 

in formula one, which she had finally reached, in every single interview, the main topic of questions for francisca was in regards to her mum and the abandonment from her. and there was a reason for that. francisca welcomed those questions to be asked because she felt no reason to hide or shy away from it now she was in formula one. however, it was something the rest of the grid was protective about when it came to francisca. it was honestly very sweet at how protective those guys got in regards to their fellow driver when she was asked those questions. but, since it was a major part of who she was as francisca and not just who she was as a driver, it only made sense that those around her allowed her to be asked those questions.

however, one huge thing that francisca told her fellow drivers was that her mum was dead, not that she was abandoned by her mum. that was why the other drivers thought francisca's mum was dead. whenever francisca had a press conference or an interview with the other drivers, majority of the media interviewers knew not to question her about her mum when they were around. every driver thought that francisca's mum was an angel of a human and had sadly passed away when she was a child because that's what she had led them all to believe. she couldn't cope with telling them the truth so she just twisted it into a little white lie that had now been twisted a little too much to the point that francisca was struggling with her lie.

and in regards to the abandonment on francisca's mum, it was because she no longer wanted to be a mum. it was as simple as that really. it wasn't anything that john dubois had done, it was nothing that the kids had done, it had everything to do with the fact that hollie-anne no longer felt like she could be a mum without hurting those she loved. and she selfishly thought the best thing to change that would be to just pack up her things and leave late one evening in the freezing montmartre chill. with the knowledge that john would do everything he could to beg for her to come back knowing that she wouldn't. and as you can imagine, this devastated francisca and her family. it also caused so many fights in her family that it broke the family up. to the point where the older children, excluding francisca, left and the youngest and francisca stayed with their father. that was until francisca had to leave since she had gotten further within the levels of motorsport and was getting closer and closer to reaching formula one. and, also because she hoped that if she became a better racer that she would run into her mum. however, francisca was still waiting for the day she'd run into her mum as it hadn't happened yet. and it discouraged her...

...that was...until she saw someone during a chit chat with max verstappen, carlos sainz jr and lando norris. and the woman she had seen looked exactly like her mum. she couldn't verify if it was her mum but, it gave francisca hope that it was her mum. and because she was so hyperfixated on the woman that could be her mother, she couldn't hear anything that her teammates were saying to her. she couldn't believe what the potential truth could be. the truth that she could have found her mum during an f1 race, finally, after over a decade of looking.

max, lando and carlos all kept on trying to get her attention but it fell on deaf ears as they watched the way francisca tried to see if she could look at the older woman's face. because that was the only thing she could see. she couldn't see anyone but her...

...until the woman turned around fully, her eyes widened before softening as she smiled towards francisca as it was someone from williams racing. but, because francisca had full faith that it was her mum, wearing williams gear to support her daughter, she had no idea until the woman walked away before realising that it was just someone from williams.

"...i...i am so sorry guys..." francisca stammered, remembering that she was in conversation with max, lando and carlos

"...it's fine, cisca...we're just worried about you, what happened back there? you are usually so chill and relaxed but this entire conversation you've been distracted by that williams staff member. what's wrong?" max was worried as were lando and carlos, sure it was annoying that they had been ignored but it wasn't the end of the world

they weren't spilling anything important that was so secretive they couldn't repeat it if francisca did actually want to be told. it was just some general gossip that they had heard from around the paddock and different hospitalities and they were wanting to know francisca's take.

"i...i thought she was my mum..." francisca stammered as the three looked at each other and then back at francisca in confusion

"...your mum? i thought you told us that she had died...that was definitely not your mum, francisca!" lando was shocked and confused as francisca scoffed a laugh and provided the truth

"i lied lando. my mum's not dead, that i know of. she could very well be dead now but, i wouldn't know because she abandonded me and my family when i was six. she left one night, in the early hours after it had struck midnight. i was asleep when i had heard her slam the door shut, it had scared me so it woke me up and i had found my dad in hysterics almost as he had opened the door again. begging for mum to come back home even though i'm sure he knew that she wasn't going to. it was awful honestly, knowing i do have a mum but wants nothing to do with me, my dad or my siblings. it makes you wonder if everything you've ever done in your life was a mistake... and she's been gone ever since and that was why i fought as hard as i did to get into formula one...because, if i raced around the world, there was always a reason for me to believe that she could be watching the race, watching me and i'd see her again..." francisca trailed off as the three watched on in sadness for their best friend

"...but you never came into contact with her even though you saw her in everyone you came into contact with..." max finished as francisca nodded her head as she breathed out shakily, tears welling in her eyes at the memory of every race she had done just hoping she'd bump into her mum

"...yeah...that's about right..." francisca sniffled as max pulled his best friend in for a hug as the distraught girl mustered a smile

"...why didn't you tell us sooner sweetheart? we could've asked christian to go and look for her..." 

"...no, you couldn't have and i wouldn't have let you. i can't keep doing this and think that my mum's going to be there when i wait for her. because she won't be there and i have to finally take that as a sign to stop waiting for her..." francisca trailed off and the tears streamed down her face

little girl hold on and wait, it's not fair the fairness is overrated. wait and you will be saved, the path it walks in this way. 

francisca smiled as cheers and laughter could be heard all around her as she sat onstage during a fan zone in france but this time, it was paris so she wouldn't have to see her childhood home this time. it was nearing the end of her panel with her williams teammate logan, and ferrari's carlos and charles when a little girl all of a sudden shuffled up to the microphone. 

"...wait, wait, guys, don't end the questions just yet, i am so sorry but, i think this little girl has a question..." francisca felt bad for stopping the moderator who was about to halt all questions but, she saw a little girl walk near the microphone stand and it was obvious she had a question 

and the moderator nodded her head and stayed at the microphone stand as the little girl made it, "...hello sweetheart, what's your name and what's your question?" francisca asked softly, inching towards the stage's end even more to see the little girl clearer 

the little girl smiled with a shy energy to her as she breathed into the microphone, "my name is francesca and...and my question is for francisca..." francesca, the little girl spoke in her little high-pitched voice as the crowd cooed, francisca, logan, charles and carlos doing the same thing

"...hello francesca, what a beautiful name, you almost have the same name as me but my name is francisca!" francisca smiled at the little girl who lit up at hearing that her name was almost the same as her favourite f1 driver as she then asked her question

"well, my question is, whilst you are an amazing driver and such an inspiration for myself and so many girls, i wanna know, who's the most influential woman in your life since i know you speak about not having your mum around. since i can relate to you because i don't know my mum either so i...i was just wondering who the most influential woman in your life is because for me, you are the most influential woman in my life..." francesca got teary at the end of her question as that broke francisca's heart as logan, charles and carlos watched closely, their hearts breaking as well

francesca, the little girl only looked to be eight...maybe nine but, if francesca was nine, nearing ten, she was awfully small for her age. and it broke francisca's heart into two because whilst she was a lot younger, six, when her mum left her and her family, when she was francesca's age, she was still very much struggling with the fact that she didn't have a mum to run to for help or even an older sister since she was the older sister in the family, she didn't have a girl older than her to run to for help. 

"...oh honey, are you okay? do...do you need a hug?" francisca moved closer to the edge of the stage as she watched little francesca start to cry, no longer able to hold her tears in anymore as the audience stayed quiet

francesca nodded her head as she slightly stepped away from the microphone so it wouldn't pick up her little sobs. francisca stepped down from the stage and walked the two steps to where the moderator and francesca was and picked the little girl up and hugged her tightly. it was obvious to logan, charles, carlos, hayden and the fans in the audience who knew francisca's story, that she saw herself in little francesca and how unfair it was that she was still hearing these stories of little kids being abandonded and left behind by either one of or both of their parents. a few minutes later and little francesca had stopped crying, only little sniffles could be heard and francisca was content in knowing that the little girl could go back to her seat back to her dad who had come to the grand prix fan zone with her. it was obvious that little francesca's dad had also been crying during that exchange because not only had francesca's mum abandonded her, francesca, but she had also abandonded her husband and the father of their children. so it wasn't shocking that little francesca's dad was also crying and it wasn't something that needed to be made into a scene either because it was a father having his heart break as his little girl tells her favourite group of drivers that she can relate to one of the drivers who was also just like her, a little girl that had dreamt of becoming an f1 driver. but, again, it's stories like these that francisca and the rest of her teammates hear on the daily that makes what they do months out of the year completely worth it in the end. 

"well, francesca, to answer your question properly, i have to say, the most influential woman in my life is probably either my godmother susie wolff or my friend max's mum sophie! and you said that i'm your most influential woman in your life?" francisca pauses as francesca nods her head to the driver's question as her heart flutters

"yes, you're my favourite driver and who i want to be when i grow up, francisca!" francesca responds as coos are heard around the fan zone as francisca places her hand over her heart

"aw, you are so sweet, thank you francesca! well, i want to be like you when i'm older! but um, yeah, because i was abandonded by my mum when i was six, i was the older sister so i didn't have an older sister to be influenced by and looked after because that was my job for my younger brothers and sisters when my mum left back home in montmartre. so, i was very, very young when she left but it was around that time that i was taking karting very seriously and i was also getting very good at it. and it was then that i had seen women like susie and sophie that i just fell in love with and just constantly looked up to because they were doing the things that i wanted to do as well as i started to grow up and get older. and it took me quite a few years to get to that point because i was always looking out for the woman that i so despertely wanted to be influenced by that i knew was never going to come home so it was useless to wait for her when she had always had this plan of hers to just leave and never return. so, yeah, i'd have to say that my two most influential women in my life are susie wolff and sophie kumpen..." francisca trailed off as she smiled at the little girl and her father who clinged onto every single world francisca had said but it was clear that they weren't the only ones

it looked as though the entire fan zone, the interviewers and other drivers included, had clinged onto every single word and you could hear a pin drop. because it was unfair but if little francisca could wait and this was the life she lived now, so could little francesca. because little francesca's life was going to change forever and in the best way and it was her mum's loss and that she was never going to know about it or see it because she made the decision to leave rather than stay and be her daughter's most influential woman in her life.

and meanwhile the house is empty, the floors lay, naked and weary. the walls barely hanging on, carry on and she waits for you. 

francisca hadn't ever been happier in her life. she had just found out that she was pregnant with her and hayden's first baby. meaning because of her new pregnancy, she'd no longer be able to race for the next few seasons. and she still had to tell hayden and the way she surprised hayden was in the empty spare room at the end of the upstairs hallway that was next to their bedroom. the room, that used to lay naked and weary was now decorated from top to bottom with everything that had got to do with babies and having a baby. it was colourful, it was vibrant, it was happy. it reflected the new joy of francisca becoming a mum after always being scared of being one since the only mum she ever knew was a mum that lied and eventually ran away, never to be seen again but always waited on. and that wasn't what francisca wanted to be as a mum. she wanted to be a mum that told the truth, that stayed even with her job in formula one and was always one message or phone call away if help was needed, and a mum that didn't need to be waited on. a mum that didn't break her pinky promises. 

"...cisca? bébé, où es-tu?" hayden giggled as he entered the house after a long work day as francisca bit her lip in excitement cisca? babe, where are you?

"à l'étage bébé, dans la pièce d'amis à côté de notre chambre," francisca tried to hide the excitement in her voice but it was clear that it couldn't be hidden way as hayden giggled upstairs babe, in the spare room next to our bedroom

he made his way upstairs to the spare room that was always empty, with confusion as to why his wife was up there. but, because he was too tired to question it, he didn't. however, what he saw when he made his way into the room made so many questions fly through his head that it almost made him burst. 

"wait...is this...are you pregnant, cisca?" hayden questioned in english as his eyes widened as francisca bit her lip and nodded her head 

"uh-huh! all five tests said positive!" francisca burst into excited squeals and tippy taps as hayden laughed in joy, pulling his wife in for a hug as tears welled in his eyes 

"oh my gosh, baby, you're pregnant pregnant!" hayden sobbed with a giggle as francisca giggled and nodded her head 

"mmm, i'm pregnant pregnant!" francisca sighed with contentment as hayden then relaxed his shoulders as he noticed that francisca wasn't worried like she used to be

"and...you're not...worried? not even about having to surrender your f1 seat for maybe the next year?" hayden questioned, pulling out of the hug as francisca shook her head 

"no, babe, oh my gosh no! i'm not worried at all. if this was happening at the beginning of our relationship or even the start of our marriage then, hell yes, i would be freaking out and thinking about not wanting it. but, because, i've stopped waiting for her and expecting her to be there when i know she won't, i feel so much better and i'm so excited hayden. i'm so excited to be a mum and for you to be a dad...even if it means i have to give up my f1 seat for a little bit..." francisca sighed as she sat her and hayden down on the bed as hayden released all the stress he had just gave himself 

"...i'm glad you're excited about this because you will be such an amazing mum, cisca. i have no worries at all that what happened to you when you were a kid is not going to happen to this baby...to our baby. because i'm not going to leave this baby and you're not going to leave this baby, we've already broken the generational trauma to make sure it never ever happens again to the future children and their childrens children. we're doing a great thing here, cisca and i cannot wait for it. if anything, we're no longer waiting for our deadbeat mum and dad but our little baby," hayden smiled with tears in his eyes as francisca nodded her head as she gave her husband a kiss

"we're waiting for our little benedict," francisca whispered as hayden nods his head as he then goes to his knees to kiss the non-existant baby bump 

she waits for you, she waits

after waiting eight and a half months, in december on a cold evening in monte-carlo, monaco during christmas with the leclerc's, verstappen's and norris' families that francisca gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. the baby girl was named tallulah eleanor benedict and was healthy at a steady five pounds and eight ounces. 

hearing the cries of little tallulah sounded like the angels in heaven. whilst it may have been exhausting for francisca and painful to deliver a baby into this world after it living in the womb for nearly nine months, it was still a beautiful thing. and something that francisca and hayden could definitely see themselves doing again if they wanted to give tallulah some siblings in the future. but, right now, tallulah had just arrived and it was all about her. 

"...here she is, well done francisca. you did an amazing job, does the father want to cut the cord?" the attending midwife turned to the husband as hayden smiled and nodded his head 

the midwife offered him the sheers and he cut the cord clean and perfectly as tallulah was properly swaddled up and returned to her maman and papa. 

"isn't she just gorgeous, hayden? we made her, we actually created an entire little human being!" francisca muttered, clearly still loopy and delirious from her epidural as hayden could only smile with teary eyes at his wife

"she's beautiful, francisca, just like her maman. and yes, we did make her, we made a gorgeous human being who looks like the perfect mix of her maman and papa!" hayden smiled as he caressed both francisca and then tallulah as the midwife returned

"sorry to disturb you maman and papa but, i think the godparents want to be introduced to their goddaughter..." the midwife smiled as hayden smiled as did francisca as they nodded their heads

although it was tradition for the grandparents to meet the new baby first, hayden and francisca didn't fly that way. of course, hayden and francisca both loved their singular parent, of course they did. but, because they had tallulah in monte-carlo, monaco, not in either of the countries that hayden's mum and francisca's dad currently were, it just made sense that the godparents and other uncles and aunties met baby tallulah first. since mrs benedict and mr dubois were on flights over to monte-carlo which meant that it was still a few hours before they'd land in monaco and then arrive to the hospital to then meet the baby.

which leads to the question that everyone was curious about and that was who the godparents to baby tallulah was. and, the godparents of tallulah are max & kelly and carlos & rebecca. which, everyone should have theoretically seen coming but, it was still a shock when hayden and francisca announced it. especially considering she didn't pick her fellow william's teammate, logan.

"...of course, they can come in," francisca smiled as she sat her and baby tallulah up in the hospital bed as max & kelly and carlos & rebecca walked in

the two couples were confused that all four of them were asked to come in rather than just one of the couples. but, they didn't argue and they all cooed in adoration for the new f1 grid baby. 

"oh my gosh...cisca, hayden...she's gorgeous! what's little bubba's name?" kelly cooed as she looked at the baby lovingly, rebecca, carlos and max doing the same

"thank you kelly, her name's tallulah eleanor benedict..." francisca trailed off as she looked down at the little girl she was cradling that was hers and her husbands

"...tallulah eleanor...that's such a perfect name for a perfect little princess!" kelly cooed again as max could tell his girlfriend was getting baby fever even though they already had penelope as carlos could tell that rebecca was trying hard to hide her own baby fever as well 

"she's gorgeous cisca but, why do you need all four of us in here? i thought you only needed the godparents..." carlos asked in confusion as francisca and hayden giggled as little tallulah wiggled and made little noises 

"...exactly...all four of you are tallulah's godparents," francisca smiled as they all looked at their best friend and teammate as though she had four eyes 

"wait, that's allowed? i only thought only one couple were allowed to be a child's godparents..." max trailed off in confusion as to be fair, he did have a fair point

"...technically, that is true and if there is any "paperwork" that needs only one pair of emergency contacts, it'll be you and kelly, alright max. but, if it needs a second pair of emergency contacts, that's where carlos and rebecca come in and why i want tallulah to have two godmums and two goddads cause she already has enough aunties and uncles..." francisca trailed off as they all giggled but it was clear that it really touched both couples that they both had been chosen as tallulah's legal guardians if anything were to happen to francisca and hayden

"...well, she does have a lot of aunties and uncles and cousins but, that's the best way to do it. you wouldn't want to bring a kid up with no one around them," max smiled as he moved over and hugged francisca and placing his gigantic hand on baby tallulah's teeny tiny head 

 "that's very true, max, very true," francisca smiled in content as she looked at everyone around her plus the others in the waiting room and her dad and mrs benedict who were also on their way as well 

she had never felt this amount of love before but she loved it but she loved her new baby girl the most. baby tallulah was what francisca had been waiting for, not her mother. 

fin

okay, man, writing this in an f1 light was difficult but i'm kinda glad i did if you know what i mean! like it's not perfect but it's not bad ya know? and sorry i didn't really add in a lot of the f1 aspect, especially considering the reader was a driver as well but that kind of was forgotten so i do apologise lol

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[starrynight29]

Hello, a post canon fix-it that is basically my show mourning, but with a happy ending bc heck with canon.

‘love the hell out of you’ - ch.1

ao3 link

[tojbnuy]

boyfriend!toji who doesn’t know why but he feels this weird jealousy everytime he sees you meet your friends and greet them all with a big hug. you never did that with him. you relationship was still fairly new to the both of you, but you kissed you fucked you even held hands sometimes when walking around. but, what toji was now realizing, was that he wanted a hug. well, he wanted a hug from You. not a casual little hug, a hug. holding each other. he didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding needy and like the complete opposite of how he usually acts. he had never cared about this kinda stuff with other people, he’d never experienced it growing up and he thought he could live without it. until you. until you showed him that wanting to be held was normal. he’d been thinking about it for a while until one night, as the two of you got ready for bed it simply slipped out.

‘how come you don’t hug me?’

immediately you stopped plaiting your hair and turned to him with a shocked look.

‘what?’

‘how come you don’t hug me? like when you see your friends or you say bye you hug them. you don’t hug me.’

as soon as he said it he felt stupid. a grown man like him, older than you and he was sat here asking for a fucking hug. what if you turned the question around and said ‘well you don’t hug me’ what would he say? that i’ve never done that before sorry i don’t know how? his thoughts came to a stop when he felt a small hand grab his own larger one.

‘i- toji im so sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t think that was something you wanted.’

fuck now he’s made you feel bad.

‘nah doll you don’t have to say sorry, its nothing let’s just go to bed’

‘no toji please. let’s talk about it.’

you lifted the blanket and made your way over to his side of the bed so you could sit face to face. everything about you was so soft, so kind. such a complete contrast to himself. he was panicking, he didn’t do stuff like this, never talked about stuff like this.

‘honestly toji, i really just thought you weren’t a touchy person. i’m sorry for just assuming especially considering everything you’ve been through,’

‘no please doll. i wasn’t trying to blame you for anything. i just’

his palms were actually sweating, but your face. god your darling sweet face, looking at him like he hung up the stars in sky. like every word out of his mouth meant the world to you. you would wait for him to get the words out no matter how long he took.

‘i don’t know to be honest. you’re right i’m not a touchy person i’ve never really hugged anyone. but i want that. with you. and im sorry, i should be the one to initiate it i just didn’t really know how doll.’ his voice was so quiet, just a rough whisper.

he looked up to stare into your glassy eyes when you leaned in and kissed him. a small whisper of a kiss.

‘can i hug you?’ you said with your lips pressed against his.

he knew you knew he would prefer not to dwell on it.

and then he wrapped his arms around your back so tightly like he was showing the universe just how bad he needed you. he pulled you into his lap and let his cheek fall to your shoulder. he felt your arms wrap around his neck and you fingers stroking the hairs at his nape.

neither of you spoke, you simply sat and held each other and made a silent promise to maintain the closeness from today onwards.

‘thank you for telling me toji. you big baby.’

‘yeah that’s enough. time for bed.’

your giggle was music to his ears.

[imfinereallyy]

you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[player042]

HEARTBEAT | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: during the third game you reunite with dae-ho who is everything but thrilled to have his pregnant girlfriend surrounded by death. requested here.

warning: pregnant!reader, established relationship, hot baby daddy dae-ho 😫 angsty and emotional, mention of financial struggles, survival themes, please enjoy ♥️

word count: 2.8k

The door slammed shut behind you, the loud clank of the mechanism sealing you and Dae-ho inside the small, dimly lit room just as the timer hit zero. For a moment, the air felt charged, thick with all the words left unspoken. You stood frozen near the wall, your hands instinctively cradling your belly, while Dae-ho's tall frame loomed near the door. His jaw was clenched tight as you heard gunshots and screaming coming from the other side of the door, his eyes were fixated on the floor as if forcing himself to maintain composure.

Neither of you had so much as exchanged a meaningful glance in front of the others, too scared of what even a flicker of familiarity might invite in this place where alliances were fragile, and vulnerability was a target. But here, in this room, with no one else watching...

"Dae-ho," you breathed, the sound of his name cracking the tension like a dam breaking.

His head snapped up, and within seconds, he crossed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, desperately. It wasn't soft or tender, it was raw, like he'd been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale. His lips moved against yours as if trying to drink in everything he'd been forced to repress since seeing you again.

"You're here," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands slid to your shoulders, down your arms, as though reassuring himself that you were real. "God, you're really here."

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words hit you. "I didn't want you to know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's obvious," he said bitterly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze softened, his worry bleeding through the anger. "You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking? You're pregnant. And you joined this… this hell?"

Tears stung your eyes as you turned your head away, breaking his gaze. "What choice did I have?" you said, your voice cracking. "We're drowning in debt, Dae-ho. The baby needs a future. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to rely on me," he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides, his frustration spilling over. "I would've-" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I would've done something. Anything. But you just- You didn't even tell me. You just left me out of this."

"I didn't want to drag you down," you said, your voice trembling. "You've already done so much for us, Dae-ho. I couldn't-"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. "Don't give me that. You didn't drag me down. You're the one thing in my life that kept me sane." He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his gaze piercing. "And now you're here, risking not just your life but our child's. Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there? Pretending I didn't know you? Pretending I didn't care?"

"I didn't want to need you," you confessed, "Because needing you… it scared me. It still does."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he looked away, his hands balled to fists before he relaxed them again. "You can need me, damn it," he said softly, his voice low but fierce. "You think I don't need you just as much?"

You pressed a hand to your stomach, the guilt and fear twisting inside you, whispering,"If they know we're connected, they could-"

"I don't care what they do to me," he cut in quickly, his voice rising. "You should've thought about what it would do to me if something happens to you. If something happens to our baby."

The silence that followed was heavy, the air between you thick with regrets. Finally, Dae-ho took a deep breath and stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders again. His voice softened, though the edge of desperation still lingered. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll keep our distance in front of the others, but I need you to promise me something."

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "What?"

"You don't take unnecessary risks," he said firmly. "You stick to the safest options. You stay out of the way whenever you can. And if there's even a hint of danger, you let me handle it. Got it?"

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I'll try," you said finally, knowing it was the best promise you could give.

He exhaled, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "That's not good enough," he murmured. "But it'll have to do."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the reality of your situation loomed over you. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

"I'll get you out of here," he said softly, his voice full of conviction. "You and the baby. I swear it."

Dae-ho held you close for a moment longer before stepping back, his hands still lingering around your waist. His gaze softened, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"You should stick to Jun-hee," he said, his voice firm but kind.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"She's part of my team and she's pregnant too," he explained. "If you two stick together, it'll make it easier for me to keep an eye on you. I know I can't be obvious about us, but at least this way, I'll know you're not alone. And I can look out for both of you without drawing attention."

You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way he looked at you, pleading, almost desperate, made you pause. "You're really planning to take care of two pregnant women in a place like this?"

He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… what I do. I can't not try to help. You know that about me."

"That's not an excuse," you said back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You're acting like this is all on me, but what about you? Why are you even here, Dae-ho? You didn't exactly tell me you were planning on joining these games either!"

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I was trying to protect you," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to know. I thought I could-"

"Could what?" you interrupted, "Fix everything? Take on the world by yourself? You think that's what I wanted? You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you if I knew?"

"I didn't want you to stop me," his shoulders slumped, "I thought if I could win… I could pay off everything. For both of us. For the baby. I didn't want you to worry about anything anymore."

You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice, but the frustration didn't subside entirely. "So you thought it was okay to risk your life without telling me but not okay if I want to do the same? That's not protecting me, Dae-ho. That's keeping me in the dark."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when I saw you here…" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "I didn't know whether to be furious or terrified. And now we're both in this mess."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, you sighed, the fight draining out of you. "As you said, we're in this together now," you said, your voice quieter. "Whether we like it or not."

He nodded, his eyes locking with yours. "And as I said, I'll make sure you make it out of here," he said firmly. "You and the baby. No matter what."

"And what about you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What happens to you, Dae-ho?"

"That doesn't matter," he said without hesitation. "What matters is that you survive."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you shook your head. "I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Not again."

"We'll figure it out," he assured softly, reaching out to take your hand. "One game at a time. But for now, promise me you'll stick with Jun-hee. Please."

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Finally, you nodded. "Fine. But promise me something too."

"Anything," he said without missing a beat.

"You don't do anything reckless," you said, your voice firm. "No heroics, no self-sacrificing. If we're getting out of here, we're doing it together."

His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."

For the first time since joining these games and for the first time for a very long time, you felt a flicker of hope, fragile, but real. Whatever came next, at least you weren't alone.

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, and before you could say another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but it wasn't until his arms wrapped gently around your waist that your breath hitched. He rested his forehead lightly against your stomach, his large hands cradling your sides with the utmost care, as though you might break.

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He didn't respond immediately, just stayed there, holding you as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, his cheek pressing against your belly. His warm breath fanned through the fabric of your shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.

"I can't believe it," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your stomach. He placed a hand there, his palm warm and loving. "There's a piece of us right here." You couldn't help but smile.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, the words almost a prayer.

"Hey, little one," he murmured, his words directed at the life growing inside you. "It's me… your dad."

Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped between your fingers, grounding you in this surreal moment. Dae-ho closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for comfort.

"You probably can't hear me yet, but…," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I need you to be strong, okay? Just like your mom. And I promise,  I'm going to do everything I can to keep you two safe. You're my whole world now, you know that? Both of you."

A lump formed in your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You hadn't expected this, this unfiltered love pouring from him. It made the weight of your circumstances feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.

"I bet you're going to be just like her," he said with a small chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your side. "Strong, smart, way too stubborn for your own good."

You let out a teary laugh, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Hey, don't encourage that."

He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at you with a crooked grin that melted your heart. "Can't help it. It's in the genes."

His gaze softened as he looked back at your stomach, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the fabric of your shirt, his lips lingering for a long moment. The action was so tender, so full of love, that it nearly brought you to your knees as well. He rested his forehead there again, his arms tightening around you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. For not being there when you needed me. For making you feel like you had to do this alone."

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your own voice cracking as you cupped his face, guiding him to look up at you. "You're with us. That's all that matters."

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands slid down to hold yours. "I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. I'll fight through hell if I have to. I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you knelt down with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his. 

"We'll survive this," he repeated softly, his breath warm against your temple. "And when we get out… we'll make a real life together. The three of us."

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you realized it was the moment to tell him. "Four," you said softly, your hand covering his where it rested protectively over your stomach.

His body stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Four?" His voice was cautious, almost as if he were afraid to hope.

You nodded, your throat tightening as emotion swelled. "Before I came here, I had a doctor's appointment, and… we're having twins, Dae-ho."

The silence that followed was deafening, his stillness unnerving. For a moment, you worried you'd broken him, but then he slightly leaned back on his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"Twins?" he repeated, the word barely audible. His hand shifted, trembling slightly as it moved to cradle your stomach. He said nothing for a while, just staring at you as if trying to comprehend what you'd just revealed. His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his thumb traced over the fabric covering your belly.

"Twins," he repeated again, this time with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "We're having twins?"

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tears streaming down your face. "Yes. I wasn't sure how to tell you… or when. But yeah. Two little ones."

His head dropped, forehead again pressing gently against your stomach as he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know whether to cry or laugh."

Your fingers softly tucked a strand of hair away from his beautiful face, "You can do both," you said gently, "I did."

He tilted his head up to look at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Twins," he said again, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even know how I was going to handle one. Now there are two of them. Two little… us."

The way he said it, so in awe, so full of wonder, made your chest ache. "I wasn't planning on telling you here," you admitted, "Not in this nightmare. But I couldn't… I couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

"I'm glad you didn't," he said, his voice steadying. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn't even realize had fallen. "No matter what happens in this hellhole, no matter how dark it gets, knowing they're waiting for us? It's everything."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Dae-ho, we can't let this place take us."

"It won't," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "I won't let it. We'll make it. I'll make damn sure of it."

His hands slipped back down to your waist, his fingers splaying over your belly as though he could somehow shield the life growing inside you from the horrors outside. "Two little heartbeats," he murmured, his voice softening. "Do you know what that means?"

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "What?"

"It means we're going to need twice the strength," his gaze locked with yours, "But it also means we've got twice the reason to fight. Twice the reason to win."

You leaned forward, your noses almost touching, your hands covering his on your stomach. "We'll do it together," you assured quietly. "The four of us."

"The four of us," he echoed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."

You let out another teary laugh, the sound mingling with his soft chuckle. "I've been stuck with you for years, Dae-ho. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, the world outside that room, the horrors of the games, didn't exist. It was just two lovers holding onto each other and the heartwarming hope bound on a fragile string of the future that was worth fighting for. You allowed yourselves to feel it, this unwavering love, this promising hope that had been buried beneath the fear. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind you both why you were fighting, to survive, to protect, and to make it out of this nightmare as a family.

And whatever came next, you knew you wouldn't face it alone.

[0039pf-third-blog-hooray]

another wip. today i'm going to do this one, or the wip i showed last time... we'll see 🪩

anddd some coloring process! the song is plastic mode - mi amor

[bluepigeon300]

After the fall....

🚨DO NOT REPOST🚨

[milawritess]

Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow — Gojo Satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: crushed by the pressure of his work, Satoru and the reader's relationship begins to spiral. You do everything you can to make him happy, but you fear it's not enough. Maybe it never was. After a miscalculation that could have resulted in innocent lives being lost, the situation takes a turn for the worse.

Word count: 17k+ (I'm sorry in advance)

genre: heavy angst with happy ending

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, reader is a motherly figure to Megumi but their relationship is a bit strained, mentions of depression and self-doubt, reader is a sorcerer, fighting, insecurity, arguments, and breakups (?), descriptions of gore, mentions of sexual intercourse (mdni), depictions of a complicated and untraditional relationship, reader gets hurt, hardly edited/proofread (oops), gojo is fed up and mean :(

a/n: this is the first and longest thing I've ever posted on here lol. I felt like there was a lack of sorcerer!reader, so I played around with that concept a little bit. other than potentially shitty writing (sorry for any typos or grammatical errors), I truly hope you enjoy <3

sequel & blurbs

“Get out.”

The hash sentiment lingers, hanging heavily in the air. 

“Well, hello to you too.”

He hears your feet shuffle across the floor as you stumble to take your shoes and coat off. “I just came to check on you.”

“And I’m fine,” he responds without moving, one arm up, draping over his aching eyes. He lies on the living room couch, one lanky leg propped up at an angle.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you respond, seeming unphased. “Have you eaten anything?” You ask, waiting for a response that never comes. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite ramen.” 

He feels the side of the couch dip, your hand settling on his chest. Your fingers were greedy like you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with the fabric or caressing his taut muscles. Your voice is gentler when you speak this time. “Do you want an ice pack? Some tea?”

You two have done this dance before. You come home to find him exhausted, overworked with a migraine that could tranquilize an elephant. And just like always, you carefully slip his shoes off and unbutton the sleek black jacket to his uniform. It’s hard for him to stay mad about anything when you’re this kind, this caring. 

“Satoru, please say something.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Your voice was so gentle. So sweet, saccharine, and so fucking patient. A voice you only ever reserved for him and for his ears only. A gentle whisper carried in a gentle breeze. It was his favorite sound. 

But not tonight. 

So you try something else. Sweet kisses along the corner of his lips. You’re even bold enough to move his arm, the arm he was using to desperately block out any light or simulation. You kiss his eyelids, his forehead, and cheeks—feather-light. Your hand slides up his chest before reaching his face. You caress your thumb under his closed eyes, and your other hand finds his hair, gently massaging his temple. He has all of you. Every bit. 

“Let me take care of you.” If it were any other night, your breath fanning his neck would have shattered him; goosebumps would have wrecked his body, he’d shiver, and everything in him would ease, and all of his stress would slip away into nothingness. He never had to be the strongest with you. You would render him down to nothing but a simple man with just a few words. “You don’t look too good, honey. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” For a woman so strong in your own right, a woman of unyielding dignity and poise and unwavering determination to succeed, this is his favorite side of you. 

But not tonight. 

When his hand clasps your wrist, he feels your whole body freeze against his. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe you predicted this and were preparing yourself but-

The tongue-lashing dies in his throat when he opens his eyes. Just a peak to your face makes him falter. You were pouting. Worried. “I’m fine.” it’s harsher than you deserve but kinder than the thoughts swirling through his head a second ago. 

He’s agitated. Stuck in the same old system that continues to fuck him over—his students over. 

And yet, you just looked too beautiful. 

You pull away, finally taking the hint. Then, you stand, fully removing yourself from him and stepping away. Your body heat quickly disappears from where you once sat, and he quivers. The room was quiet once again. 

The room remained quiet even as you placed a hot bowl of ramen on the table beside him, a glass of water, and two pills. 

You slept alone that night. 

-

You remember when you first met Megumi. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

You never would have expected that to be the the words from a child you had just met. You raised a brow. “Well, aren’t you a fucking, brat?” 

You were different back then—colder, angrier. You were similar in that sense.

Oddly enough, maybe that’s what gravitated him to you.  

You’re not sure when it happened, but gradually, the harsh edges of you began to… change. Not entirely softened, as thorns remained, but you bloomed, red petals and all. You grew softer, kinder, more patient—and finally—your heart had made space for others. The fear of loss remained, but you had never cared for someone so fragile. No one had ever cried for you, reached for you with small chubby fingers, or depended on you as he once had. You never had someone in your life that needed to be nurtured, protected, and guided. 

He was just a boy. 

Over time, you realized that if you remained unchanged, perhaps he would never grow into the man he needed to be. You’re not sure why he picked you, why he looked up to you of all people, but he did. He found comfort in you and followed you like a little duckling with a little waddle and permanent scowl. 

There wasn't a rhyme or reason. He chose you, and you chose him. 

Soon enough, you were waking him up for school, running your hands through his messy, dark locks. You were making him bento boxes, running to parent-teacher conferences, and having hard but meaningful conversations with him in his room about his troubling behavior. 

Then you were hugging him as he cried, as he revealed the same dark thoughts you once had about yourself. 

You wished this world wasn’t so cruel, so dark. You hope that in a different life, he would have grown into a normal kid, with hopes and dreams and a list of things he wanted to do and go out and experience. You didn’t want him to be shackled to a world that’s left you so scarred.

You fought for any sense of normality you could give him. If that meant confronting the higher-ups, so be it. At times, you even confronted Satoru. 

He was just a boy. 

Fire never harmed you;  it never dared to scorch your skin. You commanded and held domination over nearly every flicker of heat. He was so small when you met him; you remember the first time you saw his small form shiver in the cold. It made you anxious. Despite buying him the heaviest winter coat you could find, you were beside yourself, always wondering—is he warm enough? 

But, long were the days of you bundling him up in his jacket, tying his shoes, and tugging beanies over his dark hair and red ears. Long were the days of you clasping his little hands in yours to bring them warmth when the air grew too bitter. He grew older, smarter, wiser, and stronger. The boy that used to cling to your skirt after a hard day at school now stood inches taller than you. 

You knew that one day he’d leave you, and you were okay with that. Seeing him so ready for the world made you happy. You worried—of course you still worried—but you were so proud. He was hesitant, unsure at times, and sometimes even looked back to you for assurance. 

You were always there, smiling, ushering him along. 

You can do it. I believe in you. 

You grew up together, you think. Sometimes, you wondered if he ever paid for your shortcomings, or if he remembered your failures as a caregiver, but just like you did him, he’d assure you with a soft nudge and a gentle smile. 

He knows you did the best you could with what you had.  

He was just a boy. 

Your boy. 

He wasn’t yours, but you loved him like he was. Only as he grew did you realize the lines you had crossed. 

He doesn’t remember his mother, but you’re sure he remembered her smile, perhaps her touch, or the sound of her laughter. You never meant to impose on her memory.

When it happened, he had just gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu High, and Satoru took him on his first official mission. You no longer had the means of pushing this off; you couldn’t beg Satoru or the higher-ups for another month, another week, another day. Megumi wasn’t a normal kid. He was a sorcerer and needed to start fulfilling his duties and mastering his technique.

“You can’t avoid the inevitable. You can’t protect him forever,” Satoru had once told you. 

You knew he was right. 

You stayed home that day, anxious and worried, but you knew Megumi would be alright. Satoru was with him. Even if the tall man was a bit harder on Megumi than you, you knew he’d keep him safe. 

However, your worst fears came to fruition. Megumi wasn’t the same after that mission. 

You remember. Satoru’s eyes were stern that night while Megumi's eyes never left the floor as he made his way to his room. 

You remember thinking—what could I do to make my boys happy again? 

After all, they were your everything, the reason you stood here now with a full heart. Things were newer for you and Satoru then, but he kissed you that night, warm, large hands gently holding your cheeks. He missed you a little bit extra that day. You were nervous, hesitant to fall into the sanctuary of his embrace, but it was only a matter of time until you were fully, devotedly his.

 “Are you okay?” You had asked, only for him to nod his head. 

“Yeah. Of course, I am, angel. Megumi is shaken up, but he’ll be alright too.” 

You made Megumi’s favorite dinner that night—the same beefsteak he’s raved about since he was only six. Well, he never raved, but you perfectly remember the first time you made it, which happened to be the first time he tried it. He could barely get his chin over the table to scope his food into his mouth. He wasn’t good with chopsticks yet, so he used a little fork, which he held in his tiny fist. His little eyebrows raised before dipping down, creasing at the inner corners as he concentrated on the flavor. He murmured it’s good, and you remember being so proud of yourself. That was one of the first times you felt that you were doing something right by him. You made the same dish on occasion, and time only helped you perfect the recipe. 

Megumi never came out of his room that night. The lights were off when you knocked. Even after hearing no response, you had cracked open the door, poking your head inside. 

“Gumiii,” you stepped into his room. He was on his bed, groaning as you flicked the light on. He turned his back to you. “I made your favoriteee.”  

You had sat on the edge of his bed, a hot plate of food in your hands. “C’mon, it’s the beefsteak you like. Nice and warm.”

“‘m not hungry,” he had grumbled. 

You sighed. “The mission must have been unpleasant.” He remained still. “I’m sorry, Gumi. Satoru said you did well! I’m proud of you—” he flinched from your touch, snapping his arm away from your reach. You froze, having felt the coldness of his rejection. “If you don’t want to talk about the mission, how was your first day at your new school?” You asked. “Do you have any classmates you like?”

“Just quit it already…” he had murmured. “I’m not in the mood.”

Your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. My first mission was tough too, and you already know I wasn’t great at making friends either–” you winced, biting your tongue.  This was coming out all wrong. “… are you okay, Megumi?” 

“I’m fine!” He clipped, pushing himself upright in bed. “Just leave me alone and stop acting like you’re my mom already!”  

You remembered—and just the memory of that night shambled your heart. You could never forget the hurt those words caused and how you couldn’t show it. 

You had smiled wearily. Then, you placed his dinner on his desk. “…you’re right,” you echoed. “I’m not her, never could be. I’m sorry if I imposed. I never meant to.”

You never spoke of the incident, but you remembered that things were tense between Satoru and Megumi for a short while after that. You told Satoru to drop it, but you had a feeling the poor boy received a tongue-lashing from Satoru. You were never sure, though, and you could never prove it. 

You just remembered feeling cracks in the foundation of the home you never knew you had so carefully crafted, brick by brick. Some of the warmth was gone—a warmth you never knew was quite there until it wasn’t. 

Little by little, you pulled back. Megumi moved into the student dorms shortly after, and he needed you less and less. You no longer made him bento boxes or his favorite beefsteak. You bit your tongue with the lectures: Megumi, that’s not nice, or Megumi, you need to have more faith in yourself. You can do it.  

Though the bitter bite of cold never entirely touched you, heated by an unquenchable fame, you pulled back your hand when you reached for him. He left you seared—burned. 

You still worried. You never knew if you were giving him too much or not enough. So, you left most of the mentoring to Satoru now.  It’s been a few months since the incident, and now you only ever speak to him if he approached you first. 

That's why you were happy when you spotted him in town. You offered him a small, shy wave. He unexpectedly approached you and asked how you were and what you’d been up to. However, the most unexpected part was when he asked if you were busy. You shook your head, and it was impossible to hide you beam when he offered to get you hot chocolate from the same coffee shop you used to take him to after school in the colder months.

However, it seemed you weren’t the only one confused by Satoru’s recent behavior. 

“Huh?”

“Gojo didn’t want me going on my mission,” Megumi reiterated. 

You blink a few times, tapping your fingers against the styrofoam cup in your hands. “Huh. He’s never done that before.”

“He doesn’t think I’m ready. He took the mission himself.”

“He said that? That he doesn’t think you’re ready?”

“Well… not exactly.” He scowls slightly, looking down at the cup of hot chocolate. “But he damn well implied it.”

“Gumi,” you frown at the boy. He doesn’t make eye contact with you; he looks forward now, gazing out the window and watching the fresh snow coat the ground. 

He was upset. 

“He could’ve at least taken me with him.”

For a moment, you see that same little boy you met over ten years ago and that same dejected look on his face after being let down one too many times. It breaks your heart. 

“If Satoru took the mission and went alone, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”

He wants to say more but opts for something quick and sweet. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You have to do something. Quick. Anything to make him a bit happier. “I have a mission later in Osaka. I’ll be catching the 2 pm train. Wanna come? I could use the extra help.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, you presume, but he nods. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything else to do.” 

“Great! And just so you know, we’ll probably be dealing with a grade one or two.” 

He pauses momentarily before calmly asking, “And you need help with that?”

“Uh, yeah. Any help is much appreciated. Plus, I haven’t seen you much recently.” You smile brightly, and he turns his head, eyes finding the ground, looking a little bashful. 

“About that…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “You’ve been busy with school, and I know that.”

“But that’s not–”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you smile again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I get it.”

He gives you a look, a small disgruntled scowl. He wanted to say more.

“Alrighty then.” You stand, stretching from sitting in the chair. “I’ll buy you another hot chocolate for the road. We should probably start getting ready to leave.”

-

The mission goes well. An abandoned warehouse in Osaka conjured up a nasty looking grade three, but Megumi held his own just fine—like you expected. He’s grown much stronger and more sure of himself. You’re proud. Seeing how far he’s come certainly puts a smile on your face. He’s not a little boy anymore, you realized. He’s growing into a fine young man. 

Urg. Stop getting emotional. 

However, after stopping for a later dinner, you both arrived home late, around nine or so. 

“You did good tonight, Megumi,” you tell him for the nth time. 

He rolls his eyes, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. “You’ve told me that already.”

“I know, I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you. You’re getting so much stronger.”

Instead of brushing you off like all the other times, he sighs before offering a forced “thanks.” 

“Alrighty then. Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you and the others sometime tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Get back home safe.”

You nod, smiling. You make sure to watch him as he goes, making sure he gets inside before turning around. He’s capable of taking care of himself, but some habits never grow old. Making sure he gets inside anywhere safely has always been something you’ve prioritized, whether he was going to a friend's house, school, or boarding the train. 

You loved him like your own, but you knew he wasn't. After all, it was only a few months ago now that he reminded you that he wasn't yours.

You’re not my mom. 

It hurt—it still does—but you never held it against him. You still loved him nevertheless. Your relationship might have shifted but it doesn’t negate the fact that you care for him and would gladly give your life if it meant keeping him safe. 

Then, there was Kugisaki and Itadori—two others slowly weaseling their way into your heart. They’ve helped Megumi so much; he might be too proud to admit it, but they’ve helped him come out of his shell; they were his friends, and you knew they had each other backs. 

You sigh, a translucent cloud of white floating up and above your head. Just like always, your thoughts shift to blue eyes. Satoru. You’ve missed him today. No calls or obnoxious spam texts. It’s not unusual per se, especially when he gets busy. Regardless, you missed him.

But, something is bothering you. He wasn't communicating with you and he usually tells you these things. Even if he didn't have the time to tell you something right away, he'd eventually find a moment to talk to you. This time around, he didn’t. He didn't tell you he was leaving or about the whole ordeal with Megumi.

He just got up and left. You woke to a cold bed and an empty house. No text message, no note with a silly doodle. When you called him in the morning, it went right to voicemail. Eventually, when you pull up your shared text messages to check for anything new, you only saw the message you sent him from the day before. At a loss, you type out a quick message. You didn't think it would make things better, but at least it was something.

I hope you have a good day today :) 

It was all you could really muster up after last night. He seemed so agitated, and so fed up. You blamed it on stress; he isn’t usually like that. Usually, his touch was careful, calculated as if you were fixed of glass. You missed his lame jokes and mischievous grins when he was up to no good. You weren't offered any of that last night. Or the night before. Even the night before that. 

You’re starting to worry. 

He always bounces back so quickly. The only thing that typically gets him this mad are the higher-ups. Which, in Megumi's case, makes sense. You can see why Gojo would intervene if they gave him a dangerous mission. 

But why didn’t he take Megumi with him, at least?

Hm.. maybe it was beyond Megumi's skill set. Would the elders be stupid enough to set him up? They did it to you long ago, but they wouldn’t be bold enough to do it to the boy with the ten shadows technique, would they?

Or maybe Satoru… just doesn’t want to be near you?

Urg. You roll your eyes at your own selfish thoughts. Satoru wouldn’t do something like that. He’s already overworked as it is. Maybe you should make him something. A nice dinner? Or maybe he needed a pick-me-up? Kikufuku? You’re sure you could find the recipe online. 

You're torn, so you decide to make both. Maybe you'll even put on a nice dress. 

You decide to call him, and after a few rings, he answers. “Hey, honey,” you say sweetly, happy he even bothered to answer your call. "I was wondering when you’d be home tonight. I want to make you a nice dinner.”

He’s quiet again—too quiet. “Dinner? Tonight?” 

“Yeah, you’ve been so busy lately. I figured you’d like that.” 

He hums into the phone, sounding a bit lighter. “Dinner does sound nice…” 

Your smile widens. You could hear the underlying stress in his tone; it was flatter than usual, but at least he was trying. “... I’ll even put on your favorite dress?” 

He chuckles a bit. “Tempting, but I’ll probably have to leave after dinner.”

“Oh,” you murmur, wincing slightly at the rejection. Maybe you’ve gotten too spoiled—too accustomed to him pushing off his responsibilities all for the sake of spending a few more moments with you. Were you being too greedy?  “Are you okay? They’re not stretching you too thin, are they?”

He sighs in a carefree tone. “I'm doing fine. Same old thing, just a different day,” is all he offers, but you can tell he’s withholding. 

“I can help, y’know,” you offer gently. “If you have too many missions, I can take a few off your plate.”

“Nah,” he tells you a bit arrogantly. “It’s better if I handle it.”

Now you’re really starting to feel the distance. He usually reserves the softer parts of him for you. You suppose he just didn’t have the patience to do so right now. “You, uh, got into it with the higher-ups I heard,” you mention, trying to keep the conversation going but approaching from a different angle. “Megumi was telling me you even took his mission. I think he was a bit upset you didn’t take him with you. How come you never told me?”

“How come you never told me you were going to Osaka? Or the fact that you took him with you?”

Your stomach twists, unease bubbling in your chest. You didn’t like where this was heading. “I– it’s never bothered you before,” you manage, though your voice falters, dying down into nothing but a whisper. “And it’s not like you’ve been… wanting to speak to me recently. I haven't had the time to tell you much of anything," your trail off, your voice slowly fading before you begin again. "Did I do something to make you mad?”

The silence that follows is unbearable—longer than you ever imagined it could be. “Satoru… Please just talk to me.”

“I gotta go,” his tone is cold, clipped, and final. 

There’s a click as he hangs up, and the silence becomes deafening and threateningly absolute.

-

You realize you miss the way he used to look at you. Not the way he'd gaze at you, but in the way he would gaze into you, as though you were ever the only thing that ever really mattered.

After your last conversation with him, you were unsteady. You hated how you stayed in bed for hours, analyzing everything he's said to you recently, dissecting his every action. You hated how needy you suddenly felt, even while laying there, in his bed, in his clothes. He paused just a second too long before answering you now, as if he had to must up the courage and energy to do so. His laugh no longer came out easily. Others might miss it, but you never could. It was still rambunctious, taking up a whole room, but to you, it felt forced, brittle even. You've known Satoru at his best, and you've also known him at his worst.

When he looks at you now, you wonder if he's really seeing you. Painfully, you realize you haven't seen him; not without his eyeband on at least. Last night you did, for the first time in a while, but he seemed agitated.

The worst part was that you didn't know how to bring yourself to confront him. You struggled, unsure which pretty words and cadence would unluck the distance between you two.

Did something happen on one of his missions? Was he stressed? Had the higher-ups pushed him too far, testing his patience?

Or was it you? Was this somehow your fault?

Did you scare him away? Have you said too much, cared too deeply, loved too loudly?

You weren't sure, but you had to try something.

You were grateful you were cooking him dinner tonight on your day off. It was the least you could do, and you adored taking care of him. You choose hot pot, something you and Satoru have tried at home before. It took over a few hours to prepare, but it was worth it. You made two broths, you sliced up shabu-shabu and wagyu beef and even went to the extent of watching a video to make a dipping sauce. Unfortunately, you forgot one of the ingredients for the kikufuku mochi and didn’t want to risk making something he didn’t entirely like. Luckily, you had spare time to run down to the kikufuku store right before it closed. Of course, you grabbed all his favorite, two boxfuls, in fact. He was a big guy, so you hoped you had more than enough food for him to indulge.

You and Satoru were together. Though he never outright asked you to be his, you knew. It was an unspoken thing, and you were content with that. For as goofy and eccentric as that man could be, it was rather surprising how he was never outright with what he was actually feeling. 

He was damn good at showing it, though. In more ways than one. 

You feel it in the way he’d always reach for you after a nightmare. Shaking, needy hands tightly clasping at your waste, fearful of you disappearing and slipping to a place where he could not reach you. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow. Please. His face would nuzzle into your neck, sharply inhaling your scent. You’d hold him, whispering endless promises. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Or it's okay. Breathe, my love. I’m with you. 

You feel it on the nights he’d pin you beneath him, his grunts and moans echoing in your ears as he fills you so completely. He’d beg, no demand you—tell me you’re mine. Only mine. 

And, of course, you’d eagerly nod, overwhelmed with the pleasure only he could strum out of you so perfectly. ‘m yours. All of me—yours. 

You feel it in his protective gaze, his eagerness to hold you in the life vest of his arms. You felt it late into the night, damp bodies pressed against one another; low lighting, quiet laughter, and secrets revealed. His dreams, his wishes, his what ifs—the parts of him that no one knew or considered. Or when he handed you a silver key with a handsome and cheshire grin. What do you say? He was lovely, every bit of him, especially his gentle and selfless heart that you would never take for granted like the rest of the world seemed to. 

You feel it when he comes home from overseas and how his strong arms hold onto you just a bit longer, a bit tighter. You feel it with how he smiles into your neck or that one time at the airport when he lifted you up and spun you around, uncaring who saw. 

You feel it in the way that it was unspoken. You feel it in his cursed energy and how it perfectly intertwined with yours, reaching for you, comforting you when his hands could not. You especially feel it in the necklace he gifted you—the one your fingers were playing with now: a silver chain with cerulean sapphires, the same breathtaking shade of his eyes. His cursed energy, carefully imbued into the stones, was like carrying a piece of him with you—always, wherever you may go, and it rests directly above your beating heart. 

He might not voice it, but you feel it. He loved you. And you certainly loved him. 

So when had it become so hard to reach him? Why does he seem so intangible all of a sudden? Something deep and unsettling blooms in your stomach. 

And now that you think about it…

When was the last time you two did any of that? When was the last time his careful hands caressed you?

Only Satoru could make you this worried or make you feel this displaced. A sense of panic strikes you, and you pull out your phone to text him when you realize he’s thirty minutes late. Usually, that wouldn’t bother you, but–

After only three rings, you're sent to voicemail. When you check his location, he’s at the high school. Should you check on him? Or would that make him… mad?

He toru! Dinners ready. When do you think you’ll be home? Miss you. 

You bite your lip. He quickly read your message, but those three little bubbles never show up. 

Nothing. Just nothing. 

Maybe he’s staying up late writing the report for his latest mission? 

“eek!” Your phone pings, and after a round of hot potato, you see he’s texted you back. 

Only to be met with more disappointment. 

Dealing with something urgent. Don’t wait up. 

You frown, knowing you should drop it, but you can’t. 

Satoru…

He’s typing faster now. What?

You pause, thumbs hovering over letters you hesitate to type. What’s going on? You’ve been off lately. 

I’m fine. Just busy. 

Do you want me to bring you dinner to the High School?

Those three bubbles appear and disappear more times than you can count. No. I said don’t wait up. 

You know I don't sleep well without you.

He responds in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Your patience is wearing thin for the first time since this ordeal started. Are you saying you won’t be coming home tonight? 

You’re offered no response. He doesn’t even open your message. For the second night, you lay in a cold bed. Except, Satoru doesn’t come home. 

Only he could fracture you so completely. 

-

During your next mission, you brought the whole trio along. According to the report you were handed, you were only dealing with a grade three, but there was also an Infestation in the area. You could use the backup.

You had initially asked Megumi, but once Yuji caught wind, he was adamant that he tagged along, and, according to Nobara she had nothing else better to do. 

“Are you guys sure? It’s your day off.”

Yuji shrugs, both arms up, hands up and behind his head. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Me too,” Nobara voices with a small glint in her eyes. “I got something new I want to try out anyway. We didn’t get to go on a mission last week as it is.”

You paused. "Huh? Gojo didn’t take you on any?”

“Nah,” Yuji shakes his head. “I think he’s been busy or something.” He looks at Kugisaki. “Hasn’t Gojo-Sensei seemed a little… off?”

Nobara nods. “Uh yeah. He hasn’t been himself at all. We figured you’d know something,” Nobara says, curious eyes scanning you. 

“Huh… I’m not sure. We haven’t gotten around to talking lately.”

Megumi hums, though it sounds more suspicious than his usual passive tone. 

Though they weren’t necessarily your students, you figured there was no harm in taking them. You've done it before and having them around was always like a breath of fresh air—reminding you of why Satoru dedicates himself so fully to his cause and being a teacher. They give you a reason to get stronger and keep fighting. You loved these kids and all their bickering. 

Except, this mission doesn’t go anything like you had expected. The report was wrong—a grade two was ambling through the abandoned schoolhouse. That was fine; the four of you were more than enough to kill it. The infestation was a bit overwhelming, but you had their backs, and they were nothing but pesky small curses lower than a grade four. 

Everything went well when the ambush happens. You all saw it: right in front of your eyes, a grade one emerging from the shadows, born into something nasty. It's skin oozed a sickly black slime that clung to its misshapen body. Its face—or lack there of—was dark and amorphous, split by a jagged maw that stretched impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp serrated teeth, ready to cut and slash through flesh like a meat grinder. Other that is daunting appearance, the only other notable thing about it was its speed.

You told the kids to back down, but it was already too late. They were already involved, stuck in the heat of battle and fighting as a seamless unite. They were more than capable of standing on their own. 

But you needed them out of here. Your obligation was to protect them no matter how eager they were to help. However, before you could think of your next move, the curse made one last self-preserving attack. It opened in wide jaws, releasing several red beamed energy blast aimed directly at stone pillars. 

You had no time to think, only react. In an instant, you surged forward towards the trio, faster than their eyes could react. Grunting, you knocked them back, glass shattering as you kicked them through a window. You felt the impact ripple through your body, fully knowing you knocked the wind out of Megumi and Yuji. However, they recovered quickly, their instincts sharp enough to catch Nobara–

Right in time before the building collapsed. 

The building groaned like a wounded beast, its entire frame buckling from lack of support. Stone walls crumbled into clouds of dust and debris, windows shattered in explosive bursts, steel beams twisted and snaped with sickening shrieks. The ground trembled violently as the structure gave way, collapsing into a chaotic heap of concrete, rubble, and smoke, swallowing everything beneath. Including you.

You survived. Reinforcing your body with cursed energy made you strong enough to withstand the impact, and your heavenly restriction certainly helped. Nevertheless, you still took on quite a bit of damage from the tons of metal and concrete.

You woke up under the rubble with a startling gasp, choking on the dust. Were you out for a few seconds? Minutes? You were unsure, but the only thing pushing you to stand was the panic coated in Megumi’s voice. He was calling for you, and so were the others. You could hear the strain in their voices, the utter distraught. You healed your broken leg and the gash on the corner of your forehead, ceasing your gushing blood. You gathered yourself and your strength before pushing. They found you quickly after that, noticing a heap of rubble moving. They ran, rushing to help you push back concrete that threatened to suffocate you. You never did like tight spaces. 

Thankfully, you were alright. The kids were safe as well.

However, the curse had escaped. Megumi was visibly shaken, his fingernail cracked, bruised, and bleeding from digging urgently through the rubble to find you. 

Everyone was on edge. It wasn't their fault you didn't react quickly enough. You were more than capable; maybe that's why the failure stung so much.

You let yourself down. You let them down.

You were spiraling into a dark place quickly. The guilt threatened to swallow you whole. Gojo was still nowhere to be seen. You didn't have the strength to call him. You’re not sure what you could even say. You’ve fucked up before, but never to this extent. Not to where a whole building collapsed. 

“Good morning. A tragic incident occurred last night when an abandoned school collapsed around 7 pm. Authorities are currently investigating the cause, and preliminary reports suggest that the collapse could have been due to a structural weakness—one of the many reasons why the school was abandoned in the first place. We will continue to monitor the situation as more information becomes available–"

Megumi gently grabs your phone and locks your screen. Wordlessly, he shakes his head before pocketing your device. You’re too exhausted to ask for it back. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sensei?” Yuji's voice was soft, the first voice to break the ice. You look up from your hands, unsure how long you’ve been lost in thought. You force a small smile as you gaze at the three kids. You were sitting across from them in the waiting area outside the council room. 

“I’m alright. Are you guys?"

“We’re all fine,” Megumi cuts in quickly. “We’re– we’re more than okay.”

“That's good,” you trail off. “That's really good.”

Uncertainty hung dangerously in the air. What happened now? You were okay, but for how long? 

You knew you were in for a lashing with all the collateral damage you caused. It was supposed to be a simple mission. This wasn't supposed to happen. You four were fine, but did anyone else get hurt? 

You flinch at your own thought. You don't think you could live with yourself if innocent lives were lost.

“Sensei?” Yuji's soft, unsure voice cuts in once more. When your eyes make contact, he smiles brightly. You can tell it’s forced. “After this, wanna go get something to eat? There’s this great sandwich shop down the street!”

“Y–yeah!” Nobara sits up straight after being less than conspicuously nudged by Yuji. “It’s pretty good. We went the other day–”

The council room door creaked open. The higher-ups were waiting, shrouded in shadows and faces hidden. Even if you couldn't see them, the tension was palpable. Even without seeing them directly, you could sense their anger, smell it as it rolled off of them in a quiet, unspoken fury. You glance at the kids once more, this time with a gentle, reassuring smile curling at your lips. 

Everything would be okay.  

-

Everything was, in fact, not okay. 

The air was heavy as you entered your office. Your limbs ached, your head throbbed, and every breath felt like dragging glass through your lungs. You had thought the worst of it was over, and slowly, you felt your body begin to shut down, but only when there were no prying eyes to see how you compensated for your injuries. Even after using RCT, you had a limp—your bones were mended but not quite right. Your head was no longer bleeding—but still, you weren't quite right. 

You dismiss it as exhaustion; after all, you had just learned RCT not too long ago. Maybe you missed something. However, this wasn’t anything you couldn't handle on your own. You could see Shoko, but why bother her? You’ve endured far worse. Dealing with a sore body and a headache for the next few days wasn’t out of your jurisdiction. 

When you open the door, a flickering lamplight reveals a tall frame standing by your desk. Even before your eyes dance upon his sharp and still silhouette, the air shifts—your soul already knows he is there. Satoru.

But, his eyes never meet yours; you weren’t blessed enough to see them, a bright blue illuminating in the absence of light. His eyes were covered with a familiar dark cloth. However, you didn’t need to see them to know that the usual warmth they held as he gazed upon you was gone. In its place was a coldness that turned your stomach.

“Satoru–”

“I know,” he says, voice clipped as he turns to face you. “I read the reports.” Your heart sinks as he haphazardly tosses the report down to your desk. 

You’re exhausted, unsure of where to even begin. So many questions floated in your weary mind. Where were you? When did you get here? Please, don’t be mad at me. 

It’s funny how all your dignity, poise, and strength to endure are gone with him. You already took one berating from the elders, and you’re not sure you could handle another. 

Not from him. 

“But, I want to hear it from you.” He stepped closer, his height making him all the more domineering. “What happened out there? And how the hell are my students caught up in all of this?”

“The report was wrong. It was a grade two, not three, but we handled that just fine. We cleared out the area and completed the mission, but we were ambushed. A grade one appeared, destroyed the pillars, and–” You hesitate, unable to form the words. “Well, you know what happened.” He’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. “I–I did everything I could, Satoru. The students were fine, but the curse got away.”

“Everything you could?" His voice echoes. "I don’t need excuses. Certainly not from you. You endangered them—all of them. They’re not even your students!” He snapped, his voice rising in a way you’ve never heard before.

You bite back the lump forming in your throat. “I thought you, out of anyone, would understand the circumstances.”

“...Understand?” He utters back, a quiet fury rolling off him in waves. 

 “I made sure that–”

“You failed,” he snaps, voice laced with malice. “Enough. Just stop it. You were reckless and went behind my back, and you let a pathetic grade one get the best of you.”

Your chest tightened, crumbling at the weight of his tone. “Went behind your back? I did no such thing.”

“They could have been hurt because of you!” You visibly flinch, his words carrying more weight than the debris that had buried you—broken bones and all. 

“I’m recommending you be demoted to grade two.” 

What?

“You can’t do that. Satoru, you can’t–”

“I can,” he said coldly. “and I will. You failed, and not only did you fail, you went behind my back and involved my students. Your recklessness caused this,” disdain coats his voice, and he sucks his teeth. “I was gone for two fucking seconds, and you damn near ruined everything. People could have died. My students could have been injured. So stop being a nuisance and just do as you're told from here on out.”

No. 

No, no, no, no. 

You fought for years to get to grade one. A woman with a name of no renown—this society was never in favor of you; the system was set up for you only to fail time and time again. For years, you were held at grade three, then grade two, all because of your name’s sake—all because you were a woman. You didn’t have the luxury of being as good as other sorcerers; you had the burden to be better. 

Even now, at grade one, they continue to undermine you and undervalue you. You knew you didn’t have room to make mistakes, for they would tarnish every bit of good you have done. You thought Satoru understood that. You thought he viewed you as an equal, someone strong enough to stand by him. You thought he valued you, respected you. 

You never thought a mistake, a stupid mistake, would lead to this. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. 

“This has nothing to do with my rank. You don’t believe me. You don't trust me. After everything–”

Hearing his scornful laugh, your vision begins to blur. “Don’t make this personal. You fucked up, and now I have to clean up your mess.”

Your ears begin ringing. The pounding in your head becomes too much and threatens to crack your skull open once more.

“But it is, isn’t it?” You whisper. How could it not be personal with how he's been treating you for days? “You haven't been able to look at me in weeks. You speak to me as if I’ve become nothing but a burden to you—a nuisance. What did I do to deserve this?”

He remains silent, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. Point proven.

Your heart painfully twists with each beat. “Do you even… care about me anymore?” You’re not sure why you say it, why the words slip past your lips, but they do.

He read the report and he hadn't even asked if you were okay. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but it makes your chest ache. You just wanted to go home, crawl in bed and hold him. However, you knew that wasn't in the cards right now.

“Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

Your voice finally wavers before him, cracking as you press on, desperate for him to understand—desperate to have him by your side as he has been for so many years.

“You’re casting me aside like I’m... worthless."

It was cruelty, a quiet and deafening insult for him to demote you of your status—but more specifically, your place beside him. That hurt runs deep, to the point that feelings of betrayal start seeping into your veins, poisoning you, antagonizing you. Belittling you. It was a sharp dagger you never expected—searing with a hatred that threatened to cripple you. This wasn’t just about your position. He was a man of unchallenged stature, of the highest status and regard, lowering you, demeaning you with his every word, every action. 

When did things go so wrong?

Yet, even now, you question yourself. Were you being dramatic? Were you taking this too personally? Were you being selfish?

Because he was right. Every word he's said so far was right. You failed. You put them in danger.

You stand there, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. The sting of Satoru’s words cut deeper than any blade you’ve faced. His jaw tightened, his gaze hard as steel and cold as ice. “You gave me what I never asked for.”

“Don't you dare!” You snap, finger trembling as you point his way with an accusatory jab. “Don’t you dare pretend this is nothing.  You know me better than anyone. How could I not take this personally? I’ve done nothing but stand by you, love you, trust you–”

“Like I said, I never asked for any of that,” he utters sharply, his carefully composed exterior shattering. “Whatever we were was nothing more than fucking convenience.” 

Suddenly, he stops, freezing at the onslaught of his own lethal words. His next words seemed to die in his throat. The damage was done. 

Exhausted, defeated, numb. His words hit you like a death blow. “... Convenience?” Echoing the very word that came from his lips—a sound you hardly recognize comes from your mouth, a small slip of the anguish tormenting and swelling in your body escapes. 

The necklace around your neck, the very one he had given you, seemed to pulse against your skin, warm and alive. It carried a piece of him, a piece of you, a guiding hand in the absence of light: a thread, an anchor—a way home. 

Suddenly, you hated it. Hated the way it sat so close to your heart, hated the warmth, his energy; you hated that, even now, his words cutting so deep, unraveling the fabric of your being, it comforted you, reaching for you. 

You yanked it off, the chain snapping in two as you held it in your trembling hands. 

He falters, his whole being frozen. “What are you doing?” he asked, quiet and tense, blanketed in uncertainty. 

“I don’t want it,” you say, voice quivering, threatening to fail you at any moment. His energy—the only energy that blended so perfectly with yours—reached for you, and so did his trembling hands. Reflexively, you flinched away, retreating further into the room and further from him. “Don’t,” you shake your head. “Don’t touch me. Not with your hands, not with your energy. Don’t.”

Silent tears stream down your face. You are unable to look at him, and your breathing is shallow and unsteady. You open your hand, letting the necklace drop to the floor. The faint sound of metal hitting wood echoes in the suffocating silence of the room. 

There’s a soft knock on the door. It creaks, slightly opening. “... Y/n sensei?” came an unsure voice.

You stiffen, and suddenly, you can sense them, three nervous students standing outside your door. Too caught up with Satoru, you had entirely missed them. You clear your throat and dry your cheeks with the back of your hand before turning to the door. You walk over, opening the door wide enough to see them. 

“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you still wanted to come out for dinner with us...” 

Fuck. How much did they hear?

You take a breath, and it’s shakier than you anticipated. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. Let me grab my jacket, okay.”

Yuji only offers an unsure smile. Norbora has a hard time even looking at you, while Megumis's eyes are solid and unyielding, glaring right past you. His hands were in his pockets, balled into tight fists.

You don’t know what to do other than quickly turning. Within a few ushered strides, you were at your desk, grabbing your coat off your desk chair; you’re careful to avoid Gojo, who manages to plaster on that big fucking grin. 

“Heard you guys were up to no good while I was away.”

“We were fine,” Megumi interjects before Yuji could open his mouth. “More than fine.” 

“Y–yeah, everything ended up being just fine. Y/n-sensei made sure of that,” Nobara awkwardly adds, shifting her weight on her feet. 

“Ah,” Gojo nods. “Well, make sure you get some rest tonight. We’ve got a long day tomorrow! You guys will be training with the second years!” 

You hated how he could act as if everything was alright while you were fighting back tears. It was another jab, a suckerpunch to the gut. 

You just needed to get out of there. 

-

After dinner with the kids, you headed out on your own the following day. You went home, stuffing some clothes in a bag before spending the night at a cheap motel. Before getting with Satoru, you always floated from place to place, never truly settling. Those days, all you carried on you was your backpack. You didn’t have a home or many possessions you could call your own. You just had yourself.  

I guess old habits die hard. 

Megumi was the first to text you: I went to Gojo's house today and didn’t see you. 

All good! I’ve been busy running errands.

Nobara text you sometime after.

Hey Sensei!! Let me know if you’re available today! Let’s go shopping!

You responded rather quickly. Sorry, I’m not around today. Maybe ask Maki? Or maybe Yuji and Megumi would like to tag along.

But guys suck :(

Then, there was Yuji: Hey, Sensei! Let me know if you want ramen! The gang and I got you since you covered for us the other night! I even got coupons! 

You weren’t sure what to say. You always covered for their meals (no exceptions), but you knew they were just trying to be kind. You double-tapped and hearted the message. 

You appreciated them more than anything, but frankly, it was a bit embarrassing. You never meant for them to overhear you and Satrou that night in your office, and you were never one for pity. If it were anyone else, you would have called them out and told them off. However, you wouldn’t dream of doing that to the kids. They were trying to support you in the only way they knew how, but it wasn’t their responsibility to worry about you. 

Surprisingly, Shoko was the next person to contact you. You never stopped by my office. I’m assuming you’re alright?  

Smiling gently, you responded. Yeah, no injuries to report. 

A building collapsed on you.

You scoff, imagining her deadpan expression. Heavenly restriction, remember?

That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. 

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Yeesh. Just meet me at the bar you like downtown. 

That’s where you are now, Shoko’s favorite bar, tossing back your third shot. ”Take it easy. I don’t feel like dragging you home tonight.”

“Ah. I’m alright, Shoko.”

“You don’t look it.” 

“Neither do you with those bags under your eyes.”

She brings her drink to her lips, mumbling “touché” before taking a swig. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vivid memories pressed to the front of your mind of the building collapsing. “Satoru is demoting me. After the elders ripped into me, I found him waiting for me in my office.”

“He– what? Jeez,” she took another sip of sake. “Out of everything, I didn’t expect that.” 

“I– we haven’t been doing too good. I’m not sure if there even is an us after last night.”

“Huh. He did seem a little out of it today.”

“Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” There’s a beat of silence, and you swirl the liquid in your cup. 

“If it means anything, he asked me about you. Asked if you were alright.” 

You smile a bit sardonically.  If Satoru really wanted to find you, you knew he could, as he had the means to do so. From here, you were only about five miles away from his estate. It’s not like you were too for his eyes to see.  Suddenly, that thought bothers you, and you find yourself almost subconsciously concealing your cursed energy.  

“Is that why you texted me?”

She gives you a weird look. “Partially. I had my own concerns.” 

“Like what?”

“If I’m being honest with you, you’re not great at RCT. I wanted to check and make sure everything was alright. It eventually catches up with you if you don’t do it correctly. I’ve seen it cause irreparable damage before.”  

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.”

“You should come to my office tomorrow so I can check–”

“I think I’m gonna quit.”

“…what?”

“I mean, that’s what they really want, right?”

“If you do that, they’ll find the easiest excuse to label you as a traitor. A cursed user.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Since day one, they’ve been trying to paint me as a villain.” 

“So don’t give them what they want,” Shoko bites back. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Listen, I can’t stop you. You are going to do what you want to do at the end of the day, but you don’t need to do this. You made a mistake.”

“I’m just tired,” you tell her truthfully. “For months, I’ve been pretending, going through the motions. I've been miserable. Megumi hasn’t wanted me around much. He’s older now, and he doesn’t need me anymore–”

“Of course he does,” Shoko cuts you off. “He’s still a kid.”

“And I’m not his mother,” you retort bitterly. “Then, there’s Satoru. He’s been so distant.  He used to always be in my corner and make everything better, but I don’t even have that now. Now, all of the jujutsu society thinks I’m a liability. He thinks I’m a liability. Maybe it’s why he’s grown to resent me so much.”

“Please. Just stop talking,” Shoko remarks, overwhelmed with how quickly you were talking. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of conversations like these, but at least she listened. “I’m here if you ever need anyone. And please, don’t let this fester. I would rather not lose another friend.” She takes a large gulp this time, finishing her drink before gesturing for a refill. “Tsk. Satoru is complicated—I get it—but he wouldn’t want you to leave. Neither would Megumi. That kid loves you. Maybe you and Gojo just need a break.”

A break? Ha. That was one way of putting it. However, it already felt much more like a breakup, and its permanence frightened you. Like many other things in your relationship, it was never voiced but certainly felt. 

“Yeah,” you say softly, body buzzing as you down your fourth shot. “Maybe you’re right.”

-

You start walking home after having drinks with Shoko. It was a long walk, and you took your time. You weren’t in a rush to head home to potential chaos. The thought of staying at a hotel crossed your mind, but you had nothing to change into. Frankly, it didn’t matter where you went either. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep any better. 

Though, it’s not like you were going back home to anything good. You were suspended without pay; you couldn’t go near the school grounds or exercise any curses—a stipulation you rolled your eyes at. If they thought just a few measly words would stop you from exercising a curse, they would be more idiotic than you thought. 

Still, maybe it’s good to take some time off. Maybe you should stay at the hotel. If you were lucky, they’d have a washer and dryer. 

Then, your phone starts to ring—a unique ringtone that a white-haired idiot assigned to his contact one day after you let him “borrow” your phone. He even changed his contact photo; years later, you never had the heart to change it. 

Your heart aches when you see the contact photo of him, his goofy smile and gorgeous eyes peeking over his black shades. You answered hesitantly after a few rings. 

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” you hear, his voice light and cheery yet, lacking its usual spark. “Where are you? I know I missed dinner the other night so I picked up your favorite on my way home!” 

Back to normal? Just like that?

You take a breath, reeling in your emotions. It wasn’t normal, per se, but you could tell he was trying, stepping cautiously over the ice he knew could shatter at any moment. 

“I’m not home, right now.”

“Huuuh?” You can hear the slight whine in his voice, and you can imagine him pouting like a small child. You expect him to carry on with his theatrics, but he hesitates. “When do you think you’ll be home then?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you trail off, unable to keep up his faux mirth and bravado. 

 “Well, if you don’t want to sleep next to me tonight, I can just take the guest bedroom!” For a moment, he sounds hopeful.

Honestly, he’s just making your head spin. 

“Honestly, I think it’s best if I stay out of the house for a little while, Gojo.”

There’s a beat of silence before you hear his nervous laughter. “Gojo?” he remarks dejectedly. “Can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

You were unsure what to say; you hadn’t even realized you initially referred to him by his last name until he pointed it out. You want to tell him sorry—for everything, but your tongue tenses in your mouth, and your throat threatens to close up. You hated it when he got like this, and typically, you’d do anything to make him smile again. 

But you’re hurt, and he caused that hurt. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” he adds quickly, unable to withstand your silence. 

“What’s there to talk about?” You ask softly. “What done is done. I messed up.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. It can’t be undone now. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your stomach drops your heart twists and aches. Was he going to officially end things with you? A bitter, more cruel half of you whispers—you weren’t even officially together to begin with. However, none of that even matters; he has too much of you, too many pieces of your frail heart in the palm of his hands. You were irrevocably his, but was he ever yours? 

Just a few weeks ago, you thought you would have an entirely different answer than the one you have now. You're too afraid to face him or the truth. You were guilt-ridden, your pride and dignity torn to shreds. Hearing that he no longer wishes to be with you would be too much. 

Honestly? 

You’re not sure how you’d react. If you’d sob, if you’d remain stoic, or if you’d flip a table and trash every one of your possessions. You’re at wit's end, and the level of fallout threatening to break free from you was immeasurable. 

So, you finalize what you had been contemplating just five minutes ago. “I think I’m going to stay at a hotel, Gojo. I need space. Time to think.” 

“I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other,” he says lowly, his voice reverberating through the phone. You shiver. “It doesn’t feel right.”

You hated this. You fucking hated this. 

Your chest tightens, and your knees weaken. You wanted to give in. He always had that power over you. He ruled your heart so effortlessly. You yearned for him, your heart singing a million love songs, beckoning him back to you. 

But you couldn’t. You were too mad. You felt cast aside as if you were nothing but an afterthought—after all these years. Yet again, you feel the foundation of your home cracking, and your knees go weak yet again. You take a shuddering breath right before repeating the exact words he threw at you just a few nights prior—words that so effortlessly dismantled your spirit. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

-   

You’ve always had a habit of running. It was easier for you than most. You figured you’d go back to that cheap motel in Tokyo, but you were too restless. Too angry. Feelings of betrayal ran deep, and the guilt nipped away at you until there was only a void. 

Before you could leave, though, you call a number you knew by heart. Stepping onto the train and holding your phone to your ear, it rings. For a moment, you assume he’s asleep. It was getting late, but after the fifth ring, the line clicked. A groggy voice peaks through. 

“Sensei? What’s going on?”

“Megumi,” you breathe out. “Hi. Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nozomi 1, departing from Tokyo and heading to Kyoto, will depart shortly. Please be careful of your footing while boarding. Please refrain from using mobile phone inside the train–“

“You’re leaving?” The tiredness in his voice is replaced by something else you can’t quite place. 

“Only for a short while. It’s not like I’ll be working anytime soon,” you chuckled nervously. “But I just wanted to let you know. It didn’t feel right leaving without speaking to you first.” 

“Oh,” is all he can muster up at first. “I– when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer him honestly. “A few days, maybe.” 

“Well… Can we visit you? I’d go alone, but I think Yuji and Nobara would kill me if I did.” 

Oh. You hadn’t expected that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Um, yeah. When I figure out where I’m staying, I’ll let you know.”

He sounds worried. “You don’t know where you’re staying yet?”

You snicker. “Ha, this is, uh, kinda an impromptu thing.” 

“… and you’re sure alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you.”

You can tell he’s not exactly satisfied, but he isn’t one to stop you. “Well, text me where you’ll be staying in a few hours. You should probably hang up now, though, and figure it out.”

You smile softly to yourself. He always was a kind boy—kinder than he’d ever reveal. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Goodnight, Megumi.”

“Night.. I’ll call you later. Be safe.”

When you hang up, you feel a bit better. 

- 

The first night was hard—really hard. Sleeping away from Satoru was incredibly difficult, but so were his sharp words that relentlessly bounced around in your mind.  You found no peace by your window, watching the last of that day's sunlight slipping away behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the dead trees covered in snow.

You could almost feel his presence, like the cast of your shadow on a wall—following you, mirroring your every move. Your phone never rang with his ringtone, your phone never buzzed with a new text. Yet you stared at the shadows for a bit longer, a bit more intensely, waiting for two blue eyes to illuminate the space. They never did. 

Kyoto's stillness seemed to reflect your own, waiting for something to change, waiting for something dead and wilted to bloom once more. 

However, even all the way over in Kyoto, bad luck seems to follow you like the plague. You were walking to a small corner market to grab something to eat when you felt the disturbance in the air—tasted it on your tongue. You hoped that surge of cursed energy wasn’t what you thought it was. You would have loved to be proven wrong, but your instincts were keen like a hound trained to hunt. 

A curse womb opened right above a Kyoto High school. 

You were definitely getting fired after this. 

You knew a cursed object was most likely responsible for this. Considering it happened at a school, you were more than willing to bet a strong cursed object was placed there, most likely intended to ward off any other strong curses that might otherwise appear in the area. You assumed the seal broke, probably after hundreds of years of suppressing the power of the object. You’ve dealt with a case like that before.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Three stupid students—ghost hunting of all things—removed the seal. The decorated white cloth tightly wrapped around a black skull was torn, and its viscous cursed energy soared, tinting the sky black. 

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed under your breath when you slammed open the classroom door. “This way, c’mon!” You didn’t have to tell them twice. Book it, and you stay by their side for as long as you can. You had to put up your veil, but only after they were far enough. 

You got impatient, however, especially towards the kid who had been recording everything up until now, where you crushed his phone in your hand. 

“Wha– hey! You're gonna pay for that!”

“What the hell is more important? Recording or your fucking lives? Shut up and run!” 

The air suddenly cracks with a tension that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s here. You could feel it—the dark, oppressive presence creeping across the courtyard, lurking. You yourself could see it with your eyes, but you felt it. 

Your senses were better than most. It was partially why you and Yuji got along and trained together so well. You were just like him when you were younger. Granted, he wasn’t born with cursed energy like you were, but your heavenly restrictions were nearly identical. 

You stop running when you reach the edge of the courtyard, but those three kids carry on in a scram. Holding the cursed object in your hands, you raise the skull in the air. It takes a considerable amount of force, but you crush the skull, black dust coating your hand. There’s a hollow screech, and you hope that’s the end of it. 

Of course, your bad luck persists. 

Typically, destroying the cursed object that’s created a cursed womb kills it or at least nullifies it. The exception is when the curse is an S-grade; those wombs are damn near impenetrable. 

Destroying the object seemed only to irritate the curse as it began crawling out of a bloody sac. 

You hold up your fist, index, and pointer finger together, pointing to the sky along with your thumb. A crimson veil pours down, covering the entirety of the school. However, you sense three others within your veil just as you seal off the area. 

“Yo, Y/n sensei!! What the hell are you doing here, loca!” A deep laugh echoes across the courtyard. 

Christ. You knew that voice from anywhere. 

You glance over your shoulder and see a few unexpected faces. Utahime and two other students—Miwa and Todo who looks way happier than he should be, considering the circumstances. 

The newly born curse loomed menacingly overhead, its red eyes gleaming like coals in a dying fire. It was tall, with protruding joints that snapped into place. Its black and sleek hair extended beyond its long, contorted body. Its face was painted white and cracked as if crafted of aged porcelain. Its kimono was white, stained with splashes of red and black goo. You stood firmly in place, fire crackling at your fingertips, your breath steady but sharp in the cold night air. Todo and Miwa joined your side quickly, and Utahime offered you a firm nod from the sidelines. She was entrusting you with her students.  

Quickly, the courtyard became a battlefield, filled with the crackle of burning energy and the hum of raw power. 

The curse lunged, zipping through the air. You were faster, your body twisting and moving with fluid grace. You raised your hand to strike, a jet of flame bursting forward, crackling against the air. The curse shrieked as the fire seared its back, black smoke rising from its melted skin. 

It recovered too quickly for your liking. It rolled through the flames like water through a sieve, reforming and lunging again, its claws gleaming.

Your senses were on fire—every shift in the air, every sound, every movement was magnified. You could hear the heartbeat of the curse, the faintest tremor of its form as it coiled to strike. You could smell the thick, sour scent of decay that clung to it like an ancient smog. And you could feel it—the deep, heavy weight of power pressing down on you, making your muscles tighten and strain against the oncoming attack.

The curse moved to strike again, but you were already there, rolling beneath it, body twisting in a perfect arc, and feet hitting the ground in a spring-loaded motion that sent you leaping upward. Your fist, wreathed in fire, crashed into the creature’s chest.

The explosion of heat sent the curse reeling, but it was only a momentary distraction. It retaliated, slashing the air with a massive, clawed hand. Three energized strikes were headed your way. You reacted with seconds to spare, but Miwa stood directly in the line of fire. You knew her simple domain wouldn’t be summoned fast enough, but she didn’t. It would be a miscalculation that ended her life. 

The claws tore through your side, then whipped down in a sickening arc, ripping clean through your arm. The pain came in an instant—a blinding, searing agony that burned through your body. You didn't even have time to scream.

You staggered back, a cry escaping Miwa’s lips as she looked at the bloody stump where your arm used to be. Blood poured and squirted from the wound, but there was no time for that. 

"Get back!" you shouted to the blue-haired girl, voice raw. She wasn’t nearly ready for this; Utahime gravity overestimated her abilities or underestimated the cursed strength. Regardless, the girl was too distraught to do anything at this moment. 

There’s a rush, and you suddenly realize you are outside the heat of battle. Todo went in, guns blazing, but you could only waste so much time. Todo was strong, way above his current ranking, in your opinion, but it was only a matter of time before that curse cut him down, too. 

Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. The pain was overwhelming, but you focused, drawing from the reserves settled deep within your core. Your energy surged, and tendrils of fire spiraled around the wound, filling the air with intense heat. 

“Sensei! Are you alri–" Miwa gasped, her feet coming to a haunt as she watched in awe and terror as your arm began to regenerate—pulsing with energy. The flesh knitted itself together, bone and sinew reforming in a frenzy. 

But the process wasn't easy and certainly didn’t come without a price to pay. Your body screamed, the regeneration draining your reserves. You were already weakened, and the battle had just begun. Tsk. 

Todo found his way back over to you two, panting heavily. “How are you doing over there, Sensei?”

"Clap," you say, voice strained. "Now." He looked at you, bug-eyed, but he nodded. He didn't hesitate. 

He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and everything shifted. “Alright! Let’s dance!”

In an instant, you found yourself on the other side of the curse. You inhaled deeply, heart pounding, immediately launching yourself back into the fight.

The curse roared in confusion, disoriented, but it was too late. You were already in motion. Your feet hit the ground in a fluid motion, and with a vicious snap of your wrist, fire erupted once again. This time, it formed into a massive whip of flame that lashed through the air.

The curse hissed as the whip wrapped around its neck, and you pulled with your whole body. Never losing your grip, muscles straining, you move forward, wrapping the flames over your arm again and again, pulling tighter and tighter until you smelt the pungent odor of the burning flesh around its neck. You wrapped the whip around your arm one last time before turning your body and pulling the whip from over your shoulder, viscously yanking and slamming the curse to the ground and into submission. 

The curse struggled, its body writhing, but it was weakened. Miwa went for the opening, summoning her New Shadow Style: Simple domain. She’s gotten better since the tournament, and you acknowledge with a grave chuckle as she instantly draws her blade, slicing the curse directly across its chest cavity. She cost you an arm, but deep down, you knew she had the conviction to win and succeed. 

Todo doesn’t wait. Another clap. Another shift. You and Todo swapped places with the curse itself this time, and the curse had no time to react. He goes for a punch, cracking the curse with a quick jab, followed by a right hook. He claps again. The moment the curse materialized in front of you, disoriented, you surged forward, throwing everything you had left into one final strike.

It twisted in anguish, its body crumbling to the ground before its remains turned into ash.

Then, there was nothing.

The air grew still. The ground beneath you is scorched but calm. You sucked your teeth, silently berating yourself. 

You hated using your technique. Frankly, you opted not to unless you absolutely needed to, which was the main reason why people hardly knew about it. It wreaked havoc, leaving nothing but indomitable infernos that refused to be quenched like normal flames. They left nothing destruction in their wake—hungry to consume and spread. However, you’ve gotten better at controlling it—you’ll give yourself that. The only thing burned here today was the grass in the courtyard. 

You stood there for a moment, panting, your body trembling with exhaustion as you collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. “Y–you did it!” Miwa cheered. “I had no idea you knew RCT. Thank you for helping me back there.”

“What the– Miwa, we won! Show some conviction!” Todo cut in, flexing his biceps. 

“He’s right,” you managed a weak smile as you worked on catching your breath and easing your fast-beating heart. You collapse to the ground, still gaining your breath. "We did it."

You hear footsteps approaching from behind. Tilting your head, you see Utahime standing directly above you. 

“Oh. Hi ‘hime.” 

She smiles a bit, but her face remains hardened. You straighten up a bit, catching on to her attitude. Something wasn’t right. 

“You guys did a good job. However, another problem has arisen across the city.” 

“Huh? Another one?” Miwa asked, brows tugging inward. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other. “That's like the fifth one today...”

They continue on in their conversation as you drop your veil, sniff the air, and concentrate on your surroundings. A sense of foreboding strikes you under the dark ambiance of the sky. Even after killing that S-grade, things don’t feel right. 

“Thanks for joining us,” Utahime says, drawing back your attention. “I nearly had to call for backup.”

You scoff, glancing up at her from the ground. “Something doesn't feel right, Utahime.” She nods, agreeing with your observation. “When did the reports come flooding in?”

“About an hour ago now.”

“Hm,” you wonder, thinking back to when you first found the cursed womb. “That’s about the same time I first sensed the presence of the cursed womb. They’re most likely connected.”

“That's what I thought. The presence of the cursed womb must have irritated some of the curses in the city, most likely because they were drawn to the energy fluctuations the cursed womb caused. It's good you were here. We're stretched thin right now. If you don’t mind staying, we could use your help. The other students are out on missions across the city, and things just keep getting worse.” 

You smile up at her before pushing yourself back up on your two feet, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Sure, let’s get going–” but as you stand, it feels as if a bolt of lightning strikes you down or as if your chest has been cracked open by a sledgehammer. The agony was too great to even scream as you fell to your knees and crashed back into the ground. 

It was lights out. 

-

It was quiet. Dark—a vast, unending expanse of nothingness that swallowed you whole. An endless drift. It would have almost been peaceful if not for the faint pull at the edges of your awareness, like an anchor trying to tether to something you couldn’t see. 

But then came the first sound. 

You heard voices—muffled cries. Please wake up, said one voice. Please stay with me, came another. 

Pain began to throb somewhere in the background, dull and distant. Disembodied as if it belonged to someone else. 

Don’t you dare leave me. The voice was sharp, demanding, cracking under the weight of fear. You knew that voice and remembered all the sweet things it used to whisper to you. Your heart takes a painful lurch. You can hear its occasional beat in your ears. We need you. I need you. 

Oddly, you were cold.

You were drifting again, further and further. The anchor was slipping. You were sinking, your head hardly above water, when another muffled voice broke through—whimpering, sobbing. Your heart lurches painfully.

Mom, please don’t go.

The words pierce through the nothingness, shattering it all to bits and pieces. The words pull at you, a lifeline you hadn’t known you clung to and needed. Images begin to flash, and suddenly, the voices are no longer just voices. Your heart suddenly burns as though the memory of life itself is fighting its way back into you. 

Your eyelids were heavy, limbs weak, unresponsive—cold. You were so cold, but it wasn’t enough to stop you from crawling out of a black pit that threatened to swallow you whole. There’s a faint sensation of pressure, a hand tightly gripping yours. 

Light begins bleeding into the edges of your awareness. You sucked in a deep breath, lungs empty and greedy. 

Then, your eyes fluttered open.  

You blinked a few times, realizing how hard it was to breathe. Breathing was supposed to be an automatic response, but you had to force it, each breath dragging along the back of your throat like sandpaper. You’re weak and shivering as you use most of your energy to sit up. You were in an empty room, you realized—the sharp smell of sanitizer permeating your nose. 

You push yourself out of bed, knees buckling under your weight. You catch yourself, gathering whatever bits of strength you have left. Your teeth clattered. You were freezing. Shaking, you wrapped the white blanket over your shoulders, gripping it tight before you trudged towards the door.

The hall was mostly empty, all except for a sleeping boy slouched over in a chair beside your door. Your heart squeezes. 

“Megumi,” you whispered his name. You stare at him for a moment, unable to bite back the tears that nip at your dry eyes. 

You wrapped the blanket around him, tucking it gently around him. However, he flinches, jumping straight up in his chair. “S-Sorry,” you tell him quickly with a watery smile. “You looked cold.” 

“You…” the word was a raw and weak whisper. His eyes widened. It took a moment for recognition to settle in, but once it did, he spoke again. “You’re awake.” He stood up from his chair, and you stepped back, offering him space. “You’re awake,” he repeated again. 

Then, you start to wonder just how long you’ve been out of it. Days? Weeks? The thought of months terrifies you, but before you can even go down that loophole, he’s hugging you tightly. “You’re awake,” he says once more, his voice breaking. 

However long it was, he’s right. You’re awake. You’re here, living and breathing. You wrap your arms around his torso, patting and rubbing his back soothingly. “Yup… I’m here. I’m awake.” 

You let him be the one to pull away, letting him take however long he needs. You enjoyed it regardless. You couldn’t remember the last time you hugged him. 

When he pulls away, his eyes are red. He sniffs a bit, backing up and taking the blanket off his shoulders. This time, he’s the one wrapping the fabric around you. He’s frowning a bit as he does. “... you’re the one that’s cold,” he notes quietly. 

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” He asks softly, brows furrowing. 

You shook your head. No. Frankly, you didn’t remember much of anything right now. “I was on my way with Yuji and Nobara. We got on the train after you let me know where you were staying.” That’s right. You texted Megumi when you figured out where you’d be staying. You thought they’d come over sometime in the following days. You had no idea they were rushing to see you on the next available train. 

He places his hands awkwardly on your shoulder before gently guiding you to the chair he was sitting in moments ago. As you go to sit, your body seems to forget how to move for a moment, and you lose your balance. He catches you quickly, carefully helping you down into the chair. “When we got to Kyoto, we realized quickly how bad things were over there.   We started helping out at the Kyoto school, dealing with the curses that had been lingering in the area where the cursed womb opened up. Eventually, we ran into Todo and Miwa. They told us what happened.” He grunts, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you. 

You’re silent for a moment. “How long was I out for?”

“Pushing four days now.” 

The memories strike you like a fright train. “Are you okay? Is everyone alright?” You hadn’t realized you had reached for his cheek. 

He grabs your wrist, thumb gently caressing the back of your hand before pulling your hand away, guiding it back to your lap. He moves the blanket until it's covering you again.  “We’re all fine. Everything’s been dealt with. Yuji and Nobara went down to the cafe to grab some lunch. They’ll be thrilled when they come back.”

You tilt your head. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

He smiles a bit. “I didn’t want to leave you unattended.”

You don’t know what to think. You’re just happy you’re back. Happy because he was happy. You always hated it when he worried about you. You never believed it was his job to do so. However, he stayed by your side and protected you when you couldn’t protect yourself. 

You wiggle your toes and roll your shoulders before standing again. “You shouldn’t be standing–”

“I’m alright, I promise,” you tell him, dismissing his concern. “I just want to walk around, okay?”

He stares at you intently, unsure, but he seems to have no energy to argue with you. “... alright,” he relents. 

He follows you closely as you drag your feet across the floor. You don’t know where you are walking, but you want to stretch your legs and regain a sense of your body. You are weak, but you need to move. 

You ask the question you were too hesitant to ask: “What about Gojo?”

He huffs. “He left a little while ago. Said he’d be back shortly,” he scoffs. “Bullshit if you ask me.”

“Megumi,” you sigh his name with a soft reprimand. 

“He should be here,” he responds disgruntledly. “He should be by your side, and he’s not."

You stay quiet. You’re not exactly sure what to say to him when you agree. Maybe Gojo was done. Whatever this was, whatever relationship you had—maybe he didn’t want you anymore. You look ahead, fighting your own body that threatened to collapse at any moment. You could feel Megumi’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the heart to look at him right now.

You were afraid you would sob if you did. 

Though you had never walked these halls before, the hospital's layout was quite easy to catch on to. After taking a fourth right turn, you see your room in the distance. A stubborn part of you says to keep going and keep walking, but the exhaustion is catching up to you quickly. If Megumi hadn’t been by your side, cautious eyes scanning you, you might have kept going until you passed out. You realize that the strength you had was nearly depleted. Only trickles of your cursed energy remained, and it would be a long while before you gained it back. 

You hear footsteps behind you. Quick and ushered. Megumi turns before you, his whole frame tensing.  He sucks his teeth and clicks his tongue. “So he finally shows up.” He speaks in a sardonic tone, loud enough for anyone in the hallways to hear.

Satoru comes running from around the corner then, taking deep breaths. Your brows slightly pinch together in confusion. “S–Satoru,” you stutter, walking closer. “When did you get here?”  He looks disheveled. Alarmed. Was he just running? 

It was hard trying to figure out what he was feeling or experiencing when that black eyeband covered his eyes. However, you noticed the bouquet in his hands, a delicate combination of soft and tender hues: pale pink and roses, white peonies, deep pink lilies, and baby’s breath delicately wrapped along sprigs of greenery. 

You place a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go eat with the others?”

“But–”

“I’ll be alright,” you explain to him in a soft tone.

He hesitates, torn between staying and leaving.  He was unsure if he should leave you to handle this alone, but after a moment, he backed down, probably realizing he shouldn’t stand between the two of you and what needed to happen. With an irate glance shot at Gojo, he turns, pocketing his hands as he makes his way to the stairs. 

Only when the door shuts do you look at Satoru again. 

He stays unusually quiet, his face unreadable. Frankly, it was rather unsettling. You had no idea what was going through his mind. “I–I’m sorry!” you blurt out the first words that crash to the surface of your mind the moment you see him in his entirety. There was no hope of holding back. After days spent away from him, lost in his absence, and days dancing on the edge of death, the words tumble out of you before you can stop them—unbidden, unstoppable. “For everything. Y–You must have been stressed with work and other things. My fuck up only added to your plate. I get it, ya know? It's selfish of me, even now, to rely on you so much when there’s a whole world that needs you. They are not my students, and I put them in danger.” Quickly, the tears gather in your waterline again, but you blink them away. “I–I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll… I’ll go. I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t have to deal with me bothering you any longer–”

“Can I touch you?” The question comes suddenly, softly, and almost hesitantly. 

You blink a few times, puzzled, but then, you unravel, folding inward under the weight of his voice. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he still holding onto what you had said that night? Was he haunted by the barriers broken and the others so carelessly assembled? 

He still wanted you? 

You didn’t want him to let you go. Not yet. Not ever.

Like a dam breaking, you surged forward, closing the space between you two. Seconds later, you feel his resolve crumble. He crushes you to his chest, flowers falling to the floor. His arms enveloped you with a force that robbed you of breath, your feet nearly coming off the ground as you both stumble backward. Trembling, he clung to you as if you were an anchor in a world that threatened to tear him apart. There were no words—the unspoken agony and grief were far too overwhelming to put into words—if there even were words for it. 

I’m sorry. I love you. I’m glad you’re okay.  You felt it all with him. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, hear its frantic rhythm match your own.

His hands were shaking, one tangling in your hair, the other wrapping entirely around your frame and squeezing your hip. He buries his face into your neck, and his hot breath is ragged and uneven as he inhales your scent. “I thought–” he swallows, shaking his head. “I didn’t know where you were—for a second time.”

Your cursed energy was low, more depleted than it had ever been. It explains why you were so weak, so frail. When he saw your empty bed, he must’ve panicked. He ran to you, anxiously following the weak traces of your presence. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and the familiar silk of his eyeband rubs against your skin. You gently tug at the fabric with the tips of your fingers. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he stills as you slip the black band from his face. He lifts his head just enough to rest it against yours. They were that same stunning shade of azure—bright and impossibly vivid, glowing softly as if they carried the remnants of a forgotten star. Captivating, otherworldly, yet achingly human—something he’d often forget from time to time. 

“You promised,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You promised.”  

“What are you talking about?” you ask just as brokenly. 

Suddenly, one of his hands grasps your neck, and you choke on your words. He doesn’t squeeze tight, but the look on his face is enough to make you gasp. “I couldn’t feel you. I couldn’t feel you anymore,” he says achingly. 

Your chest tightens, nails slightly digging into his forearm. You open your mouth to speak, failing more times than succeeding. You wanted to speak, but the words lodged in your mouth. 

“I–I don’t understand.”

“You’re not wearing it anymore,” he murmurs, his nose brushing softly against your cheek. The necklace you always wore—his gift to you, the one that held a part of him, a part of the two of you—was gone. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, an absence that gnawed at him like hunger, an emptiness he could never satisfy. 

His voice wasn’t angry, far from it. It wasn’t even harsh, but something in it—a quiet desperation—made the air between the two of you quiver. 

“You promised you’d never go where I couldn’t follow,” he whispers again. “Remember?” 

You nod in his hold, tightly pursing your lips together when a few tears escape, dripping from your eyes.  He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours again, gazing deep and unwavering into your eyes. I remember. His grip on your neck loosens until he removes his hand from your throat completely, gentle fingers pushing down your shirt's fabric. His fingers trace your skin, the empty spot where your necklace once laid. 

Then, it suddenly hits you. “Oh.”  

He could feel you as much as you felt him. If you were ever too far from him—out of the range of his sight, out from where his hands could reach for you, that necklace was a beacon, a beckoning, a lighthouse in the storm that guided you home—guided him home. 

You squeeze him tighter. You missed him. You really missed him. 

“How did you find me?” 

He takes a moment to breathe, trying to settle the rapid beat of his heart. “Utahime.” He wheezes out a pained laugh. “She called me panicking once you collapsed. I got there as quickly as I could.”  

You copy his laugh, albeit coughing a bit from the pain blooming in your ribs. You hated to admit it, but the longer you stood, the more your body began to hurt. “I should just heal myself and get this over with.”

“Don’t,” his grip tightens on you again. “you’re using it wrong. There’s damage, lots of it,” he tells you, wiping at the blood that had stained your skin at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Any more and–” his eyebrows furrowed deeply, the weight of grief and guilt tugging his features. The corner of his lips tightened. “Shoko operated on you for hours. You nearly died.”

He sees what others cannot, his gaze piercing the surface to something deeper, something raw. He sees the world through an entirely different lens, and right now, the sight of you seems to pain him dearly. 

For a moment, you wonder just how much damage is hidden within you and how much it must weigh on him to see it. “Shoko might have gotten you out of the woods, but she told me you’d need a few more rounds to get you back to normal.”

“That makes sense,” you murmur, allowing your entire body weight to ease into him. He accepts you with open arms. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Or twenty.”

“I missed it,” he utters, voice thick with regret. “If I had just looked a bit closer, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I fucked up. I could’ve prevented this.” His careful grip on you tightens as if you’d slip away from him once more.  “But,” his tone softens. “You did so well. You took care of that cursed womb before I could even get to the scene.” Even through his pain and wallowing, his heart swells. He was proud of you. 

He bends down, grabbing the flowers he dropped before moving towards you again. “Oh gosh,” you hide your face into his neck as he reaches down, one arm hooking under your legs as he lifts you. You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fired, aren’t I?” 

He carefully guides you back into your room. He manages to toss your flowers on the counter by the window. “Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll handle it. ‘Kay?” He places you down on your bed, but he hesitates, not wanting to fully pull away. 

Your eyes flicker, recalling the night of your augment. You knew this was the reason behind his haunted expression. You recognized the torment because you, too, had felt it. “You’re mad,” he observes relatively quickly.

You didn’t want to bring it up. You weren't necessarily mad, not anymore, but even near death couldn’t make you forget the pain he had caused with words he so carelessly struck you down with. 

“What you said… Hurt me, Gojo,” you look down at your hands, feeling selfish for even bringing this up after nearly dying. However, you knew this conversation was inevitable.  “Even if you were right I felt cast aside. Useless. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way before?”

“No… don’t say that. I was being stupid. I over reacted. I know you'd always protect those kids and that's exactly what you did. You’re not weak or a nuisance, or... convenient.” you flinch at the word. “You’re far from that. I need you to know that.”

“...Then what am I?”

“Everything,” he shudders. “You’re everything.” His lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, and eyelids, each kiss tender and lingering. But then he pauses, his smooth lips hovering just above yours. He’s always been so confident, so self-assured. You’re unsure how to react.

You were sitting on your bed, feet dangling just above the floor. He is leaning over you, one large and warm hand on your thigh, the other cupping your face gently. He was close, but not close enough. Even bent at the waist, his height keeps him just out of your reach unless he leans back down just a bit more…

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, giving him all the assurance you have to offer.

You were hurt, but you still wanted him.

You still loved him. 

His mouth was warm and soft—testing the waters and treading carefully. His grip on your thigh tightens until– 

He lets go. You feel the tension in his body dissipate, and finally, he allows himself to fully enjoy you—taste you. The kiss deepens, and you swear it brought life back into your frail body. He overwhelms you now in the most delicious way possible. Your toes curl, and your tight embrace eases. Your arms go weak, your hands moving to run down his chest, his taut muscles quivering in the wake of your touch.  Every moment was a promise, every brush of skin a new vow. No words were spoken, but you both heard everything that had been held back, everything that had been left unsaid. 

I’m sorry.

I love you. 

I love you.

I love you. 

He smiles against your lips, but you don’t stop or pull away, catching and nipping at his bottom lip. Then, you kiss him again, slotting his top lip between yours. “You really love me, huh? Hehe.”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said it—whimpered murmurs against his lips. No wonder why he looked all dopey and smiley. 

“You’re not going to make me grovel for forgiveness?” He pecks your lips again. “This seems too easy. I know you’re still mad.”

You chase after his lips. “Of course, I’m still mad,” you mutter against him. “But I thought I would never see you again.” Even as he frowns, you pepper his lips with kisses. “Plus, it's not like you to grovel.”

“I would for. Only for you, of course.”

You giggle, nipping his lip a little harder. “Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

Oh no. You’ve made a grave mistake. You knew you messed up again the second the words fell from your lips. There’s a glint in his eyes now. 

“Oh, my beautiful, angelic Queen! I know I have displeased you. Please accept my humble apologies!” You squeak at the suddenness of his actions. He sinks to his knees dramatically, and his palms meet the dirty floor, and so does his forehead. “I am at your mercy! I have failed you greatly, and I wish to make amends.”

You swat him on the back of his head, but it's not nearly enough to hurt him or deter him from whatever this is. “Gojo! Don’t bow like that! Get up!”

“But I can’t!” He whines. “You must forgive me! I will spend eternity on my knees if it means I can regain your favor, my perfect, beautiful, divine Queen. You alone rule this sinners heart!”  He inches forward on his knees, squeezing himself between your legs. His hands find homage on your waist as he nudges his face into your stomach.

Your eyes roll skyward. “Only you could apologize and insult me at the same time, Satoru,” you grumble, looking down at him before running your fingers through white stands. 

Suddenly, he looks up from this position, resting his chin right beneath your ribs, grinning ear to ear. “You called me Satoru~”

You feel your face flush, heat gushing to your cheeks and ears. “Shut up. You’re such an idiot. Can you get up now?”

“Nah,” he says lazily, burying his head into your stomach again. His voice comes out muffled. “I’m trying to make amends with my Queen. Let me, will ya?”

You ease, realizing you won't be able to stop him from doing what he wants. Even if it was a bit theatrical, he was doing his best—you know that because you know him. You let your nails gently graze his scalp as you continued to pat him. He hums, almost purrs, as your other hand finds his shoulder, squeezing him gently before running your fingers under his shirt, caressing his skull and the taut muscles in his back. A beat of silence passes, but you find yourself uncaring.

You had him back in your arms. That’s all that really mattered to you right now.

“Look, I know… I know I messed up,” he begins, voice so low, you nearly miss it. “I’m not great at this—saying the right things. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stressed. I was fed up with the higher-ups and fed up with my missions, but that’s no excuse. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You deserve better than what I was giving you. I’m gonna try to be better… for you. For us.”  His words hang in the air a bit awkwardly, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It couldn’t be missed. He shifts a bit, moving to kiss your belly. Then, his large hand wrap around yours, guiding your hand closer to his lips. He kisses the back of your knuckles tenderly as if the act of his apology could never be enough.

“You want me to stay?”

He squeezes you tighter. “Of course I do. What would I be without you?”

“Hm. You’d still be Gojo Satoru. Even without me.” 

“I don’t want to imagine a life without you,” he mutters. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow. I've already told you that…”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper sweetly, patting his head. He nudges his head further into you. “The world will always need you.”

“I will always need you. So please… stop talking like this.” He pinches your side, making you squeak. Finally he looks up, an unimpressed expression gracing his features. “And don’t ever leave the city to get away from me. When you told me you were going to a hotel, I thought you meant in Tokyo.”

You chuckle nervously, looking elsewhere. “Yeah… Sorry about that.” 

“Next time, take a walk or something. I dunno, go touch some grass if you get tired of me.”

A small smile escaped you, followed by a quiet laugh that shook your shoulders. You pat his back three times before kneading him softly. “Okay, humble peasant. You've groveled for long enough. Now lay with me,” you demand him. “I want you to lay with me. I’m so tired.”

“Psh. I’d hardly fit on this bed.”

“Whatever,” you tell him, scooting over. “I’ll make room. Get in, string bean.”

He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

 It’s a bit awkward at first with his lanky form, but he makes it work. It was a tight fit, and his feet slightly dangled off the bed, but he made no objections. With your back to his chest, he held you against him securely.

“You’re cold,” he observes out loud when you start playing with his fingers. It’s a bitter realization, a deafening one on his part. You know it bothers him, especially as he wraps the blanket around you tighter.

He tries not to let it show. However, he quickly becomes restless and you know he isn’t sated. He begins to move. “Let me go get you another blanket.”

“Nooo. Stay here.”

“Huh? But you’re freezing! And you’re never cold!”

“I’m already warming up!” You intervene with a small giggle, tugging him by his jacket. “Just shut up and lay with me, already.” He hesitates before unbuttoning his black jacket. When he was determined, there wasn’t any stopping a man like him, and right now, he was determined to get you warm.

He lays his jacket over you, spreading the fabric out, smoothing away all the wrinkles, and making sure you're covered. It might as well be a blanket with how long it was over you. Bonus points because it still carried him warmth and smelled like his cologne. A blend of earth and wood with a hint of something darker—smokey and smooth. You always loved the scent. Whenever he walked by, it brushed past you like a gentle breeze over still water, warm and inviting, with subtle notes of leather, musk, and vanilla. 

He grunts a bit before easing into the bed again. “My little icicle- ow,” you shot your elbow back, getting him right in the ribs. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He chuckles, before wrapping his arms over you one more. He brushes your hair from your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before saying something familiar. 

“I could sense when you left Tokyo. I didn’t know what to do. Even with my eyes, I couldn’t find you. You were just gone. Don’t ever go where I can’t follow." He kisses your neck. "Please.”

You turn around, searching for his lips. He melts into you once again, squeezing your side sweetly. “I promise,” you murmur. “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” you say, voicing back the same promise he made you. He smiles faintly against your lips.  

When you woke up the next morning, your necklace was there. It was back where it belonged, sapphires resting gently over your steady beating heart—carrying Satoru’s silent promise.

Wherever you go, that’s where I follow. 

-

a/n: I honestly don't know how I feel about this but if you made it to the end I hope the nearly 18k was worth reading. If you couldn't tell its based off the song Die With A Smile. Honestly, I think I might have been happier by making this a bit longer and flushing out some of the scenes more, but I was trying new things and I was excited to post my first jjk post :) however its getting late now but if there's any typos or errors I notice later I'll edit as needed.

anyways, if you'd like to see more gojo x sorcerer!reader let me know! also I really hoped you liked the bits I added with Megumi (he's just a smol bean).

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! :p

[waterthatsmoe]

"Do you regret it?"

"It's for the best."

"Do you miss them?"

"I'll never forget this ache for the rest of my life."

Part 4 [end] | Part 3 [prev]

[amberjazmyn]

grievances💔🫶

pairing : oscar piastri x piastri!fem reader x fem!reader

summary : oscar piastri's first wife nichola piastri dies during the childbirth of their fifth and final child. oscar moves on and starts falling in love with cecelia, the best friend of the piastri family.

warnings : emotions, death from childbirth, hospitals, flashbacks, gets happier towards the end

a/n : this will be the first time i write something angsty for oscar, and i feel like i should apologise but it's time a different driver gets the punch of angst since it's almost always lando, charles, carlos or max. also, the names of the kids are as follows in age order, jazmyne (15 to 17), elena (15 to 17), noah (8 to 10), logan (7 to 9) and lennon (baby) is the newborn.

a/n : and yes, it would physically impossible for oscar to have this many kids at the age he's at now but ignore that part of it lol. and also, jazmyne and elena ages go from 15 to 18 in this so i have changed it to them being sisters of nichola that they adopted so that's why the ages don't match up so oscar and nichola's biological kids are noah, logan and lennon but they adopted the sisters of nichola.

fc : for first wife, nichola, will be lily zneimer to imagine and second wife, cecelia, will be girly's from pinterest

two years ago | oscar's pov

jazmyne, the younger sister of my wife was stirring in my lap as her head lay there as the rest of her body was spread out on a couple of hospital waiting room chairs. trying to get her to sleep even though i knew, despite her being my sister-in-law that nichola and i adopted as our legal kids, she hated sleeping in the hospital. which, in turn, was very different to the rest of her siblings, her twin sister elena and her two younger brothers noah and logan. however, i knew i couldn't leave nichola, my wife and the mother of my now five kids. just in case nichola woke up, i didn't want her to wake up on her own, especially considering she's just given birth to our brand new baby girl, lennon grace, i didn't want her to freak out and wonder where everyone was.

just as a backstory, i have five kids with nichola, jazmyne amber and elena nicole are fifteen and are twin sisters and the younger sisters of nichola that we adopted way before we even considered having our own children. noah jack is the first baby of ours that nichola and i had together after we had had jazmyne and elena with us for a couple of years and he has just recently turned eight, logan michael was our second child and he is seven and lennon grace, is our third biological child but the fifth overall who was just born a couple of hours ago. and during nichola's pregnancy with lennon, it was quite dangerous but, we were told that once nichola had actually given birth to lennon that everything would be fine. and that, maybe, hopefully, we'd still get my wife back afterwards.

how long we'd have to wait until we got the all-clear to drive back to monte-carlo from montmartre, france, i'd spend it waiting here in this very hospital waiting room just to make sure that the love of my life was okay. i know much the teenagers despises the hospital and, i feel awful that i'm doing this, i truly do but, we were the only family of nichola's that was close enough to make sure she was okay. cecelia, a best friend of nichola and myself was also with us as she helped jaz, elena and myself take care of noah, logan and baby lennon when we had visiting hours to check in on nichola.

"...jazz, please, babe, can you try to get some sleep? it's nearly midnight, can you at least try for me? please?" i cry out in distress, whilst elena, my two boys and lennon were all fast asleep in the hospital bed that was in the room we had been provided, jazzy just couldn't - and i knew it was because of how terrified she was of hospitals but, i just needed to get jazz off to sleep

"no, oscar. i don't like it here! i want nichola to wake up and for us to go back home. i just want to be back home in monaco with you, nichola, elena, noah, logan and baby lennon!" jazz tiredly cries into my chest and hearing her say that as my fifteen-year-old girl makes my heart shatter even more   

"jazzy, baby, i know you want to be home, i do too but, we just can't. not whilst nichola is in the state she's in, we need your sister to get better. maybe if i place you with elena you'll sleep?" i tried, usually if jazzy slept with elena, she was able to fall asleep at the click of a finger, pulling her closer to my bare chest as i tried to get her to sleep - a knock at the door gains our attention

it was cecelia, she had a small but exhausted smile on her face, and her hair was still done up in the braids that jazzy had done earlier in the morning before nichola had given birth to lennon. 

"hey osc, hey jazzy," she spoke quietly so as not to wake up elena and the two boys as jazz and i smiled back, both of us responding 

"hey cece," "hey lia" 

cecelia smiled, running her finger through jazz's hair and then her hands through mine as jazz was still resting against my chest. her legs most likely going numb from not having any movement for the past few hours.

"osc, the nurses are suggesting it's probably about time you, jazz, elena, noah and logan go back home, the last i heard, i think your mum has been trying to get ahold of you. and, before you even think to argue with me oscar jack, i've already agreed on staying here with lando's girlfriend overnight for the rest of the week to see if nichola wakes up and to also help take care of baby lennon. besides, despite the fact you think you're hiding this pretty well, i damn well know how badly you're also wanting to be back home in monaco. come on osc, listen to your eldest child and go home! i've already spoken to zac and andrea as well as your closest f1 friends and they are just as worried about nichola as you are! i promise if they are any, and i mean any updates about nichola, you are the first person i'm calling, okay?" cecelia hadn't ever been so stern with me before but, i knew she was right and i knew i shouldn't have been ignoring jazmyne in the way i had been so, i agreed, knowing that nichola was going to be safe with cecelia and lando's girlfriend

"fine, but you...you promise if anything changes or happens, you ring me?" i double-check as my voice shakes, cecelia comes closer, grabbing a tight hold of my hand as i jolt slightly, letting jazz slide off my lap as she gets her hoodie and then goes to wake up her sister and two brothers and cecelia nods her head 

"i pinky swear osc! anything that changes or what have you, you are the first person i'm ringing whether nichola's parents or nicole like it or not!" cecelia spoke firmly as i nodded my head, believing her as i then slipped my own hoodie on considering i had been shirtless the whole time

i then grabbed logan out of jazz's grip as she still held noah tightly as he lay asleep on her shoulder, elena holding jazz's free hand, giving cecelia a hug as we then walked out of the hospital room, elena holding onto our overnight bag on her shoulders. 

🥀

for three days, jazmyne, elena, noah, logan and i had now been home in monaco and still, we hadn't received any texts or calls from either cecelia or lando's girlfriend in regards to nichola and her current state, it honestly scared me. and i hadn't even realised i had been so silent until lando, my fellow mclaren teammate, had come over to ask why jazmyne was crying whilst my other three children were perfectly fine. 

"...hey, osco, why's jazmyne crying...oscar!" lando went to ask me why jazz had been crying when he realised i zoned out 

"huh?" i responded as lando sighed, he knew, the whole of f1, and our teammates knew how worried i've been about nichola and the two boys that, i just haven't really been able to concentrate or really focus on anything as i'd usually be able to 

"osc, we all know you're worried about nichola and the other kids but, what about jazz, she's your kid too. sure, she's nichola's younger sister but she's still your kid. she's just as worried about her sister then you are. yes, she's the eldest but, that makes no difference! she's been crying for the past five minutes, i can't even calm her down, and neither can elena, max or charles. and that isn't normal at all, osc! please, help calm your daughter down oscar, she needs you due to the fact that her sister is sick and in the hospital right now, and apart from us, her uncles and aunties, you're the only parent she has right now!" lando spoke softly but sternly with a sad look in his eyes considering nichola, my wife, was also good friends with lando as i gulped, nodding my head, he's right, i can't be selfish and ignore jazmyne just because she's the eldest 

"sorry lando," i sniffled, finally letting myself have a cry as well, lando sighed sadly and sat next to me to calm me down

"oscar, don't apologise, your wife is in the hospital after giving birth to another wonderful baby girl after we all thought she was in the clear. it is totally normal and okay to cry and worry but, don't let that worry consume you. especially when you have four other kids, most especially your two fifteen-year-olds to look after as well," lando spoke softly and comfortingly as he rubbed my back 

agreeing with lando, i nodded my head, wiping away my tears with my hoodie sleeve and was when jazmyne came in front of me. although she was fifteen, she climbed into my lap, she still felt like a little kid around me but we had no care in the world considering she was nichola and i's, first kid, although only after we adopted her due to their parents no longer able to look after the twins. 

"osc...is, is nichola gonna be okay? is she gonna wake up?" jazmyne sniffled as i gulped, biting my lip, doing whatever it was i could in stopping my own tears from falling in front of my eldest as i just hugged her tighter, pulling her closer as lando just watched on 

"of course, she will jazz, it just takes time okay? but i promise you, she'll wake up and when she does, we can have lennon come home with her as well and we'll all be one big happy family..." i said with a shaky voice as jazmyne smiled which made me smile although i was just as scared and uncertain as jazmyne was about nichola waking up 

present-day | oscar's pov

"...oscar, why did you lie to me when you said that nichola was going to wake up and that lennon was going to come home with us?!" jazmyne suddenly screeched, i felt the tears in the back of my eyes as i was taken aback 

the last time jazmyne screamed at me was when she was still trying to come to terms with that she had lost her older sister when she was fifteen years old alongside the rest of her siblings.

"i...i, jazz..." just as i went to explain to her with everyone watching the two of us, jazmyne screams once more and then runs, storms upstairs to her room and slams the door shut as it frightens everyone due to the loud noise it made 

"...just shut up oscar! i hate you! i hate cecelia! i hate everyone in this goddamn house! i just want my sister back! why is that so hard to understand?!" she screams as she then runs upstairs to her room after which she slams her door shut, all of us left jumping in fear 

as soon as jazmyne's door slams shut, a sob comes out of nowhere and left my mouth as i sunk from my standing position to the floor below, my legs not able to hold the weight of my body up anymore. 

"oh...oscar..." cecelia whispered as she ran over to comfort me and the tears don't stop, and neither do the loud wails that caused my entire body to shake 

cecelia pulls me into her arms and i cried into her chest as she tries to get me to calm down, i look up to notice lando and max both agreed to go upstairs to see jazmyne as it had all of a sudden gone quiet. thanking every god i could think of that charles and his girlfriend were distracting elena, noah, logan and lennon otherwise i'd rather die right now than see my other kids see their older sister in this sort of state. 

"ssh, it's okay osc, let it all out. lando and max have gone upstairs to see if jazz is okay. everything is going to be fine, babe. i know you miss nichola, and so do i but, we have to be as strong as we can for the kids, okay?" cecelia sternly spoke as i nodded my head, sniffling as i got up off the floor and the both of us followed lando and max up the stairs to jazmyne's room 

cecelia and i had made it to jazmyne's room where the door was closed. giving us the obvious that lando and max had gotten through to her somehow and got her to allow them to talk to her. 

lando's pov

"...jazmyne, we know how much you're missing your sister. trust me, she was my best friend and i miss nichola, as does everyone. however, what you just said to oscar was not nice, okay? you made him really upset, you really gave him a fright when you yelled at him as well," softly, i reached my hand over to my niece who gulped, finally lifting her head up, making me smile in slight shock that i got through to her so quickly 

then, jazmyne finally, lifted her head up and her face was littered with tears. i shared a sad look with max as i had to figure this out. 

"i...i'm sorry uncle lando but, i...i really miss nichola! i mean, cecelia's great, i really do love her but, knowing that she's nichola's best friend just makes it hurt even more and i..." before jazmyne could continue, max shushed her and calmed her down 

"...shh, jazz, it's okay schat, we all know how much you're missing your sister, we all miss her just as much *soft giggle* however, as uncle lando said, you shouldn't have yelled at oscar like that. he is also still grieving the loss of your sister as well as trying to balance five kids on his own and having you yelling at him, telling him that you hate him isn't going to bring your sister back now is it?" max was also soft but fatherly in his tone, sitting in front of jazz, sitting criss-cross as she gulped, shaking her head no - it was shocking that max was getting through to jazmyne the way he was 

"no," she responded as she pressed her hands together, noticing how sweaty they were as i rubbed her back, giving me a small smile and then giving one to max

"exactly jazz so, we're gonna stand up and just right outside, cecelia and oscar are waiting and you're going to apologise and give oscar the biggest hug ever because he really needs it. he misses nichola so much and, you are one of five remaining things he's got left of your sister alongside your siblings so, make sure you hug him as tightly as you can!" max said with a small smile as jazmyne nodded her head, making max and i smile - yes, we actually got through to her!

we then all stood up as jazmyne opened the door, cecelia and oscar were outside waiting as jazmyne ran straight over to oscar as he catches her. straight away, they both broke down into tears as i bit my lip, stopping myself from crying.

"i...i'm so sorry oscar! i...i don't hate you, i just really miss nichola and with her not being here, it just hurts. and, i'm sorry to you as well, cecelia. i don't hate you either, it's just, knowing you are nichola's best friend makes it hurt even more as it reminds me all the time of what i've lost and it...it scares me that i'm gonna lose you and i...i don't want that," jazmyne sobs out into oscar's shoulder as i share a look with max as we sigh quietly - jazmyne was still learning about what grief was and how to deal with it all

"thank you for apologising jazzy but, it is okay. i know you don't hate me because i understand that this is all due to you missing your sister. i miss her too, we all do. but, please, don't yell at me like that ever again, okay? if you want to scream, the best idea is to scream into a pillow. remember the lavender pillow that she gave to you for your birthday? use that, trust me, it works and i do it almost all the time before i go to bed, i just scream into my pillow and smell your sister's perfume and, i feel ten times better," oscar smiles, pulling out of the hug as jazmyne smiles back, wiping her tears away as she nods her head 

two years ago | oscar's pov

"...where's my wife?! where is she?!" i scream, tears streaming down my face as i try to figure out where she went 

for context, my wife wasn't in the same hospital room she was in last week when cecelia and lando's girlfriend were staying here and, no messages were sent from cecelia to me about a room change so i was furious. not at cecelia but at the hospital as usually, you'd think that they'd be the ones to contact you about a room change, not your best friend but, apparently, you get neither! 

"sir...sir, can you please calm down? who is it that you are trying to find?" a nurse suddenly runs in front of me and i slightly calm down, i gulp as i see my hands shake in front of me before i respond 

"my wife, nichola piastri, she's been in room 392b for about, ah, i don't know, a few months in and out since giving birth to our newborn daughter, lennon grace piastri. but, when i just then went inside to visit her, there was no one in there! is my wife okay? we-we have five kids, two 15-year-olds, an 8-year-old, a 7-year-old and a newborn together! please, tell me that nichola is okay?!" i say as my breathing speeds up as i feel another batch of tears well in my eyes as i try to keep them from streaming down my cheeks 

i then hear footsteps come up behind me, a hand pulling me back, i instantly recognise it as lando. i feel my breathing start to regulate properly, knowing that my f1 family were here for me. 

"okay, what's your name sir and, who are these people behind you?" the kind nurse whose nametag introduced her as dr rachel alessi asks as i look behind me before responding 

"i...i'm oscar piastri, nichola's husband, i have four of my five children and i-uh..." 

"--we're the rest of his family, doctor alessi if you please, we'd really like it if we could go in and find out what's wrong with nichola, please, that is all we're asking for!" lando interrupts as i smile at the ground before i looked back up as doctor alessi nodded her head 

"okay, my apologies, come with me guys. in regards to the reason why we've moved nichola from room 392b to just a couple of rooms down from this waiting room was i think due to some issues that were happening that i am not fully aware of so, apologies for that. however, because i am only just a registered nurse, you'll have to wait until nichola's midwife and surgeon who was actually the two managing and taking care of her, to find out what it is that's wrong with her. so, i'll unfortunately, have to ask you all to just, as patiently as you can, wait here until one of the surgeons or midwives is able to give you the information you need. thank you for being so patient oscar and company," doctor alessi was professional as she could be as she was then whisked away into another waiting room across the hall 

i then fell back into the chair behind me as i heard crying - i turned to see it was jazmyne, she was crying into her knees as my heart shattered. her brothers, noah and logan were sound asleep and elena had left to fetch herself and jazmyne something to eat, just as she had promised on the drive over from monaco. i moved closer to jazmyne as i notice the rest of her uncles and family looking over at jazmyne and me, and i could easily tell that they were heartbroken as well. jazmyne leans her head into my chest and i pull her closer as she sobs. i bite my lip to stop my own cries despite the difficulty that was. 

"ssh, jazz, it's okay babe! nichola's going to be just fine, okay?" i try to calm jazmyne down as her cries just get louder - this is the one thing about parenting that i struggle with, watching and hearing my children cry and not knowing exactly how to comfort them or cry with them 

max and i share a look, max knowing the exact look of wishing he could take the pain away. he bites his lip as i know he wanted to cry now as well, lando, nichola's best friend had started crying long ago but, max didn't want to cry. he wanted to stay strong for his nieces and nephews and, i don't blame him as i felt the same way. 

"when...when will she wake up? i miss my sister!" jazz sobs as i close my eyes, hoping it was all just a dream and that we were on a beach or at a grand prix as a family, not in the hospital in france

"i...i don't know jazz, i really don't know and i am so sorry that i can't give you a proper answer!" i respond tearfully as jazz sobs again and i feel awful as that was when doctor alessi came back over to us with somewhat of a hopeful look on her face which made my heart race 

"ahem, i...i am so sorry if this is something i'm interrupting but, oscar, is it okay if i just grab you for a second, privately? one of jazz's uncles can take her and the boys but, i just really need to tell you this in private due to the children..." doctor alessi spoke in a hushed sort of tone

i gulped, nodding my head as i released my grip on jazmyne, max and lando immediately grabbing her, lando's fingers massaging her head as charles and his girlfriend watched over noah and logan, elena still getting some food. doctor alessi leading the both of us into a hallway a couple of doors down from the waiting room 

"...so, what's up with nichola, has there been any new news about her from her midwives or surgeons?" i ask as i bite the inside of my lip as doctor alessi takes a second which worries me slightly 

"that's the thing, oscar. when nichola was pregnant with lennon, it was always known from the beginning that it would be a troublesome pregnancy. i also understand that you guys were told that as soon as lennon was to be delivered that nichola would be fine and that within twenty-four to forty-eight hours that she'd be discharged along with your daughter. however, that obviously was not true as nichola has been here for way longer than expected. and that is because, something irregular with nichola's blood was detected and, it looked as if it was a tear which has caused internal bleeding---" this was all too much for me to comprehend but, nichola's going to survive right? i mean, she has to, we have five kids together for fuck sake, we have jazmyne, elena, noah, logan and lennon together! 

"---wha...what? but, nichola's okay, right? like, she's gonna survive? she...she's going to wake up?" i ask, feeling myself panic, please tell me that nichola's going to wake up, i can't have my five children, especially little lennon grow up without their mum and sister 

"just as i was about to explain before you cut me off, oscar, there is a high percentage rate of her not waking up," my heart fell with a thud into my chest as she said that and my eyes widen 

"do you know the percentage of nichola waking up?" i asked as tears brimmed my eyes, i mean, is there even going to be a survival rate for her considering her death rate is already so high but still unknown 

"i actually have no idea oscar, i was not told. however, because we don't think nichola is going to last through the night without complications, we think it's best if you go visit her, her room number is 583b. i suggest you also grab all of the children, elena included and the aunties and uncles. of course, the younger boys, noah and logan aren't going to fully understand and that's totally understandable. but, even if jazmyne and elena get confused as well, try to make it somewhat easier for all of them to understand. but if you can't make them understand, i am more than happy to explain it to them. but, i...uh, i'm terribly sorry about this oscar, all of us who've been working directly and even those indirectly with nichola were really hoping for it to end in any way but this way and, i'm sorry we can't have it end positively with your wife..." i feel my heart shatter and drown as i try to come to terms with what doctor alessi just revealed as she then speaks up again 

"...oh, and before i forget, for a few moments, it did look as though she was responding with the movements of limbs but, it wasn't anything to suggest that it was an improvement because almost straight away, she went back down. but, besides that, if you'll come back with me, i can walk with you and tell the rest of the family about nichola so you don't have to and then, i can lead you guys to 583b and say your final goodbyes to her," doctor alessi spoke professionally, without skipping a beat as i nodded my head, a single tear slipping down my cheek as my worst fear had come true - my best friend dying on me, leaving me as a single father to our five children 

"thank you doctor alessi," was all that i could muster saying from my mouth as i follow behind her as we walk back to the group, noticing that elena had only just walked back over from the cafe and the doctor breaks the news to them

straight away, jazmyne runs over to me, seeing her uncle lando struggle to hold back his tears with max right next to him, lando's girlfriend on the other side. jazmyne then looked up at me with sad and confused eyes as my heart broke, again.

"osc...why is uncle lando crying?" jazmyne questioned in confusion as my heart shatters and i bite my lip and take a deep breath - ready to tell her when doctor alessi steps in instead

"jazz..." 

"...jazmyne, sweetheart, the reason why some of your family members are crying is that something has happened to your sister since giving birth to your sister, lennon," doctor alessi started as jazmyne tilted her head to the side and then turns it to elena as they stood together, all bunched up watching what was happening 

"what do you mean doctor alessi? is nichola okay?" jazmyne asks as my heart cracks

yes, she was fifteen and a big girl, as is elena, but in this situation, i had never seen my two girls look so small and afraid in their lives. turning to look away, i look back to notice that max had wrapped his arm around me. his girlfriend kelly watching over noah and logan as they both fell asleep 

"remember when oscar mentioned that nichola was sick?" uncle lando shakily jumps in, wiping his tears away as he moves closer to jazmyne and elena, the two girls nod their heads, uncle lando going down to his knees to level with the girls as they hug each other as doctor alessi continues 

"yeah..." the sisters mumble with head nods, doctor alessi taking over

"...well, jazmyne and elena, because your guys' sister and mum is sick, she has been having to stay here in this hospital like baby lennon had to, to make sure she could get better. however, there is a chance that due to the sickness your sister has, it is doubtful that she's going to wake up again..." doctor alessi pauses again as jazmyne and elena look at each other and then around at everyone else - jazmyne then making eye contact with all of her uncles and aunties whilst elena just looks down to the floor 

"...wait, what? why wouldn't nichola wake up? she...she has to... what about baby lennon? what about me and elena? what about noah and logan? what about oscar? she's the closest thing me and elena have to a mum! what's going on..." jazmyne started to panic as uncle lando tries to calm her down by pulling her closer to his body 

"...jazmyne, sweetheart, nichola isn't going to wake up, she's going to die..." although everyone else apart from my kids were adults, still hearing doctor alessi say that nichola, the mother/sister of my children was going to die was still hard to hear as jazmyne starts to whimper, lando once again, trying to calm her down 

"...nichola's not going to come home, dad?" jazmyne questioned, calling me dad for the first time in years looking towards me, her voice small as that was the moment that all of our hearts broke 

"mhm, nichola's not coming home, jazz," i whispered as tears streamed down my cheeks as lando let go of jazmyne allowing her to run over to me

picking her up, the both of us crying whilst elena, noah and logan reacted differently. elena went numb and the two boys latched on to each other but neither cried just yet and lennon, she was having her last few hospital evaluations in the nicu.

present-day | oscar's pov

it was a school day for four of five of my children however, for jazmyne and elena, since they were both in year 11, their school teacher had allowed her students to bring in the parent/parents of the student/students. in a bid to share the occupation of their parent/caregiver as a way to inspire the other year 11 students who were about to start their senior year. and, obviously, although both girls didn't want to also bring cecelia, who was also within the f1/motorsport profession, jazmyne and elena just brought me in. for the obvious reason that cecelia needed to take care of lennon back home, the baby of the family. we were having a discussion in class about something in regard to the work i do as an f1 driver for mclaren racing when one of elena and jazmyne's school friends had questioned about nichola. and why their sister hadn't come since i was the only single 'parent' in the session.

"...jazz, elena, what about oscar's job? he's still in formula one, right? also, where's your guys' sister, nichola?" macie, a best friend of jazmyne and elena questioned as my eyes widened in shock

i sworn i had told macie's mother, marnie, who was also the girls' school teacher not to mention nichola. as recently, both girls, jazmyne and elena, hadn't been coping well so, i was scared at how both girls were going to respond to their friend.

both elena and jazmyne's heads shoot up from their early junior certificate testing that the two sisters had both been working on as i couldn't distinguish how they were both feeling like i could usually do. however, neither girl cried, they didn't scream. they were strong and confident and jazmyne spoke up first and answered without hesitation which shocked me. not because i thought neither daughter could do it, but, because jazmyne answered so straightforwardly. something that adults my age struggle with and, jazmyne and elena have both only just turned seventeen. 

"she died two years ago, macie, she never got to leave the hospital. the blood loss she suffered after she had given birth to lennon was too much and, the nurses couldn't control it in time and it was too late. we would've thought that your mum would have told you?" jazmyne spoke softly, elena mumbling a "yeah" whilst looking at macie

the two girls shrugging their shoulders empathetically to macie who looked as though it was the first time she was being told this news from her friends 

"oh..." macie responded as marnie interrupted when macie was just about to apologise 

"...oh my gosh! i am so sorry jazmyne, elena and mr piastri, class and parents please, continue with whatever it is you were doing..." marnie spoke out loud before moving closer to me, my two daughters and macie and continuing 

"...that was so rude of macie to ask you! she knows to not talk about it, most especially during class, jazmyne, elena, girls are you okay?" marnie hushed harshly before calming down and rushing over to my two girls to make sure they were fine, both of them smiling and looking identical to their older sister as they nodded their heads 

elena speaking up first this time, "it's okay mrs nelson, i'm fine, jazmyne's fine and so is our dad. i mean, if macie didn't know and wants to know, she has that right. it is okay to ask things like that sometimes as long as it doesn't get too personal and even then, have you met jazz and i's father? but, thank you for asking if we're okay but, seriously, we're totally fine, please, don't baby us!" elena smiled as that shocked the entire class, including jazmyne but, i couldn't hide my smile - both of my girls were definitely nichola and i's girls 

and yes, elena and jazmyne were now comfortable enough to refer to me as 'dad' not just around the house but in public as well. of course when it's realised that they are the younger sisters of my deceased wife, it gets kind of messy. but, now that they were older and now that it had been two years since the loss of their sister and were still under my guardianship since they're still under eighteen, they both asked if they could refer to me as dad since their real dad had no affiliation to them anymore. similar with their biological mum, hence why me and nichola adopted them in the first place all those years ago before we had our own biological kids.

getting called out by one of her students definitely was embarrassing for marnie but, she picked herself up and continued, "well, i...i'm still going to make macie apologise, alright girls? asking someone where their sister, brother, mother or father is, is not okay,. and she needs to learn that, even at seventeen, she needs to learn that not every single one of her friends has both parents or family in their lives as she does and she needs to know that and be sensitive towards it," marnie splutters out as jazmyne and elena nod their heads as they go back to the early junior certificate for next year when they are both eighteen alongside macie when marnie pulls me aside 

she looked sort of mad that her daughter asked jazmyne and elena about nicola but, to be honest, did marnie even explain it properly or at all to macie as it's been two years since nichola died? or, did she just forget about that bit like it was nothing because macie was too young? and just decided to tell macie that nichola was just going to stay sleeping in a hospital bed for a while? then i notice the face that macie made when her mum said that she knew not to talk about it and how it really looked as if macie legitimately had no clue about nichola's death two years on. 

"i am so sorry..." just as marnie was going to splutter out a useless apology on behalf of her very capable seventeen-year-old daughter, i stopped her 

"...marnie, just stop for a second. did you seriously tell your daughter at all as to what happened to nichola or did you just expect that as she got older that she'd find out on her own as to why she never came to the funeral to help her best friends say the eulogy that she had helped them write like we agreed she would?" i was stern in my approach as marnie looks at me in shock as if i couldn't raise my voice at anyone on my own without nichola or without crying over it 

"wha...what, of course, i did, that's--" 

"--no, she didn't oscar," macie's sweet voice came up from behind as i gave the girl a proud smile after she had stood up for herself in front of her mum - also smiling due to being called by my first name which was something i hadn't heard in a while from her since she was always forced by her mum to call me 'mr piastri' which i hated

"she refused to even let me ask about you guys for an entire year before she could even mention nichola because she didn't want to get upset and "cry" over a friend which, i'm sorry mum but, what the actual fuck?" macie was angry as the lunch bell then rang, the other students and parents apart from jazmyne, elena and macie leaving as marnie tried so hard to make what her own daughter was saying to seem like a lie when really, i believed the best friend of my daughter's more than the adult 

"really, macie? she never mentioned anything to you about what happened to nichola during lennon's birth? so, the first time you actually hear about it is from jazmyne and elena?" i questioned with my arms crossed over as both my daughters and macie nod their heads as i turn back around to look at marnie who looked as though she had seen a ghost - in which, she bloody damn will in a second and it won't be nichola's happy ghost either! 

"yes, i am serious oscar, mum hasn't ever mentioned once why cecelia has now been living with you guys and why nichola hasn't been around when i've stayed over. and why i didn't go to the funeral even though i was supposed to because i wasn't even told that the funeral was for nichola in the first place. even when i helped jazz and elena write the eulogy, they never specified who i was writing it for," macie looked at me with teary eyes as my heart shattered for the teenage girl who i'd actually become closer with since becoming closer to her parents - why would marnie not even tell her daughter about the loss of her best friends' sister? 

macie then started to cry, obviously very overwhelmed from the situation earlier and now only just finding out that for the last two years, the mother of her best friends had been deceased and she had no clue the entire time. without hesitation, jazmyne and elena rushed over and pulled their best friend in for a hug whilst marnie just stayed stagnant and did nothing to even try and comfort her child. 

comforting their best friend, jazmyne and elena hugged macie tightly, elena speaking up, "aw, macie, it's okay. it's not your fault you didn't know, we should have realised that your mum wasn't telling you and we should have then told you ourselves, we just assumed you knew already," elena whispered as jazmyne nodded her head as they hugged macie as closely as they could as i stopped marnie from coming any closer - truthfully, i don't think macie wanted to even look at her mum ever again, thanking god that it was still lunch break

"no, marnie, stay away. i don't even think macie wants to look at you and i wouldn't blame her if she'd never want to be seen next to you ever again. especially considering how long you kept this news from her. why on earth did you refuse to tell her? she deserved to know about the death of her best friends' sister just as much as my own children did!" i was mad, fuming at what marnie had done to her daughter 

"mr piastri, macie's my child, you can't stop me from comforting her..." 

"...yes he can, mum. oscar is right, i don't even want to look at you, let alone be seen with you ever again! in all honesty, i don't even want to live with you anymore, i want to live with dad because then that means i'll be right next door to jazmyne and elena and i'll actually be able to be told things straight away and not have to wait years before i'm actually told things that are important like the death of their sister! and i'll actually be taken care of properly because dad actually loves me and he makes it his priority to make sure his children are taken care of, no wonder why he's got full custody of the rest of my siblings. and unlike your lies, this family actually wanted me at nichola's funeral, and so did i, why do you think i helped them write the bloody eulogy they were going to say? you even said i could go and say that eulogy with jazmyne and elena however when the day did come, you left the house without even giving me any knowledge that you were leaving and that it was time to go. like i mentioned earlier, i didn't even know that the funeral was for nichola and that i was helping jazz and nicole say a eulogy for her because you never told me it was her funeral, to begin with. all because you didn't even tell me that she had died. yet, i still waited for two nearly three hours for you to come into my room to tell me if it was time to go or not. however, you never came back until the funeral was over and i had no goddamn idea that it was over and that it was nichola's funeral. what the fuck is wrong with you that you couldn't even tell me something as simple as the information that the sister and mother of my two best friends and their siblings had died. was it because i spent so much time with dad, therefore meaning i spent too much time going next door and spending more time with the piastris than i spent with you?" macie was a strong girl, a very strong girl however, not once until now did we think she was going to be able to stand up to her own mother like that 

no one knew how to respond so, no one did. jazmyne, elena and i just smiled at how proud we were of macie for standing up for herself, her friends and her father in the way she did. and, just like we imagined, marnie was shocked, unable to comprehend her daughter and her student because don't forget, marnie was also her school teacher, just exposed her and stood up to her. and, also, just so you know, macie's father, matthew, had won full custody of his daughter not long after this interaction and marnie was not granted any visitations with any of her five children, including macie. 

two years ago | lando's pov

the one day that none of us was ready for suddenly jumped up on us. nichola's funeral. due to being jazmyne and elena's uncle due to the fact that i am their sister's best friend, i had the job of making sure my two nieces, jazmyne and elena were okay whilst max and charles took care of noah, logan and baby lennon and cecelia was taking care of oscar. although i was also at my breaking point emotionally, just like oscar was, i had to make sure i stayed strong for my two nieces jazz and elena. 

*knock knock* there was a small sounding knock at my bedroom door, knowing it came from jazz and elena, i let them both come in. 

"come in you two, what's up my princesses?" i say as my back is facing them as i finish fixing my hair although i knew it would be a crows nest after oscar's finished crying into it at the funeral 

"you're the last one ready, uncle lando, we need to leave," elena's hoarse voice rang out as my heart broke and my eyes widened as i turned around to face the two fifteen-year-olds who were dressed in their very best black dresses, their hair is done perfectly by cecelia with some suede black boots 

i then questioned why max or charles didn't come up, why did they get jazmyne and elena to come upstairs to tell me? 

"oh...oh, thanks elena, why...why didn't they get uncle max or uncle charles to come up and get me?" i ask, patting the bed down for jazmyne and elena to come and sit down next to me for a moment before having to leave 

jazmyne then spoke up with a shrug, "we don't know, apparently it was because macie's stupid mum, marnie, our school teacher, had shown up and they were trying to deal with her. and, elena and i were the only two who were free to come upstairs to tell you," jazmyne sighed, with a shrug of her shoulders as elena nodded her head as my eyes widened again, why was marnie here? i mean, macie was supposed to come but, not her mother

"oh, well, has marnie left then?" i ask as both girls shake their heads, elena speaking up this time 

"nah, we think she has somehow convinced dad to let her come but only if she stays right at the back and doesn't do anything stupid, she can stay," elena shrugs as a disgusted look shows up on both sisters' faces as i try not to laugh

yeah as a family, we weren't really a fan of macie's mother despite the fact that macie, her siblings and father were the complete opposites, a group of absolute angels 

"okay but, we should probably head downstairs now then girls..." just as i went to stand up, jazmyne pulled my hand back down as i gave the two girls worried looks 

"...what's wrong jazz and elena? we need to go and say goodbye to your sister and mum," i responded as the two girls just looked up at me with their sad, devastated puppy dog eyes as my heart broke 

"we're not ready..." jazmyne responded as the girls looked back at me as i pulled them both in for a hug and we stayed in that hug for a little while before the three of us stood up, me holding jazmyne's hand whilst elena latched hands with jazmyne and we walked downstairs where everyone else who was attending the funeral was waiting 

"...aw, girls, i know you're not. trust me, i'm not ready to say a final goodbye to my best friend either so, i can't imagine what it feels like for you two and your brothers having to say your final goodbyes to your sister and mum," i whispered as we then walked downstairs 

🥀

i sat down in my seat in the church of the funeral with elena and jazmyne on each side of me, oscar on elena's side and cecelia on jazmyne's as we waited for the next speech. which was one of nichola's siblings and then after that it was jazmyne, elena and macie's turn, macie who was the daughter of marnie and was supposed to be here but, she was nowhere to be seen. macie was the girl who had helped elena and jazmyne write their eulogy for their sister and expressed her interest in wanting to attend today's service. but, it seemed as though macie wasn't aware that it was for nichola since her mum, marnie, was notorious for not telling important things to macie or the rest of her children straight away, usually telling them months or even years later. 

one of nichola's sisters had just finished their speech and, whilst it broke hearts, hearing the priest introduce the next speech being spoken by nichola's two younger sisters who she adopted and a family friend, jazmyne, elena and macie, was even more heartbreaking to everyone in the church. and that was because they all knew these three girls as fifteen-year-olds, they were just kids and they were already having to speak about the death of their sister and the mother of their siblings and friends. 

and when it did come to jazmyne, elena and macie's turn, macie was still nowhere to be found and it really worried jazmyne and elena but, that was when i realised that marnie had definitely not told macie at all about nichola's death. and just knowing that she didn't tell her daughter but still had the audacity to come to my best friend's funeral infuriated me because she knew her daughter was involved in the funeral but didn't even tell her who it was for and therefore didn't allow her to attend. 

"...elena, jazz, what are you girls doing? it's your turn to speak about your sister," i whispered as the two girls whimpered softly, their hands not leaving each other or mine as elena spoke up ever so quietly 

"where...where's macie, uncle lando? she's meant to be here with jazmyne and me! she's meant to help us with the eulogy, she was the one who wrote it for us because we couldn't do it ourselves one day at school! but, macie's nowhere to be found but marnie is still here!" elena stuttered out as my heart breaks for my two nieces

i don't know where macie is either but, i have a pretty good assumption that marnie left the house without even letting macie know about it. the fifteen-year-old had probably spent ages getting ready for the funeral and was still waiting for the moment her mum was going to walk into her room and get her, not knowing it wasn't actually going to happen. 

"i...i'm not sure girls but, it looks like you two are going to have to go up together, just the two of you. you just need to be brave and do it just the two of you and, if you need, i can come up with you?" i spoke softly, comforting them both as jazmyne and elena nodded their heads, putting their bravest faces on 

"okay," jazmyne and elena respond, their bravest faces on as i stand up with them, holding jazmyne's hand whilst elena holds one of jazmyne's fingers as we walk up to the podium, jazmyne and elena holding hands as i stand back a couple of steps behind them 

i then notice oscar as well as cecelia who are both smiling towards the two sisters as i just spoke a couple of words before jazmyne and elena's eulogy. 

"hello everyone, just before nichola's two younger sisters that she and her husband adopted say their eulogy, i am lando norris. i'm one of the uncles to the piastri children and one of nichola's best friends, just on behalf of the entire piastri family and extended, i just want to say a huge thank you for coming. i know funerals aren't everyone's favourite thing to be doing on a day as pretty as today in monaco but, we have to. it's what nichola would have wanted and, i'm glad we were able to come together in the way we have to celebrate a wonderful woman like nichola. i say this because, she's honestly the perfect woman and sister/mother to her five beautiful children and a wonderful wife to her husband, oscar. so, once again, just a small thank you all for coming and now, i'm going to pass the mic on to nichola and oscar's two oldest daughters, jazmyne and elena to say the eulogy that they had prepared for their sister," i managed to keep it together as i was applauded before i moved back a couple of steps as jazmyne and elena moved up to the microphone, still holding hands to comfort one another 

"hi everybody, just like our uncle lando just mentioned, i'm jazmyne amber piastri, the eldest younger sister and adopted daughter of nichola and oscar piastri..." 

"...and i'm elena nicole piastri, the second eldest younger sister and adopted daughter of nichola and oscar piastri and although this isn't exactly what me and my sister ever dreamt of doing at such ages of fifteen, having to say goodbye to our sister who stepped up and became our mum, we are however very grateful that we have all of you guys here to help me and jazmyne's family to get through it. so, umm, jazmyne's just going to say a few words in regards to who me and jazmyne's sister was as a person and how amazing she was because, jazmyne doesn't think she personally told her enough and then, i'm going to speak after her with my part of the eulogy..." elena trailed off but was a wonderful speaker, as was jazmyne, exactly like their sister, which is why i think it was so hard for everyone to hear the two girls say a eulogy at their sister's funeral as jazmyne moved forward to the microphone

"originally, me and elena were going to have our best friend from school, macie, to help us since she had actually written this eulogy for us. but, she actually isn't here so, it'll just be me and elena so, here i go," jazmyne paused as she rolled her shoulders back and continued as me and elena smiled at her 

"i always loved telling people, as did elena, that our sister/mum was nichola piastri and that our dad was oscar piastri. i loved it because it both confused people and weirded them out when i would explain that my mum is actually my older sister and my dad drives for the mclaren formula one team. so for those who aren't actually aware about the family dynamic, nichola was our older sister and by the time she was old enough to get out of our horrible home situation and got herself a place to live with oscar, she made the decision to legally adopt me and elena. making sure she had all evidence possible so that she had the best chance to adopt us and making sure that there was no way that the judge would be able to give custody back to our biological parents. and because of that, nichola showed oscar just how beautiful of a person she was. and i truly think that's what made him fall that much more in love with our sister. oscar has been in elena and i's lives for so many years now even before he and nichola took us in that it all just blurs into one and no matter what moment in that timeframe i'm talking about, i can't help but smile because it was a happy time in my life because i knew me and elena were safe always. it didn't matter if something went wrong, i knew that if i was with my sister and her boyfriend that we were safe and we weren't being left behind. and then, a couple years after nichola and oscar took elena and i in, they realised that being parents was truly their calling in life so they then had their first baby, the beautiful little noah jack who is exactly like his mummy! and then not long after that they had logan michael and now only recently, baby lennon was born and that completed our special and blended family. however, that...that's not what this whole eulogy is about despite how it might sound like..."

"...i only wanted to mention that because, it was and still is something i'm so proud of because, my whole childhood, i found everything my parents did to be amazingly cool even though dad wasn't home as much as nichola was. nichola was more of a caretaker than the wife of a formula one driver. she loved to take care of people even if she had known the person for less than ten minutes, she'd be coddling them and calling them her child. and this is when macie would come into the eulogy but because she isn't here, it means i have to say it..." jazmyne paused again before she took in a deep breath and continued 

"...when i first introduced me and elena's first ever school friend, macie, to nichola and oscar, they were extremely excited because for the last few years before we had met macie, we were doing what was basically homeschool since me and elena were the two older ones that would sometimes join oscar when he'd travel for formula one. so, when we both got to the age of homeschooling becoming a bit lonely, nichola and osc made the collective decision to have me and elena stay in monaco with nichola during the school term and then have elena and i go to the european races during our holidays. this meant that going to an actual school and meeting new people was kind of scary because elena and i only had each other since when we were at physical school, we didn't spend a lot of time there to form proper friendships with the other students our ages. even scarier when it's considered that throughout the whole of monaco and europe, me and my sister were extremely popular as were our unborn brothers because we're the adopted daughters of oscar piastri from formula one, meaning that we were slightly worried that anytime we tried to make friends, we'd only meet kids who'd only want to talk to us because of oscar..." 

"...however, it didn't really do that, especially when on the first day of our new school, we met macie nelson, the daughter of our teacher, mrs marnie nelson, who we were going to have for a good few years of our schooling. macie was a sweet, kind, quiet, shy but pocket rocket of a girl. we knew straight away, elena and i, that she was going to be our new best friend, if not our third sister even though we do now have our third sister, our beautiful baby lennon grace piastri," 

"and, going back to the point of nichola being a caretaker, the literal second that elena, myself and macie walked into the house after school, nichola was already calling macie "sweetheart", "babe", "my darling girl", all the things that she called me and elena, her actual sisters. and, i don't think either elena or me could lie and say our hearts didn't flutter in happiness because they really did," jazmyne started to falter as elena gave her a little nudge as jazmyne nodded her head and elena took over 

"and now, jazmyne and i knew how oscar felt every time nichola spoke those sweet nicknames to him *coos and awws* macie was already a part of the piastri family and she hadn't even been properly introduced to nichola, oscar who was off from touring for a couple of weeks and noah, our only brother at the time," elena took over and recovered perfectly from jazmyne's falter as she continued

"jazmyne said all of this and i am too because nichola really loved people and she loved being the mum to those whose mum didn't love them as she did. it was her true calling for her to be a mother and jazmyne and i, along with our siblings, are so glad that we had the opportunity to call her our 'mum/sister' for fifteen, eight and seven years on this earth that we've had with her. and, also, nichola, i think you'll be happy when we tell you that macie's dad has finally sorted out that custody battle as macie has now been granted permission to start the move back to her dad's house. so, i think you can stop hovering over mrs nelson and giving her a hard time even though we all know deep down that she deserves it, it really is time to stop. as, legally, macie's dad can take macie from her whenever he feels like he needs too *everyone giggles*..." 

"we love you so much nichola, thank you, once again, for being the best mum/sister to jazmyne, myself, noah, logan and lennon, love jazmyne and elena," elena finished her sister's part of the eulogy with so much bravery and poise after her sister faltered that, i don't even think the two girls needed me up here with them for moral support

elena then shakes her head towards the priest, saying that she didn't need to say her part of the eulogy since jazmyne's part basically covered the things she was going to speak about anyway. we then walk off the stage and back to our seats in the front row pew where oscar and cecelia gave jazmyne, elena and me hugs. 

"...you two girls did amazing!" cecelia whispered as jazmyne and elena both smiled as i agreed, all of us then sitting down 

"we did it for their sister and mum," i smiled as jazmyne and elena nodded their heads in agreement, jazmyne's tears disappearing as we all held hands and hugged as the rest of the service happened

present time | oscar's pov 

it was christmas, which means it is the hardest time of the year for jazmyne, elena, the boys and me, especially since nichola's death. jazmyne had just lost her love and excitement for christmas completely last christmas and now this one as well. it broke my heart to see the bright blue sparkles of her eyes be dull on christmas morning when her other siblings, elena, noah, logan and baby lennon were always so excited. except, strangely, this year, the sparkle in her beautiful blue eyes for the first time in two, nearly three years, came back. 

"daddio!" jazmyne's mature, seventeen-year-old voice was heard down the hall, calling me her "daddio" like the old days, making my heart flutter as cecelia and i looked at each other in confusion at jazmyne 

cecelia and i started dating after being told to by nichola in a letter she had written to me and the family that doctor alessi had given to me after the family had said our final goodbyes on the day nichola passed away. she made me promise that i'd move on and start dating cecelia, making sure that it wasn't forced by grief and that it was organic as her only two rules. and also to make sure i gave jazmyne, elena, noah and logan the chance of having a motherly figure in their life again and for baby lennon to have a motherly figure in her life straight up since she wasn't even a full day old when nichola died. 

"yes, my darling?" i responded, slipping on a festive tee shirt as normally, jazmyne wouldn't be this happy on christmas morning and cecelia giggles, rolling back over to sleep again as i roll my eyes 

"it's christmas!" she yells out, almost waking up the entire house, cecelia and i hosting the f1 grid christmas this year, as we were all staying in monaco for christmas, all running into cecelia and i's room to make sure that jazmyne was okay 

"yes jazmyne, it is christmas, what's got you so happy?" i giggled as she gave me an innocent but still smug-like smile which confused me

my seventeen-year-old, one of, was still a child at heart, exactly like her daddio 

"come with me, daddio!" she then said with a snigger as she grabbed my hand as i turned back to cecelia who was fast asleep. how the heck has she been able to sleep through this entire thing?

"o...kay?" i questioned with a small giggle as she giggled as well and we ran down the hall into uncle lando and aunty luisa's room and i was confused 

"what are you doing jazmyne? what's gotten into you sweetpea, you haven't been this excited for christmas since nichola died, what's up, are you sure you're okay?" i questioned, giving my eldest daughter a worried look as jazmyne rolls her eyes and giggled

and just as i go to look at her uncle lando for help, he puts his hands up and leaves with luisa - god dammit lando and luisa! why is everyone against me today? it's christmas for christ's sake! 

"come on daddio! it's been two, nearly three years since nichola's died and since cecelia started becoming our mother figure and, i don't hate christmas anymore. it doesn't hurt the way it used to now that nichola isn't with us anymore. just, daddio, trust me, i've got it all under control but, before i go, could you please wake up cecelia and gather the entire family downstairs by the tree to do presents as i can't wait any longer!" jazmyne explained as i smiled, i was happy to hear that jazmyne was no longer upset about christmas so, i did as she said and i let to go wake up cecelia

"okay, i trust you're telling the truth and not just saying it because you want to impress everyone and fake it. but, i'll get cecelia and we'll be down in around three or four minutes," i smile, tapping jazmyne's back lightly as she squeals - yep, she's still that same little girl she was years ago even though she's seventeen, nearly eighteen 

🥀

the f1 grid and their partners, myself, elena, noah, logan and lennon were now downstairs as we awaited on jazmyne. for some odd reason, she was taking her time but, just as cecelia was going to go up to grab her, jazmyne came bundling down from the staircase as we all looked at each other in confusion. lennon resting in my hold, what is jazmyne doing? 

"jazmyne, sweetness, what are you doing?" i giggled, lennon laughing as well as jazmyne grabbed a bag of presents and handed them out to the group, leaving one for cecelia

then, this bombshell that none of us was expecting but was everything we wanted, dropped from her mouth. 

"mum, ever since nichola started deteriorating in the hospital after giving birth to lennon, you were there for the entire family and even before that frightful day, you were there for us. and, because it's christmas i thought it was the perfect time to say i really love you a lot and, after talking about it with elena, noah and logan since lennon is still too young to comprehend any of this, we've all decided that we're ready to start calling you our mum..." jazmyne smiled, not once stuttering as we all looked at jazmyne in shock expect for my other kids who clearly knew about this christmas present for cecelia

tears welled in my eyes as lennon smiled and hugged me tighter even though she was only two and didn't really understand much of what was happening. i shared a smile with four of my kids whilst we all had a group hug. kissing them all individually, letting them know that this was a beautiful christmas present for cecelia and how much it meant to both of us, not just her. 

"...jazmyne--" cecelia spoke as jazmyne sushed her and everyone laughed as she then continued on 

"...mum, you've been there for everything since nichola died and, we just want to ask you this on christmas morning because it's the right time for you to adopt me, elena, noah, logan and lennon and be our mum and marry our dad and become cecelia piastri?" jazmyne asks as cecelia jumps off the couch, pulling jazmyne into her arms as jazmyne giggles softly 

"oh, jazmyne, of course, darling! of course, i'll adopt you and the kids!" cecelia calls out as i cover my mouth, feeling the happy tears that welled up fall down my cheeks as i wipe them away before lennon and i ran, joining cecelia, jazmyne, elena, noah and logan in the hug as everyone else cheers

"phew, oh thank god you said yes as uh, i had uncle max and aunty kelly kinda help me with getting all the paperwork..." jazmyne spoke with hunched shoulders and a humourous smile to break up the silence as everyone laughed - of course, she had her uncle max and aunty kelly to help her, who else would have the tools to do so? 

"oh jazz, i was always going to look after you guys! that's what i promised your sister the day she died. i promised her that i was going to look after you, daddy and your siblings until my own dying breath," cecelia spoke with her beautiful smile as she kisses jazmyne's cheek, making her giggle as she then kisses the other kids 

it was then announced that the other kids could open their presents with their uncles and aunties with them. as cecelia and i had taken jazmyne and elena with us to a different room for their presents that were from the two of us. 

"jazmyne, elena, these two are for you, i know they may look like two blank envelopes but, i promise you, it's more than that..." i spoke as the two girls gave cecelia and me weird looks before opening the envelopes 

and, let's just say, i never expected this reaction from our two older girls but, we wouldn't have changed their reactions at all. 

"wha-wah-wait, hold up, mum, dad, are you guys serious?" elena was the first to speak up as jazmyne just stared down at the envelope 

"yeah, we're dead serious elena, it's about time we spoilt our two big kids rather than your brothers and baby sister," cecelia spoke up as jazmyne finally looked up, tears were in her eyes 

"you...you're allowing us to move to australia for university? mum? dad?" jazmyne was quiet, as quiet as i'd ever heard her, her voice only slightly rising at the end as i nodded my head, cecelia also nodding her head 

"yes, you two are graduating within the coming weeks and you're both going to be turning eighteen within the next few months so, of course, we were going to let you guys move to australia for university. it was actually something nichola left in the letter she wrote for you two," i spoke as jazmyne looked down, starting to cry and i smiled as elena comforted her 

"you okay, jazz? is it everything you wanted?" cecelia whispered, bopping down to both girls' height as jazmyne nodded her head 

"it...it's all i've ever wanted, mum. to be like nichola and daddio," jazmyne whimpered as she looked up once again and i walked over and lifted her up, her legs latching around my waist as i smile, jazmyne hugging me tighter 

"thank you," she whimpered as i squeezed jazmyne whilst cecelia did the same thing to elena

lando, max and charles (and their girlfriends) then joined us and smiled as they all leaned on each other. lando speaking up as i nodded my head. 

"so, i guess you told them?" lando spoke up, max and charles leaning against him as they all smiled and leant on each other as i nodded my head

"yeah, we did. it was about time lando, they deserved to know what nichola's final wish for them was before she died. they deserve to go back to australia, where they used to live and for them to study there. they deserve to have the choice to branch away from their sister's degree and their dad's job if that's what they so choose to do," i smiled a bright, happy smile that reached either side of my eyes as lando rubbed my back, also smiling 

jazmyne and i hugged a little longer before i placed her down as she then hugged cecelia and elena hugged me before we then decided to continue with the rest of the presents that everyone else got the kids. 

a gazillion presents later and i still think the one that really got to jazmyne was the present from mum and me for her and elena and then the car that uncle lando and aunty lusia had gotten them both. 

well, now this was the moment i knew that it was the right time to propose and marry cecelia, the love of my life and make her mrs piastri as well as the legal mother of our five kids, having our two eldest move to australia for university. this christmas couldn't have gone any better than it already had. a christmas miracle is what happened this year and, i think this instagram post proved it. 

liked by oscarpiastri, elenapiastri, cecelialambert, landonorris, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, luisinhaoliveira99, kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux, macienelson and 45k others

jazmynepiastri merry chrysler everybody 🤍

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oscarpiastri merry christmas my dear. glad this christmas was better for you than the last 🤍

jazmynepiastri oscarpiastri thank you daddio and, this christmas was far better than last christmas that's for sure 🤍

elenapiastri merry christmas jazzy 🤍

jazmynepiastri elenapiastri merry christmas el🤍

cecelialambert merry christmas babe 🤍

jazmynepiastri cecelialambert merry christmas mum 🤍

landonorris yes, luisa and i did give you and elena a merry chrysler! merry christmas jazmyne 🤍

jazmynepiastri landonorris yes, you did give elena and me a merry chrysler. merry christmas uncle lando🤍

maxverstappen1 merry christmas jazmyne. these photos are all gorgeous but that photo of little two-year-old lennon is just the sweetest thing, she's gotten so big 🤍

jazmynepiastri maxverstappen1 merry christmas uncle max. and thank you, i do love these photos and, i know, lennon has gotten so big, it's crazy at this point 🤍

charlesleclerc merry christmas jazmyne. makes us so very happy that this christmas was so much better than last christmas 🤍

jazmynepiastri charlesleclerc merry christmas uncle charles. and it makes me happy as well, this christmas was by far the best one yet 🤍

luisinhaoliveira99 merry christmas jazmyne. and i'm glad you and elena loved the chrysler uncle lando and i bought for you two 🤍

jazmynepiastri luisinhaoliveira99 merry christmas aunty luisa. and thank you so much to you and uncle lando for buying it for us, you didn't need to do that at all! we love her so much 🤍

kellypiquet merry christmas jazmyne. glad to see you smiling and happy in this year's photos 🤍

jazmynepiastri kellypiquet merry christmas aunty kelly. and thank you, i'm glad to see me smiling and enjoying christmas as well 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux merry chrysler to you too, jazmyne 🤍

jazmynepiastri alexandrasaintmleux aunty alex, please, never say merry chrysler ever again! but merry christmas aunty alex 🤍

macienelson merry christmas jazmyne! this christmas was so much better than any other christmas i've certainly had since childhood 🤍

jazmynepiastri macienelson merry christmas macie! and i agree, this christmas has topped every other christmas for me too 🤍

landooonorrriiss omg, seeing you smile and so happy in this year's christmas photos makes me tear up because i remember last year and how sad you looked in the photos that you and shane posted 🤍

jazmynepiastri landooonorrriiss awe, thank you so much, babe! and, honestly, it made me tear up as well after dad showed me the photos afterwards and i realised how happy i had actually been the whole day. and i remember how sad i was last christmas well and it breaks my heart too 🤍

fin

this was a fun one to rewrite! sorry that it wasn't really f1-y but it was kind of hard to do that due to how depresso espresso it was lol. but anyway, hopefully i'll get some original ideas soon and have the talent to start on my recent request i was given!

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Friendship never dies in FNAF..

[smallfisheyes]

one suggestive paragraph hehe.

nanami kento who just doesn’t love you.

he tries. really. you are so easy to love, but he just can’t seem to love you more than admiration; more than the god-awful belittling role of a friend.

you are kind. he has seen you pick children from rubble. you had single-handedly halted an impeding panic attack that consumed the fushiguro boy. you pay out of pocket so that the children can do normal student activities: arts and crafts, team building activities, classroom and party decorations. he’s watched you be the most beautiful human that he has had the privilege of watching, defending innocents with, laughing with, but for some reason, he just can’t love you.

nanami kento who makes you cry because he says he loves you. trust him, he loves you so much, but as a friend. you had confessed your love for him. he broke your heart.

it was in the parking lot of your favourite post-mission meeting spot: the convenience store. (it’s family-owned, kento had said to you on your first visit as he gently took you by the elbow. it was his retreat. it would be yours too. you cradled the side of your face, your one eye badly bruised and rapidly swelling. you’ll like it here, he insisted. i promise).

the son was at cash that dark morning. kento would get the egg sandwich and coffee, you a banana milk and noodles.

“i’m on a mission to try every flavour,” you had declared one night, feet kicking and humming into your first dinner.

you had shrimp-flavoured noodles that fateful early morning. it was around 2:00 a.m., two second-grade curses with paired techniques. the following day, nanami turned down the offer of a sushi lunch with shoko. he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing shrimp tempura.

nanami kento who understands why you can no longer look him in the eye when you pass each other in the halls. you walk a tempo faster, a cold wind whisked up from your sudden distance and speed. it stings as you pass by. it stings when you rush to exit the staff room when he enters. he only dares to watch you when your back is turned and retreating far, far away from him. something under his sternum aches. he misses you. don’t you know?

it’s so hard to avoid him. he’s so big and he’s everywhere. he’s at work, he’s in the staff office, he’s in your mind. curses, he’s always in your mind.

before, fleeting images of nanami passed by. his small smiles. the big ones you managed to pull because “your humour is so childish,” so ridiculously stupid, but so stupid it makes him laugh anyway. the rumble of his voice that soothes you to sleep, especially the hard nights.

there are also the nights that your hand sneaks below the covers, then the hem of your pants, and thoughts of him doing less than innocent things run like a leaky faucet. it floods your mind, and suddenly, you can’t sleep. the only solution is to keep going until you’re tired. yes, that’s reasonable. besides, how could you not, not when he looked like that.

“what’s with you?” nanami would ask the next morning, then the morning after that, then every morning. it took you about half an hour some mornings (then most) to look him in the eye, your hands trembling around the mug he handed you. did he do something wrong? did he make you uncomfortable? should he back off? (or get back on?). stop thinking like that.

so, why can’t you seem to hate him?

you have seen him pick children from rubble. you have watched nanami perform four black flashes in succession during the black parade when it mattered most: students injured left and right. he pays out of pocket for lunches: yours and the students, with an exception of gojo. (he has a black card, kento ranted into his black coffee. he doesn’t need charity, just an ego check). you’ve watched him be the most beautiful human that you’ve had the privilege of watching, fighting with, laughing with, but for some reason, you love him and he just can’t love you.

if he does not love you, you fear who he does love. would she have long hair? short? curly hair? straight? does she have an excellent taste in fashion? is it more refined or street fashion? lolita or office-type? does she stand taller than you? is she funnier? does she have a million degrees and you’re out on the field doing the exact job nanami despises and fears? is she skinnier? prettier? the woman he would love (loves?) would just be better. he deserves better.

you cannot blame nanami kento for not loving you.

unknowing to him though, he does.

nanami kento stands at the till at the (your) convenience store.

“where’s your buddy?” it’s the son today, the one in desperate need of a haircut. he looks to be in his twenties. he scans nanami’s items: egg sandwich, transparent bandaids, a single carton of banana milk.

“by buddy, if you mean my partner, she is not with me,” nanami notes.

buddy. nanami wants to scoff. what an odd way of describing you.

“sorry, man.” the boy holds his hands out in apology. “didn’t realize you guys were together.”

there is a brief shock that pulls at nanami’s eyes. they widen, his mouth narrowing. together. why was that a less odd way of describing you?

nanami doesn’t notice his chest rising and falling rapidly. “she is my partner at work,” he corrects. he speaks in a murmur, eyes downcast. he studies the yellow carton on the till counter. banana milk. he didn’t even like it that much. a childish drink; childish humour. so full of energy but only experienced by a select special few. (why did you think he’s so special?)

“hmm,” the boy hums. “thought you guys were together. she seemed super into you. she looked at you like,” the boy shrugs his shoulders nonchantly, pressing buttons on the till screen, “like you meant a lot.”

nanami’s stomach sinks. he has to be the worst.

the convenience store bell tolls when nanami exits, paper bag in hand. the coolness of the night hits him. from this far out, he can see the speckle of the stars.

partner, nanami muses. the name suits you. it suits you and him: a pairing. together, as friends.

but not for long.

sorry guys but does anyone else wonder what would happen if nanami didn’t love you? and you love him? i do it all the time lol. if i feel it y’all have to feel it >:)

also it’s 2:00 am here please excuse the thought vomit.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[player042]

A DEBT TO THE HEART | kang dae-ho

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: you thought you'd left dae-ho behind for his own good, but fate has a cruel way of bringing the past back to life; now, in the deadly arena of the games, avoiding him is no longer an option, even as old feelings threaten to overwhelm you.

warning: hurt/comfort, some tears here and there, a bit angsty, established relationship and breakup mentioned, loving someone so much it hurts, other players mentioned, also mention of bloody and deadly squid game themes, lovers to strangers to lovers again? please enjoy ♥️

word count: 5k (oopsi, but you'll love it, promise <3)

You loved Dae-ho. You loved him with a depth that words could scarcely capture, and he, in turn, made sure you could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, and feel it in every touch just how deeply he loved you. But sometimes, even love was not enough, for love could not fill an empty stomach or silence the relentless ticking of overdue clocks. With each passing day, the small apartment you shared with Dae-ho felt colder and emptier, despite him always being there. The weight of your mutual debts loomed over every conversation, every glance, every touch.

You noticed how he'd come home later and later, his shoulders hunched as if the world rested entirely on them. He stopped smiling as much, and when he did, it didn't reach his eyes. You were no better. Your sleepless nights had you pacing, worrying over bills, debt collectors, and the way his kind heart made him try to fix everything for you, even at his own expense. You made the decision after a particularly brutal encounter with a debt collector. They'd come to your apartment, banging on the door, shouting threats. Dae-ho had stood between you and the door, his body rigid with tension as he told them to leave. That night, as he slept fitfully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your heart breaking. You couldn't let him do this anymore, couldn't let him sacrifice himself for you, he deserved better.

That's why you found yourself remembering those exact thoughts while you were having dinner late at night. The small kitchen felt stifling, the hum of the fridge and the faint ticking of the wall clock amplifying the silence. You'd spent days rehearsing this moment, but now, as Dae-ho sat across from you, his familiar features etched with exhaustion and quiet hope, the words felt impossible.

But you had to say them. You had to let him go.

"We need to talk," your voice was firmer than you felt. Your heart raced, but your face remained a mask of composure.

He looked up from his bowl of rice, chopsticks hovered mid-air, his brows furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"I think..." You paused, the words catching in your throat. "I think we need to end this."

The chopsticks clattered onto the table, the sound startling in the quiet room. He stared at you, disbelief etched into every line of his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying this isn't working anymore," you said, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turned white. "We're holding each other back, Dae-ho. I can't do this anymore."

His eyes darkened, his voice low and trembling, "Holding each other back? Is that what you think this is? After everything we've been through?"

"You're drowning because of me," your voice cracking. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn't let them fall. "I can't let you destroy yourself trying to fix things for me."

"You think this is about you?" he asked, his tone rising. "You think my problems magically go away if you're not here? That's not true, and you know it. Don't do this. Don't push me away."

You couldn't meet his gaze, your fingers trembling as they dug into the table. "I'm doing this for you," you whispered, barely audible.

"No," his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood abruptly, his voice breaking, "You're doing this to me."

Frustrated, you stood up too, "I've watched you work yourself to death for me," your voice rising to meet his, "Every time something goes wrong, you're there, trying to fix it, trying to shoulder everything! I can't let you do that anymore!"

"You think I care about that?" he shouted, his hands slamming onto the table. His voice cracked as he added, "I want to carry it! I'd do anything for you, because you're- you're everything to me!"

Your chest tightened, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. "And what about you? What happens when you break under the weight of it all? Then what? I can't stand the thought of being the reason you-"

"You're not the reason for anything!" he yelled, his voice raw. "The debt, the stress, it's all mine. Don't you dare blame yourself for this."

"But it's not just yours anymore!" you shouted, tears finally streaming down your face. "It became mine the moment we decided to do this together. And that's why I have to leave. Because I'm holding you back, and you're holding me back, and we'll destroy each other if this keeps going!"

He stepped back as if you'd struck him, his hands falling limply to his sides. His voice, once so loud, now came out as a whisper. "You don't mean that."

"I do," you lied, your heart breaking with every word. "I don't see a future for us anymore, Dae-ho."

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your words sinking into the space between you. His jaw clenched, his eyes glistening as he struggled to keep his composure.

"If this is what you want," he said finally, his voice shaking, "then fine. But don't pretend this is for me. This is your choice. Own it."

You turned away, biting your lip to keep from sobbing. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

And with that, you just left in the middle of the night, bags already prepared beforehand, your heart shattering with every step. The sound of the door closing behind you was louder than it should have been, echoing in your chest like the final nail in a coffin.

Alone in the now-silent kitchen, Dae-ho sank into his chair, his hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the table. He stared at your empty seat, the half-eaten bowl of rice in front of him a stark reminder of your presence just minutes ago.

The tears he'd held back began to fall, silent and unrelenting, as he whispered into the empty room, "You're wrong. You're not holding me back... you're everything I need."

Years passed, three, to be exact, and you hadn't heard from Dae-ho since the day you parted ways. Sometimes, especially in those first months after the breakup, you found yourself longing for him with an intensity that felt unbearable. So many times, you wanted to call him, just to hear his voice, to tell him about your day, to ask how work had been, or even something as simple as what he wanted for dinner. Too often, you'd thought about taking a detour just to walk past his neighborhood, unannounced, clinging to the faint hope of catching a fleeting glimpse of him. But you knew it was for the best, his best. 

People always said time heals all wounds, but that wasn't true. Time doesn't heal anything, it doesn't mend, it doesn't fix. All time does is teach you how to live with the weight of what's broken. And despite the years that had passed, you still yearned for him in the quiet moments, still missed him like a phantom ache. You'd come to accept the sheer vastness of Seoul, its endless streets and countless faces, and resigned yourself to the thought that you'd probably never cross paths with Dae-ho again, not by chance, not by fate, not ever.

That's why you were utterly stunned when you found yourself standing in the expansive arena looking straight at him, surrounded by strangers in identical green tracksuits in the midst of a nightmare. The doll's haunting song, the sound of gunfire, and the smell of blood filling the air, it was pure chaos. Some of them were already lying lifeless on the ground, their blood pooling beneath them. Your heart pounded violently in your chest, fear coursing through your veins as you tried to process what you'd gotten yourself into. And even more importantly—

He was here.

Dae-ho stood to your right, a few feet diagonally in front of you. His broad shoulders were tense, his stance alert as his eyes scanned the room with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His hair was slightly longer now, tied in a half-up, half-down style, and his face carried a weariness that hadn't been there before, a hard edge born of time and struggle. But there was no mistaking him. It was him. Dae-ho.

During the whole cursed red light, green light game, you couldn't stop glancing at him. He was strong and steady, helping a few others stay calm and focused as the horror doll's eerie song echoed through the air. Among the chaos and panic, Player 456 stood out. His voice rang out over the trembling murmurs of the other players, guiding them on when to move and when to freeze.

You barely survived, your legs trembling as you crossed the finish line. Relief washed over you, not just from the sheer fact that you were still alive, but also because 456's instructions had kind of anchored you when panic threatened to take over. And even then, your eyes sought him out. Dae-ho. Relief flooded you again when you saw he'd made it too, his chest heaving, his gaze scanning the crowd as if looking for someone. As if looking for you. 

You were certain, however, that he hadn't seen you, and you made sure it stayed that way for as long as possible. 

It surprised you later when he pressed O during the voting. Your chest tightened. Because after witnessing the pure horror of the first game, you had immediately pressed X to quit and leave this place. The idea of staying in a place like this was unthinkable. That's why you had assumed Dae-ho would have done the same.

Why would he want to stay? Did he care so little about his life now?

And the worst part? With just one single vote tipping the majority, the games continued.

You made yourself invisible. First, to keep all the unpleasant people at bay, and second, because you simply weren't ready to face him. For now, you stuck close to an older woman and her son, Player 149 and Player 007. At the same time, you watched Dae-ho from a distance as he spoke with Player 456, the former winner of the games, as you had just learned. You owed him your second reprieve, too, his speech during the voting had drawn all the attention to himself. Dae-ho spent his time with him, as well as with Player 001 and Player 390. It seemed he had already found his group.

Watching him from afar, you couldn't help but notice how he still carried that same kindness, that same strength that had made you fall in love with him. But the game of hide-and-seek came to an end the next day when the second game forced you to split into groups. Before you even realized it, your group was already at the front of the line. You were all bound together, each of you tasked with completing a series of mini-games and needing to cross the finish line within five minutes. Otherwise, you would be mercilessly shot in front of the other players, as had happened with the group before yours.

Just seconds earlier, you had been watching Dae-ho as he practiced his Gonggi part, stretching his wrist. Despite the grotesque circumstances, it brought a fleeting smile to your face. For a brief moment, you saw the carefree, boyish Dae-ho you used to know. The one who tirelessly worked with his group, lifting their spirits and even helping a young woman with the number 222 (according to Geum-ja, she was pregnant, and you could see it). It somehow hurt to see him like this, still trying to be a savior even when he had nothing left to give.

When his eyes finally found yours, he froze. For a moment, the noise and chaos around you faded, and it was just the two of you, staring at each other across the room as the guards bound your leg to that of your teammate.

By some miracle, your team won the second game. If that wasn't a sign from the heavens, you didn't know what else could be. You had been the clear underdogs from the start. Even while preparing, you'd overheard some of the men muttering amongst themselves, convinced your team was doomed. "They'll definitely bite the dust," one of them had sneered.

But when the red tape of the finish line snapped, the room erupted into cheers. Not because they liked you so much, but because they thought, If they can survive this, we'll surely survive as well. It was obvious they'd written your group off; a fragile old woman, her aimless son, a timid girl who barely spoke, a trans player still finding her footing, and you. Yet somehow, against all odds, you had crossed that finish line together.

Your heart raced as your eyes instinctively searched for Dae-ho. Across the room, he stood among his team, his gaze locked on you. For a moment, it looked like he was about to rush toward you, arms open, ready to pull you into a celebratory embrace. Your chest tightened, and you quickly turned back to your team, reminding yourself to keep your distance.

You threw yourself into the moment instead, hugging your teammates as the guards ushered you five out of the room.

Back in the dormitory, time stretched unbearably. With every passing minute, your nerves grew more frayed. Dae-ho hadn't returned.

At first, you rationalized it. The early groups were expected to be back sooner. But as the tenth, eleventh, twentieth, and even fortieth group arrived without him, dread started to creep in. What if he hadn't made it? What if someone in his group had messed up? What if, God forbid, his body was already being wheeled away, zipped into one of those cold black coffins with a mocking pink bow?

The thought sent a shudder through you, and you shook your head, forcing it away. You couldn't let yourself go there. Not yet.

Just as you felt the edges of panic begin to take hold, the doors finally opened one last time. There he was, walking in with the final group, his face glowing with triumph. That familiar grin spread across his face, and he looked as though the weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

A breath you hadn't realized you were holding escaped in a rush, leaving you lightheaded with relief. For a moment, everything else faded, your fear, your doubts, the shadows of this hellish game. All that mattered was that he was safe, still standing, still him.

Of course, the games continued the next day. This time, the vote wasn't even close, over a dozen more people chose to keep playing. You were doomed to continue these death games. And yet, a small part of you was relieved to see an X on Dae-ho's chest. That didn't mean you stopped avoiding him, oh no, you were still committed to that strategy. Every time you felt he might be getting close, you darted in the opposite direction, struck up a quick conversation with someone nearby, rushed toward the bathroom, or climbed into your top bunk and pulled the blanket over yourself, determined to make it clear he shouldn't approach you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the way your chest ached every time you saw him.

Was it childish? Most definitely. Was it foolish? Probably. Did it accomplish anything? You didn't even know. All you knew was that you weren't ready to face him, not yet. You weren't ready to confront the flood of emotions, the pain, and the memories that his presence would bring. What good would it do to talk to him now?

And so, the third game arrived. You prayed silently that it would finally be the last.

The circular room you stood in was overwhelming. The massive, spinning platform in the center loomed ominously, while the 50 numbered rooms along the walls felt impossibly distant. The air was thick with tension, players murmuring nervously as the female voice explained the rules.

Your heart pounded as you stepped onto the platform, your eyes scanning the crowd instinctively, and landing on him. Dae-ho was standing on the opposite end, his arms crossed as he took in the rules. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable, but you knew him well enough to sense the tension radiating from him.

You tore your eyes away, trying to focus. Stay sharp. Survive.

The platform began to spin, a hauntingly cheerful tune playing as you stood rigidly in place. When it stopped, the display above flashed a number: 10.

Panic erupted as players scrambled to form groups. You grabbed Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, Yong-sik, and Young-mi, holding onto them tightly as the timer began ticking down, and you only vaguely noticed as your group joined another group of five. Together, you pushed your way into a room, barely making it inside before the doors sealed shut.

Breathing heavily, you looked up only to see that across the room, Dae-ho stood with his group. 456, 390, 001, 222. No way. Dae-ho's eyes locked onto yours almost instantly, the proximity between you both the closest it had been in years.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, stepping toward you. His voice carried that familiar warmth, even undercut by tension. 

The words froze you for a moment. You hadn't expected him to speak to you directly, and certainly not with such concern. "I'm fine," you managed, your voice steady even as your hands tightened into fists at your sides. "We made it."

Before he could say more, Hyun-ju intervened, and you inwardly thanked her for that. "We're all fine," she said sharply, though not unkindly. Her eyes flicked between you and Dae-ho, clearly assessing the unspoken tension. "Let's focus on staying that way."

The room settled into an uneasy silence as the timer reset. You kept your distance, stealing occasional glances at Dae-ho as he conferred not only with his group, but also with your group. He still had that same steady energy, guiding Player 222 to sit down on the ground with a reassuring tone and helpful hand. It sent a pang through you, a strange mix of admiration, longing, jealousy, and bitterness.

Once the doors opened, you couldn't wait to leave it as soon as possible and be back on the platform. You exhaled, ignoring the bloodbath on the ground and waiting for the next round to begin.

"Still avoiding me, huh?" Dae-ho's low voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. You turned your head just enough to see him standing there, his gaze unreadable.

"I'm not avoiding you," you lied, crossing your arms defensively. "There are just... a lot of people here."

"Right," he said, his tone carrying the faintest trace of sarcasm. He stepped closer, lowering his voice even further to avoid drawing attention. "You didn't even look at me back in there. I'm not stupid."

You glanced quickly toward the others slowly and exhaustedly taking their places on the platform. No one was paying attention to you.

"What do you want, Dae-ho?" you asked quietly, keeping your voice even.

"I just want to know how you're doing," he said, his tone softening. "You're here, in this mess, and... it's not like I don't care."

The sincerity in his voice made your stomach twist. You turned fully to face him, your arms still crossed. "Why does it matter? You should focus on your group. They need you."

He studied you for a moment, his expression still unreadable. "And you don't?"

"I didn't say that," you said quickly, then shook your head, frustrated at yourself for engaging. "I'm fine, Dae-ho. I can take care of myself."

He exhaled softly, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to."

The words hung between you, heavy and unspoken. For a moment, the room felt smaller, quieter. Just then, the platform beneath your feet began to rumble softly, the motion sudden and disorienting as it started to spin again. The unexpected movement threw you off balance, and you instinctively reached out, your hand brushing against his chest before you could steady yourself again. Dae-ho's hand moved as well out of reflex, hovering near you, but he hesitated, his fingers curling back before he touched you.

Everyone focused on regaining their footing, the air heavy with anticipation. No one spoke now. All eyes turned to the display above, waiting for the next number to be announced. The tension thickened, each second dragging as the platform continued to spin, the haunting melody playing once again.

Your pulse quickened, the unease growing. You stole one last glance at Dae-ho, but his attention was already on the display, his jaw set, his posture steady despite the shifting ground beneath him.

And then, the platform stopped, the number flashing ominously on the screen. 4.

Your heart sank as you realized you'd have to split off from your current group. Geum-ja and Yong-sik clung to each other immediately, and Hyun-ju put a protective hand on Young-mi's shoulder. Before anyone could ask what you'd do, you took a step back.

"I'll find another group," you said quickly, avoiding their gazes.

Hyun-ju frowned but nodded. "Be careful," she said, her tone laced with suspicion.

You didn't wait for anyone to say more, darting into the fray, hurrying to put as much distance between Dae-ho and yourself. You managed to gather three strangers, players who looked just desperate enough not to question you, as you secured a room in time. The door sealed shut behind you, and for a brief moment, you let out a shaky breath, pretending that the tightness in your chest wasn't from leaving him behind again.

By the final round, only 126 players remained. The platform spun for what felt like an eternity before stopping abruptly. The number on the display flashed: 2.

The room erupted into chaos. People sprinted, shoving and clawing at each other in desperation. You froze, your mind blank as you scanned the crowd. Panic blurred your thoughts, the timer ticking down far too fast.

Until you saw him.

Dae-ho was weaving through the throng of people, his movements sharp and precise. Before you could think twice, he turned, his eyes meeting yours. For a second, everything else faded, the noise, the chaos, the rising panic. It was just him, standing there, staring at you as though time had stopped.

But then he moved, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Before you could react, his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, and he pulled you toward the nearest room.

"Come on!" he barked, his tone urgent but unyielding.

The two of you ran, weaving through the crowd as the timer ticked dangerously close to zero. You barely registered the other players anymore, your entire focus on the warmth of his hand and the steady pull of his grip.

The door slammed shut behind you just as the timer hit zero. You collapsed against the wall, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Dae-ho stood across from you, his gaze burning into yours as the silence stretched between you.

"We need to talk," he said finally, his voice low but firm.

You stared at him, your mind racing, unsure of whether to run again or finally face the storm you had spent so long avoiding.

The silence felt heavier than the air in the room, pressing down on your chest as if daring you to speak first. You remained frozen, your back against the cold wall, your mind racing with every reason to avoid this conversation. But Dae-ho didn't move. His gaze was unwavering, cutting through your defenses like a blade.

"You've been running from me since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice quiet but laced with frustration. "And I'm tired of pretending I don't notice."

You opened your mouth to argue, to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, you dropped your gaze, focusing on the floor beneath you, the slight tremor in your legs a reminder of just how close you'd come to death moments ago.

"You don't understand," you muttered finally, your voice barely audible.

"Then make me understand," he shot back, his tone sharper now. He stepped closer, the weight of his presence making it impossible to look anywhere else but at him. "You think I'm just going to ignore you? Pretend like you're not here? Like I don't-" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if he were physically restraining the words.

He sighed, his tone softening. "Seeing you here, in this place… Do you have any idea what that's been like for me?"

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as his words sank in. "I didn't ask you to follow me here," you whispered, the words cutting even as you said them.

"I didn't follow you," he replied, the intensity in his voice making you flinch. "I didn't even know you were here until I saw you during that second game. And if I had-" He stopped again, running a hand through his hair. "If I had, I would've never pressed O. We would've walked out right then. Only one vote decided to quit or continue the games. My vote."

The rawness in his voice made your stomach twist. You forced yourself to look at him, and for the first time, you saw the exhaustion etched into his features, the weight he'd been carrying, the same weight you'd been trying to run from.

"Then why didn't you quit when you had the chance? Why do you blame me for your own vote?" you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

"I don't blame you. It's just… if you weren't here, I'd have nothing to lose," he admitted, his voice dropping. "I thought if I won, I could fix what I broke. What we broke."

You blinked at him, your heart pounding. "You mean, what I broke."

"Stop saying that," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Stop taking the blame for something we both had a hand in. I made mistakes, too, and you leaving, it didn't fix anything. It just made it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "You don't know what it was like," you said quietly. "Watching you work yourself to death, trying to fix everything for me. I couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself."

"So you destroyed us instead?" he asked, the hurt evident in his voice.

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you felt the tears you'd been holding back finally spill over. "It was the only way I could save you."

"Save me?" he repeated, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You didn't save me. You just made me lose the only thing I cared about. And you know what's worse? I thought I deserved it. I thought I wasn't good enough for you, that I let you down."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your chest heaving as the weight of his pain settled over you like a suffocating blanket.

"I'm sorry," you whispered finally, your voice breaking. "I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing."

Dae-ho's expression softened, and he took another step closer, his voice quieter now. "The right thing would've been staying and letting me figure it out with you. That's all I ever wanted."

Tears welled in your eyes as you whispered, "I thought you hated me."

He kneeled in front of you, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. "I could never hate you. Not for a second. I loved you then, and I love you now."

The words broke something inside you, your tears spilling over as you finally let yourself feel the weight of it all. You shook your head, realizing the mistake you made, "I thought I was protecting you."

"And I thought I was protecting you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "But all we did was hurt each other."

Both his thumbs swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. "I don't care about the past. I don't care about anything except this. Right now. Tell me you don't love me, and I'll walk away. But if there's even a part of you that still-"

"I never stopped," you cut in, your voice barely audible.

His breath hitched, and he pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your hair and holding you as though afraid you might slip away again. His body was warm, solid, and for the first time in years, you felt like you could breathe.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, clinging to each other as the weight of the world pressed down on you.

"We don't know what's going to happen," you said finally, your voice shaky. "These games... they're not going to let us both make it out alive."

His grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching. "We'll figure it out. We'll survive. Both of us."

"Dae-"

"Don't," he said firmly, pulling back to look at you. "I already lost you once. I'm not losing you again."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of the announcement system crackling to life cut you off. The same automated female voice filled the room, announcing the end of the game.

The moment shattered, the tension between you replaced by the cold reality of where you were. But as the words faded and doors unlocked again, Dae-ho didn't move away. His gaze remained fixed on yours, a silent promise lingering in his eyes.

This wasn't over. Not yet.