#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

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[bluepigeon300]

After the fall....

🚨DO NOT REPOST🚨

[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.

[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]

[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..

[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.

[ellecdc]

The Bolter

Sirius Black x fem!reader who meet again [5.5k words]

prompt: poly!wolfstar or just Sirius x reader in which they were friends with benefits but it was obvious they loved each other even though they acted like they weren’t. Then, reader finds out shes pregnant and before telling them, they do something stupid. so reader runs away for a few months. When she comes back (only bc she had to for some reason) shes like 6-7 months pregnant

CW: secret pregnancy, angst, FWB to strangers to lovers, second chance fic, post war trauma, both Sirius and reader are meeesssssssssssyyyyy in this! I don't approve of what they've done but I understand it

“So…she’s coming back?” Sirius asked cautiously, focusing more on the condensation pooling on the coaster underneath his pint than the concerned gazes of his two best friends. 

“Well, I don’t know if she’s coming back, but she’ll be here for Harry’s birthday.” James mollified, sharing a nervous look with Remus.

“Right.” Sirius murmured around a swallow; throat tight and dry though neither the pint nor the pitcher of water in front of him looked as though they’d be able to help him with the matter. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Remus queried, and Sirius offered him the most arrogant scoff he could muster; he missed by a long shot.

“Of course I’m going to be alright.” He huffed. “Why? Can’t two friends see each other after five and a half months of silence?” 

“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius carried on. 

“She’s the only one who’s been silent, you know?” Though he knew that they did indeed both know. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried reaching out.” 

“Pads.” Remus offered consolingly, looking frustratingly like he was going to reach a hand out to Sirius as if he were some over tired toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

“Stop, no I- I’m fine, honest.” He insisted as he took a steadying breath. “I- you… talked to her, then?”

James and Remus shared another look before James allowed the segue. 

“Mostly by owl, but she has spoken on the phone with Lily a few times.” 

Sirius nodded as he considered this; considered the number of owls Sirius had sent that had gone unanswered - perhaps even unopened if the silence meant anything at all.

“She’s…okay?” 

Remus let out a sigh as he shot Sirius a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. “She’s…vague.”

“She doesn’t share a whole lot.” James agreed. “Says she’s fine, things are good. Mostly asks about…all of us, Harry.” 

“She’s still staying with that great aunt,” Remus added, “helping her with the property.” 

“She seeing anyone?” There was no point in pretending that wasn’t the most pressing matter in Sirius’ mind; of course it was. And as angry and bitter as the idea made Sirius, it would have been his own fault, his own doing. He had no one to blame but himself. 

And he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he was the one who let you slip away - pushed you away - right into the arms of someone else. 

“Not that she’s mentioned.” Remus responded honestly; he couldn’t say for sure that you weren’t, but if you were, you clearly hadn’t said anything about it. 

“Right.” Sirius offered shortly. 

“Pads, I…we would understand if it's too hard for you to see her. If you can’t come-”

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius scoffed deploringly. “I’m not going to miss my godson’s birthday. If anyone should be missing it, it should be her; I’ve been here for the past four and a half months, she’s the one who fucked off for good.”

“Sirius-”

“I don’t understand why you had to invite her!” Sirius shouted then, startling even himself when he realised how breathless he sounded all of a sudden. 

James smiled at him sadly; Sirius wished he’d stop doing that. “We wanted all of Harry’s uncles and his aunt to be there, Sirius…it’s important, yeah? We…we almost didn’t get this chance.”

Sirius could feel a wicked migraine coming on; between talking about you, the close calls and the fact that the group of you were all alive following the war by nothing but chance, and the fact that the person Sirius was most angry with was himself, he downed the rest of his pint and flagged the server in favour of having to look at the pitiful gazes being shot at him by Remus and James.

Sirius couldn’t tell if he was eager for Harry’s second birthday or dreading it. But like it or not, Sirius was going to be seeing you again. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

It felt beyond foolish now, but it had felt like a good idea at the time. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“Sirius, we just won. We just won, why do you have to leave now?” You practically begged as you followed Sirius through his flat. 

“Because if I don’t get out now, I’m going to be stuck here for eternity.” He all but spat at you as he shoved articles of clothing into his duffle rather haphazardly. You felt like grabbing the bag from him and folding them properly if the act wouldn’t leave you feeling like you were aiding and abetting his abandoning you.

“But what about James? And Remus? What about Harry? You fought this war for them, and they for you - we just got them back!”

“And they’ll be here when I’m ready to come home!” Sirius shouted; turning to look at you with wild, red rimmed eyes. 

“What about me?” You asked quietly, hating how small you sounded.

“What about you?” He asked; face falling painfully neutral. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was occluding. 

“I…I don’t know.” You started awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought…maybe we’d have a chance now. To try?.”

“Y/N.” Sirius sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; entire being oozed exhaustion at having to have this conversation with you. “Have I not been entirely clear about what this was between us?” 

“Right.” You agreed quickly, biting roughly on your lip and looking anywhere but at him as he let his hand fall away from his face. 

“It’s…it’s not you, doll-” but even your humourless scoff didn’t derail him “I’m not the kind to settle down and be content I- I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I’m not asking you for any more than what we have, Sirius-”

“Yes you are.”

“-I just want you to stay.”

“That’s too much for me.” He stated; his voice never raised though he may as well have screamed it at you. “I cannot sit here and play house, I cannot be that guy for you.”

“Cannot or will not?” You asked quietly, regretting the question the second it came out of your mouth and he looked at you with nothing but pity in his eyes. 

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I asked.” You let out with a chuckle as you harshly wiped tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s…it’s not forever, yeah? I just…I can’t see myself being happy here…not right now, at least; not for a while.” 

“Where will you go?” Your voice grated painfully as it came out, but you tried to keep an air of nonchalance about you. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could see his shoulders shrug helplessly. 

“I don’t know…everywhere. Anywhere.”

Anywhere was better than stuck here with you, apparently. 

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is.” You offered, and you found that you meant it. As much as it hurt to say, you really, really meant it. Sirius had been fighting and running his entire life, and he finally won. If he wanted to celebrate his victory by taking off to be that rich, vague uncle who popped by with lavish gifts every so often, who were you to deny him? 

You loved him.

You were in love with him.

You loved him enough to let him go. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

He had sent James a postcard a few weeks later. Turns out he started in the South of France; his family had a home there that had been left untouched by the war, and Sirius was going to start by figuring out what to do with the property. 

And you? Well, you found out you were pregnant. 

You suppose it was a small mercy that Sirius wasn’t here to know; you’re sure it would have hurt more hearing him tell you he was leaving if there were two of you he couldn’t find it in him to love. You would have hated it even more if he felt trapped into staying with you just for this.

But all this meant was that you couldn’t stay, either. 

You supposed that was alright, though; the life you wanted to build here was with Sirius. You loved your friends, but you had a little one to think about now, too. 

You made up a story about a great aunt needing help tending to her property and wishing to be closer to your relatives now that you could be, now that it was safe. No one questioned it, likely because Remus had done the same following the war; moving back home to help his dad and ailing mother tend the property in whatever ways he could. 

You found yourself a little cottage, you wrote to the boys and had the occasional phone call with Lily, and you grew.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. 

But now you were almost six months pregnant and returning home for the first time since you moved to celebrate your nephew’s birthday with all of your closest friends, the love of your life whose child you were carrying, and none of them knew. 

You wondered if you should even go, but the thought of missing out on sweet Harry’s second birthday that the lot of you almost never got the chance to see made your throat constrict with tears you refused to shed since the war. 

You wondered if you should tell everyone before you arrived, but the thought of them all discussing you and your pregnancy without you being there left you feeling small and ashamed. 

You wondered if you should tell Sirius, but you looked over at the stack of unopened letters he had sent to you in the past four months - the first thin, perhaps a postcard, the second and third were thicker, the fourth was by far the thickest (like he had drafted an autobiography that he wanted you to proofread for him), the fifth was similar to the second, whilst the sixth (the last) couldn’t be more than one page - and wondered how the hell you’d even start that conversation after all this time.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, the bird who caught feelings during our friends with benefits situation that we both agreed would remain platonic amidst a battle for survival and then begged you to stay with no success? Well, whilst you’ve been off probably shagging every beautiful woman across the British Isles, I’ve been pregnant. Right, with your child. How was France, by the way? 

You swallowed around your gag reflex and groaned at your image in the mirror. You put on a pair of gingham pants with the baggiest band-tee you could find, planned on sucking in the best you could if anyone (when everyone) insisted on a hug and hoped to every deity that they all just assumed you’d been eating really well since the end of the war. 

You smoothed the fabric over your bump one last time before you left - looking at the proof that, if nothing else, you were protecting more than just yourself, and you let that be enough - before you grabbed Harry’s birthday present and called for Potter Manor, throwing a fistfull of floo powder into your fireplace and travelling by way of the flames. 

You could hear Harry squealing in delight in one of the adjacent rooms as you stepped into the floo reception room at Potter Manor; a smile taking over your face uninhibitedly at the sounds of the people you loved more than life itself, happy and celebrating.

How could you have gone so long without this? 

“Y/N!” Lily shrieked as she made for you, and you sucked in before returning her hug. “Merlin, you're glowing! Where’s your aunt's place again?” 

“Erm. Killarney.” You offered; not entirely untrue - you did have an aunt in Killarney. 

“Well,” she let out with a breath, eyes turning a touch glassy as they darted across your face, “it seems that Irish air’s been for you.” 

You smiled back at your friend before pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ve missed you, Lils.”

“Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah? We can come to you, too; I’m teaching James how to be a muggle, and Harry’s only had the odd burst of accidental magic yet. We could play the part in front of your aunt.” 

“I’d love that, Lily.” You responded earnestly. 

“Y/N!” James hollered then before you were being bodily tackled by the former quidditch chaser, a brief flash of anxiety at his hold around your stomach abating only when he relinquished his hold on you. “Where in the sodding hell have you been!?”

“Killarney.” Lily answered for you. 

“I love Killarney!” 

“Have you ever been to Killarney, Prongs?” Remus asked then, appearing in the door as he leaned against the archway. 

“No! But I love it there! I just know it!” 

“Hey Moony.” You greeted, quickly accepting his open arms and breathing him in.

“We’ve missed you.” He murmured into your hair, and you couldn’t help the traitorous hitch in your heart that he might’ve meant-

“Uncle Pafoo!” Harry squealed, suddenly standing right underneath you. 

“That’s right, Haz!” The voice that haunts your dreams called out. “Auntie is here!”

“Hullo, Harry!” You cheered as you picked him up, sucking in before settling on your hip. “Happy birthday, little dude.” 

“Am two!” He announced as he held up four fingers. 

“You are two! Way to go!” You laughed. “Is everyone here?” You asked the room, shooting Sirius a tight smile so you couldn’t be accused of hostility when your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason. 

He looked tired - a bone deep tired that no amount of sleep could rectify - and the bags under his eyes seemed to be chronic. But he was still so beautiful; his hair had grown slightly longer since the last time you’d seen it, the last time you’d run your fingers through it, the last time you’d brought sheers to it, and he donned more than a few new tattoos if the few you could see were enough to go by. 

You had to look away.

“Reg’s going to be by after work; his part-time student called in sick so he needed to be there to close the shop himself. Thankfully, they’re only open in the morning on Sunday’s.” Remus explained kindly.

“Good, it’ll be nice to see him.” You offered, and the room fell slightly awkward.

“Uncle Pafoo, aeroplane?” Harry asked then, and whatever exhaustion seemed to be plaguing Sirius vanished as he beamed at his godson. 

“Absolutely, little man!” He agreed, holding his arms out and taking Harry’s weight from you.

“Do you want something to drink, Y/N? Wine? Beer, Cider? Juice? Water?” James rapid fire, causing Lily to groan. 

“We just got her back, Potter. Do try to control yourself.” 

“Water would be great, Jamie. Thank you.” You laughed, following the group into the open concept kitchen-to-living room. 

Save the fact that you and Sirius seemed to be doing acrobatics to avoid each other, you were almost stunned at how easy and natural being back here felt. Regulus returned and the two of you shared friendly jibes, Lily caught you up on all of the drama at the Ministry, James strong armed you into agreeing to join them for their next pub quiz night, and Remus said that your old professors all wished you well. 

You loved your cottage - the home you’d built for yourself and your little one - but you found yourself feeling homesick for here, and you hadn’t even left yet.

You were leaning on your elbows against the kitchen island, watching Sirius and Regulus pretend to be knights in shining armour as they fought off a fire breathing dragon (Harry) to save the princess (James) when Remus appeared beside you and mirrored your stance. 

“It’s not the same without you, you know?” He murmured then. 

“But they seem to be alright.” You responded simply, and Remus allowed the two of you to fall into silence for a few beats.

“How far along are you?” 

You stood up straight and turned to stare at him in horror, only to see him smiling kindly at you. 

“How do you-”

“Lycanthropy - I could smell it on you.” He said with an embarrassed wrinkle of his nose. “I knew Lily was pregnant before she did.”

You shushed him and looked over your shoulder to ensure no one else could hear you.

“Come.” He said with a sigh, gently taking you by the elbow and ushering you out of the sliding doors to the back yard and closing it behind the two of you. 

“Remus-”

“Is it his?” He cut you off; his face held no judgement though perhaps just a touch of concern. For you or his best friend/virtual brother-in-law, you weren’t sure.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about; you both knew. 

Remus simply nodded as he looked you over. “Is that why you left?”

“He left first.” You hissed petulantly.

“He left you, but you left all of us.” Remus countered somewhat sternly. “Besides, I didn’t ask about him; is this why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because, Remus!” You shouted, tears flooding your vision as you turned to look at him. “Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to force him to come back just because… just because.” 

“Don’t you think he should have been able to make that choice for himself?” Remus asked gently.

“He chose! He did choose! He told me he couldn’t play house, he told me he couldn’t be this person for me. I loved him enough to accept that. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“Loved?” Remus asked with a tilt of his head. “Past tense?” 

“Remus.” You groaned. “Please.”

“He came back for you, you know.” Remus pointed out. “He left you, you left us, but he came back for you.” 

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Y/N.”

“And so what if it is?” You nearly sobbed. “So what if he did, Remus? What can I do? I can’t go back in time and change my mind, I can’t go back and fix this. He made choices, I made choices, and here we are.” 

Remus heaved a sigh and looked at you sadly. “I don't think either of you realise that your choices don’t have to remain permanent; there can be an expiration date on them.” 

You were catching your breath from your mini temper tantrum when you heard the glass door slide open, both you and Remus turning to see Sirius standing there almost shy - far shier than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Just talk to him? Okay? You..don’t have to tell him now, just…talk to him.” Remus whispered before heading towards the door, clapping Sirius on the back before disappearing back into the house. 

“Hey.” Sirius offered cautiously after a few beats of silence, coming to stand beside you as the two of you looked over the railing of the patio to the rest of the manor grounds. 

“Hey.” You returned dumbly, clearing your throat before continuing. “You…you look good, Sirius.”

Sirius scoffed, and you could feel your shoulder rising before you saw him smirk at you - if not somewhat sadly - cutting you a playful glare from the corner of his eye. “Did you take up lying there in Ireland?” 

You let out a breathy half-laugh. “I’m not lying.” 

“Then you need glasses. I look like shite.”

“You look tired.” You amended. 

“I’m exhausted.” He agreed, and the two of you lapsed into silence. 

“You look good, though.” He continued. “Healthy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Funny what not having to run on rations and broken hours of sleep on military cots does for a person.”

“Why haven’t I heard from you, Y/N?” He blurted then, turning his entire body to face you. 

“Sirius, I-”

“Everyone else has. You’ve spoken to Lily on the phone. James and Remus have gotten letters. Even Reg got a postcard for his birthday.” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage to say.

“I wrote to you.” He continued. “Letters, a lot. Did you get them?”

You nodded your head yes shamefully.

“Did you read them?”

You felt your heart splinter at how hopeful and heartbroken he sounded over it. You felt like scum of the earth when you shook your head no, and he let out a sigh.

“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better, then.” He said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. 

You found yourself taking a step away from him when you asked “why does that make you feel better?”

He let out a humourless laugh that forced smoke from his lips. “At least now I know that my begging for a second chance, begging you to come home, professing my love for you isn’t what kept you away.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up, Y/N.” He declared earnestly. “I…I was fucking scared, terrified. I’d spent so much of my life living with one foot on the threshold of hell that after the war, I didn’t know how to live amongst the undead.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as if he’d run all the way here just to tell you something. “And I ran. I bolted, I…”

“You left.” You finished for him. 

“I left.” He agreed. “I… I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know what?” You asked as you choked back tears.

“Didn’t know what I had, or what I wanted. Or that I had everything that I wanted.”

“And you do, now? You know what you want?” You asked, and a look of determination painted his features as he met your gaze head on.

“For my entire life, I had never known what family meant, so I wasn’t even aware that I’d created my own with all of you until I’d risked it all. I was so sure I didn’t want to be like my parents that I never realised I may actually…want to be a parent someday. I was so sure I didn’t want to be my father that I never realised I actually did want to be a partner someday. I was so certain I’d never know what true love felt like that I didn’t even realise I had it right here all along with you.” 

“Sirius-”

“I messed up. I left. But what I don’t understand is why you did. Or why you stayed away.” He took a step towards you with his cigarette long forgotten in one of his hands, the ash threatening to burn his fingers before you plucked it and stubbed it out on the stone railing. He barely flinched. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t want to sit around and wait for you, Sirius. I- it hurt, I was hurt. And then-”

“I’m sorry.” He offered quickly, but you shook your head.

“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry, I just-”

“I came back for you.”

“But it wasn’t just about me anymore, Sirius!” You shouted then, and you watched his brows furrow before his face fell in horror. 

“You’re seeing someone.” He asked, though he phrased it as more of a statement; like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Sirius.” You sighed.

“Then why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You blurted, and Sirius fell silent. “I’m almost six months pregnant.”

“Six-” He started, eyes falling to your stomach still hidden behind the baggy article of clothing before you smoothed the fabric over your ever rounding bump. “Six months. Six…”

You let him do the maths in the head as he stared hard at your stomach like he was sitting in divination and it was a crystal ball that might just give him the answers if only he stared at it long enough.

“It’s mine?” He finally concluded.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“It’s mine. You’re pregnant, it’s mine.” He murmured, before his eyes met yours again. “You’re pregnant with my child?”

“Right.” You agreed, and he crumpled to a heap on the floor. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” Sirius heard Remus hiss, clearly hovering somewhere over him, “I swear to Godric if you do not wake up and eat some of this godsdamned vanilla cake you bought, your brother is going to skin you alive.” 

“It’s true.” James agreed from somewhere on Sirius’ other side. “He actually ran to the store when he found out you bought vanilla because he knew Remus wouldn’t eat any of it. Remus is going to get his chocolate cake, and you’re going to get egged.” 

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel, mate?” James asked rather jovially as he clapped him roughy on the shoulder.

“Like hell.”

“Why’s that?” Remus joined in.

“Because I was in the middle of a dream and you sods woke me up going on about cake.” He muttered as he opened his eyes, realising then that he’d been propped up on a number of cushions in one of Lily and James’ spare rooms.

“S’he awake?” Lily whispered, and Sirius craned his neck to see you and Lily poke your heads into the room.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed as he sat up, likely far too fast for someone who fell unconscious mere moments ago. “Oh my gods, you’re actually here?” 

“Did you hit your head, mate?” James asked as he prodded at Sirius’ head, causing Sirius to swat his arms away as he shifted towards the edge of the bed.

“You’re here.” He whispered as you slowly made your way into the room.

“I’m here.” You offered cautiously, eyes darting around at your oldest friends like there might be some secret threat lurking in the room.

“You’re pregnant…” He tried then, punching the air right out of Lily and James who both spun to stare at you in shock.

You smoothed the fabric of your shirt over your midsection again to expose a very obvious (now that everyone could actually see it) baby bump. 

“Oh my gods!” Lily and James chorused, causing Remus to snort.

“You knew, didn’t you!?” Lily accused Remus who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Only when she walked in, and not a second sooner.” 

“With my child.” Sirius continued, and you nodded at him. 

“Y/N.” Lily winced. “You-”

“You sodding scared me!” You shrilled then, grabbing one of the throw pillows James had dumped onto the ground to make room for Sirius and swinging it at him.

“I scared you!?” Sirius shrieked right back, much to the delight of Harry who started banging on the throw pillow that had landed beside him. 

“I thought I killed you!”

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry that finding out the woman I’ve been in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months - who was missing for all intents and purposes, may I remind you - is pregnant with my child happened to be a little shocking.” Sirius sneered sarcastically. 

“Well I only went ‘missing’ because the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months took off an-” The abrupt end of your statement nearly gave the room whiplash as you cut yourself off mid sentence and stared at Sirius like you’d never seen him before. 

“What…what just happened?” James whispered carefully.

“Years?” You whispered then, and Sirius hated every version of himself that deigned to let you go without knowing just how loved you were.

“Probably when we were still just cosmic dust.” Sirius smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t always realise, I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that you knew.”

“I take it to guess there isn’t an aunt in Killarney?” Lily offered then, smiling kindly at you when you turned your attention towards her.

“No, I- I think there actually is an aunt in Killarney, I just don’t live with her.”

“Where do you live?” Sirius asked eagerly, wondering if you could hear it in his voice or even see on his face just how desperate he was to know everything about you.

“Near Tintagel.” You offered abashedly as Remus slapped his hand on his thigh.

“You minx!” He scolded you. “You lived basically across the channel from me this whole time!”

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is” You offered him then, smiling through your tears as Sirius swallowed around his bile threatening its way up his oesophagus.

“I hope it’s nice.” Sirius blurted suddenly, and Sirius thanked the heavens for Remus John Lupin who seemed to understand that the conversation delved beyond the need of an audience, scooping Harry up and closing the door behind Lily, James, and himself to give you two some privacy. 

“It’s nice.” You offered wetly. “It’s quiet.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement. “In Tintagel, near Merlin’s cave?”

You laughed, which saw Sirius smiling. “I’m not right in Tintagel, just outside. My neighbours are mostly sheep.” 

“Does it have a picket fence?”

“To keep the sheep out of my garden.” You nodded with a smile.

“Flowers; lots of them.” Sirius deduced, you nodded again though Sirius watched your smile falter.

“You’d probably hate it.”

“Are you there?” He asked quickly.

“Well, usually, yes.” You offered, and Sirius shrugged easily.

“Sounds as though it might be my favourite place in the world, then.” 

The next breath that left you shuddered on its way out, and Sirius finally stood and met you in the middle of the room; close enough to touch but not daring to. He hadn’t earned that right yet. 

“Take me with you?” He all but begged then, and your face crumpled in misery.

“Sirius, I don’t want you to follow me because you have to, I-”

“I don’t have to though, I know I don’t; I know you’d never make me.” He assured you then, lifting a hand but pausing to wait for you to nod at him before he placed it on your upper arm. “The letters, Y/N, I- I’ve been looking for you for months.”

A sob tore through you as you lowered your head, and Sirius allowed himself to catch it in his free hand. 

“I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m not telling you so that you feel bad, love.” The endearment falling off his tongue so easily now that he had you in his arms. “But I need you to know that I want you - any of you, all of you - and have for a very long time.” 

“It’s just…you said-” and Sirius knew exactly what he said; he had played that conversation over and over and over in his mind until he found himself sick over it more than once. But we waited for you to tell him anyhow; he’d always wait for you. “You couldn’t settle down and be content, you couldn’t play house; you weren’t that kind of guy.” 

“I know, doll. I know.” He whispered. “I…I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t think I deserved everything I wanted and I knew that you deserved better. That you deserve better.”

“But?”

“But I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you otherwise; trying to give you everything you deserve.”

“Sirius…” You sighed, and Sirius could see your walls cracking. “I…I’m-”

“Take me home? Please?” He begged then, words interrupted by a sob of his own. “To Tintagel, to Killarney, to bloody fucking Azkaban or the bottom of the sodding ocean, I don’t care where it is just as long as it’s with you, please. Please.”

Your hands landed on Sirius’ chest and he was sure you could feel his hummingbird heart beating under your fingertips. He only hoped you knew how it beat for you. 

“Please bring me home?”

James didn’t know if he could consider this a success or not. 

His motivation was not singular; it was a ‘hit two fairies with one gobstone’ sort of scenario, so to speak. Was his son turning two? Indeed he was! Was James throwing a party for said son’s birthday? You’re damned right he was. But was it also a really good excuse to force two of his idiot best friends into the same room again? Absolutely.

Except James seems to have gotten slightly more than he bargained for; Sirius falling unconscious in his childhood backyard, you sobbing into Lily’s shoulder out in the hallway as he and Remus tried to bring him back from the dead, Remus sneering at a slice of birthday cake like it personally offended him and Regulus threatening to defend his boyfriend’s honour, and - apparently - a new niece or nephew coming in the next three-ish months. 

But when he looked over to see you and Sirius emerging from the spare room - both of your faces tear stained and puffy from the grief and torment you no doubt put yourselves through - hands intertwined between your bodies and your hand resting protectively over your growing bump, and a spark in Sirius’ eyes James had thought he lost in the war but now realised he only lost when he lost you…

…yeah, James figured he could probably consider this a success.

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[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

[skyenish]

| Scarabia animation 🐍☀️ | Proto Disco

——

They say eyes are the window to the soul, and I’ve been staring at Jamil and Kalim’s souls a lot lately

[aquaticmercy]

Breaking Point

Summary : You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Enemies to Lovers and Confessions! Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Past trauma. Cursing. Violence. Injury. A bit of Jealous!Bucky.

Requested by : @beansprout713

Word count : 4.8k

Note : Enemies to Lovers will always be so good to write about. Thank you for requesting this! Enjoy!

Requests are open!

You adjusted your coat, clutching your purse as you strolled back toward the Avengers compound after your date. Your head hung low from the frankly underwhelming night you shared with Ryan, a guy you’d met through a mutual friend. 

Ryan was a librarian. He was perfectly fine, perfectly handsome, perfectly polite. But you weren’t looking for perfect. You sighed. 

He talked about his job, about how a group of school kids making noise had been annoying him. When he asked about yours, you shifted in your seat with unease. You can’t really tell the whole truth. What would that even sound like?

Oh, I went on a mission last week and shot a guy. Don't worry, he was a bad guy.

You would’ve sounded ridiculous.

In the end, Ryan was just another normal person. He couldn’t keep up with you, with your life, being an avenger. With this line of work, you wondered if you’d ever find love. 

You were halfway up the steps to the entrance when you saw him.

Bucky Barnes stood by the doors, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes locked on you as soon as you came into his view. The outdoor light cast long shadows across his face, strengthening the sharpness of his features.

Bucky watched you walked up the steps. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the aching swirl inside him. It was easier to push you away, to let the sharp edges of his words do the damage before you could get any closer, even if he could not deny how beautiful you were underneath the dark glow of the night sky. His gut twisted, knowing you put in all this effort for some half-decent guy who could never give you enough, not that you needed to put any effort at all. He shook his thoughts away, eyes narrowing. 

Great, you thought. The last thing you needed tonight was to deal with his brooding attitude. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever sharp remark he was about to throw your way.

Bucky stepped closer, his chest only inches from yours now, and the proximity sent a jolt of heat through you. His gaze flickered down to your lips for the briefest second before he met your eyes again.

"Out late, aren’t we?" His voice was low.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you opened the door to the compound. "It's called having a life, Barnes. You should try it sometime."

He followed you inside, his boots heavy against the floor. "A life, huh?" He scoffed, his tone harsher than usual. “That’s what you call having dinner with some guy who won’t last longer than a week?" His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was something else behind it—something you couldn't quite identify. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and the air between you crackled with a tension you had always felt with him. 

You swallowed hard. "Why do you care who I spend my nights with?" you replied, your voice shakier than you intended. 

His jaw clenched. "Maybe I care because none of those guys know what you really need." His voice was gravelly, and the implication in his words made your stomach flip. For a second, you couldn’t breathe.

You quickly brushed his words. "And you think you do?" you shot back, but your voice faltered. 

Bucky left the question open, not knowing how to respond. Instead, he did what he always does best. He deflected. "You can’t keep a boyfriend because you’re too brash. Too loud."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, the pain twisting in your chest as his words echoed in your mind. He always had a way of cutting deep, but this was different. Calling out your coping mechanisms seemed too low, even for Bucky.

"Wow." Your voice wavered slightly, but you quickly steadied it, refusing to let him see just how much he affected you. "You really know how to hit where it hurts, don’t you?"

Bucky didn’t respond. For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe. But he didn’t apologise. Instead, he turned away, his metal arm flexing at his side.

"Just go to bed," he muttered, almost condescending except for the hint of softness in his voice. "I need you well rested for the mission tomorrow."

As much as you and Bucky outwardly despised each other, the two of you were surprisingly effective partners in the field. Again and again, you found yourselves paired together. You never complained, though. There was an undeniable intimacy in your partnership that you craved, even if Bucky hated your guts.

"Is this really about the mission?” Your anger bubbled to the surface. 

His hand shot out suddenly, gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop you from moving too far past him. His metal fingers were cool against your skin, his blue eyes alight with frustration. "It’s about you not taking things seriously.” He said, almost sneering. “Instead of preparing your gear, you're off with some random guy. Do you even care?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not in front of him. 

"I care more than you think, Bucky," you said quietly, pulling your arm away from his grip.  "But you don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t know why I am the way I am."

Bucky’s expression softened slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly snapped it shut, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. The truth was, he’d been watching you for months. Not just on missions, but in moments like these, when you thought you were alone. You wore your confidence like armour, but sometimes, when you let it slip, he caught glimpses of something deeper. Something that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way he did, whatever that feeling was. Whatever the racing heart in his chest meant. Whatever the butterflies in his stomach meant. 

But he couldn’t let himself go there. 

The silence between you was unbearable, and finally, you turned away.

"Let’s just get through tomorrow without killing each other, okay?" you muttered. Without waiting for his response, you walked away, leaving him standing alone..

Why did he always do this? 

He didn’t know half of what you carried. Didn’t know what it was like to lose—to build your walls higher every time someone left, because that was the only way to survive.

Or maybe he knew too much of what it was like.

You spent your life keeping people at arm's length. Dates were fine. Fun. Superficial. They didn't ask for more than you were willing to give. You could smile, laugh, let your guard down just enough to feel normal, but never enough to let anyone in. 

Bucky—he was too close. He saw too much. He could cut through the walls with one sentence, and it scared you.

As you made your way back to your bedroom, part of you wondered—what would happen if you let him in?

What a stupid thought. 

—

The next morning, the air between you and Bucky was still cold, your argument from the night before hanging in the air like a hurricane. You were briefed on the mission, but you barely paid attention. Your mind was still reeling from the sting of Bucky’s words. And you hated that he had the power to make you feel this way.

In the quinjet, silence filled the space between you, making the air feel too thick and heavy to breathe. Bucky sat across from you, his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. You stole a glance at him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched tight, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes as he glanced at you. Regret, maybe?

“Look," you muttered, breaking the silence. "About last night—"

“Don’t," he cut in, his voice low but firm. "Let’s focus on the mission."

You swallowed, biting back whatever words had been forming. He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine.

The knot in your chest tightened. You wanted to tell him—wanted to say something to bridge the gap between you, but the walls were still there, and neither of you was ready to break them down.

—

The mission was supposed to be simple. You and Bucky had done this a hundred times—get in, gather intel, get out. He was the shadow, slipping in unnoticed, while you were the distraction, loud and violent, drawing the guards’ fire away. 

You took point, leading the guards away with your usual brashness. Something that Bucky criticized you for.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement. Most of the time, his gaze felt like scrutiny, like he was waiting for you to mess up. But today there was something else. Protectiveness, perhaps?

As you manoeuvred through the base, you split up. You were supposed to patrol the halls, distract any guards, draw fire from Bucky to you. Bucky was supposed to secure the intel. You stopped in the centre, where you were supposed to wait for communications right about now. 

Where is he? you thought, scanning for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was supposed to signal once he’d reached the server room. But the silence on the comms was making you nervous.

Your instincts kicked in, as you heard more guards coming from your left. 

You cursed, ready for confrontation.

You felt exposed, vulnerable. Normally, you could feel his presence. But now, something was different. The usual synchrony between you two felt… off.

Suddenly, the footsteps halted as gunfire erupted in the distance, shattering the uneasy quiet. Your heart raced. That wasn’t part of the plan. Bucky wasn’t supposed to engage until he had the data. The sound of gunshots rang in your ears, echoing in the corridors of the enemy base.

“Barnes, what the hell’s going on?” you hissed into the comms, trying to keep your voice steady. No response.

Your breath hitched. Something was wrong. Your steps quickened, your pulse pounding in your ears. The sound of shouting and footsteps grew closer. Where the hell is he?

You ran towards where Bucky was supposed to be. Rounding a corner, suddenly a gunshot rang out—close. Too close.

A sharp pain seared across your side as you dove for cover behind a stack of crates. You cursed under your breath, pressing your hand to the wound. Blood oozed through your fingers. The bullet had grazed you, which was survivable, but the sting was enough to remind you just how dangerous this was becoming. 

You shot your attacker with your last bullet, bullseye on the center of their forehead. The body went stiff, still on the ground. Brutal. Clean. Necessary.

“Where are you, Barnes?” you muttered, your breath coming in ragged bursts, but you were only met with static from the other line. You were supposed to be the distraction, but without his backup, you felt vulnerable in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Damn it, this isn’t working. You threw away the comms and crushed it beneath your heel.

You heard the commotion getting closer and closer, and then suddenly the gunfire stopped. Maybe Bucky had been able to disarm the enemy and was making a run for it. 

You glanced over the edge of a crate. Your eyes widened, spotting the sniper hidden on the corner, by an air vent, aiming on your head. Your heart pounded, knowing you don’t have the energy to dodge another shot. 

You took a deep breath, readying for impact.

Then, there was a flash of movement—Bucky!

He appeared out of nowhere, barreling toward you just as the sniper lined up his next shot.

“Move!” he shouted, his voice brimming with panic. 

Before you could react, his body slammed into yours, tackling you to the ground. The breath was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground hard, his weight pinning you down. 

Bucky’s chest pressed against your back, his breath heavy in your ear as he shielded you from the line of fire. His metal arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and despite the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the heat of his body, the way it made your skin tingle. But the relief was short-lived.

The next sound you heard was a grunt of pain.

You twisted beneath him just in time to see Bucky stumble, his hand clutching his side. Blood. Too much blood. It soaked through his tactical suit, spreading rapidly as he slumped back, his face pale with pain.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you scrambled to your feet, gently laying him on the ground before he could fall. You grabbed his arm, trying to keep him upright, but he was heavy, his body sagging against yours.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, his voice strained, but the way he leaned on you told a different story.

You felt the adrenaline surge through your body, giving you the last boost of energy you needed. You grabbed Bucky’s rifle, blindly shooting at the direction of the sniper. 

You weren’t shooting clean shots anymore. You didn’t care. You didn’t stop until you saw the body fall on the floor. 

You scrambled back to Bucky. 

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and fear as you pressed your hand to the wound in his side, trying to stop the bleeding. “Why didn’t you stay in position? You weren’t supposed to—”

“To what?” he rasped, wincing as he tried to move. “Let you die?”

“I had it under control!” you shot back, hough you knew it was a lie. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, but the closeness only fueled your anger. “If you had just stayed where you were—”

“You were in the open. I had to—” Bucky interrupted, his voice sharper than before, his eyes dark with frustration. His hands tapped his pocket, making sure he had the intel you came here for.

“I was doing my job, Bucky!” you shouted, your grip tightening on his arm. The fear bubbling up in your chest was quickly being overtaken by anger, the unresolved tension from last night’s fight bleeding into the moment. “But you—damn it, why do you always have to make everything harder than it is?!”

His eyes met yours, blazing with frustration. “I’m the one keeping you alive!” he growled, stepping closer despite the pain radiating from his wound. “You never listen—”

“You don’t trust me!” you accused him, your voice shaking when you noticed the bleeding wasn’t slowing. Did it hit an artery? “and now you’re hurt because you had to play the hero!”

His jaw clenched, his hand gripping your arm tightly as he struggled to stay upright. “I don’t—” He stopped, his voice catching as the weight of your words sank in. His eyes flickered with something that made your heart twist. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession was so quiet, so raw, that it hit you harder than any bullet could have. 

Your anger faltered, the heat of the moment cooling as you stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Bucky…” you started, but the words died on your lips.

Soon, you heard hostile footsteps growing louder in the distance. You didn’t have time for this. Not now.

You tore your gaze from his, focusing on the immediate task at hand—getting him out of here. 

You supported Bucky as best you could, half-dragging him through the enemy base toward the extraction point. His body was heavy against yours, his breaths shallow, but he still had enough strength to keep his arm around you, guiding you through the chaos.

“Stay with me, Barnes,” you muttered, your voice tight with worry as you half-ran, half-stumbled through the corridors.

Bucky groaned in response, his grip on you tightening, his weight sagging against your side. “Are you even… strong enough to carry me?” he gritted out, his voice laced with pain. There was a flicker of his usual sarcasm there, a sign he was still fighting.

You shot him a glare, even as panic clawed at your chest. There was a hint of charm in his voice this time, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. “Don’t make me regret saving your ass.”

His weight pressed heavily on your shoulders, and his blood soaked into your gear, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every time his breathing hitched, you pushed yourself harder, refusing to let the fear of losing him take over.

—

By the time you got him back to the quinjet, Bucky was barely conscious. You worked frantically to stabilise him, your hands shaking as you hooked him up to an IV and bandaged the wound as best as you could with the limited supplies on hand.

When you finally returned to the Avengers compound, they wheeled him away to the med bay, and despite the doctors’ reassurances that he’d pull through, you refused to leave his side. 

For the rest of the night, you stayed by his bedside. 

Sam dropped by a couple of times, bringing you water and food you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. On his third visit, he lingered, watching you with a knowing expression. Bucky was still unconscious, the steady rhythm of the EKG was the only sound in the room as you stared at him. Your hands clutched the arms of your chair as if holding onto something solid would stop your thoughts from spiraling.

“You’ve been here a while,” Sam said softly, not wanting to disturb the stillness in the room. “You should eat something.”

He pointed at the bottle and sandwich he had brought a couple of hours ago. You nodded faintly, but your eyes didn’t leave Bucky. “I’m not hungry.”

Sam sat in the chair next to you, his gaze flicking between you and Bucky. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"So..." he started, drawing out the word like he was testing the waters, "you finally decide to stop dancing around each other or what?"

You shot him a glare, but it lacked the amusement you usually reserved for his teasing. "Sam, not now."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Sam replied, holding his hands up in defence. "It's been months of this weird tension, and now you're sitting here like you're at the end of some romantic drama. It's about time you said something."

“Can we not do this now?" You repeated, snapping this time, though you did not mean to. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Sam reassured you quietly, now aware of your agitation, “You don’t need to sit here all night worrying.”

“I’m not…” you trailed off, realising how defensive you were being. With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair. “I… I should’ve seen the sniper sooner.”

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You know Bucky. He wasn’t about to let you take that hit, no matter what.”

You glanced at Bucky, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lowered your voice, scared that he would somehow hear you. “I don’t understand why he’s always like this. One minute he’s insulting me, and the next, he’s throwing himself in front of bullets for me.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You matter more to him than you think.”

You scoffed quietly, not quite believing him. “He sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“Listen,” Sam said, his tone soft but firm. “Bucky… he’s complicated. He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve. But the fact that you’re sitting here, all torn up over him? Makes me think his feelings aren’t one-sided.”

You looked over at Sam with visceral scepticism in your eyes. 

Sam leaned forward again, his expression serious now. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. Hell, he gets jealous of the guys you go out with.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Sam’s words sink in. The argument with Bucky from the previous night echoed in your mind—his harsh words, the way he’d cut into you so deeply, as if trying to push you away. Was that really how his jealousy manifested? 

Then there was today, how he’d risked his life without hesitation to save you.

“He nearly died today,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “Because of me.”

“He didn’t do it because he had to.” Sam shook his head. “He did it because it was you.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Sam’s words settling in your chest. You had always felt the tension between you and Bucky, the unspoken something that simmered beneath the surface, but you had never let yourself fully confront it. Maybe because it was too scary to admit. Maybe because you feared that caring about someone like Bucky Barnes carried more risk than you were willing to take.

You blinked back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know what to do...” with all this information you had just dumped on me. 

Sam smiled faintly, standing up and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Just be here when he wakes up.”

You watched as Sam walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again. You let your eyes fall back to his sleeping form, his face still pale but peaceful. You reached out, hesitating for just a moment, before gently brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.

—

Hours had passed before Bucky finally stirred. The room was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, thick with the scent of blood and sweat. You sat beside him, your body drained, shoulders hunched over. Your mind stayed alert—unable to tear your focus from him for even a second. 

“Bucky?” Your voice was hoarse, cracking under the pressure of everything you had witnessed, everything you had felt. 

His eyelids fluttered as if fighting to lift a weight the weight of the world. For a long, quiet moment, he just stared at you, eyes cloudy and disoriented. “You’re still here,” he mumbled, his voice fragile.

“Of course, I’m still here,” you shot back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the tenderness that hid behind it. Your emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. His muscles tensed as he attempted to sit up, but a grimace of pain shot across his face, stopping him short. “You should’ve let me handle it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, frustration leaking into his voice. Not because he had been shot, but because it broke his heart seeing you here. You looked so weak and sleep deprived. You looked so tired, your wounds untended.

The anger that had been quietly burning inside you flared. You rose to your feet, the chair scraping the floor in the silence. Your conversation with Sam swam in the back of your mind, but old habits die hard. “Handle what, Bucky? Getting shot?” 

His gaze snapped to yours, the weariness in his eyes replaced with a flash of cold steel. “Why does it matter to you if I live or die?” His voice cut through the room, louder now, tinged with a bitterness. 

The question hit you like a blow, freezing you in place. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs, the truth clawing at your throat. Every wall you’d carefully constructed around yourself, every defence you had in place, crumbled in an instant. Before you could stop yourself, the words you had fought so hard to keep buried tore free.

“Because I fucking care about you!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I care about you so much that I have to pretend I don’t just to keep myself sane! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The air between you felt electric. Bucky’s eyes widened, the force of your confession hanging in the space between you, churning like a wave ready to break. He didn’t move, didn’t speak at first, just stared at you as if seeing something he couldn’t comprehend.

Then, after a beat that seemed to stretch into eternity, his voice came, a low, gravelly whisper that was almost lost in the silence. “You think I don’t feel the same?” His words trembled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before.

Your breath caught, and your body stilled. Maybe Sam was right, the realisation dawned on you.

His voice was cracking under the strain of emotions he’d long suppressed, grunting as he sat up. “I push you away because it’s easier than admitting how much I—” His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists as he struggled to say what he’d buried for so long. “If I let myself feel it... if I let myself get close to you... I’ll lose you. And I can’t—” His voice faltered, breaking. “I can’t lose you.”

Your heart wrenched at his words, at the fear so raw in his voice. Slowly, you took a step toward him, your legs trembling beneath you. The distance between the two of you had never felt so vast, even though it was only a few feet. “Bucky…” The anger, the frustration—it had drained away. Your voice was softer now than it has ever been with him, gentle. You sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.

He looked up at you, and in his eyes, you saw everything you had ever felt mirrored back at you—the fear, the longing, the unspoken love that had always been there but never acknowledged. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally let the walls fall completely. 

“It’s easier than admitting how much I—” Bucky tried again, but couldn’t finish. The words weren’t enough. 

You closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, your hands reaching for him, pulling him into you, and your lips crashed against his with a force that felt like it could shatter the walls around you. 

The kiss was desperate, letting go of everything you had kept at bay for so long. It was raw, unfiltered. It was an outpouring of all the feelings you had tried so hard to ignore. There was nothing but you and him, the world outside of this fading away into nothingness.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling in sync, your foreheads pressed together as if you were trying to ground yourselves. The gravity of what had been revealed was too much for you to process.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

"What is this?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we?”

Bucky's breath was shaky, his forehead still resting against yours as he struggled to find the right words. His hands hovered at your waist, as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or let you go. The vulnerability in his eyes, raw and unguarded, mirrored yours.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse, barely audible. “But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face as if trying to decipher your feelings, afraid of what he might find there. “You… you matter to me. More than anything or anyone.”

The honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ribcage. You didn’t know how to respond—your thoughts in a tangled mess. 

“Bucky…” You started, unsure of where to begin, but the words just didn’t come. You reached up, cupping his face gently with your hand, brushing your thumb across the stubble on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a shaky exhale escaping his lips.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. “I’ve lost so much. I’m scared—” He broke off.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, the words firm, even though fear still lingered in the back of your mind. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as the weight of your words settled. Bucky stared at you, pressing his forehead against yours once more, the tension in his body easing ever so slightly.

“Together,” he repeated softly.

The room was quiet again, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound that broke the silence. You sat there, holding each other in the stillness.

And maybe, someday soon, you’d have the courage to say what you both had wanted to say:

I love you.

-end

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story