#let lily patch him up okay

[pucksandpower]

Love Again

Charles Leclerc x widow!Reader

Summary: you never thought you would be able to let someone else into your heart after your husband passed away, but when a bucket list your husband left you to fulfill inadvertently leads you straight into Charles’ path, you learn exactly what it means to love again

Warnings: death of significant other

The funeral is everything you expected it to be and nothing like you imagined. The church is suffocatingly full, every pew occupied, and the walls themselves seem to press in on you.

You sit in the front row, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, knuckles white against the black fabric of your dress. You haven’t said a word since you walked into the church, since you caught sight of the casket at the front, draped in a flag. You can’t speak because if you open your mouth, you’re certain you’ll break apart.

You focus on the details instead. The way the flowers — lilies, his favorite — are arranged with too much precision. The way the air smells faintly of old wood and incense. The way the murmur of the crowd sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Your head is spinning, but your body is still, a statue carved out of grief and shock.

You hear the scrape of a chair being moved and look up just in time to see the man taking the pulpit. You recognize him, vaguely, as someone from the organization — Doctors Without Borders. He was there when it happened. He was there with him.

He clears his throat, glances down at a piece of paper in his hand, then up at the crowd. “I’m not sure I have the right words for this,” he begins, his voice low and trembling just enough to be noticeable. “But I’ll try.”

You hate him a little for that — for having to try. You don’t want him to try. You want him to fail, to stumble over his words, to not be able to get them out. But he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“James was ... the best of us. You all know that. He was selfless, tireless. He didn’t just want to save lives — he did it. Every day. In the most dangerous places, under the most terrifying conditions. He was a healer in the truest sense of the word.” The man’s voice catches for a second, but he pushes through it. “And he was my friend.”

You flinch at that, a sharp pain slicing through your chest.

“He saved us that day,” the man says. “He saved all of us.”

The church is so quiet now, you could hear a pin drop. You can’t take your eyes off the man at the pulpit. You want him to stop talking. You want him to stop telling you things you can’t bear to hear. But he doesn’t stop.

“We were in the middle of the compound when the shelling started. It came out of nowhere. One minute we were patching up a kid who’d been hit by shrapnel, and the next, the whole world was exploding around us. We were trapped. There was no way out.” The man’s voice lowers, almost like he’s talking to himself now. “But James ... James didn’t hesitate. He ran toward the blast, toward the fire. He pulled people out, dragged them to safety.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and you swipe it away angrily.

“He was hit by the last shell,” the man continues, his voice trembling now. “He was trying to get one of the nurses out. She was trapped under some debris. He managed to free her, but then the shell hit, and ...” The man’s voice falters, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “He didn’t make it.”

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, a ripple of shock that moves through the room like a wave. You feel it crash over you, pulling you under. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t do anything but sit there and listen as the man finishes his eulogy.

“He died a hero,” the man says, his voice breaking. “He died saving lives, the way he always wanted to. And I ... I don’t know how to make sense of it. I don’t know how to make it okay.”

He steps back from the pulpit, his head bowed, and there’s a moment of silence so thick, it’s suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, like the walls of the church are closing in on you. You need to get out, but you can’t move. You’re frozen in place, trapped in your grief.

Finally, you manage to take a breath, and it feels like your lungs are on fire. You get to your feet, unsteady, and start to make your way down the aisle. You can feel the eyes of everyone in the church on you, but you don’t care. You need to get out. You need air.

You push through the heavy wooden doors and stumble out into the daylight, gasping for breath like you’ve been underwater for hours. The sky is too blue, the sun too bright. Everything is too much.

You lean against the wall of the church, pressing your forehead to the cool stone, trying to steady yourself. But the tears come anyway, hard and fast, and you can’t stop them. You don’t even try.

You don’t know how long you stand there, sobbing into the wall, but eventually, you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is — your husband’s best friend.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, hesitant.

You don’t respond. You can’t. You just keep crying.

“I ... I’m so sorry,” he says. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his presence beside you. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say,” you manage to choke out, your voice raw.

He’s silent for a moment, and then he takes a deep breath. “James ... he gave me something. To give to you. In case ... in case something happened.”

You turn to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. He’s holding an envelope, white and plain, with your name on it in James’ handwriting. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“He asked me to give it to you,” he says, holding the envelope out to you. “But only when you’re ready.”

You stare at the envelope like it’s a bomb about to go off. You don’t want to take it. You don’t want to know what’s inside. But you reach for it anyway, your hand shaking.

“Take your time,” he says softly. “There’s no rush.”

You nod, clutching the envelope to your chest like it’s a lifeline. You can’t bring yourself to open it, not yet. You don’t even know if you ever will.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes full of sympathy and something else — something you can’t quite place. “I’m here if you need anything,” he says. “Anything at all.”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak. He lingers for a moment, like he wants to say something more, but then he just gives you a small, sad smile and walks away.

You watch him go, the envelope still clutched tightly in your hand, and you feel the weight of it like a stone in your chest. You know that whatever’s inside is going to change everything, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that.

But you don’t have a choice.

***

The envelope sits in the top drawer of your nightstand, hidden beneath an old notebook and a stack of receipts you keep meaning to throw away. It’s been there for over a year, untouched.

Some days, you forget about it entirely, letting the routine of work and lonely dinners numb the ache in your chest. But most days, it lingers in the back of your mind, a quiet hum of guilt and grief that you can’t quite shake.

You know you’re supposed to open it — James left it for you, after all. But every time you reach for the drawer, your hand hovers just above the handle, frozen. Because what if the letter makes it worse? What if the words on the paper bring everything crashing back down on you, when you’ve spent so long trying to build yourself back up?

So you leave it. Days turn into weeks, and then months, until a whole year has passed. Friends have stopped asking how you’re doing, their well-meaning calls and texts fading away into awkward silence. You don’t blame them. It’s not like you’ve been much of a person to be around.

But today, for some reason, you can’t ignore it any longer.

It’s raining outside, the kind of steady drizzle that makes the world feel smaller, quieter. You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the drawer like it’s going to open itself. The house is still, too still, and the sound of the rain against the window only amplifies the silence.

Your hand trembles as you pull the drawer open. The envelope is right where you left it, the edges slightly yellowed now, but the ink still bold and clear: your name, in James’ handwriting. Seeing it sends a pang through your chest, like someone’s reached inside and squeezed your heart.

You sit there for a long time, just holding it. It’s ridiculous, really. It’s just paper. But it feels heavier than anything you’ve ever held.

“Just open it,” you whisper to yourself, but the words feel hollow, like they belong to someone else.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you tear the seal.

Inside, there’s a folded letter. Beneath it, another piece of paper — something thicker. You hesitate, then unfold the letter first. The handwriting is familiar, the slant of the letters uniquely his. You read it slowly, your eyes scanning the words with a mix of dread and longing.

My love,

If you’re reading this, then I’m not there with you. And I’m so, so sorry for that.

I wish I could tell you how much I wanted to come home. How much I needed to come home to you. But I know that wherever I am now, I’m still with you in some way. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I think I’d lose my mind.

This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to be strong, to keep living your life. And you will. I know you will. But it’s okay to fall apart first. It’s okay to break, to cry, to scream at the universe for being so damn unfair. I would.

There are so many things I wish we could’ve done together, so many things we talked about but never got the chance to do. So I’m leaving you with something. A list. It’s not a list of things you have to do — it’s a list of things I wish we could’ve experienced together. But more than that, it’s a list of things I want you to experience. For both of us.

The first one’s a bit selfish. But the last one ... that one’s for you.

I love you more than words can ever say. And if there’s any way for me to still be with you, to still be a part of your life, then I hope this is it.

Yours always,

Jamie

By the time you finish reading, tears blur your vision, dripping silently onto the letter. You wipe at your face, but the tears just keep coming. His words cut through you, raw and tender, like a wound that’s never fully healed.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the rain outside matching the rhythm of your sobs. It’s only after you’ve cried yourself out that you remember the second piece of paper, still folded in the envelope.

With a shaky breath, you unfold it.

It’s a bucket list. Five items, written in James’ scrawled handwriting. Your heart clenches as you read them, one by one.

1. Go to an F1 race. You know how much I wanted to see one in person. Do this for me. I want you to feel the rush, the excitement. It’s something I never got to experience, and I want you to feel it for both of us.

2. Visit that little café in Paris we always talked about. The one by the Seine with the red awning. We were supposed to go there on our honeymoon, remember? Have a coffee, eat too many croissants. Just sit there and watch the world go by.

3. Take a road trip with no destination in mind. Just drive. Don’t plan anything. Turn down random roads, get lost, stay in tiny motels, and eat at diners where they don’t know your name. I always wanted to do that with you.

4. Dance in the rain. We talked about doing it, but we never did. Just let go and do it. Don’t care if people are watching. Don’t worry about looking silly. Just feel the rain and think of me.

5. Find love again. I know this one is hard, and I know you might not want to think about it right now. But promise me that one day, when you’re ready, you’ll open your heart again. It doesn’t have to be soon. It doesn’t have to be anyone like me. But don’t close yourself off to it. You deserve that kind of happiness.

You sit there, staring at the list, your chest tight and your hands trembling. It’s so ... James. The way he could be both lighthearted and deeply thoughtful, the way he always wanted you to live fully, even if he couldn’t anymore.

But how can you? How can you even think about doing these things without him?

You read the list again, and this time it feels different. Less like a burden, and more like a challenge. A promise, almost. To live. To try.

But the last item — that’s the one that breaks you. Find love again. The words echo in your mind, and you can barely breathe through the weight of them. It feels impossible, inconceivable. And yet, it’s the one thing James wanted most for you.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly wipe your eyes, folding the letter and the list back into the envelope before shoving it into the drawer again. You stand up, trying to compose yourself.

When you open the door, you find his best friend, the one who gave you the letter in the first place, standing there. His expression softens the moment he sees your face.

“You finally opened it,” he says gently.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been wondering when you would.”

“I ... I couldn’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not until today.”

He sits down on the couch, and you join him, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“What did he say?” He asks softly.

You hand him the list, unable to find the words yourself. He reads it, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reaches the last item.

“That’s James,” he says, shaking his head. “Always thinking about everyone else.”

You laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. “How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to just ... live my life without him?”

“You’re not,” he says, his voice gentle. “You’re supposed to live your life with him. By doing these things, you’re keeping him with you.”

You stare at the list again, your heart aching. “But the last one ...”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, quietly, he asks, “Do you think he’d want you to be alone forever?”

You shake your head, tears spilling over again. “No. But I don’t know how to ... move on.”

“You don’t have to move on,” he says. “You just have to keep moving. One step at a time.”

You nod, even though it feels impossible. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this list isn’t just about James’ dreams. Maybe it’s about helping you find your way back to yourself.

“I guess I’d better start with number one,” you say, your voice shaky but determined.

He smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe — just maybe — you can do this.

***

The roar of engines echoes through the air as you step out of the taxi, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The circuit sprawls out before you, a sea of red, blue, and green flags waving in the hands of thousands of fans, all buzzing with excitement. You clutch your ticket tightly, the edges crumpled from your nervous grip.

It took everything in you to get here. The flight, the hotel, the whole ordeal of buying a ticket from some sketchy reseller online — all of it felt like a test of your resolve.

But this is for James. You repeat that to yourself like a mantra. He would’ve loved this, you think, as you look up at the towering grandstands. The hum of the engines, the electricity in the air, the sheer intensity of it all — it’s exactly the kind of thing he would have dragged you to, his enthusiasm infectious.

But now, you’re here alone. And that thought twists in your chest, a painful reminder of why you’re doing this in the first place.

You make your way to the entrance, the ticket clenched in your hand. The queue moves quickly, fans eager to get to their seats, their conversations a mix of English, French, Italian, and other languages you can’t quite place.

You try to blend in, keep your head down, and avoid drawing attention to yourself. Just scan the ticket and get inside. That’s all you have to do.

When it’s finally your turn, you hand your ticket to the attendant, offering a small, nervous smile. He takes it without much thought, scanning the barcode with the device strapped to his wrist. But instead of the usual beep, there’s nothing — just a blank screen.

The attendant frowns, tries again. Still nothing.

“Uh, let me just check something,” he says, his tone suddenly cautious.

You feel a cold knot forming in your stomach. “Is there a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away, fiddling with the scanner, trying different angles. The queue behind you is growing restless, and you can feel eyes on your back. Finally, he looks up at you, sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, “but this ticket isn’t valid.”

You blink, not understanding. “What do you mean? I bought it online ...”

“It’s a fake,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You must’ve been scammed. It happens sometimes with resellers.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You feel the color drain from your face, your mind reeling. Fake. Scammed. The ticket crumples in your hand as you step aside, trying to make sense of it. How could this happen? You did everything right — or at least, you thought you did.

“But ... I paid a lot for this,” you stammer, the reality of it sinking in. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I’m really sorry,” the attendant repeats, glancing over your shoulder at the impatient crowd behind you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’ll have to contact whoever you bought it from.”

You nod numbly, stepping away from the gate. The world around you seems to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tight with a mixture of humiliation and despair. This was supposed to be the first thing you did for James, and you can’t even get that right.

You don’t know where you’re going, just that you need to get away from the entrance, away from the people. Your legs carry you to the far side of the parking lot, where the crowds thin out and the noise dulls to a low hum. You lean against a concrete pillar, your breath coming in shaky gasps.

It’s too much. The weight of it all — the grief, the loneliness, the pressure you’ve put on yourself to make this trip meaningful — it’s crushing you. You slide down to sit on the curb, burying your face in your hands as tears spill over.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words meant for James, though you know he can’t hear you. “I’m so sorry ...”

You’re so caught up in your tears that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he’s right in front of you. When you finally look up, your vision is blurry from the tears, but you can make out the silhouette of a man standing there, watching you with concern etched on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is soft, with a lilting accent you can’t quite place, but it’s gentle enough to cut through the fog of your despair.

You quickly wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but it’s a losing battle. “I’m fine,” you manage to choke out, though it’s clear to both of you that you’re anything but.

He doesn’t move, just crouches down in front of you, his brow furrowed. “You don’t look fine. What happened?”

You shake your head, embarrassed by the whole situation. “It’s stupid ... I just — I bought a ticket, and it’s fake, and I ... I just don’t know what to do.”

The words tumble out between hiccups and sniffles, and you feel ridiculous for crying in front of a stranger. But he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his expression grows even more sympathetic.

“That’s not stupid at all,” he says gently. “You came all this way for the race, didn’t you?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from crying again. “Yeah. But now I can’t even get in. I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he reassures you, his tone firm but kind. “People get scammed all the time. It’s not your fault.”

You look up at him then, really look at him. He’s young, probably around your age, with messy brown hair and striking green eyes that seem to radiate warmth. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt and jeans, nothing that would make him stand out in a crowd, but there’s something about him — maybe the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world that matters right now — that makes you feel a little less alone.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not really a fan. It’s just ... something I had to do.”

He tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes. “For someone else?”

You nod again, fresh tears welling up. “My husband. He ... he passed away, and this was on a list of things he wanted me to do. I thought ... I thought I could at least get this right.”

The man’s expression softens even more, if that’s possible. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sits there with you, letting the weight of your words settle between you.

“I’m really sorry,” he says finally, and you can tell he means it. “That must be so hard.”

You shrug, wiping at your face again. “It is. But I wanted to do it anyway. For him.”

He nods, and then, after a brief pause, he says, “What if I told you I could help?”

You look at him, confusion and hope warring in your chest. “What do you mean?”

He smiles, and it’s a kind, genuine smile that makes you feel like maybe things aren’t as hopeless as they seem. “I might be able to get you into the race. If you’re okay with that.”

Your heart skips a beat, a flicker of hope sparking to life. “How? Are you some kind of VIP or something?”

He laughs, a soft, melodic sound that eases some of the tension in your chest. “Something like that. Just trust me, okay?”

You don’t know why, but you do. Maybe it’s because he’s the first person who’s really listened to you in a long time, or maybe it’s because you’re so desperate to make this work. Either way, you nod.

“Okay,” you say, your voice a little stronger now.

He pulls out his phone and dials a number, glancing back at you as he waits for the call to connect. “This might take a minute,” he says with a reassuring smile.

You watch him, your heart pounding as you wonder just who this man is and how he plans to help you. But as you sit there, your tears drying and the noise of the race humming in the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

***

Charles doesn’t leave your side while he waits for the call to go through, his green eyes focused on you as if making sure you’re still okay. The sincerity in his gaze is almost unnerving, and for a brief moment, you forget about the pitiful mess you’ve become, losing yourself in the quiet strength he radiates.

Whoever he is, it’s clear he’s not just a fan — there’s something about him that feels different, like he’s used to handling situations like this with a calm confidence that most people can only fake.

He speaks briefly into the phone, in a language you don’t understand, and within minutes — faster than you would’ve thought possible — a Ferrari team member rushes toward you both, holding a shiny red VIP pass. The emblem glints in the sunlight, and as he hands it over to Charles, your brain starts to catch up. Your eyes flicker between the pass, the Ferrari logo, and Charles, who’s now holding the pass out to you with that same reassuring smile.

“Here,” he says gently, placing the pass into your trembling hand. “This will get you into the paddock, and pretty much anywhere else you want to go.”

You stare at the pass, then at him, the realization dawning on you slowly. Ferrari. VIP. Charles. It suddenly clicks into place, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He’s not just a concerned fan. He’s someone important.

You swallow hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Who ... who are you?”

He chuckles, but it’s soft, not mocking, more like he finds the situation endearing. “I’m Charles. Charles Leclerc. I drive for Ferrari.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. You’re mortified that you didn’t recognize him, that you didn’t put it together sooner. You’ve heard the name before, of course — who hasn’t? But you’ve never been into F1, and you hadn’t expected to meet someone famous today.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking down at your feet. “I didn’t realize ...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Charles interrupts, waving off your apology. “You’ve had a rough day. The last thing you need to worry about is recognizing some racing driver.”

“But I should’ve known ...” you begin, but he cuts you off again, this time with a playful smile.

“Now, why would you know that? You already told me you’re not a fan,” he teases lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And I’d much rather be remembered as the guy who helped you out than as that Ferrari driver you didn’t recognize.”

You can’t help but laugh, albeit weakly. His charm is disarming, and it’s hard to feel embarrassed when he’s making it so clear that he doesn’t care about your mistake.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it. “For all of this. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Charles shakes his head, his expression turning serious again. “You don’t need to repay me. Just enjoy the day. Experience everything to the fullest — in honor of your husband.”

You blink at him, the mention of James sending a fresh wave of emotion through you. But instead of the sharp pain you’ve grown accustomed to, it’s more of a gentle ache this time, softened by the kindness of the stranger-turned-friend standing before you.

“I know what it’s like to lose people you love,” Charles continues, his voice low and sincere. “And I know how important it is to keep their memory alive by doing things they would’ve loved. It’s not easy, but ... it’s worth it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The depth of his words, the understanding in his eyes — it’s like he’s speaking directly to the part of you that’s been hurting the most. And suddenly, you feel a connection to him that goes beyond the superficial. He gets it. He understands.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “Really, thank you.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment before he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. His grip is warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You let him lead you through the bustling parking lot, your heart still pounding but now for a different reason.

There’s something surreal about walking next to Charles Leclerc, knowing he’s one of the biggest names in the sport and yet treating you like you’re the important one.

As you approach the entrance to the paddock, the atmosphere shifts. It’s a different world in here, a world of precision, speed, and power. Team members rush about, focused and intense, the hum of engines a constant background noise. But as you pass by, more than a few heads turn, eyes widening as they take in the sight of you walking with Charles. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care.

“Here we are,” he says as you reach the Ferrari hospitality area, gesturing to the sleek red building with the prancing horse logo proudly displayed. “You’re my guest today, so feel free to make yourself at home. The team will take good care of you.”

You look up at the building, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... it’s too much.”

“It’s not too much,” Charles insists, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s exactly what you deserve today. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you. He’s serious. He really wants this for you, and the sincerity in his voice makes it clear that this isn’t just about being nice. It’s about giving you something good in a time when good things have been hard to come by.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice soft. “I’ll try.”

Charles smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. “That’s all I ask.”

He leads you inside, where the air is cool and the decor is modern and sleek, all polished surfaces and red accents. A few team members glance your way, but Charles waves them off, his focus entirely on you.

“I have to get prepped for the race,” he says, stopping just inside the entrance. “But I’ll come see you afterward, okay?”

You blink, taken aback by his offer. “You don’t have to do that,” you stutter. “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Charles just shakes his head, that same determined look in his eyes. “I want to. Besides, I’ll probably be in a better mood if I know you’re here cheering me on.”

The thought of actually cheering for him, of being invested in the race, is a foreign one. But the way he says it, so casual and confident, makes it seem almost natural.

“I don’t really know much about racing,” you admit, feeling a little silly.

He grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up quickly. And if you have any questions, there’ll be plenty of people around who can help. Just relax and enjoy it.”

You nod, still feeling a little out of your depth but also oddly comforted by his words. He makes it sound so simple, so easy, like all you have to do is show up and everything else will fall into place.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Charles says, his smile widening. “I’ll see you after the race.”

He gives you a small wave before turning and heading off, his stride confident and unhurried. You watch him go, still trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

It’s almost too much to take in — the ticket fiasco, meeting Charles, the VIP pass, and now being his personal guest for the day. It feels like you’ve stepped into someone else’s life, one filled with glamor and excitement, so different from the quiet, grief-stricken world you’ve been living in.

But as you take a deep breath and look around at the world Charles has invited you into, you can’t help but feel a spark of something you haven’t felt in a long time — hope. Maybe, just maybe, today will be a good day.

***

You sit in the Ferrari hospitality suite, watching the festivities from a distance. The energy in the room is electric, everyone buzzing with excitement over Charles’ win.

His face is plastered on every screen, grinning as he holds up the trophy, spraying champagne with the other drivers on the podium. The cheers echo in your ears, but there’s a strange numbness in your chest, a disconnect between the celebration and what you’re feeling.

You’re happy for him, of course you are. But the fact that Charles just won a race feels surreal, like something out of a dream. And you’re not sure where you fit in the dream — or if you fit in at all.

The hospitality suite is more crowded now, filled with people congratulating one another, toasting with glasses of champagne and sparkling water. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter fill the air, making the room feel smaller, more enclosed.

You keep to the side, clutching your phone and fiddling with the VIP pass Charles gave you earlier. The weight of it around your neck is a constant reminder that this isn’t your world.

The minutes tick by, each one stretching longer than the last. You tell yourself it’s okay to leave, that Charles won’t mind if you slip out quietly. After all, he’s got plenty of people to celebrate with. People who belong here, who know him well, who are part of his world. You’re just a stranger he happened to help.

But something keeps you in your seat, a small flicker of hope that he might actually come back. It’s silly, really — he’s a race winner, he should be out there celebrating, soaking in the victory. Still, you find yourself glancing at the door every few minutes, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he’ll keep his promise.

Nearly an hour and a half after the race ends, just as you’re convincing yourself to leave, you spot him. Charles enters the suite, now changed into a Ferrari branded polo, hair damp from what you assume was a quick shower. He’s scanning the room, and when his eyes land on you, they light up in recognition.

Your breath catches in your throat as he makes his way over, weaving through the crowd with a purposeful stride. He looks different out of the car, more relaxed, though there’s a tiredness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” he says, slightly breathless when he finally reaches you. “Sorry it took me so long. There were media duties, and then a debrief with the team after the podium ceremony.”

You blink up at him, stunned that he actually came. “You — You came back.”

“Of course I did,” he replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you I would.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief. “But you should be out there celebrating. You just won a race, Charles. You didn’t have to come just to see me.”

Charles waves away your concerns, his smile widening. “I came because I wanted to. Celebrations can wait.”

There’s a sincerity in his tone that takes you off guard. He’s not just saying it to be polite or to make you feel better. He actually means it. You search his eyes for a sign that he’s just being nice, but all you find is that same genuine warmth that he’s shown you from the start.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you murmur, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from anything.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” Charles reassures you, his voice gentle. “I’m glad you stayed.”

You nod, still feeling a little out of place, but his words soothe some of your anxiety. “Congratulations, by the way. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, and there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip a beat. “It was a good race.”

There’s a brief silence, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stand there, just the two of you. You’re not sure what to say next, the weight of the moment making it hard to think straight. But Charles doesn’t seem to mind the quiet, his presence calm and unhurried.

After a few moments, Charles clears his throat, his voice hesitant. “Are you staying nearby?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink up at him, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “Um, yes, I’m staying at a hotel downtown.”

His eyes brighten at that, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m staying in the same area. There’s a great restaurant nearby. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

You’re taken aback by the offer, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. Dinner? With Charles Leclerc? It feels like too much, like something you shouldn’t accept. You don’t want to intrude on his life any more than you already have.

“Charles, you don’t have to spend time with me,” you start, shaking your head. “You’ve already done so much-”

He interrupts you gently, his voice firm but kind. “I want to spend time with you.”

The way he says it, so straightforward and sincere, leaves no room for doubt. He’s not asking out of obligation or pity — he genuinely wants your company. And the thought of having dinner with him, of spending more time with someone who actually seems to care, is suddenly more appealing than anything else.

“Okay,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I’d like that.”

His smile widens, and you can see the relief in his eyes. “Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

You follow him as he leads the way out of the suite, the noise of the celebrations fading behind you. The cool evening air greets you as you step outside, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun sets. Charles is quiet as he walks beside you, his presence comforting in its steadiness.

As you reach the paddock parking lot, you spot the familiar red of a Ferrari, and you can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s fitting, in a way, like everything about this day is part of some surreal, unexpected adventure.

Charles opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you’re settled before rounding the car to get in himself. The engine purrs to life with a smooth growl, and you feel a thrill of excitement as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

You glance over at him, taking in the relaxed set of his shoulders, the easy way he handles the car. It’s strange how comfortable you feel with him already, like you’ve known him for longer than just a few hours. Maybe it’s the way he’s treated you from the start — with kindness and understanding — or maybe it’s just the way he carries himself, with a quiet confidence that makes you feel safe.

As you drive through the city, the lights of downtown reflecting off the car’s polished surface, you can’t help but wonder what this evening will bring. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way — hopeful, curious, maybe even a little excited. And as Charles navigates the streets with practiced ease, you start to think that maybe, just maybe, you’re finally ready to start living again.

***

The restaurant is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, it’s all exposed brick, warm lighting, and rustic charm. The kind of place that feels both intimate and alive with history, where every detail seems to whisper stories of countless other dinners, other nights, other lives.

You follow Charles to a corner table, noticing the way the candlelight flickers across his features, softening the angles of his face. There’s a natural ease about him, a kind of unspoken confidence that makes you feel a little more at home in this unfamiliar setting. He holds out a chair for you, and as you sit down, you can’t help but feel like you’ve stepped into a scene from someone else’s life.

“This place is incredible,” you say, glancing around at the cozy surroundings. “How did you find it?”

Charles smiles, settling into the chair across from you. “It’s one of my favorites. A friend introduced me to it a few years ago. I come here whenever I’m in town.”

You nod, taking in the atmosphere, the scent of fresh bread and herbs mingling with the low hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place that feels special, even if you didn’t know anything about it.

The waiter appears to take your order, and before you know it, the table is filled with plates of beautifully arranged dishes, each one more enticing than the last. Charles gestures for you to start, and you pick up your fork, feeling a little more at ease with each bite.

“This is amazing,” you say between mouthfuls, savoring the flavors. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like this.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Charles replies, watching you with a soft smile. “It’s one of the things I miss most when I’m traveling — good, simple food.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you both enjoy the meal, the clinking of silverware and the quiet murmur of the other diners providing a gentle backdrop. You’re grateful for the peace, for the way Charles doesn’t push you to talk, doesn’t ask any questions that feel too invasive.

But as the meal draws to a close, you sense a shift in the atmosphere. Charles seems to be choosing his words carefully, his expression thoughtful as he looks across the table at you.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he begins, his tone gentle, “but ... would you like to talk about your husband?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you can answer it. It’s been so long since anyone asked, since anyone cared enough to ask, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to go back to that place, to open up the wound that’s still so raw.

But there’s something in Charles’ eyes, a quiet understanding, that makes you feel like it’s okay to share this part of yourself with him. Like maybe he can handle it, even if you’re not sure you can.

“He was on a mission in ... well, it doesn’t really matter where. There was an attack — one of those random, senseless things that happen in places like that. He was helping a patient when it happened. They said he died a hero, but ... it doesn’t feel like that to me. It just feels like he’s gone.”

The tears that you’ve been holding back all evening finally spill over, and you don’t even try to stop them. You’re tired of pretending to be strong, tired of keeping it all inside. And somehow, with Charles sitting there, listening so intently, it feels okay to let it out.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like.”

You wipe at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “It’s been over a year, but ... it still feels like it was yesterday, you know? Like I’m still waiting for him to walk through the door, to tell me it was all some terrible mistake.”

Charles reaches across the table, his hand covering yours in a gesture that’s as comforting as it is unexpected. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he says softly. “And you don’t have to rush through it either. Grief doesn’t have a timeline.”

His words are like a balm, soothing some of the raw ache that’s been sitting in your chest. You nod, unable to speak, afraid that if you do, the tears will start again and won’t stop.

There’s a brief silence, and then you continue, feeling the need to explain, to make him understand. “He left me a letter ... and a list. A bucket list, of things he wanted us to do together, but he didn’t get the chance. He asked me to do them for him, to ... to live the life he didn’t get to.”

Charles leans forward slightly, his eyes locked on yours. “What’s on the list?”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you reach into your purse, pulling out the folded piece of paper that’s become a permanent fixture in your life. You unfold it carefully, smoothing out the creases before passing it across the table to him.

He takes the list from you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before he begins to read. You watch his face as he scans the items, his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, something almost reverent.

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s judging you for carrying out such a personal task, for holding on to a life that’s no longer yours.

But when he looks up at you again, there’s no judgment in his eyes — only empathy, and maybe even a touch of admiration.

“Have you done any of these yet?” He asks, his voice soft.

You nod your head. “I’ve only just started. The first item was to go to an F1 race ... that’s why I’m here.”

Charles’ gaze softens even more, and he nods slowly, as if understanding the weight of what you’ve shared. “And Paris?” He asks, his tone careful.

You can’t help but laugh a little, despite the heaviness in your chest. “Paris ... I mean, who doesn’t want to go to Paris? But I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to tick that one off the list.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, then he hesitates, as if he’s debating something in his mind. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and tentative. “You know ... the summer break has officially started. I don’t have another race for a month, and I don’t have anything I have to do for over two weeks.”

You blink at him, not quite understanding where he’s going with this. “Okay ...”

“I’ve always loved Paris,” he says, his gaze steady on yours. “And ... I know we’ve only just met, but I would love to help you tick off the second item on your list.”

You stare at him, your mind reeling from what he’s suggesting. Go to Paris? With him? It’s crazy — it’s absolutely insane. You don’t know him, not really, and the idea of going on such a personal trip with someone you’ve just met feels like stepping into a world that doesn’t belong to you.

But there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something in his voice, that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it’s not as crazy as it seems. Maybe it’s exactly what you need.

“Are you serious?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles nods, his expression earnest. “Sometimes the best things in life are crazy and spontaneous. And ... I know it’s a lot to ask, but I really would love to help you with this. I want to be there for you.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, a mix of emotions swirling inside you — fear, excitement, uncertainty, and something else you can’t quite name. It’s terrifying, the idea of letting someone new into your life, of opening yourself up to the possibility of connection, of loss.

But at the same time, it feels like a lifeline, like a chance to finally start living again.

“I ... I don’t know,” you stammer, unsure of how to respond. “It just seems so ...”

“Crazy?” Charles finishes for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Crazy.”

He leans back in his chair, studying you with those steady, kind eyes. “Maybe it is. But sometimes the craziest things turn out to be the most important.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you weigh the decision. It would be so easy to say no, to stay in your safe, controlled world where nothing ever changes. But where has that gotten you? Nowhere.

And then, almost without realizing it, you find yourself nodding, your voice small but determined. “Okay.”

Charles’ eyes light up with something close to relief, and he smiles at you — a genuine, warm smile that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this is the right choice.

“Okay?” He repeats, as if needing to hear it again.

“Okay,” you say again, a little more certain this time. “Let’s go to Paris.”

You both sit there for a moment, the reality of what you’ve just agreed to sinking in. It feels like the beginning of something — something that scares you as much as it excites you.

Charles reaches across the table, gently taking your hand in his. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sincere.

You look at him, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone in this.

***

You’re still reeling from the decision when the check arrives at the table. Charles grabs it before you can reach for your purse, waving away your protests with an easy smile.

“Trust me,” he says, his tone light but firm, “this one’s on me.”

You thank him, still half-convinced that this is all some surreal dream you’ll wake up from any minute. As you step outside, the cool evening air brushes against your skin, grounding you in the reality of what just happened.

You’re going to Paris. With Charles Leclerc. You glance at him, wondering how he can be so calm when your world has just been flipped upside down.

“Okay, so ... what’s the plan?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind races with all the logistics you need to sort out.

He turns to you with that relaxed smile, as if planning a spontaneous trip to Paris is the most natural thing in the world. “Plan? We drive back to the hotel, grab our things, and head to the airport.”

“The airport?” You blink at him, thrown by the suddenness of it all. “I haven’t even booked a flight yet. Or a hotel. Or anything.”

Charles chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. I’ve got it covered.”

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him that you can’t possibly let him do this, but he cuts you off before you can say a word.

“Really,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m an F1 driver, remember? I’ve got more than enough resources, and I want to do this for you.”

You stare at him, at the easy confidence in his tone, at the sincerity in his eyes. You know he means it, but it still feels like too much. “Charles, I ... I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not.” He steps closer, his expression softening. “This is something I want to do. For you. For your husband. Please, let me help you.”

There’s a quiet intensity in his voice that makes it impossible to argue. You nod slowly, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “Okay ... thank you. I just — I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you. “Just pack your things and meet me back here in a few minutes. We’ll take care of the rest.”

And just like that, you find yourself heading back to your hotel, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You pack quickly, throwing your essentials into your suitcase with trembling hands. The reality of what’s happening starts to sink in, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the sheer craziness of it all.

You pause, standing in the middle of the room with your half-packed suitcase, wondering if you’re really doing this. Paris. With a man you’ve just met. It’s all too surreal, too spontaneous, too-

There’s a knock on your door, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You open it to find Charles standing there, his expression calm and reassuring.

“Ready?” He asks, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah ... I think so.”

“Good.” He smiles, and somehow, that simple gesture is enough to steady you. “Let’s go.”

You follow him downstairs, your heart racing as he drives you both back to his hotel. He parks the car, and you watch as he disappears inside, returning a few minutes later with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“That’s it?” You ask, surprised at how little he’s carrying.

He nods, tossing the bag into the back seat. “The team will pack up the rest of my stuff and have it sent home later.”

You don’t have time to process the implications of that before he’s back in the driver’s seat, navigating the streets with the kind of ease that comes from years of traveling. You try to keep up with the conversation, but your mind keeps drifting to what lies ahead, to the sheer audacity of what you’re about to do.

It’s only when you pull up to a private airstrip that the full reality of the situation hits you. You step out of the car, staring in awe at the sleek, chartered jet waiting on the tarmac. The sight of it leaves you breathless, the sheer scale of what Charles is doing for you almost too much to comprehend.

“Charles ...” you begin, your voice catching in your throat.

He turns to you, his expression soft. “Yes?”

“This is ... I mean, I don’t know what to say. This is more than I could have ever imagined. Are you sure-”

“I’m sure.” His tone leaves no room for doubt, and he reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Come on. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

He leads you up the steps, and before you know it, you’re inside the luxurious cabin, sinking into a plush leather seat. Everything about the jet screams opulence — the polished wood accents, the soft ambient lighting, the quiet hum of the engines in the background. It’s the kind of luxury you’ve only ever seen in movies, and you can’t quite believe that it’s real, that you’re really here.

Charles takes the seat across from you, his expression relaxed as he buckles his seatbelt. “Comfortable?”

You nod, still too stunned to form a coherent response. He smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, and you realize that this kind of thing must be second nature to him. For you, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For him, it’s just another day in the life of an F1 driver.

“Just sit back and relax,” he says, as if sensing your thoughts. “We’ll be in Paris before you know it.”

The flight itself is smooth and uneventful, the hours passing in a blur of disbelief and quiet conversation. Charles keeps things light, sharing stories from his racing career, and you find yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. It’s easy to forget about your worries when you’re with him, easy to get lost in the charm of his stories and the warmth of his smile.

Before you know it, the plane begins its descent, and the lights of Paris come into view below, twinkling like a sea of stars. The sight of the city leaves you breathless, the sheer beauty of it almost too much to take in. You press your face to the window, unable to tear your eyes away from the breathtaking panorama of the City of Light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Charles’ voice is soft, and when you turn to look at him, there’s a wistfulness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside you. “It’s ... it’s perfect.”

The plane touches down smoothly, and within minutes, you’re whisked away in a sleek black car, driving through the streets of Paris as the city comes alive around you. The streets are bustling with life, the cafes and bistros glowing with warm light, the air filled with the sound of laughter and music.

It’s everything you’ve ever imagined and more, and you can’t believe you’re really here, experiencing it all with Charles by your side.

The car pulls up in front of an exclusive, centrally located hotel, and you step out onto the cobblestone street, your heart pounding in your chest. The hotel is grand, its facade illuminated by golden lights, and as you step inside, you’re greeted by a world of elegance and sophistication.

You barely have time to take it all in before you’re being led to a two-bedroom suite with the most stunning views of the Eiffel Tower you’ve ever seen. You stand by the window, staring out at the iconic landmark as it sparkles against the night sky, the reality of your situation hitting you all over again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles steps up beside you, his gaze focused on the view outside. “Believe it,” he says softly, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “You’re here. We’re here. And tomorrow, we’ll start checking off that list.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes filled with gratitude and something else — something you’re not quite ready to name. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that lights up his face. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I can be here for you.”

You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out and pull him into a hug. It’s a long, lingering embrace, filled with all the gratitude, all the emotion you can’t put into words. Charles holds you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that makes you feel safe, comforted, understood.

When you finally pull back, there are tears in your eyes, but they’re tears of relief, of something like hope. “Good night, Charles,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“Good night,” he replies, his voice just as soft. “Sleep well. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You watch as he heads to his own room, and then you turn back to the window, staring out at the glittering Eiffel Tower. It feels like a dream, but for the first time in a long time, it’s a dream you’re ready to embrace.

***

The sun is already high in the sky when you finally open your eyes, the weight of the past few days still pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The exhaustion is bone-deep, the kind that makes every movement feel like wading through thick syrup.

You stretch out in the luxurious hotel bed, the cool sheets tangling around your legs as you blink against the soft light filtering through the curtains. Paris. You’re in Paris. The thought slips through your mind, almost unreal, as if you might wake up any second to find yourself back in the monotony of the past year.

You sit up slowly, taking in the spacious room with its elegant furniture and the faint sounds of the city outside. It’s almost noon, you realize, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Just as you’re about to contemplate the day ahead, there’s a gentle knock on the door connecting your room to Charles’. You almost forgot about him for a second — almost.

“Good morning,” you call out, your voice still thick with sleep.

The door opens, and Charles steps in, a smile lighting up his face as he sees you. “Good afternoon, you mean,” he teases lightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I was beginning to think you might sleep through the whole day.”

You rub your eyes, shaking your head as you try to fully wake up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

He nods, his expression softening. “No rush. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

It’s that statement that hits you more than it should. All the time in the world. You used to believe that too. You push the thought away quickly, not wanting to drown in it.

“What’s the plan?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on this strange, wonderful day that’s somehow yours.

Charles grins, his eyes sparking with something mischievous. “How do you feel about lunch at a little café by the Seine?”

Your heart skips a beat. The café. The red awning. It’s what your husband wanted, what he wrote down on that list. You swallow, trying to keep your emotions in check. “That sounds perfect.”

Charles seems to sense the shift in your mood, his smile softening into something more understanding. He doesn’t push, just nods and steps back, giving you space to get ready. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

When he’s gone, you take a deep breath and head to the bathroom, the reality of where you are and what you’re doing starting to sink in. You can’t help but think of the letter, the list. Of the man who should be here with you instead of buried under the earth. You splash cold water on your face, trying to shake off the melancholy that clings to you like a second skin.

By the time you join Charles downstairs, you’ve managed to put on a smile, though it feels fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. He greets you with a warm, reassuring look, his eyes scanning your face as if to check that you’re really okay. You nod, and he leads you outside, where a car is waiting.

The ride to the café is quiet, filled with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of the city. Charles doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, and you’re grateful for that. Instead, he lets you stare out the window, watching as the streets of Paris unfold before you like a storybook.

When the car finally pulls up in front of the café, your heart clenches. There it is, just like your husband described it: the small tables lined up outside, the red awning casting a warm glow over everything, the view of the Seine just beyond. It’s almost too much. You hesitate, feeling a lump in your throat, but Charles is already out of the car, holding the door open for you.

“You okay?” He asks quietly, his gaze steady on yours.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “Yeah. Just ... it’s exactly like he said.”

Charles doesn’t say anything, just offers his arm in a gentle, old-fashioned gesture. You take it, letting him lead you to a table by the water. The waiter greets you with a smile, and Charles orders for both of you without hesitation — coffee and croissants, just like on the list.

The sun reflects off the Seine, making the water shimmer like it’s made of liquid gold. You sip your coffee slowly, savoring the rich taste, though your thoughts are a million miles away. You can almost see your husband sitting across from you, that goofy grin on his face as he tries to explain something in broken French to the waiter. You smile at the memory, even as it twists something painful deep inside you.

Charles doesn’t interrupt your thoughts, just lets you have this moment. You’re grateful for that. The croissants arrive, warm and flaky, and you find yourself laughing softly as you break off a piece, thinking of how your husband always complained that they never made them right back home. Here, though ... here they’re perfect.

“This was his favorite place,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “He talked about it all the time. Said it was the best spot in Paris, hands down.”

Charles listens, his eyes never leaving your face. “He had good taste.”

You smile, though it wobbles a bit. “He did.”

There’s a pause, a comfortable one, where you both just sit there, watching the world go by. It’s everything your husband wanted, everything he put on that list. And yet, it feels different — like you’re living a dream that isn’t entirely yours.

After a while, Charles speaks up, his tone gentle. “Have you thought about what you want to do next?”

You blink, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “Next?”

“With the list,” he clarifies, his eyes searching yours. “I mean, you don’t have to ... but if you want to keep going, I’d like to help.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Charles holds up a hand, cutting you off before you can start. “I know what you’re going to say,” he continues, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “And I’m telling you right now, you’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

You look at him, really look at him, and see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. It’s overwhelming, this kindness he’s showing you, this willingness to be a part of something so deeply personal. You don’t know what to say, how to express the jumble of emotions swirling inside you.

“Charles, I-” You falter, trying to find the right words. “This isn’t your responsibility. You’ve already done so much ...”

He shakes his head, cutting you off again. “It’s not about responsibility. It’s about doing something that feels right. And this — being here with you, helping you through this — it feels right.”

The tears well up before you can stop them, spilling over as you look away, embarrassed by how easily they come. Charles doesn’t say anything, just reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking on the words.

He squeezes your hand gently. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want you to feel obligated ...”

“I don’t,” he assures you, his voice firm but kind. “I promise you, I don’t.”

You nod, blinking away the last of your tears. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoes, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You smile back, a real one this time. “Okay.”

There’s a quiet moment where everything feels ... settled, like a weight has been lifted from your chest. It’s not gone — not by a long shot — but it’s lighter, more manageable. You can breathe a little easier, see a little clearer.

Charles leans back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “So, what do you say we finish this coffee, eat a few more croissants than is probably advisable, and then figure out what our next adventure is?”

You laugh, a real laugh that surprises you with its brightness. “I think I’d like that.”

And so you do just that. You sit there with Charles, sipping coffee and eating too many croissants, watching the world go by as the sun moves slowly across the sky. It’s peaceful, almost idyllic, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of something that might be happiness.

As the afternoon stretches into evening, Charles brings up the rest of the list again, but this time, you don’t try to wave him off. Instead, you find yourself talking about it, really talking, and it feels good to share it with someone who actually seems to care.

You tell him about the road trip with no destination in mind, about the other things your husband wanted you to experience. It’s bittersweet, but there’s a warmth to it too, a sense of connection that you didn’t expect to find.

“We’ll enjoy a few more days in Paris,” Charles says, his voice steady and reassuring, “and then we’ll hit the road. No plans, no deadlines. Just ... see where it takes us.”

You look at him, feeling that same pull, that same inexplicable draw that’s been there since the moment you met him. It’s crazy, all of this — crazy and spontaneous and completely out of your comfort zone. But maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

“Let’s do it,” you say, your voice stronger than you expected. “Let’s do the road trip.”

Charles’ smile broadens. “Perfect. We’ll make it an adventure.”

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a golden glow that seems to soften the world around you. You stretch in bed, feeling a lightness in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. There’s a sense of anticipation humming through your veins as you get ready, knowing that today marks the beginning of a new adventure.

When you step into the lobby, Charles is already there, leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. He grins when he sees you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Ready to go?” He asks, his voice warm.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Charles nods, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on, then.”

You step outside, and your breath catches in your throat. Parked at the curb is a sleek black Ferrari, its curves gleaming under the morning light. You glance at Charles in surprise, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Where did you get this?” You ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He chuckles, shrugging nonchalantly. “Let’s just say I know a guy.”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling up despite yourself. “Of course you do.”

Charles opens the trunk, helping you load your bags inside. There’s a thrill in the air, a sense of freedom that you haven’t felt in ages. Once everything is packed, he opens the passenger door for you with a small bow, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Your chariot awaits,” he says.

You roll your eyes, but the gesture makes your heart warm. You slide into the car, sinking into the plush leather seat as Charles walks around to the driver’s side.

“Ready?” He asks, his hand resting on the gear shift.

You glance over at him, meeting his gaze. There’s something reassuring in his eyes, something that makes you feel like, for the first time in a long time, everything might just be okay.

“Ready,” you say, and with that, he starts the engine, the car roaring to life.

The two of you set off, the city of Paris fading in the rearview mirror as the open road stretches out before you. There’s no set destination, no strict itinerary — just miles of road and the promise of wherever the day might take you.

For the first hour, you drive in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine and the wind rushing past your ears. You watch as the landscape changes, the bustling city giving way to rolling fields and quaint villages. The farther you go, the more the tension in your chest eases.

Eventually, Charles turns to you with a grin. “Pick a direction. Left or right?”

You blink, looking at the fork in the road ahead. “You’re letting me decide?”

“Of course,” he replies. “This is your adventure, after all.”

You hesitate for a moment, then point to the right. “Right.”

Charles nods and turns the wheel, the Ferrari smoothly gliding down the chosen path. “Right it is.”

The day passes in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You turn down random roads, sometimes doubling back when you realize you’re hopelessly lost, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no rush, no pressure to be anywhere but right here, right now.

You stop at a tiny roadside café for lunch, the kind of place where the menu is handwritten on a chalkboard, and the waitress knows the regulars by name. The food is simple but delicious, and you can’t help but savor every bite, feeling more alive than you have in months.

After lunch, you continue driving, the hours slipping away as you explore hidden corners of the French countryside. You pass through small towns where time seems to have stood still, with cobblestone streets and old stone houses that look like something out of a fairytale.

As evening approaches, you start to feel the weight of the day settling in your bones. You glance over at Charles, who looks just as content as you feel, his hand relaxed on the steering wheel.

“Should we start looking for a place to stay?” You ask, your voice soft.

He nods, glancing at a sign by the side of the road. “There’s a small inn a few miles ahead. We can try there.”

You hum in agreement, the idea of a cozy inn sounding perfect after a day on the road. The Ferrari winds its way through narrow streets until you arrive at the inn, a charming, ivy-covered building that looks like it’s been plucked straight out of a storybook.

Charles parks the car, and the two of you head inside. The lobby is quaint, with old wooden beams and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The innkeeper, a kindly older woman with a warm smile, greets you as you approach the front desk.

“Bonsoir,” she says in a lilting accent. “How can I help you?”

Charles steps forward, his voice polite as ever. “Bonsoir. We were hoping to get a room for the night.”

The innkeeper’s smile falters slightly, and she glances at the reservation book. “Ah, I’m afraid we are nearly full tonight. There is only one room left, and it has only one bed. I’m sorry.”

Your heart sinks, and you glance at Charles, unsure what to do. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you also don’t relish the idea of finding another place so late in the evening.

Charles, however, seems unfazed. He turns to you with a reassuring smile. “It’s up to you. We can stay or keep looking.”

You bite your lip, weighing your options. The day has been long, and you’re both exhausted. Finally, you nod. “Let’s stay.”

The innkeeper hands Charles the key, and he leads you upstairs to the room. It’s cozy, with a low ceiling and a large, comfortable-looking bed dominating the space. There’s a small window overlooking the garden, where the last rays of sunlight are casting everything in a golden hue.

You drop your bags by the door, glancing at the bed. It’s big enough for two, but the thought of sharing it with Charles makes your heart flutter nervously.

Charles seems to pick up on your hesitation. “I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, his tone gentle. “It’s no trouble.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his expression softening. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

You both get ready for bed, the atmosphere between you growing more relaxed. When you finally climb under the covers, you can feel the warmth radiating from Charles’ side of the bed, a comforting presence in the quiet room.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of the sheets as you try to find a comfortable position. Despite your earlier nerves, you find yourself inching closer to him, drawn by the sense of safety he brings.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the darkness.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice soft.

You close your eyes, letting out a slow breath. And then, almost without thinking, you shift closer, until your head is resting on his shoulder, your body curled against his side.

Charles tenses for a moment, and you almost pull away, but then his arm wraps around you, holding you gently. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you is enough. It’s not romantic or suggestive — just a simple, comforting embrace that makes you feel less alone.

You relax into his warmth, feeling a sense of peace wash over you that you haven’t felt in what feels like forever. The road trip, the bucket list, everything fades into the background as you allow yourself to just be in this moment.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of Charles’ arms, you can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — you’re starting to heal.

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the small inn room. You stir slightly, the warmth of the shared bed coaxing you into a slow wakefulness. Charles is still beside you, his breath even, his face relaxed in sleep. It’s almost surreal how peaceful this moment feels, as if the world outside has paused just for the two of you.

You turn onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow, and watch him for a moment. The lines of worry that usually crease his brow are gone, replaced by a serenity that makes him seem younger, almost boyish. You wonder how he manages to carry so much weight on his shoulders and still offer you comfort, still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The faint clatter of dishes from downstairs pulls you out of your thoughts. You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. The cool wooden floor sends a shiver up your spine as you pad over to the small window. The view outside is a picturesque scene of rolling hills and a cobblestone street winding through the tiny village. It’s the kind of place that feels untouched by time, where life moves at a slower, more deliberate pace.

A soft knock on the door startles you. You glance back at Charles, who stirs but doesn’t wake. Quietly, you open the door to find the innkeeper, a woman in her late fifties with a kind face and a warm smile.

“Good morning,” she whispers. “Breakfast is ready whenever you and your friend are.”

You nod, offering her a smile in return. “Thank you. We’ll be down soon.”

She leaves you with a slight nod, and you close the door softly behind her. Turning back to the bed, you see Charles is awake now, blinking away sleep. He stretches lazily, his eyes finding yours, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning,” he says, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “The innkeeper says breakfast is ready.”

He nods, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’ll be down in a minute. You go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod and head downstairs. The small dining area is cozy, with a fireplace crackling softly in one corner. The smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee fills the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation. You take a seat at one of the wooden tables, the innkeeper greeting you with a pot of coffee.

“Is it just the two of you?” She asks, pouring you a cup.

“Yes, just us,” you say, taking a grateful sip. The warmth of the coffee spreads through you, waking you up fully.

“Such a lovely young man,” she comments, a twinkle in her eye. “You’re lucky to have someone like him.”

You smile at that, unsure how to respond. Are you lucky? It feels strange to think of Charles in that way when the loss of your husband is still so fresh, still so raw. But you can’t deny that Charles has brought something into your life that you didn’t know you needed — comfort, companionship, and maybe even a little bit of hope.

Charles appears a few minutes later, his hair slightly tousled from sleep, but he looks more awake now. He greets the innkeeper with a polite nod before taking the seat across from you.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, reaching for a piece of the fresh bread.

“I did,” you admit. “And you?”

“Better than I have in a while,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you believe him.

The innkeeper returns with plates of food — scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and more of the bread you’ve already sampled. It’s simple, but it’s the kind of breakfast that warms you from the inside out, reminding you of the comforts of home.

As you both eat in companionable silence, Charles looks up at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Have you ever been to Monaco?”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard it’s beautiful, though.”

“It is,” he agrees, a smile playing on his lips. “Would you like to go?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Of course I would, but realistically, I know I probably never will. Life has a way of getting in the way of things like that.”

Charles’ smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s not true at all, actually.”

You raise an eyebrow, not sure where he’s going with this. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because my mother is expecting us for dinner tonight,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Wait, what?”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You heard me. We’re going to Monaco. My mother has been asking about you, actually.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find the words. “Charles, I ... I don’t know what to say. That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet, but I don’t want to impose. And we haven’t exactly been planning on going to Monaco.”

“You’re not imposing,” Charles insists, reaching across the table to take your hand. “She’s already expecting us, and it would make her really happy to meet you.”

You look down at his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. There’s something about the way he says it, so earnest and sincere, that makes it hard to say no.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your voice soft.

“Absolutely,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Let’s make the most of this adventure, okay?”

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s go to Monaco.”

The drive to Monaco is nothing short of breathtaking. The Ferrari roars to life as Charles maneuvers it expertly along the winding coastal roads, the Mediterranean Sea sparkling to your right. The windows are down, and the wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and the promise of something new.

Charles hums along to the music playing softly through the speakers, glancing over at you every so often with a contented smile. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart flutter, and you find yourself smiling back, unable to resist the infectious energy that seems to surround him.

When you finally cross the border into Monaco, it feels like stepping into another world. The city is a blend of old-world charm and modern luxury, with grand buildings perched on cliffs overlooking the sea and sleek yachts bobbing in the harbor. The streets are bustling with life, but there’s an air of sophistication and elegance that sets it apart from anywhere else you’ve been.

Charles navigates the narrow streets with ease, eventually pulling up in front of an apartment building that exudes quiet elegance. He cuts the engine and turns to you with a smile. “We’re here.”

You take a deep breath, your nerves suddenly kicking in. “I’m nervous,” you admit.

Charles reaches over and takes your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You have nothing to be nervous about. She’s going to love you.”

You nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach as you step out of the car. Charles comes around to your side, taking your hand once more as he leads you up the steps to the building. The door opens with a soft creak, and you find yourself in a beautifully decorated foyer, the scent of fresh flowers filling the air.

Charles leads you down a hallway, stopping in front of a door with a gold number plate. He looks at you, a reassuring smile on his face, before knocking softly.

The door opens almost immediately, and there stands a woman who can only be Pascale. She’s petite, with kind eyes and a warm smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees Charles, and she immediately pulls him into a hug.

“Charles, mon chéri,” she says, her voice filled with affection.

Charles hugs her back, and you can see the love between them in the way they hold each other, the way they speak without words. When they finally pull apart, Pascale turns her attention to you, her smile softening even more.

“And you must be Y/N,” she says, stepping forward to embrace you as well. Her hug is warm and comforting, the kind of hug that only a mother could give.

You hug her back, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of maternal warmth, and it brings tears to your eyes. But they’re good tears, the kind that remind you that maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to heal.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Pascale says, pulling back to look at you. “Charles has told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you reply with a small smile, trying to compose yourself.

Pascale laughs softly, a musical sound that fills the hallway. “Only the best.”

Charles takes your hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Shall we?”

Pascale nods, stepping back to allow you both inside. As you step into the warm, inviting space, you can’t help but feel a sense of belonging. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

***

Pascale’s apartment is cozy, filled with warm lighting and the comforting smell of something delicious simmering in the kitchen. You’re still standing by the door when she pulls you into a tight hug, her embrace firm yet gentle, and in that moment, you feel a wave of unexpected comfort.

“Welcome, mon ange,” Pascale murmurs in your ear, her voice soft and motherly, the kind you haven't felt in so long. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

You blink back the tears that suddenly prick at your eyes. There’s a part of you that’s still surprised to be here, in Monaco, of all places, with Charles — let alone meeting his mother. “Thank you,” you manage to say, feeling a little overwhelmed by her warmth.

Charles gives you an encouraging smile as he slips out of his shoes, motioning for you to do the same. “Come on,” he says lightly, “I told Maman we’d help with dinner.”

You glance at Pascale, who’s already moving toward the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Pascale calls over her shoulder. “You’re our guest, and in this house, guests are family.”

Charles nudges you playfully. “She means it. Better get in there before she tries to do everything herself.”

You follow them into the kitchen, trying to shake off the nerves that have settled in your stomach. The space is as welcoming as the rest of the apartment, filled with the sounds of something sizzling on the stove and the scent of fresh herbs. Pascale is already at work, her hands moving deftly as she chops vegetables with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Charles rolls up his sleeves and grabs a cutting board, handing you one as well. “Here,” he says with a grin, “let’s show Maman what we’ve got.”

You’re not much of a cook, but there’s something about the way Charles and Pascale move around the kitchen that makes you feel at ease. Before long, the three of you are working together, chopping and stirring and laughing as Pascale regales you with stories from Charles’ childhood.

“He was always getting into trouble,” she says with a fond smile, passing you a bowl of something that smells divine. “Climbing trees, chasing after the neighborhood cats ...”

“Maman,” Charles groans, but he’s grinning, his eyes sparkling with that same mischievous glint you’ve seen more than once.

You chuckle, picturing a younger Charles, wild and full of energy. It’s easy to see where he gets his charm — Pascale is a force of nature, and the love she has for her son is palpable in every word, every look she sends his way.

As dinner comes together, you find yourself opening up to Pascale in a way you didn’t expect. She asks about your life, your past, and though it’s hard to talk about your husband, something about her gentle demeanor makes it easier.

“I’m sorry,” you say at one point, when the conversation dips into quieter territory. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

Pascale shakes her head, her eyes full of understanding. “You didn’t, dear. It’s important to talk about the people we’ve loved and lost. It keeps them with us.”

Her words resonate with you, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting the warmth of the kitchen and the comfort of their presence wash over you.

“Your husband,” Pascale says after a beat, her voice soft. “He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was,” you whisper, your throat tightening with emotion. “He really was.”

Pascale reaches out, covering your hand with hers. “And you,” she says gently, “are an incredible woman.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod, swallowing back the tears that threaten to spill over. Charles catches your eye from across the kitchen, giving you a small, encouraging smile, and you feel a surge of gratitude for him — for bringing you here, for making you feel like you’re not alone.

Dinner is a simple affair, but it’s one of the best meals you’ve had in a long time. The conversation flows easily, and for a while, it feels like you’re part of something you’ve been missing for so long — a family.

At some point during the evening, you and Pascale find yourselves alone at the table. Charles has stepped out to take a call, leaving you with Pascale, who has been watching you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle, “when Charles told me about you, I could see how much he cares. He’s a good boy, my Charles, but he doesn’t let people in easily.”

You feel your cheeks warm under her scrutiny. “He’s been ... incredibly kind to me,” you say softly. “I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Pascale nods, as if she already knows. “He’s been through a lot, just like you. Losing his father, and then Jules ... it changed him.”

There’s a sadness in her eyes, and you realize that, like you, she’s carrying her own grief. “I’m sorry,” you say, the words feeling inadequate. “I didn’t mean to bring up-”

“Don’t apologize,” Pascale interrupts, reaching across the table to take your hand. “It’s good to talk about these things, to remember. Charles ... he doesn’t talk about it much, but I know it’s there, always.”

You nod, understanding all too well. The weight of loss is something that never truly goes away; it just becomes a part of you.

“I see a lot of his father in him,” Pascale continues, her voice wistful. “That determination, that drive to be the best. But it’s more than that. He’s got a good heart, my Charles. He cares deeply, even if he doesn’t always show it.”

You smile, thinking of the way Charles has been with you — patient, understanding, always knowing just what to say to make you feel better. “He does,” you agree. “He’s ... he’s been more than I could have ever asked for.”

Pascale’s gaze softens, and for a moment, she just looks at you, as if she’s seeing something she’s been hoping to find. “I’m glad he has you,” she says finally. “I think you’re good for each other.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just nod, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. It’s too soon to think about what all of this means, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder where this is going — what it could become.

Before you can dwell on it too much, Charles returns, his usual easygoing demeanor back in place. “Everything okay?” He asks, glancing between you and Pascale.

“Perfect,” Pascale replies with a smile, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you think she knows more than she’s letting on.

The rest of the evening passes in a comfortable blur, with more stories and laughter, and by the time you’re getting ready to leave, you feel like you’ve known Pascale for much longer than just a few hours.

As you’re putting on your coat, Pascale pulls Charles aside, and you see her lean in close, whispering something to him. He nods, his expression serious, and when he glances back at you, there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

“What did she say?” You ask when you’re finally alone with Charles, walking back to the car.

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just that she likes you,” he says simply. “A lot.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but there’s also a flicker of something else — something that feels a lot like hope.

“She’s wonderful,” you say honestly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Charles stops walking, turning to face you. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “I’m just glad you came.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re an incredible person, you know that?”

You blink, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. “I’m just trying to get by,” you admit quietly.

He nods, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer. “Aren’t we all?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just give him a small smile, hoping he understands.

You reach the car, and Charles opens the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slide inside. There’s something different in the air between you, something unspoken but undeniably there, and as you drive away from Pascale’s apartment, you can’t help but wonder what it all means.

What you do know, though, is that you’re not alone anymore — not really. Charles is here, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

***

The drive from Pascale’s apartment to Charles’ place is filled with comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional hum of the engine and the soft tunes playing on the car’s stereo. You find yourself stealing glances at Charles every now and then, noticing how relaxed he seems, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other is lightly to the rhythm of the music. His calmness was contagious, and you lean back in your seat, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

When the car finally pulls into an underground parking garage, Charles cuts the engine and turns to you with a soft smile. “Ready to meet Leo?” He asks, his tone almost teasing.

“Leo?” You echo, raising an eyebrow.

“My dog,” Charles clarifies, his smile growing. “He’s ... enthusiastic, to say the least.”

You laugh lightly. “I think I can handle enthusiastic.”

Charles leads you to the elevator, and a few moments later, you are stepping into a sleek, modern apartment. It is tastefully decorated, with large windows that offer a stunning view of the city. Before you could take in all the details, a high-pitched bark echoes through the space, and a small beige dachshund comes skidding around the corner, his tiny legs moving at lightning speed as he raced toward Charles.

“Leo!” Charles greets the dog with a wide grin, crouching down to scoop him up. The dachshund wiggles excitedly in his arms, his tail wagging furiously. “This is Y/N,” Charles introduces, turning Leo’s attention to you. “Be nice.”

You kneel down, and Leo wasted no time leaping from Charles’ arms to yours, showering your face with a flurry of enthusiastic licks. You can’t help but laugh as you try to fend off the affectionate assault, gently rubbing the little dog’s back.

“He’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Charles with a wide smile. But when your eyes meet his, you noticed the way he was watching you — softly, intently, as if seeing you in a new light. It was the kind of look you hadn’t seen since ... since James. The thought hits you with a sudden pang, but there is no sadness in it. Just a quiet, tender acknowledgment of the past and the present.

Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up. “I’m glad you like him,” he says, his voice a touch quieter now. “He’s been good company.”

You stand, Leo still wriggling happily in your arms. “I can see why.”

Charles smiles again, that same gentle warmth in his eyes. “Come on, let me show you to your room. I had one of the guest rooms made up for you.”

You follow him down a short hallway, the soft pads of Leo’s paws following close behind. Charles pushes open a door, revealing a cozy, well-appointed room with a large bed, a dresser, and a window that looks out over the city skyline. Your bags are neatly placed at the foot of the bed.

“I hope it’s comfortable enough,” Charles says, glancing around the room as if assessing it himself.

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, setting Leo down on the floor. The little dog immediately hops onto the bed, circling a few times before settling into a comfortable spot.

Charles chuckles. “Looks like you’ve already got company.”

You smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving Leo another affectionate pat. “He’s a good boy.”

There’s a pause, comfortable and full of unspoken things. Charles lingers by the door, as if he wants to say something but is weighing his words.

“If you need anything,” he finally says, “my room’s just down the hall. Don’t hesitate to knock.”

You nod, appreciating the offer more than you could put into words. “Thank you, Charles. For everything.”

His gaze softens, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something more. But instead, he simply nods, giving you a small, almost bashful smile before stepping back into the hallway.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, his voice warm and sincere.

“Goodnight, Charles.”

As the door closes behind him, you’re left alone in the quiet room, Leo’s soft breathing the only sound. You sit there for a moment, letting everything that had happened over the past few days wash over you. The unexpected kindness of a stranger who is becoming so much more, the gentle way he helped you navigate the grief that still lingered like a shadow ... and the way he looked at you, as if he saw something in you that you’d almost forgotten was there.

With a deep breath, you lie back on the bed, Leo curling up beside you. The city lights twinkle through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling a sense of peace that had eluded you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, you are beginning to heal.

And as you drift off to sleep, you find yourself thinking of the days to come, and the possibility of something new and beautiful growing from the ashes of what you’d lost.

***

The next morning, Charles is practically buzzing with excitement as he leads you out of his apartment and towards the harbor. His hand is warm and sure around yours, and you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, the kind of color that seems to only exist in this part of the world, with the sun glinting off the water and the scent of salt in the air. The harbor is alive with activity, the gentle hum of boats rocking in the marina, the occasional laughter of tourists, and the distant sounds of a city going about its day.

“I’m taking you to my favorite spot,” Charles says, his voice light and cheerful. “It’s a bit of a hidden gem. The tourists don’t usually find it, but the locals love it.”

You laugh softly, looking up at him as you walk side by side. “Sounds perfect. I’m always up for good food.”

Charles grins at that, his eyes twinkling with a boyish charm. “Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

The walk is leisurely, and as you near the harbor, you notice how Charles slows his pace, as if wanting to savor every moment. The way he talks about Monaco, you can tell how much he loves it here, how much this place means to him. It’s like seeing the city through his eyes, and you find yourself appreciating the little details more — the old stone buildings, the narrow streets, the way the sunlight reflects off the water.

The brunch spot is tucked away, a small, unassuming place with a few tables outside, shaded by a striped awning. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wafts through the air, and you immediately feel at home. Charles greets the owner like an old friend, exchanging a few words in rapid French before leading you to a cozy table by the window.

You sit down, and Charles orders for the both of you — pastries, fresh fruit, eggs cooked just the way you like them, and, of course, coffee.

As you sip your coffee and nibble on a flaky croissant, you take in the surroundings. The café is quaint and charming, with wooden tables and mismatched chairs, the kind of place where you could easily spend hours just watching the world go by. It’s clear that Charles has a deep connection to this place, and you feel honored that he’s sharing it with you.

“This place,” you say, setting your coffee cup down, “it’s perfect.”

Charles smiles softly, his gaze lingering on your face. “I knew you’d like it.”

For a while, the two of you talk about everything and nothing — his childhood in Monaco, your favorite books, the little things that make life sweet. There’s a comfort in the conversation, a sense of ease that comes from being with someone who understands you, who doesn’t need you to be anything other than yourself.

After brunch, Charles suggests a walk along the harbor. The day is warm, the sun high in the sky, and as you walk, you can feel the tension of the past few days begin to melt away. The conversation flows easily, laughter coming more often than not, and you realize how much you’ve missed this — missed feeling alive, missed the simple pleasure of being in the moment.

But as the afternoon wears on, the sky begins to darken. You glance up, noticing the heavy clouds gathering overhead, and before you can say anything, the first raindrop falls.

Charles looks up at the sky, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like we’re in for a bit of rain.”

You laugh, holding out your hand as the raindrops begin to fall faster, harder. “A bit? This looks like a full-on storm.”

The rain comes quickly, turning from a light drizzle to a steady downpour in a matter of moments. The tourists around you scatter, seeking shelter under awnings and in shops, but Charles doesn’t move. Instead, he looks at you, his expression playful, his eyes daring.

“Come on,” he says, taking your hand again, this time with more urgency. “Let’s do something crazy.”

You’re about to ask what he means, but then you see the look in his eyes, and you know. You know exactly what he’s thinking.

Without another word, he pulls you into the open, right into the middle of the empty street. The rain is cold against your skin, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything in this moment except the feeling of the rain on your face, the sound of Charles’ laughter, the way he spins you around like you’re in the middle of some grand ballroom instead of a rain-soaked street.

You let go. You let go of all the sadness, all the pain, all the fear. You let go and dance, not caring if you look silly, not caring if anyone is watching. It’s just you and Charles and the rain.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then, without even thinking, you lean in, and Charles is there, meeting you halfway. His lips are warm and soft against yours, a stark contrast to the cold rain, and you can feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your waist, holding you close, grounding you in this moment.

The kiss is slow, tender, as if Charles is trying to convey everything he’s feeling without saying a word. There’s a sense of rightness in it, like this is where you’re supposed to be, like this is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, the rain still pouring down around you, but neither of you seems to care. You look up at Charles, his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his face, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never danced in the rain before,” you say, your voice barely audible over the sound of the downpour.

Charles grins, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Neither have I. But I’m glad my first time was with you.”

You laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. “Maybe a little. But sometimes the best things in life are a little crazy.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. For the first time since you lost James, you feel like you’re truly living again. And it’s because of Charles.

The rain shows no signs of stopping, but you don’t care. You could stand here forever, in this moment, with Charles’s arms around you and the rain falling like a blessing from the sky.

But eventually, the cold starts to seep into your bones, and Charles pulls back, his hands still on your waist, his eyes searching yours.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he says softly. “We don’t want to catch a cold.”

You nod, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace, and together you make your way back towards the apartment, the rain still falling around you, but your heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

As you walk, Charles slips his hand into yours again, and you glance over at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. You’re not sure what’s happening between you and Charles, but for the first time, you’re not afraid of it. You’re not afraid to see where this might go.

When you reach the apartment, you’re both soaked to the bone, your clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin, but you’re laughing, unable to stop the joy bubbling up inside you.

Charles unlocks the door and ushers you inside, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think we might need to dry off a bit.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you look around the familiar space. Leo is waiting by the door, his tail wagging furiously as he barks excitedly, clearly not pleased that you both got caught in the rain without him.

Charles crouches down, rubbing Leo behind the ears. “Hey, baby. We didn’t mean to leave you out of the fun.”

Leo licks Charles’s face enthusiastically before trotting over to you, looking up with big, expectant eyes. You can’t help but smile as you reach down to pet him, feeling a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the rain.

Charles stands, his eyes soft as he watches you with Leo. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” he says gently, leading you down the hall.

You follow him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. There’s something about being here, with Charles, that feels right. Like maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And as Charles hands you a towel and one of his oversized shirts, you realize that maybe you’re finally ready to start letting go of the past and embracing whatever the future holds. With Charles by your side, it feels like anything is possible.

As you dry off and change into the warm, comfortable clothes Charles gave you, you can’t help but smile at the thought. Maybe this isn’t just about ticking off items on a bucket list. Maybe it’s about finding yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, it’s about finding something more.

***

You fall asleep that night, still feeling the warmth of Charles’ arms wrapped around you as he whispered a soft goodnight. His gentle kiss, tentative yet filled with an unspoken promise, lingers on your lips even as you drift into slumber.

But in your dreams, the world shifts.

You find yourself standing in a place both familiar and strange — a field of golden wheat, the sun setting in the distance, casting a warm, orange glow across the horizon. The sky is endless, blending into shades of pink and purple, as if the heavens themselves were painted with the softest brushstrokes.

And there he is. James.

He’s standing a few feet away, his back to you, hands in his pockets, the way he always used to stand when he was deep in thought. The wind rustles the wheat around him, and for a moment, you just watch him, your heart aching with the longing that never really goes away.

“James ...” Your voice is soft, trembling, almost afraid that speaking his name will shatter the dream.

He turns slowly, his familiar smile, that same one that used to make you feel like everything would be okay, spreads across his face. He’s exactly as you remember him — tousled brown hair, slightly crooked nose from that time he tried to impress you by skiing down a slope far too steep, and those eyes, those deep, warm eyes that always seemed to understand you better than you understood yourself.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice carrying the same teasing lilt that always made you laugh, no matter how bad your day had been.

You move towards him, your feet sinking into the soft earth, but it feels as though the distance between you never changes. The closer you try to get, the farther he seems. “I miss you,” you say, and your voice cracks under the weight of the words. “I miss you so much, Jamie.”

“I know,” he says, and his voice is soft, understanding. “I miss you too, but I’m here now.”

You finally reach him, your fingers itching to touch him, to feel his warmth, but there’s a hesitance within you, a fear that touching him will break the fragile illusion. “I’m scared,” you confess, the tears that have been gathering in your eyes finally spilling over. “I’m scared of moving on, of letting go … of forgetting you.”

James takes a step closer, and suddenly, he’s right in front of you. You can feel his warmth now, the comforting presence that had always been your anchor. He lifts a hand, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, just like he used to.

“You won’t forget me,” he says gently, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded heart. “You carry me with you, always. I’m a part of you, just like you’re a part of me.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, memorizing the feel of him, the sound of his voice. “But it feels like I’m betraying you … with Charles.”

James chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through you, filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in so long. “Charles Leclerc, huh?” He steps back slightly, enough to meet your gaze fully. “Never knew you had a thing for fast cars and dangerous men.”

You can’t help but smile through your tears. “He’s … different. He’s kind, and patient, and he makes me feel … alive again.”

“That’s good, Y/N,” James says, his tone earnest, as if he’s trying to make you understand something crucial. “That’s what I want for you. I don’t want you to be stuck in the past, living with a ghost. I want you to live, to be happy, to love again.”

“But you-”

“I’ll always be with you,” he interrupts gently. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here,” he says, pressing a hand over your heart. “But you need to let yourself be happy. You need to let yourself find love, even if it’s not with me.”

A sob escapes your lips, and you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle the sound, but James pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s okay to love someone else. I want you to. You deserve that.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling the scent that’s so uniquely him — earthy and warm, like freshly cut grass on a summer’s day. “I don’t know if I can,” you whisper. “It feels like losing you all over again.”

“You’re not losing me,” he reassures, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’re gaining something beautiful. And if you’re worried about my approval ...” He grins, that mischievous glint in his eye that you always loved. “I mean, he’s no Max Verstappen, but Charles Leclerc? I guess he’s almost good enough for you.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, even as tears continue to fall. It’s absurd, really, this moment, this conversation, but it’s exactly what you needed.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you murmur, shaking your head with a small smile.

James shrugs, a carefree gesture that was so him. “What can I say? I always had a soft spot for Max. But Charles … he’s got potential. Just … give him a chance, okay? For me?”

You nod, even though the idea terrifies you. “I’ll try,” you whisper. “For you.”

James smiles, a sad, but proud smile, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, the same way he used to when he wanted to comfort you without words. “That’s all I ask. And Y/N ... don’t wait too long, okay? Life is too short for that.”

“I won’t,” you promise, even though your heart is heavy with the thought of truly moving on.

James takes a step back, his form beginning to fade into the golden light of the sunset. “I love you, Y/N. I always will. But it’s time for you to live again.”

“Goodbye, Jamie,” you say, your voice trembling as he becomes more and more ethereal, like a shadow dissolving in the light. “I love you.”

He smiles one last time, his figure almost completely faded now. “And I love you. Always.”

The dream fades, and you’re left standing in that field of golden wheat alone, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting the world into twilight. But there’s a peace in your heart that you haven’t felt in a long time, a quiet acceptance that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to start letting go.

When you wake, your cheeks are damp with tears, but there’s a soft smile on your lips. You lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, replaying the dream in your mind, feeling the weight of James’ words settle in your heart.

You know what he said is true. You know it’s what he would want. And you know, deep down, that it’s time to start allowing yourself to heal, to open up, and to let someone else in.

And as you think of Charles, of his patience, his kindness, his quiet understanding, you can’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest — a hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find love again.

***

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Charles’ dining room, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. You sit at the table, trying to focus on the breakfast in front of you — a selection of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee that Charles had lovingly laid out. Yet, the thoughts swirling in your mind make it hard to concentrate. Charles sits across from you, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours, a small, contented smile playing on his lips.

The memories of the past few days are almost surreal: the unexpected road trip, the rain-soaked dance that ended with your first kiss, and the way Charles held you afterward, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It’s been a whirlwind, but a beautiful one. And yet, as you take a sip of coffee, reality nudges its way back into your thoughts.

“I ... I should probably head back home soon,” you say, your voice hesitant, as if saying the words might make them less real. “I need to get back to work.”

The air in the room shifts. Charles’ smile fades just a little, replaced by a look of understanding, tinged with something you can’t quite place. Sadness? Disappointment? He sets down his coffee cup, his fingers playing with the handle as if it could offer him some guidance on what to say next.

“Of course,” he replies, his tone gentle, though you can hear the effort it takes to keep it light. “You have responsibilities, a life back home ...”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches a moment into something heavier, more significant. The silence is thick, filled with the unspoken truth that neither of you wants to confront: this bubble of time you’ve been living in, where only the two of you exist, is about to burst.

“I like you,” you blurt out, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. They hang in the air, raw and vulnerable.

Charles looks up, his eyes locking onto yours. “I like you too,” he says, his voice low, steady, and filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat.

You both sit there for a moment, staring at each other, the weight of your mutual confession settling between you like a third presence at the table. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“I want to see where this goes,” you continue, your voice trembling slightly as you try to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know how ... I mean, you’re always traveling for the races, and I-”

“Come with me,” Charles interrupts, his voice firm, almost urgent. “To the next race. And the one after that. I don’t want this to be just a beautiful memory. I want you there with me, every step of the way.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing over the fears and doubts that had been quietly gnawing at the back of your mind. The idea of uprooting your life, of stepping into his world, is daunting — but the thought of not being with him is even more unbearable.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Are you sure?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to get in the way, or make things complicated.”

Charles leans forward, his hand reaching out to cover yours. His touch is warm, grounding. “You wouldn’t be in the way. I want this. I want you. And if it gets complicated, then we’ll figure it out together.”

The sincerity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. You’ve spent so long guarding your heart, protecting yourself from the pain of losing someone again, that the idea of opening up to love, to Charles, feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Two and a half weeks,” he continues, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s when the next race is. Come with me. We’ll have more time to figure this out, whatever this is.”

You nod slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay,” you say, your voice firming up with the decision. “I’ll come with you.”

A bright, relieved smile breaks across Charles’ face, and in that moment, you know you’ve made the right choice. Whatever happens, you’ll face it together. The thought is both comforting and thrilling.

Charles stands up, pulling you gently to your feet. “I think we should seal this decision properly,” he says, his tone light, teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood from becoming too serious. “And how do you propose we do that?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he steps closer, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he leans in, capturing your lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s different from the kiss you shared in the rain — this one is slower, more deliberate, filled with the promise of everything that could be. You melt into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders as you kiss him back, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dizzy, Charles rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented smile on his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion.

“So am I,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and anticipation.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. And as you stand there in Charles’ arms, the future doesn’t seem so scary anymore. In fact, it looks pretty damn wonderful.

***

18 Months Later

The cemetery is quiet, a solemn stillness that wraps around you and Charles as you walk down the winding path lined with weathered tombstones and ancient trees. The sky above is a muted gray, the kind that seems to reflect the heavy emotions you’ve been carrying with you.

Your hand is tightly clasped in Charles’, his grip firm and reassuring, but you can feel the slight tremor in his fingers. He’s nervous, though he tries to hide it behind a small, gentle smile.

You haven’t been here since the funeral, since that awful day when you laid James to rest. The thought of returning to this place has always felt too overwhelming, like reopening a wound that never fully healed. But now, over a year and a half later, you’re here again, and this time, you’re not alone.

You lead Charles to the spot where James is buried. It’s a modest grave, marked by a simple headstone that bears his name, his dates, and a short inscription that never fails to bring tears to your eyes: Beloved husband, healer of hearts, taken too soon.

Charles lets go of your hand as you kneel in front of the grave, gently brushing away the few leaves that have settled on the stone. You trace James’ name with your fingers, the cold granite grounding you in a way that words never could. Charles stands a few steps behind you, giving you space, but his presence is a comforting anchor in this sea of grief.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that, silent and lost in memories, before you finally speak. “Hi, James,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I-I brought someone with me. I think you’d like him.” You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your cheeks. “His name is Charles. He’s ... he’s very special to me. You’d probably think he’s not good enough for me, but you were always a little biased.”

A small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you glance back at Charles, who’s watching you with a mixture of love and concern. “Would you ... would you mind giving us a moment?” Charles asks softly, stepping forward. “I — I’d like to talk to James, if that’s okay.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the request, but the earnestness in his eyes makes you nod. “Of course,” you murmur, rising to your feet. You lean in to kiss Charles on the cheek, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping away, giving him the privacy he’s asked for.

Charles waits until you’ve moved a respectful distance away, then turns his attention to the grave. He takes a deep breath, crouching down so he’s at eye level with the headstone. He feels awkward, talking to a man he’s never met, a man who was such a huge part of your life. But he knows this is important, that he needs to do this — for you, for James, and for himself.

“Hi, James,” Charles starts, his voice low and unsure. “I-I hope you don’t mind me talking to you like this. I’ve heard so much about you, and I know how much you mean to her.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for loving her the way you did, for making her so happy. She deserves that, you know? She deserves all the happiness in the world.”

Charles’ throat tightens, and he has to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. He hadn’t expected this to be so hard, hadn’t expected to feel this intense connection to a man he never knew. “I’m ... I’m going to propose to her,” he finally says, his voice shaking. “And I wanted to ask for your permission, if that’s okay. I know I can’t replace you, and I wouldn’t want to. You’ll always be a part of her, and I’ll never try to take that away.”

He swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “But I love her, James. I love her so much, and I promise I’ll take care of her. I’ll do everything I can to make her happy, to make sure she feels loved every single day. I know she still loves you, and I’m okay with that. There’s more than enough room in her heart for both of us.”

Charles reaches out, placing a hand on the cool stone of the headstone, as if trying to make a connection with the man resting beneath it. “We’ve been talking about her moving to Monaco with me soon,” he continues, his voice steadying. “And I promise you, she’ll have free reign of my private jet to visit you whenever she wants. I’ll make sure she never feels like she has to choose between us.”

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I hope that’s okay with you, James. I hope ... I hope you’re at peace, wherever you are. And I hope you know that I’m going to love her with everything I have. I’ll do my best to make her as happy as you did. Thank you for that.”

Charles stays there for a moment longer, his hand still resting on the gravestone, before he finally stands. He wipes at his eyes, surprised to find them wet with tears, and glances over at you. You’re watching him, a mix of curiosity and love in your gaze, and he gives you a small, reassuring smile.

You walk back over to him, slipping your hand into his, and he squeezes it gently. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I ... I don’t know what you said, but thank you.”

Charles just nods, pulling you into a hug, holding you close as you both stand there in the quiet cemetery, the weight of your shared love and loss settling around you. It’s not an easy moment, but it’s one that feels right, like a necessary step forward in the journey you’ve been on together.

As you stand there in Charles’ arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. You know that James would have approved, that he would have wanted you to find happiness again, to find love again. And now, with Charles by your side, you finally feel like you can do that.

Eventually, you both turn to leave, hand in hand, walking back down the path toward the cemetery gates. As you reach the car, you glance back one last time at James’ grave, a soft smile on your lips. “Goodbye, Jamie,” you whisper. “Thank you for everything. I love you.”

Charles opens the car door for you, and as you slide into the passenger seat, you feel a sense of closure, of new beginnings. It’s not about moving on, you realize, but about moving forward — carrying the love you’ve known with you into whatever comes next.

And as Charles drives away from the cemetery, his hand resting on your thigh, you know that whatever comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

***

The reception hall is filled with soft, warm light, the kind that makes everyone look beautiful and the world seem perfect for just a moment. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter create a background hum that feels almost comforting in its familiarity.

You stand at the edge of the room, looking out at the faces of friends and family, people who have watched you navigate the hardest years of your life and who are now here to celebrate this new chapter.

Charles is beside you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back, a touch so natural that it feels like it's always been there. When he smiles at you, there's a quiet understanding in his eyes, a love that has grown deep and steady, rooted in the soil of shared grief and the careful, tentative steps toward healing.

You know he can feel your nervousness — he’s always been able to read you so well — but there’s no rush, no pressure. Just his presence, anchoring you as you take a deep breath and step forward to the microphone.

The room gradually quiets as people realize you’re about to speak. The lump in your throat feels almost too big to swallow, and for a moment, you think you might not be able to get the words out. But then you feel Charles’ hand squeeze yours, a silent encouragement that you can do this, and suddenly, it’s easier to find your voice.

“Thank you,” you begin, and your voice wavers a little, but it’s steady enough. “Thank you all for being here today. I know that every bride says this, but it really does mean the world to us that you’re here to share this day with us.”

You glance at Charles, who is watching you with that same soft look he had when you first met Leo. His eyes are full of pride and love, and it gives you the strength to continue.

“Most of you know that today isn’t just about celebrating the love that Charles and I share, but it’s also about honoring the past that brought us here,” you say, and you can see some people nodding, their smiles tinged with understanding. “A few years ago, I lost my husband, James. He was an incredible man — kind, compassionate, and so full of life. And when he passed, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, let alone find love again.”

Your voice catches, and you have to pause to take another breath. The room is silent now, everyone hanging on your words.

“James left me a letter,” you say, and there’s a faint murmur as people who don’t know the story lean in, intrigued. “In that letter, he left me a bucket list of things he wanted me to experience, things he wished we could have done together but that he wanted me to do in his memory.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out the now well-worn piece of paper, carefully unfolding it as you speak. “The last item on that list was to find love again.”

A few people gasp quietly, and you can see some wiping their eyes, moved by the weight of those words. You feel your own tears threatening to fall, but you blink them back, determined to finish what you’ve started.

“For a long time, I didn’t think I could,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think it was possible to let someone else into my heart after losing James. But then, I met Charles.”

You turn to look at him, and he smiles at you, a smile that is both gentle and reassuring. “Charles showed me that it’s okay to love again, that my heart is big enough to hold all the memories I have of James while still making room for new ones with him. He’s been patient, understanding, and so, so kind. And I know that James would have loved him just as much as I do.”

Charles’ eyes glisten with unshed tears, and when he squeezes your hand again, it’s not just to comfort you — it’s a shared moment of recognition, of understanding that this journey has been just as profound for him as it has been for you.

“I know that some people say you can only have one great love in a lifetime,” you continue, your voice growing steadier with each word. “But I think I’ve been incredibly lucky, because I’ve had two.”

The room is filled with the sound of sniffles and soft murmurs of agreement. You can see your family, who has been there through it all, nodding and smiling through their tears.

“So today, as we celebrate this new beginning, I want to take a moment to honor the man who brought us here. James, wherever you are, thank you. Thank you for loving me enough to let me go, for knowing that I needed to find happiness again. I know you’re here with us, in spirit, and I hope you’re proud.”

You pause, your heart heavy but full. “And to Charles, my Charlie … thank you for being brave enough to love me, even when it wasn’t easy. Thank you for showing me that it’s okay to hold on to the past while embracing the future. I promise to love you with all of my heart, forever and always.”

The room is silent for a long moment after you finish speaking, and then the applause begins — soft at first, then growing louder as people rise to their feet, clapping not just for you and Charles, but for the love that has brought you both here, and for the man who made it all possible.

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to your temple as the applause swells around you. “I love you,” he whispers, and you can hear the emotion in his voice. “Thank you for sharing that with everyone. It was perfect.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice thick with tears. “And thank you, Charlie. For everything.”

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, dancing, and celebration. But the memory of your speech, of standing up in front of everyone and sharing your heart so openly, will stay with you forever. And as you and Charles step onto the dance floor for your first dance as husband and wife, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that James is watching over you both, smiling as you take this next step forward together.

The music begins to play, a soft, romantic melody that wraps around you like a warm embrace. Charles pulls you closer, his arms around your waist as you sway together, and for the first time in a long time, you feel complete. It’s not that the pain of losing James has disappeared — it never will — but it has softened, and in its place, there is a new kind of love, one that is just as strong, just as true.

As you dance, you rest your head against Charles’ chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The guests fade into the background, and it’s just the two of you, moving together in perfect harmony. You know that this moment, this dance, is the beginning of a new chapter, one that you never imagined you would have, but one that you are so grateful for.

When the song ends, Charles lifts your chin with his finger, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Instead, you press your lips to his in a tender kiss, one that says everything you can’t put into words. Charles holds you close, and as you pull back, you see the tears in his eyes, a mirror of your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and Charles smiles, his thumb brushing away the tear that slips down your cheek.

“No, thank you,” he says, his voice full of love and admiration. “For letting me be a part of this, for trusting me with your heart. I promise, I’ll take care of it.”

And as you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that you’ve found what James wanted for you all along — someone who will love you just as deeply, just as fiercely, as he did. Someone who will walk with you through the good times and the bad, who will hold your hand and guide you through the darkest days, and who will celebrate the bright ones with joy and laughter.

You’ve found love again, just like James wanted, and it feels like coming home.

***

You park the car under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you step out, Charles following behind, holding Jacques in his arms.

The baby is cooing, tiny hands grabbing at Charles’ shirt as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. You pause for a moment, breathing in the cool air, trying to gather the courage to walk towards the familiar grave that you’ve avoided for so long.

Charles adjusts Jacques in his arms, the baby’s chubby legs kicking slightly as he looks around, taking in the new surroundings with wide eyes. You glance at Charles, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod. But this time, there’s no pressure. He’s letting you take the lead, letting you go at your own pace.

The last time you were here, you and Charles had just gotten engaged. The memory of Charles standing by James’ grave, asking for his blessing, is still vivid in your mind. And now, two years later, everything has changed. You’re married to Charles, and you have a beautiful baby boy. But standing here, in front of the man you once loved with all your heart, the weight of everything comes crashing down.

You take a deep breath and start walking towards the grave. The headstone is simple, elegant, just the way James would have wanted it. Fresh flowers have been placed there recently — probably by James’ parents, who visit regularly. A pang of guilt twists in your chest. You should have come sooner.

When you reach the grave, you kneel down, brushing your fingers lightly over the engraved letters of his name. The silence is thick, filled with everything you want to say but can’t find the words for. Charles stays a few steps back, giving you space, though you can feel his presence like a warm anchor, grounding you.

“Hi, Jamie,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling. “It’s ... it’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry for not visiting sooner.”

The words catch in your throat, and you have to pause, blinking back tears. You thought you were prepared for this, but being here, with so much time having passed, it’s harder than you imagined.

“I wanted to come sooner, but ... everything just got so overwhelming,” you continue, your voice breaking. “I’ve missed you so much. And I know you’re watching over us, but I needed to feel like I could do this ... like I could come back here and tell you everything.”

You glance back at Charles, who is now sitting on the grass with Jacques in his lap. The baby is looking up at the sky, oblivious to the somber mood, a tiny smile playing on his lips. When you turn back to the grave, the tears you've been holding back finally spill over.

“I want you to meet someone,” you say softly. You reach back, signaling Charles to bring Jacques over. Charles carefully lifts Jacques, walking over to you, and gently hands him to you. The baby gurgles, his small hand wrapping around your finger instinctively. You hold Jacques close, your tears falling onto his soft hair.

“This is Jacques,” you whisper, looking down at your son. “He’s named after you and Jules. Charles and I wanted to honor you both in some way.”

The name had been something you and Charles had discussed at length. When you found out you were pregnant, there was no hesitation in your minds who you wanted to name your son after. It felt like the right thing to do, like a way to keep a part of James alive in your new life.

“He’s ... he’s so beautiful, James,” you continue, your voice trembling with emotion. “I wish you were here to see him grow up. To be a part of his life. But I promise, I’ll tell him all about you. About how amazing you were, and how much you loved helping others. He’ll know his name carries a legacy.”

Jacques wiggles in your arms, and you press a soft kiss to his forehead. The tears continue to fall, but now they’re mixed with a sense of bittersweet acceptance. You look up at the sky, the clouds shifting lazily, and you wonder if James is watching, if he’s smiling down at you.

You glance at Charles, who is watching you with those soft eyes that seem to hold all the love in the world. He’s been so patient, so understanding, and in this moment, you realize how incredibly lucky you are to have found love again. It’s not something you ever thought would be possible, but here you are, standing between the past and the future, with a heart big enough to hold them both.

“Charles has been amazing,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d like him, James. He’s so kind, and he understands ... he understands everything I’ve been through. He’s been so good to me, and to Jacques. I think you’d be happy to know that we found each other.”

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting, a reminder that you’re not alone in this. Jacques babbles, his tiny fingers reaching up to touch Charles’ face, and Charles chuckles softly, nuzzling his nose against Jacques' cheek.

You close your eyes, leaning back into Charles, letting yourself feel the full weight of the moment. The grief, the love, the hope — all of it swirling inside you like a storm that’s finally starting to calm.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I always will. But I’ve learned that it’s okay to move forward. To let myself be happy again. And I think ... I think you’d want that for me.”

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves in the trees, and for a brief moment, you swear you can feel James’ presence — like a gentle touch on your shoulder, a whisper in your ear, telling you that it’s okay. That he’s at peace, and he wants you to be too.

You turn slightly, pressing a kiss to Charles’ cheek, then look back at the grave, feeling a sense of closure that you didn’t think was possible.

“We’ll be back to visit,” you promise, your voice steadying. “I won’t wait so long next time. And Jacques will grow up knowing who you were, what you meant to us. He’ll know his name is special.”

Charles squeezes your hand, and you nod, letting him know you’re ready to go. You stand, brushing off your pants, and take one last look at James’ grave. The flowers sway gently in the breeze, and you feel a strange sense of peace settle over you. It’s not goodbye — it’s more of a “see you later.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles keeps his arm around your waist, holding you close. Jacques is still babbling happily, completely unaware of the emotional weight of the visit. But that’s okay — he’ll understand when he’s older. For now, you’re just grateful to have this moment, to feel like you’re honoring both the past and the future.

When you reach the car, you carefully buckle Jacques into his car seat, making sure he’s secure before you get in. Charles closes the door behind you, and as he starts the engine, you glance back at the grave, giving a small nod as if to say, “Thank you.”

As the car pulls away, you lean your head against the window, watching the trees blur past. Charles reaches over, taking your hand in his, and you smile softly, squeezing his hand in return.

It’s a long drive back home, but you don’t mind. You have everything you need right here with you. And as you close your eyes, letting the gentle motion of the car lull you into a peaceful state, you realize that this is what James wanted for you — to find love again, to be happy, to live your life to the fullest.

And you will. For him, for Jacques, for Charles, and for yourself.

[lovelyflowers-world]

Lemon Girl

So I thought about this when listening to Lemon boy by cavetown I think it's pretty good I don't know though

Percy Jackson x Reader

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

There once was a bitter sweet man and they called him lemon boy 

It was never easy being the daughter of Nyx people never seemed to want to be near me because my mother was one of the most feared goddesses she was even feared by Zeus himself.

 So I kept to myself in the garden I planted away from everyone in my own bitterness. Until he came around he was like a dam weed he just wouldn't go away no matter how much I pushed him to go away. 

"I'm Percy. Percy Jackson son of Poseidon"

"(Y/N) daughter of Nyx please go away you're stepping on my carrots" 

He was growing in my garden and I pulled him out by his hair like a weed and like weeds do he only came and grew back again 

It seemed no matter how long or hard I pushed and pushed he was always there waving to me or by my side trying to speak to me 

"What are those?" 

"They're snapdragons" 

"And what are those" 

"Fly traps" 

So I figured this time I might as well let him be 

After awhile I got used to him being around so much it seemed like he just became a part of my routine like clockwork he was there every day after his practices so I thought 'might as well put him to work' 

"Wait so how do I do this?" 

I rolled my eyes "If they've fully blossomed cut them and take out the thorns and put them in the bucket sound simple?"

"okay got it!" 

He never seemed to complain always happy to be there 

Lemon boy and me started to get along together I helped him plant his seeds and we mowed the lawn in bad weather

"So you're just going to dig a small holes about four inches deep and plant your seeds and if we take care of it good enough you'll have a watermelon patch" I looked over to him and smiled 

He smiled back and nodded and got to work. He never seemed to care about all the dirt and bugs he'd had to encounter 

But soon his bittersweet started to rub off on me 

I looked over and saw Clarisse picking on Percy I ran over 

"HEY!" They looked over to me Clarisse was scared as shit "Why don't you go shove your spear up your ass or something Clarisse!" I grabbed Percy and pushed him away as we walked off 

"Thanks" I looked to him and rolled my eyes 

"Yeah well I wasn't doing it for you I was doing it because she almost pushed you into my lilies" I blushed and ran off 

"GET TO WORK SEAWEED BRAIN!" 

I found out that my friends are more of the savory type and they weren't too keen on compromising with a nice lemon pie

"why are you hanging out with her?!" 

I looked over and saw Percy talking to Annabeth they looked to me and I looked away 

"She's nice I actually really like hanging out with her" 

"She's bad news Percy her mom is the goddess of night of darkness!" 

I sighed and walked further away I knew this day would come he'd leave soon enough 

"Hey I picked the oranges you asked for" 

I looked over and he was smiling at me...maybe he wasn't going to leave 

But what if I run out of fertilizer?

"Idiot! Be careful!" 

I grabbed onto Percy's hand pressing a towel against it he cut himself on a knife cutting off a piece of orange for himself 

"Aw does the big bad bitter (Y/n) care about me?" 

I rolled my eyes and applied more pressure than necessary on his wound and walked away 

"As if I'd care about you seaweed brain" 

What if the clouds run out of rain?

"You're going on a quest?" 

"Yeah it shouldn't take long we're just going to track down a demigod who needs help" 

I looked at him I was concerned what if Percy didn't come back I'd be all alone again I'd loose the only friend I've had in my fifteen years of being here 

"Hey don't worry I'll be okay I have Annabeth and Grover to help me" 

He smiled and I nodded he hugged me I was so surprised 

"take care of my watermelon patch" 

I rolled my eyes and pat his back and sighed 

"You better come back or else I'll rip your your watermelon patch and plant a lemon tree" 

He laughed oh gods please let him come back home safely 

What if Lemon boy won't grow no longer?

It's been a month and Percy hasn't come back I've been more worried than I ever have been as I continued to cut the roses I heard footsteps 

"(Y/N) here Chiron asked me to deliver this to you" 

I turned around and saw a child of Hermes hand me a letter sealed with a brown envelope I smiled up at them they looked stunned 

"Thank you" 

I got up and walked away 

"Did she just tell you thank you?!" 

"Oh my gods" 

"Percy definitely changed her" 

I rolled my eyes and walked into my cabin and looked at the letter reading the name 

"Percy" 

What if beaches dry of sugar cane?

Run. 

That was the only thing on my mind as I ran in the rain my clothing soaked to the max I could care less about that I had only one thing on my mind 

"PERCY!" 

I ran toward the med cabin 

The whales start to beach themselves

People were trying to push me back keeping me from going inside 

"STOP! STOP I HAVE TO SEE HIM!" 

I pushed them all back and ran into Chiron we just stood silent in front of each other it was like I was communicating with him 'please I have to see him' 

He moved aside 

Tortoise shells tear away from their spines

I walked up to his bed slowly Grover and Annabeth by his sides looked to me 

"We're sorry (Y/n) we tried to stop him but he was trying to protect the new demigod and..and he got hurt" 

It happens all the time, it happens all the time

I don't even know who was talking to me I was too busy staring at Percy his body battered and bruised a large gash on his stomach that was bandaged 

They up to me patting me on the shoulder and walked away to leave me alone with him I walked up to his side and fell to my knees hugging his waist crying into it 

"Percy..Percy you stupid idiot you said you'd be safe"

Lemon Boy and I, we're gonna live forever

I woke up to the sound of Percy taking a deep breath I moved away from him and he looked at me confused 

"(Y/N)?" 

I wasted no time in hugging him I was crying even harder than last night 

"Percy! Percy you idiot I told you to be safe! What the hell!?" 

He chuckled and hugged me back tightly he moved me back a bit to look me in the eyes 

"I thought you didn't care about me?" 

I smiled and shook my head 

Like Snufkin and Little My, we'll get around wherever

Me and Percy were walking through camp flowers in hand handing them out to people my roses grew beautifully this season all thanks to Percy 

"Imagine that Percy Jackson and (Y/n) (L/n)?" 

"She seems a lot less bitter with him around" 

"I like it" 

I smiled and walked closer to Percy bumping my shoulder with his 

"where to next seaweed brain?" 

Lemon Boy and I, we're gonna live forever

Me and Percy were running around past curfew laughing hand in hand  

"Percy where are we going?!" 

"You'll see" 

He looked back at me for a moment before looking forward again running faster I laughed louder 

"Percy hold on!" 

Like Snufkin and Little My, we'll get around wherever

We stopped at my garden under my lemon tree there was a nice picnic set out 

"Percy? is this-" 

"For us? Yes yes it is" 

He dragged me to the blanket and sat me down handing me a plate 

"Lemon pie?" 

"I know it's your favorite" 

I blushed and looked away embarrassed I looked up to sky the stars and moon looked beautiful 

"They're not as beautiful as you" 

I probably looked like a cherry now jeez this boy is going to kill me 

It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

Me and Percy were working in the garden when a few other people came around 

"Hey can we help you (Y/n)?" 

"Yeah I want to help too!" 

"Can you teach me how to care for my plants they're starting to die" 

I was getting overwhelmed by all the talk happening that's when Percy stepped in 

"Hey back off my girlfriend will you one at a time" 

'Girlfriend!?' 

Cause we're the bitterest boys in town

Me and Percy were sitting by the lake watching the sunset He leaned his head on my shoulder 

"So about what happened earlier- I didn't mean to call you my girlfriend- I mean not that I would mind for you to be my girlfriend I would love that- but of course you have a choic-" 

Cause we're the bitterest boys in town

I kissed him and once I pulled away I looked at him and smiled 

"I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend Percy" 

I leaned my head on his shoulder as I looked back to the sunset I heard him sigh in relief 

"cool" 

He leaned his head on top of mine 

Yeah I definitely got used to him and I don't regret it 

And I got myself a citrus friend

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Go check out my fanfiction Riptide on wattpad link in my page <3

[scoonsalicious]

7.2 Bucky*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (oral (m receiving)).

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: Bucky surprised you with a night-time picnic. You exchanged dog tags, and now things have taken a sexy turn.

A/N: Fair warning, this and the next two sections are smut! Hurray!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky Barnes was convinced in that moment he’d died and gone to heaven. How else could he explain the sight before him? Major, on her knees, completely naked in the middle of the woods, save for his dog tags around her neck, body glowing under the candlelight of the lanterns as she palmed his aching erection through his jeans, telling him how much she wanted it down her throat. 

But Bucky knew that a man who carried as many sins on his back as he did had no hope of finding paradise in the afterlife, so this could only be the real thing. He watched with mouth hanging open as Major crawled up his body, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. “Help a girl out and lift your hips, Sergeant?” she asked him with a smirk.

Bucky let out a low groan as he obliged, lifting his hips from the blanket so Major could pull his pants off his legs. Once she’d removed them, she tossed them aside atop her own pile of discarded clothes. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, “you sure look pretty, Sarge. Let’s get that shirt off.” Bucky made a move to reach for the hem of his shirt, but Major tutted him. “Let me take care of you tonight,” she said. “You always do such a good job of making me feel good; I want to return the favor.” Her hands reached to his waist, dragging his shirt up and over his torso, then his head, and Bucky thought he was going to cum on the spot. He’d never been with a woman so… enthusiastic? Insatiable? Commanding? All of the above, he thought. 

Once she had his shirt off, she leaned back on her haunches and studied him, licking her lips as she took him in. “I just want you to lay back and let me do all the work, okay?” she asked him. 

Bucky found he couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat but did as Major asked, leaning back on his elbows so he could watch her. She locked eyes with him, and he expected her to take his briefs off of him the way she had his pants, but instead, she leaned down and began to nuzzle his cock with her cheek through the fabric.

He sucked in a breath as she drew her nose along his clothed length. As he grew harder, she began sucking open-mouthed kisses against him. While Bucky couldn’t wait to feel her warm mouth against his sensitive skin, the friction the fabric was providing as she worked on him was divine.

“Fuck, sugar,” he grunted as her palm rolled over him. The gray fabric of his boxer briefs was already dark with precum, but Major added to the growing wet patch with her saliva. “If I don’t get these off soon, it’s gonna be the second pair I’ve ruined because of you in two days.”

Major laughed, her mouth so close to Bucky’s groin, he could feel the vibration of it in dick. “Wouldn’t want that,” she said teasingly. “No washer and dryer out here in the woods. Though, I suppose you could rinse them out in the stream and I could fuck you until they’re dry.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky asked, his laugh turning into a gasp as Major rolled his boxer briefs down his hips, setting his erection free.

“Nope, just this fat cock,” Major said, winking at him. Once she’d slid his underwear down to his knees, she leaned forward and gave his cockhead a featherlight kiss. Bucky grunted and arched his back. Who knew the softest of touches could feel so fucking good?

Major licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of Bucky’s cock from the base to the tip, and Bucky nearly came right then. He tried to think of any and everything he could come up with to stave off his orgasm as Major took him fully into her mouth. 

He settled on the 1941 Brooklyn Dodgers. 

Major’s tongue around his tip, dancing over its weeping slit and Bucky bent his knees to brace himself against the ground… 

Winning the Pennant for the first time in 21 years over the Cardinals. 

Her cheeks hollowing as her mouth tightened around him, enveloping him in her warm heat… 

Losing the World Series to the goddamn Yankees, 3 to 1 in the fifth and final game. 

Her tongue sliding along the underside of his cock as her head began to bob back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust. 

Higbe and Wyatt pitching their best seasons. 

The feeling of her nose brushing up against the curly hairs of his pubic bone… 

Eight hundred runs, the highest in the league and – Jesus fucking Christ, was she actually swallowing around him?!

It was too much. Despite his best efforts, everything she was doing to him felt too wonderful, too euphoric for him to continue to think straight, let alone try and hold back. “Fuck, sugar, pull off; ‘m gonna cum,” he grunted, but Major didn’t retreat. If anything, her eyes took on a sardonic look and she gripped his thighs tighter and began moving her head faster than she had before. God, Bucky thought as he watched her from between his legs, she looked a vision, the way she was devouring him. With her eyes locked on his, and the flickering shadows dancing in the candlelight, she looked like something out of ancient myth, a goddess of fire and lust, of darkness and passion. And he was a willing sacrifice to her alter.

The candlelight reflecting off the silver tag around her neck that bore his name. Of all the mere mortals that roamed the planet, Major had selected Bucky Barnes to bestow upon him the honor of seeing her, like this, in all of her divine glory. 

With a grunt that bordered on a growl, Bucky came at that thought– the thought that someone like her felt that he, of all people, was worthy. He could feel seemingly never-ending ropes of his cum spurt from his cock, and he was fully expecting Major to pull away– none of the other girls he had ever been with could seem to withstand the amount of cum the serum led him to produce, but Major? Major continued to suck him like he was a straw, as though she were trying to draw every ounce of cum out of Bucky’s balls and take it down her throat. And by the gleam in her eye, she seemed to actually be enjoying it. 

After what felt like the longest orgasm of Bucky’s very long life, he finally stopped, his cock beyond sensitive. Bucky’s elbows gave out and he fell onto his back, gasping for breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum that hard. Gently, Major slid herself off of him. She wiped at her mouth gently with a hand, then moved to grab one of the extra blankets Bucky had brought for their picnic. She carefully draped it over him, then crawled up alongside his body to mold herself along his length.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tracing a gentle finger along the line of his jaw.

Bucky sucked in a gulp of air before turning to face her. “You…” he began, not even sure where he was going with his thought, he was so lost in the post-orgasmic fog of his brain, “you are fucking magic.”

Major pressed her forehead against Bucky’s shoulder and snickered. “If you say so,” she told him. 

“I do say so,” Bucky said, still trying to catch his breath. “I just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” Major said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[motherofdogs1010]

A Jedi in Arrakis IV (Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: jedi!reader, eventual 18+, NSFW, angst, fluff, mentions of virginity loss, smut/pinv!sex, oral sex (fem! receiving), talks of questioning the Force and teachings, spoilers for Dune Part I and II, eventual marriage, House Harkonnen soldiers are a warming themselves

A/N: I'm not sure if the Sign Language used in Dune has a name so I gave it a name, hope that's okay!

Banner @vase-of-lilies Dividers @firefly-graphics

Part I Part II Part III

Kissing Paul felt magnetic and her lips burned with desire against his as he slowly began to nudge her back against the sofa, him hovering over her as she tangled her fingers in his dark curls.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N panted heavily as their eyes locked one again as she saw Paul's flushed face.

"It feels as if I'm breathing my first breath of air", Paul whispered before bringing their lips back together into another feverish kiss.

She could feel Paul's hands mapping out her body, feeling every inch of her as he broke the kiss to begin nipping and kissing parts of her neck as she lifted her hips when she felt his hand trailing under the nightgown towards her undergarments.

She let out a breathy gasp as she felt Paul press his thumb down into the wet patch that had been slowly forming before he just began to tear at her underwear.

She knew she should stop him, but she couldn't. These feelings felt so wrong yet also right as she cried out in pleasure when Paul move away from her as he began to discard his shirt. Y/N brought her hand up to his torso, her nails lightly scratching down his chest as Paul shuffled down his way as he gripped her night dress, pushing it up until it pooled around her hips and exposed herself to him.

She panted as Paul gripped her thighs and pushed them back, butterflying her legs in a way that exposed her entirely to him before he dove into her cunt. Using his hands to spread her lips more as her thighs rested on his shoulders as she could feel him devour her; she cried out as he took her clit into his mouth and sucked harshly, her hands diving into his mop of hair and tugging.

"Paul", she cried, Paul groaned as she tugged and the sensation made her toes curl.

She could feel the way he licked and thrusted his tongue into her cunt like he was trying to map her out. Tears of pleasure were rolling down her cheeks as he shook his face to and for, the clenching she could feel building in her stomach was an unfamiliar one that accompanied her pleasure that Paul was giving her as she felt one of his hands travel up her body and grasp one of her clothed breast, fondling it as her body was so overwhelmed with sensations.

Sensations that were forbidden to feel by the Order but she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop herself from cumming on Paul's tongue with choked sobs and letting him overstimulate her to more tears before he pulled away and through those tears, she could see the obvious erection that he possessed.

She sat up and brought Paul's lips back down onto hers, tasting herself as Paul groaned as she palmed his erection.

"Later, love", Paul groaned, helping her discard her night dress. "I need to be inside you."

More kisses before she pulled away, "Paul, wait."

Paul grew to have a confused look on his face as she sat there naked in front of him.

"I... I've never been with a man."

A soft smile appeared on Paul's lips as he pressed his lips in soft, gentle manner against hers, "I'll be gentle."

A smile appeared on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is everything ready?" the Baron asked, his top Harkonnen General nodded.

"Yes, lord Baron", the emotionless soldier said, "Thanks to Doctor Yueh, House Atreides has no idea that in just an hour they will be meeting their end."

The Baron gleefully chuckled as Rabban spoke to the soldiers, giving them a war speech to prepare them for the greatest masscare the Great Houses would ever see.

The Baron twiddled his thumbs as he knew his precious Arrakis would be his again and he would be one step closer to getting his House on the Emperor's throne.

She had broken Jedi law, a law she had been told was the most forbidden as she had willingly laid with Paul and allowed herself to be made love to multiple times. She allowed herself to be ravaged to the point her toes curled, tears streaming down her face as Paul cradled her close to him as he continuously thrusted into her with her nails scratching down his back.

Paul had been gentle, nuzzling her when he first broke her hymen as she gasped. It had hurt, at first but it soon delved into pleasure and sensations that overwhelmed her.

She traced her fingers lightly down Paul's face as he lightly grasped her wrist as they laid tangled in her bed. Her thighs ached while she could feel Paul's cum inside her as Paul softly kissed her wrist.

"If you ever find a way back home, I want to come with you", Paul whispered, she pushed back a few curls from his face.

"What about your duties here?" she asked.

"You are what matters to me", Paul answered.

Her heart clenched at the thought of home and seeing everyone knowing that she had broken the laws that was trained under. Would they accept her with open arms if they knew what she had done, what she had been thinking?

Anakin would and she knew even Ahsoka would embrace her but would the rest of the order? Maybe Obi-Wan too since he could be neutral at times despite his full commitment to his vows.

"You look worried", Paul whispered, "what's troubling you?"

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek but as she was about to answer, but she felt it: a disturbance in the Force and she quickly sat up.

"Something's wrong", she said, looking at Paul before getting out of bed and beginning to dress herself.

"What do you mean?" Paul asked, also beginning to get out of bed.

"There's a disturbance in the Force", she answered as she dressed herself in her night gown. "There's a danger here."

She rushed over to BB just as a siren began to go off and Paul looked at her as he rushed into dressing himself. Y/N watched as BB awoke and she grabbed her lightsaber just as the ground trembled and the sound of cannons, and firepower echoed in the compound.

"We need to find my mother and father", Paul said, grasping her hand.

BB let out a series of beeps as they exited the room to find a group of soldiers wearing all black armor facing them. Paul had no weapons on him but she did as she lit up her lightsaber.

"You don't have armor or a shield on you", Paul whispered as the soldiers circled them. "These are the Sadakkur, they live under the Emperor."

The soldiers were silent as they circled them, BB nudging against Paul as she sucked in a breath as she twirled the glowing lightstaber.

"I don't need any of that."

It was then that the soldiers strike, she got into position as Anakin had taught her. Guarding her center and person as she could hear Paul dodging the soldiers as she twirled, striking the soldiers and slicing through them. The obvious smell of burnt flesh in the air as she ducked, getting another one in the knees before tucking and rolling to dodge a spear and blade.

She saw BB manage to send little electrodes to shock and override the electric shield that the soldiers carried. She could see Paul relying solely on his hand-to-hand combat as she used the Force to push a soldier away from Paul and knock back into another.

She used all her training that Anakin had given her, dodging and attacking; it gave her nostalgia in a sense because she could remember how her and Ahsoka would giggle when they trained against one another.

With the final soldier killed, she rushed over to Paul as he looked her over.

"Not a scratch on you", Paul observed.

"Same to you", she responded, Paul touching his forehead to hers.

"We need to hurry."

The palm trees that lined the compound were on fire as they rushed to find Lady Jessica and the Duke, she could see out of the windows they ran by that Atredies soldiers were being captured by bald headed, pale soldiers.

"Of course, it was the Harkonnens", Paul whispered. "It's revenge for taking Arrakis from them."

Just as they turned the corner, a small little bomb was thrown at them and before they could react, a loud and blinding pop emitted from it and the pain in her eardrums.

The pain was so blinding that she didn't even register the hit to the back of her head.

🪐

She groaned as she began to come to, her body restricted as she opened her eyes to see she was on a air ship. Looking around as she winced, she saw BB was unceremoniously tied to the ship and to her right sat Paul, who was awake and struggling against the ties with Lady Jessica across from here, her mouth gagged to prevent her from using the Voice.

She saw the three men that had them, big burly men that were ghastly pale with bald heads and spoke in such a harsh dialect that she couldn't understand, but it seemed Paul had some inkling to the language as he listened. She saw the one that was near Lady Jessica trying to figure out her lightsaber, but she could see he was struggling under the weight of it thanks to the crystal that resided within.

Paul had been slowly teaching her some of the languages that existed in this galaxy, mainly the Language of Hands so she understand what Lady Jessica was saying to them when she managed to sign to them: the scarred one is deaf.

Which meant he would understand what they would be saying as the air craft being to take off away from the compound. Her eyes widened as she saw the missiles being rained down upon the compound and she couldn't imagine why this was happening.

House Atredies had welcomed her with open arms with even the mostly stoic Lady Jessica being friendly towards her. Y/N wondered who this House Harkonnen was and what they had against House Atredies, and she wondered if Duke Leto was alive.

Time passed as they flew in craft, Paul had looked at her a few times as she winced from the pain in the back of her head. Her lightsaber was next to BB, the little droid having managed to grasp it when it was thrown at them earlier.

"I've never had a highborn", one of the men said, Y/N grimaced. "You?"

"Bene Gesserit ain't all highborn", the other responded. "But I've never had a otherworlder."

"We can feed the boy to the worms and give the women a long goodbye."

Paul fought against his restraints at that comment, "Don't you dare touch them."

One of the men slapped Paul as Y/N sucked in a breath as she said, "Don't touch him!"

She had always struggled with mind manipulation aspect of the Force, Anakin and even Yoda had told her it wasn't because she was weak minded but rather it was her soft heart that fought against her in making it work.

The man seemed unaffected by her command before rounding the corner to where she was and yanking her by her hair; she could feel the roots of her hair straining against her scalp as he yank and she winced before he backhanded her.

BB let out a series of alarmed beeps at the scene.

"I said don't touch her!" Paul shouted.

The man chuckled before moving back to the front of the craft and Y/N winced at the immediate swelling in her jaw. She felt something nudge her foot to see Paul straining against the restraints and she looked at him before managing to sign to him: I'm okay.

Paul sighed in relief before looking at Jessica and sternly saying, "remove her gag."

Y/N's eyes widen at Paul's attempt to use the Voice, something she knew he struggled with but was trying to use for their sake.

The man came again and punched Paul in the stomach as another man came and opened the hatch. They were getting ready to throw Paul out as one of the men got near Paul, ready to release his restraints.

"Remove her gag." The Voice sounded awful, horribly distorted in a way that sent shivers down her spine, but Paul had done it as the man paused and went to Jessica and removed her gag.

"Kill him", Lady Jessica commanded once she could.

Y/N watched as the man killed his comrade and was commanded again, "Set us free."

And set free they were as the deaf one finally caught on to what was going on.

Y/N had just been set free as she scrambled for her lightsaber just as the deaf one went to get Paul and the other covered Lady Jessica's mouth.

Mustering what she could, Y/N lifted her hand and said, "Stop."

The man stopped and looked at her, "you will cut the rope and give her the knife."

He did just that as Paul kicked the shin of the deaf soldier.

Lady Jessica went to work on the two soldiers as Y/N freed BB and Paul, who lightly touched her swollen face.

"I'm fine", she whispered, Paul frowned.

"Your face is swollen and bruised", he answered.

"Two things that can be dealt with at a later time", she said, caressing his cheek. "Right now, we have more pressing matters at hand."

Paul had found three Fremkits when they had lowered the craft to dispose of the bodies in the desert and the Harknonnens had hacked into the craft. The ship had then landed itself on the sand and when they had gone outside and over a dune, they saw the destruction that was left on House Atredies.

"Why would they do this?" Y/N voiced.

"Power", Lady Jessica answered.

Y/N could hear the emotion in the woman's voice.

BB rolled up to Lady Jessica and lightly nudged her, the woman mindlessly patting the droid's head as she turned her head, but Y/N could see a single tear roll down the woman's face.

Eventually, they had traveled a bit into the desert where they had managed to set up tent with the stolen supplies. Lady Jessica was silent as Paul opened up the things they had taken, Y/N not recognizing the handwriting as Paul read one of the letters in the contents.

"This is Dr. Yueh's handwriting", he voiced. "He's the one who betrayed us."

TAGLIST

@cloudlst @khlaeesihavilliard @colors-for-the-world-please @senhoritaapple @dark1paradise @chalametabingbong @aoi-targaryen @star-maker-rain-dancer @nj452896

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.1 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Prompt: Turns out healing takes time This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 22: Long Long way from home

You woke up when you heard the sound of the door creaking open, James and Peter walking inside with a sigh. You nuzzled your head deeper on Sirius. But of course, there was no way you’d escape the boys teasing. 

“You were supposed to take care not advantage of her!” Peter said, faking a reproachful tone. 

“Yeah Pads, look at you snuggling her, poor thing, she must be so uncomfortable!” added James with a small smile. 

“I’m probably the one who’s taking advantage of my situation,” you mumbled, Sirius gave you a bit of an impressed look, but neither of you pulled away from the other. “How’s Rem?” 

“Better,” Peter said as he plopped down on his bed “Pomfrey managed to accommodate all of his bones, he had some Skellegro and a bunch of painkillers, but he was pretty upset.” 

“He kept asking if you were okay,” James said, “We told him you were with Sirius, but he said he saw you, or, at least that he saw the vixen…” 

“He did see Vixen,” Sirius responded, “that’s how I brought her into the castle.” 

“We had to get some dittany to put on my wound since it wouldn’t stop bleeding so we used her as an excuse, a hurt fox is not as attention-grabbing as a bleeding student.” 

“In the infirmary, she wiggled out of my arms and peaked through the curtains, that’s probably where he saw her.”

“Yeah, he did see me,” you acknowledged, and yawned. “Pomfrey was still working with his bones, he looked like he was in a lot of pain, I feel terrible,” you admitted, digging your head into Sirius’ chest, he moved his hand to your hair in response, soothingly running his fingers on your scalp. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sirus said about at the same time James did, Peter said the same thing, but started about a second later, causing a funny chorus of reassuring voices. 

“In fact, what you did was insanely brave,” James added, “most people would’ve straight out attacked the wolf, I’m sure you know spells that would’ve done great damage to Moony.” 

“And you used Stupify, and the Whomping Willow, to deter him instead,” Peter said, that same expression he had used when he talked about your broom tricks. 

“We found your wands too,” James said, walking closer to you and letting your wand on the side table, “Remus’ was easier to find, exactly where you had left it, yours wasn’t so much. Peter had to use a locating spell.”

The boy nodded and then turned to you again, “How are you feeling, by the way?” Peter asked.

“Like shit,” you joked. “But I’m better, the shoulder wound hurts like a bitch, and I’m a little sore but I do feel a lot better than last night.” 

Peter, who had spent the last bit of the night next to you, looking at the way bIood dripped from your wound and how you shivered due to the cold water, really was thankful to see you better, all warm and cosy next to Sirius, he smiled. Last night you looked worried and terrified and like you had run for your life, which you really had. Today you finally looked relaxed, the frown, even visible in Vixen, was gone, “That’s good to hear,” he said honestly. 

You were about to say something else when there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” asked James.

“Lily, open up Potter!” She said.  

The boy went pale, trying to think of excuses to give her. “She knows, she helped patch her up,” Sirius told him. James nodded with a sigh and walked to the door, opening it to let the redhead walk inside. 

She had a lot more ingredients on her hands this time around, a bag hung across her shoulder and a small vial with a potion held in between her hands, “I’ve brought a couple of potions, Kless sent one too, when I told him you’d had a bit of a rough night trying to get the flower. I didn’t say anything in specific but he said this would help with any bruises or swelling from falling or muscle exertion.” 

“Lemme help,” James said, taking in some of the ingredients Lily had on her hands, and also took the bag from her shoulder, quickly sitting it on the desk. 

“Brought you clothes too,” she added, “And I told McGonagall you were feeling really bad because of your period, she gave me a note for the rest of the teachers today. I also went back to the infirmary and swiped some bandages, so we can put on your arm and before a long sleeve.” 

“What about her face?” Peter asked, he had seen the bruises, there was no way you could mask those, especially since they all formed the shape of a hand. 

“If the potions don’t fade them away before tomorrow, makeup,” Lily replied. 

“Yeah,  I was thinking of that too, and I’ll just say I accidentally bumped into an owl or something while flying.” 

“Oooh, clever,” James said, you shot him a wink. Sirius wrapped the blanket around you and helped you incorporate while Lily walked closer with the potions. 

“This one’s for the pain,” she said handing you a small vial, “drink half of it, the next half when it comes back.” You nodded and did as told “This is the one Kless sent,” she said handing a bottle with a dropper “He said 5 drops every hour are great for swelling and soreness… and I want to wash you up before putting on the bandages, so we should probably go back to our room soon,” she turned to the boys “James would you mind passing me the bag please?” 

The boy instantly did as told “I found this plaid shirt in your trunk, you can put it on top and maybe with the invisibility cloak or… you could also turn back into a fox I suppose…” 

“Into Vixen,” Peter said.

“What? I don’t care about the technical terms–” Lily asked, a little confused. 

“–No. I mean the fox, her name’s Vixen now.” 

You raised an eyebrow “Is it?” you asked, turning to him. 

“Yeah,” James said with a nod, “you needed a name for your animagus, Vixen fits, both the fox and you, it was perfect.” 

You raised an eyebrow “Should I be offended by that?” you questioned, looking at Lily who shrugged. 

“It does kinda fit,” she said. “I mean you’re stubborn but alluring, and charming–“ 

“–Clever and cunning, too.” Peter added, “We were discussing it all through Defence Against the Dark Arts.” 

“Well… I like it,” Sirius said, leaning in closer to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, careful not to move the bed too much since the potions were still there “My little Vixen,” he whispered in your ear. You pouted in response. 

“But… Vixen?” 

“You’ll come around,” Peter said with a shrug, “It’s always like that with the nicknames, trust me.” 

“It’d be easier to travel to our room as a fox, wouldn’t it?” You asked. 

“If turning does not make you uncomfortable, yeah…” Lily replied.

You shook your head “I missed it actually, It’d been a while since I turned into… Vixen.” 

“Is that why you kept asking about the forest?” Sirius asked.

You nodded “Way before the Moonflower? Yeah,” you responded and leaned your head back onto Sirius’ shoulder, he was still hugging you, and even though it was a little painful where Barty had dug his fingers to hold you while you fought off him, Sirius’ embrace was soothing, and comforting. Sirius was soothing and comforting, and you felt bad again, knowing that Remus was completely alone at the infirmary. You turned to him “You should go see Remus.” 

He frowned “But Lily still has Care of Magical Creatures, she’ll leave you alone in your room–”

“It’s ok,” you interrupted, reassuringly. “You should go see him, he’s your best friend. Heck, I want to go too but I’m aware I can’t.” 

“And I’ll stay with her,” Lily added with a sure nod. 

“You’ll ditch your class?” Asked James, incredulous. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time, besides, I will be taking care of a Magical Creature anyway,” she said pointing at you. You gasped, and Peter snickered at her joke, “Let’s go before more people come up to the common room,” she told you. 

You nodded and motioned to get up, but Sirius squeezed you just a little tighter and leaned in to give you a soft kiss on the cheek “You sure you’re okay with this, Starshine?” he whispered in your ear. 

You nodded, Remus was probably feeling a lot worse than you were anyway, heck, he had needed urgent medical attention and Skellegro because of you, he definitely deserved to see his friends a lot more than you did, and you knew how close he was to Sirius. “Stay with him for a while, make him laugh like you do all the time. Tell him I’m fine. That I’m not hurt. Tell him we’ll be alright,” you added in the end “Tell him I’ll go visit as soon as I don’t look like a zombie… Wait, no! Don’t say that, he’ll probably worry.” 

Sirius chuckled lightly, “He would.” 

“All right then, I’ll see you around I guess,” you said, before you shrunk back into Vixen. Once you had, you realised just how much better you felt already, the drastic change from the way you felt the previous night and in that moment almost shocking. 

Lily approached you tentatively, as if she was scared you’d run off if she got too close. “It’s alright,” Sirius said, “just grab her like you would a cat, she’ll let you.” 

Lily did as told, approaching you and gently pulling you up to her. She was so impossibly gentle that you wondered if you had been picked up by an angel instead. But then again, Lily really was like an angel. “James, do you mind crossing the bag over my shoulder?”

The boy, who had been dumbly staring at the girl, nodded, carefully slinging the bag over the redhead’s shoulder. 

Then you saw a flash and turned your face towards it. Lily seemed a little bothered too, “Sorry, you combine with each other,” Sirius said, holding Remus’ polaroid between his hands. “Smile girls!” he added, before taking another picture. 

Lily shook her head in disapproval “Stop annoying your girlfriend and go visit your friend instead,” she reprimanded. 

“I just wanted a picture of her,” Sirius said with a pout. 

“To wank off to?” Peter teased. 

Lilly gasped while Sirius intervened “She’s literally a fox right now you plonker!”

“All right, we’re out.” Lily said before picking a couple of vials and placing them on the bag, “before these dumbasses start discussing the implications of being furries or something.” 

James gasped, you flicked your tail and stared at Sirius, he knew what you meant, “I’ll go check on him in a minute Starshine, I’ll just change before I do.” You nodded and rested your head on Lily’s arms. 

She finally took off towards your shared room. Mary and Marlene weren’t there, and she walked straight to the bathroom, gently laying you on top of the bathroom seat before turning on the tap and tempering the water. She added some of the potions she had in the bag to the water and then turned to you, you had already turned back. 

“You think you can wash by yourself?” she asked. 

You nodded “Thanks Lily,” you said again, she just smiled. 

“If you need any help, just ask,” she told you, holding onto your hands, and helping you stand, even if you could’ve done it by yourself. “I’ll prepare some more of the dittany and silver essence paste. Make sure to be extra careful in that section, all right?” 

You nodded “Yes doc,” you joked, for what she smacked you playfully. 

“Go on then, you should probably lay back down for a while shortly after we’re done patching you up, especially since you can’t miss your classes tomorrow.” 

You nodded and started taking off the pants Sirius had borrowed, Lily leaving the bathroom shortly after making sure you’d be able to finish stripping by yourself. You finished peeling off the rest of your clothes and slowly let yourself fall on the tub, the warmth quickly soothing your skin and muscles. Whatever Lily had put in there was definitely doing its magic, in the most literal sense. You allowed yourself to be completely engulfed by the water, holding your breath there for about a minute before bursting out again. Definitely better, you thought as you breathed in again. 

You stayed there for a while, carefully rubbing your arms and legs, with the soapy water. You sighed when you spotted some of the bruises in your stomach. Pressing your finger on one of them only to wince. Even if they had only locked you up in an abandoned and haunted house, you would’ve been pissed, but what they did to you required revenge. You had held yourself back long enough, being patient and letting them taunt, ignoring them, hoping they’d get bored, for the sake of your friends, for Lily who’d made you promise not to mess with them. But not anymore, if being patient got you almost kiIIed, you’d retaliate. And boy, they would regret ever messing with you. 

You weren’t sure how you’d do it, but you knew you’d make them regret it. You took a deep breath, trying to relax again, before finally standing up and wrapping yourself up in a towel, slowly patting yourself dry, but completely avoiding the open wound. Finally, you went to the mirror to wash your teeth, and you finally understood why everyone had been so worried about you. You imagined you looked beaten up, but the way Sirius had described you was probably the most accurate: “You look like you’re about to break apart.” 

You stared at your broken reflection for a minute, the remnants of the previous night evidently imprinted all over your body. Even if you had managed to snatch sleep while you were with Sirius earlier, deep and rather sunken under-eye circles painted deep shadows beneath your eyes. Your usually soft lips were dry and chapped, and the section that had parted was already starting to heal, turning into a deep shade of brown. It still hurt when you stretched them.

You tilted your head backwards, moving the wet hair that clung to your neck back and traced your hand over the bruises left by Evan's thoughtless grasp. Each purple spot an echo of his strong fingers holding you still while stupid Barty mocked. Your jaw clenched, the memory alone was enough to rekindle the smouldering rage deep within you. Weak, a nagging little voice in your brain whispered, taunting you with cruel words, you were weak. 

Your breath became ragged as your eyes welled up with angry tears. You contemplated punching the mirror, having it break beneath your fingers, as you shouted your rage off existence. But the mirror wasn’t at fault for the situation you had ended up in, neither had your would-be hurt hand. And whether it was due to cleverness or cowardice, you didn’t dare to do it. Especially since you knew the breaking glass would make too much noise and it would only worry Lily further, instead you gripped the sides of the sink until your knuckles turned white and you managed to calm down, taking deep breaths until your fury finally subdued. 

You went through the potions on the counter, trying to see if the “radiant complexion” one you had made with the girls was still there, and thankfully it was. You smiled drily as you opened it and served some over the spoon you sometimes used to curl your lashes, taking it in one go, and wincing at the slightly bitter taste. You looked in the mirror again, the bruises were still there, but they had been significantly reduced in vibrance, if you also drank all the potions Lily had brought, they might be gone by tomorrow, the part in your lip was still there, but you weren’t hoping for it to disappear that fast either. 

Your eyebags were almost completely gone, and with the magic of the bath still working all over your body you almost looked as new, the potion Lily had given you earlier effectively taking away almost all of the pain. A little bit more rest and potions and you were sure to look brand new by the next day. Well, almost, the claw marks wouldn’t heal nearly that fast, even with magical care, they were sure to stay for a while. No, it’ll stay forever, you remembered: Any bite or scratch obtained from a werewolf, whether in human or animal form, would leave a permanent scar.

You stared at the claw marks on your arm, the deep gush finally turning a darker shade of red, the dittany and silver were helping it heal, so much so you could almost see the way your skin was slowly fighting to restore itself.  You sighed, laughing a little as you shook your head. “It’s certainly going to be an interesting scar.” 

After looking at it for just a little longer, you finished drying yourself up and put on the plaid pyjama pants Lily had left for you on top of the toilet seat. You struggled to put on a black tank top and wrapped the towel around your head.

When you walked outside, Lily was waiting for you sitting on your bed, a tray with a bunch of potions, the dittany and silver paste, and a couple of bandages placed right next to her. She smiled when she saw you walk out “You look much better.” 

You smiled “I’ve got the best doc.” 

Lily shook her head with a smile as she motioned for you to sit beside her, having you sit on the bed and inspecting your wound. “It really does look a lot better,” she said, sounding pleased “I’m going to put ointment again, and bandage it so you can sleep peacefully, all right?” 

You nodded, and she started applying the thick creamy mixture. It was a light green and shiny metallic, you had been in so much pain earlier that you hadn’t even noticed the pretty colour it actually was, a little like Lily’s eyes. 

She was just as kind and careful when she applied it as she’d been when she did it the first time around. And when she was done, she carefully wrapped your arm with the bandage. 

“Thanks, Lily,” you said, for like the fifth time that day, but you didn’t know what else to say. How do you express how much gratitude you felt towards her if not by saying it over and over and over again? 

“You’re welcome luv,” she said with a smile “It really is nothing, now, this is the medicine that you’re going to–“ 

“–I’m a quarter fairy,” you said all of a sudden. 

“What?” she asked, a little confused. 

“Yeah, I’m… I’m a quarter fairy, from my mother’s side.” 

“And you’re telling me be–“ 

“–cause I trust you. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you as a friend, you’re incredible and I… I wanted to be honest with you...” 

She quickly understood what you were saying, feeling both compelled and admired by the amount of trust you had given her, which is why she too said something she never expected to say out loud “–I think I’m in love with James Potter.” 

And that, ladies gentlemen, felt like a cold bucket of water thrown right at your face with absolutely no warning. You were certainly not expecting that, or maybe you were, but it was shocking just the same, suddenly you smiled, so wide, and so happy, you completely ignored the stinging pain from your lip injury opening up again, “Lily that’s amazing!” 

She let a rather choked laugh out, “Never thought I’d say that out loud.” 

You shrugged, wincing at the sharp pain from your shoulder wound, but ignoring it either way. “Well that’s how you start, I’m sure you and James will make a wonderful couple.” 

“God no! That’s too fast.” 

“Why waste time? Trust me, I regretted not snogging Sirius sooner!” 

“Ugh shut up!” she said, smiling just as wide as you. “Now it’s time to take your medicine.” 

You gasped, still smiling “Lily Evans, don’t you dare change the subject!” 

She raised her hands in rendition “I’m not!” she responded, “It’s time, look at the clock.” 

Lily was still laughing, the two of you were, your arms falling up and down, as you shook your head and looked at your friend, finally deciding to let her off the hook and grabbing onto the potions, taking one at a time.

“Don’t you dare tell Potter!” She said then, an accusing finger at your face. 

“As if he needed encouragement to go after you,” you responded before taking a long sip at one of the potions and wincing at the burning sensation, “but trust me, you’ll wish you had done it sooner,” you said with a wink before grabbing the bottle with the dropper and pouring five drops down your throat.

“Here, take three sips of this one too,” she said handing you another bottle, “this one’s specifically for bruises, it takes a bit to work but it’s really effective, some people use them for hickeys.”  You raised your eyebrows at her, but she gave you a warning look that you replied with an innocent shrug. 

Eventually, and after a couple more vials, she dropped a small round oval-shaped candy-looking thing on your hand, “What does this one do?” you asked curiously. 

“It’s a lemon sherbet,” she said as if it were obvious. 

You looked at the candy and then back at her, a confused look on your face as you bit your lip ever so slightly “Does it like… help with the pain or soreness or…” 

Lily gave you a confused frown “No? It just helps with the flavour.” 

You looked at the little yellow ball one last time and plopped in your mouth, “Oh… it’s candy!” you said with a smile as a tangy, zesty lemon flavour exploded inside your mouth, both sweet and sour at the same time “It’s good.” 

The redhead gave you a shocked look “You’re telling me you’d never tried a Lemon Sherbet?” 

You shook your head “They’re not a thing back home,” you replied as you relished on the lemony taste of the candy. 

“And here I thought you’d already gotten the entire English experience,” she said, you shrugged in response, holding your breath and lowering your shoulders a lot slower now, clenching your jaw as you let pain subdue. Lily gave you a sympathetic look “You better rest for a bit.” You tilted your head, a reproachful frown forming on your features. “None of that,” she said, shutting you down with a dismissive hand gesture “No puppy eye looks, time to sleep, doctor’s orders.” 

“Fine then,” you said, slowly laying down on the bed, kicking your legs a little to dig them under the soft blanket, ignoring how sore they were, you weren’t sure you had ever run as much as last in your entire life “I’ll rest.” 

Lily smiled, “I’ll shut the curtains before the girls arrive,” she said before going back to sit on her bed and picking up a book from her night table. You smiled and turned back to your ceiling, looking at it for a couple of minutes until you slowly drifted asleep. 

November 24th, 1976

When you woke up again, it was due to hunger. No, not hunger, starvation. You looked at the clock, it was around 5 a.m. You had charms in 2 hours, you looked around, everyone was sleeping soundly on their beds, so you decided to quietly sneak towards the bathroom.

You stared at your reflection again, the potions had worked gracefully, Even if you were still sore, and your arm still ached, the bruises were almost completely gone, your lips looked plump again, even if they were still parted. You grabbed the same potion from yesterday and took another spoonful, the bruises finally disappeared. You looked brand new, even if you didn’t quite feel like it. You took some more of Lily’s painkiller potions and grabbed some cosmetics to make your eyebags less visible. 

You looked at yourself again, “Good as new,” you muttered, taking a deep breath and stepping out of the bathroom, hearing your stomach rumble again. Everyone was still asleep, so you changed into your uniform, grabbing a couple of chocolate bars and stuffing them in your pockets, you’d take them to Remus when you had the chance. 

You walked closer to Lily’s bed, and gently shook her awake. “I’m going to get myself something to eat from the kitchens, see you later at the Great Hall.” 

Lily turned to you a little sleepy “I’ll come with…” she said, attempting to get up, but you stopped her.

“No, it’s your turn to rest. I’ll be alright, I feel a lot better.” 

“Your bandages…” 

“They’re good,” you reassured “We can change them after charms or during lunch.” 

“You sure luv?” 

You nodded with a smile “Yeah, totally, but I really need to eat,” you told her with a smile. 

As you walked out you spotted Prongs sitting in the common room “You look a lot better,” he said as he motioned at you with a nod of his head “How you feeling.” 

“Lils would be an incredible doctor,” you said as you turned around. 

“She’s perfect,” James said with a sigh, you smiled but rolled your eyes either way. “Why are you awake?” 

“Starving, you?” 

“I woke up for a fly and then remembered both you and Sirius are knackered.” 

“You could go by yourself,” you said with a shrug.”

“Yeah, I was going to… but then I remembered we planned to go see Remus before class, I’m waiting for the boys.” 

You nodded, and sat down beside him, taking one of the chocolate bars from your pockets and unwrapping the chocolate. 

James raised one of his eyebrows “What are you doing? Weren’t you starving?” 

You took a bite from the chocolate “Oh I am, but I’m tagging along with you guys instead, I haven’t seen Rem since that night.” 

“You sure you’re not too hungry?” he asked as he watched you devour the chocolate and vanish the wrapping with the swish of your wand. 

“Yeah, totally,” you replied as you pulled another bar from your uniform. James raised one of his eyebrows but didn’t say anything else. Meanwhile, you were already imagining the sausage you’d have for breakfast afterwards. 

Peter came down first “Oh Vixen! You look great!” he said when he saw you, still munching on the second bar of chocolate. 

You blinked a couple of times after hearing the nickname drop so naturally from his lips, “Thanks Wormmy…” you responded, almost tentatively. 

He smiled at that and gave you a thumbs up. Permission, you realised, that was Peter’s way of letting you into the group, whether on purpose or not, you were one of them now. 

Sirius came down next, taking faster strides when he spotted you, when he was right in front of you, he leaned down, levelling his head with yours and placing both hands on the sides of your head to carefully inspect you, he was clearly surprised, “I feel like you were switched at night, other than your lip you look like nothing happened,” he said as he moved your head to the side to try and take a peek at your neck, you groaned in response. 

“Yeah, the soreness’s still there though,” you muttered. “But the potions did an incredible job.” 

Sirius nodded in agreement, “We’re going to see Moony, wanna join in?” 

“That’s why I’m still here,” you replied with a small smile. Sirius looked at you for a second before leaning over just a bit more and pressing his lips to your softly. You smiled, but raised an eyebrow questioningly “What was that for?” 

“Just because,” he replied, mirroring your smile.

“All right love puppies, time to go,” Peter said as he stood up, James mirrored his actions. 

“Love puppies?” you questioned with a gasp as you stood up, using the hand Sirius had offered to do so.

“Well, Vixen and Padfoot are both canines so yeah, you’re love puppies,” he replied, matter of factly. 

James turned around instantly, a raised finger and a playful smile on his face “Spot on!” 

Peter smiled and nodded in return, you and Sirius eyed each other at their interaction, but continued walking behind them. Sirius stood really close to you, so close your hands were brushing with each other as you walked, it was as if after being so close to you while you cuddled him on his bed, he couldn’t get enough of you. And he really couldn’t. 

He had gone to see Moony after you left with Lily, he had stayed with him for a while and they joked and talked for a couple of hours like they always did. And it’s not that he wasn’t worried for Remus, he always got a little queasy when the boy was bedridden, especially since most moons after they became animagus had been a lot easier on his friend. 

But he also knew Remus was strong, he’d seen him get up time and time again after looking like he had snogged a dementor, so pale he downright looked like a vampire instead of a werewolf. But every single time Remus got better in a matter of days, maybe a little sore and snappy after particularly rough moons but he always got better. You on the other hand… Sirius had never seen you as bruised and bIoodied like the previous night. So tired you looked like you might fall apart, so desperate and scared. 

Because you had been scared, he knew, even if you masked it wonderfully, he knew the signs, he had used the same techniques to hide his own emotions in the past, the worst part is that Sirius wasn’t sure if you had been scared for yourself or if you had been scared for Moony instead. Either way, when you turned back into a human, and he saw all the bruises for the first time it took him all the strength he had not to crumble at the sight. 

You had looked pale and tired and he had never quite realised how delicate you actually were before that. Sure, he knew you were soft, softer than the boys, softer than Remus, but the bruises on your face, simply from a hand gripping you too tight, were almost shocking. And it’s not that you were so fragile that he thought you were going to break apart, heck he knew how strong you were, he’d seen you play quidditch, getting up after falls time and time again, but he was shocked how much more fragile you were in comparison to him. 

And it bothered him, no, it irked him, that no matter how much you probably fought the Slytherins they had overpowered you either way. It made him scared for you like he’d never been for anyone in his life, except maybe from Moony, when the incident happened. 

Even if Remus was much stronger, there had been something weird going on in his head last night, he knew, but wasn’t sure what that could’ve been, he was a lot quieter than usual. Sirius asked him about it but the boy said it was because of the Skellegro. Sirius knew he was lying but didn’t press further, instead, he offered to stay the night.

“I can stay, you know? I mean we might not fit in the same bed like we did when we were kids but I could pull a couple of chairs and stay over.” 

“Please no! I won’t be able to sleep with your snoring,” Remus said humorously, it was a total lie, he didn’t care about Sirius’ snoring, but he knew for sure he’d rather stare at the boy sleep than sleep himself.  It was better to kick Sirius away. 

When Sirius returned from talking to Remus, he took a quick shower and threw himself in his bed again, it smelled of you, and he couldn’t help but worry for you again. He wanted to jump off his bed and sneak into your room just to make sure you were better. He could not help but replay in his head how you had almost begged for him to stay with you instead of getting a cloak or something to bring you in. He felt like he had abandoned you, even if it was you the one that left the room with Lily. He couldn’t be with Remus and he couldn’t be with you. Sirius had slept terribly that night. 

You leaned closer to him, wrapping your index and thumb over his pinky finger “You all right Puppy?” you asked him politely. 

That seemed to finally snap Sirius out of his thoughts, he smiled instantly, looking at how much better you looked and nodded “Yeah, fantastic,” he responded, turning his hand and wrapping it around yours, you gave him a reassuring squeeze and he returned it shortly after. 

The four of you entered the infirmary shortly after. Madam Pomfrey was there, and she smiled when she saw you, “Oh! Hi sweetheart, how are those nightmares going? You’re here to see Mr. Lupin, aren’t you? I sort of expected to see you yesterday, I assume you were rather busy.”

“Yeah, uh… I think those nightmares won’t be coming back anymore,” you said with a little smile, Sirius squeezed your hand. “How’s Rem?” 

“A lot better, he should be checking out by tomorrow,” she said with a smile “Poor boy had a really tough time as I was fixing him up,” you winced, Pomfrey assumed it was because you imagined the situation, rather than the real reason: you felt guilty. 

“Can we see him?” Peter asked with a very polite smile. He looked like the kind of kid that would instantly be liked by adults in that very second. 

Pomfrey nodded with a tight smile “I’ll go see if he’s awake,” she said before disappearing to the back of the room in between a couple of curtains. 

“You think he’s feeling better?” you asked, turning to the boys. 

James nodded “I’m sure he’s better. You were with him last night, Pads, how was he?”

Sirius turned his gaze on you “A lot better than you were when you left, so stop worrying.” 

You were about to say something in return when Pomfrey came back with an apologetic expression on her face “I’m sorry kids, but Remus is asleep at the moment. Why don’t you come back later?” 

You let out a disappointed sigh when you heard it but nodded. Finally realising how silly it was to visit Remus so early in the morning, he would be better off sleeping in, you had certainly felt a lot better after sleeping yourself.

“Well then, the great hall it is,” James said, turning to you, which would have offended you had it not been for the rumbling in your belly after he said it. You still felt impossibly hungry. Then James went over and placed his arm over your shoulders, which caused you to yelp since he accidentally brushed your wound. 

James removed his arm in an instant and scurried away from Sirus’ hand, which had gone straight for a slap in the back of his head. 

“You alright sweetie?” Pomfrey asked, concerned. 

You turned to her while you thought of a decent excuse “Yeah, I was just surprised, I guess I’m still a bit sleepy,” you smiled apologetically, “We’re really sorry for making so much noise Madam Pomfrey, we’ll be on our way.” 

She nodded in response and you hurried outside. Once far enough James turned to you with a worried frown “Are you okay? I didn’t ruin all of Lily’s work, did I?”

You wished you could actually get angry at James, but he was so genuinely worried that there was no way you could, so you just shook your head with a sigh “Just be careful, it stung like a bitch.” 

“I’ll buy you any food you want at Hogsmeade on Saturday to make up for it.” 

You turned to him with a raised eyebrow “James you can’t.” 

“What do you mean I can’t?” James said with a frown, looking about ready to argue that he could spend his money however the hell he pleased.

“Saturday’s the 27th,” Peter added. 

James went pale, that was the day of his date with Lily. 

The Polaroid

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff  

Leve a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: Guys, I'm soft, Lily is way too sweet.

Raead more Marauders Fiction

[marieracingteam]

If you do request. I have a idea of lance stroll stepping up to be a father of Esteban kid. Esteban doesn't know he has a kid. After reading Lance stepping up to be a father.

Lancey and the word mine – ls.18

stepdad!Lance Stroll | series

word count: 1630

summary: Being away from home is hard for Lance. Esteban, however, is determined to do everything he can to distract his friend from thinking about how much he misses his girlfriend and his little girl, luckily for him, his plan also benefits him a lot.

Lance thought he was still dreaming when he woke up to the cries of a baby. 

Lily rarely cried anymore. She had been through a rough patch when her baby teeth started to fall out and it was common for her to wake them up crying when she couldn't sleep in fear of waking up without teeth. However, the little girl had grown out of that fear and now, luckily, it had been a long time since Lance had last heard the little girl cry.

In any case, that cry wasn't Lily's. Lance could recognise his girl's cry in a million and that, without a doubt, was the cry of another baby, one much smaller than Lily was anyway.

Still disoriented from sleep, Lance sat up in bed trying to find where the crying was coming from. That floor of the hotel was filled with his crew and none of them had hidden a baby in the room, as far as he knew. So where was that noise coming from?

Luckily, Lance didn't have to wonder for long before someone knocked on his door.

On the other side, the driver found his friend Esteban. And the culprit of his crying? The baby in his arms.

“What…?” before Lance could ask anything, Esteban was barging in his hotel room and closing the door behind him.

That baby’s wails becoming even louder in the close space.

“He is sick! I guess? I don’t know what is wrong with him!” Esteban exclaimed handing the baby to his friend.

“Who is this?” asked Lance grabbing the baby.

He couldn't have been more than three years old, despite being tall. Lance hadn't met Lily at that age, but he had memorized enough of all the photos her mother had to recognize the details.

The boy's cheeks were very red and wet from the tears that kept falling. Lance didn't even have to touch his forehead to know that the boy probably had a fever.

“Is that your...?” he tried to confirm.

“I don't know! I guess. His mother left him with me last week, she says he's my son and that I have to take care of him. I'm on the verge of losing my mind, man.” Esteban was pacing the room while covering his ears with his hands.

Lance knew that feeling of desperation when the cries of a child entered your eardrum after a few hours of non-stop wails.

“Ok, don’t panic. He just has a fever. Did he had a runny nose or complained about his ears?” Lance asked checking the baby, who continued his cries.

“I don’t know! I don’t know mate! His mother was at my door after the last Grand Prix, she said she'd come back for him when she was ready. I don't know what to do. I haven’t told anyone else. But I need your help, Lance. He's been eating mashed potatoes, vegetables, or fruit for a week now. And he's got teeth! And now he is sick! Is it because of the flight? They said he is not too young to fly!” Esteban continued rambling for some time.

In the meanwhile, Lance sat down to rock the boy, gently speaking to him in a calming voice. His ear was red and he kept grabbing it, so Lance guessed there was the problem.

Lily also had an ear infection recently after summer vacation. She had been inconsolable and writhing in pain until the children's medicine kicked in. Lance didn't want to even think about the pain the boy had to be going through without treatment.

“Just an ear infection, Esteban. It's okay. Let me get dressed and we'll take him to the ER. He'll be fine soon when he takes something for the pain,” Lance said. And maybe he lied a little when he assured him that everything would pass quickly, but he knew that was what his friend needed to hear. “But you need to call his mother and yours. Probably your lawyer too” he interjected.

“This is too much, man. Too much. I'm not ready to be a father.” Esteban cried. “And what I am going to say to the doctor? I just know is name is Bruno!”

“Ok, relax. Why don’t we call your team’s doctor? They can help you. And you need to tell them anyway. Or what are you going to do with him tomorrow during press? Or while in the car?” Lance questioned while getting dress, the boy still in his arms.

“They are going to fire me!”

“They are goint to fire you anyway if you crash with Pierre one more time! Who cares? Right now you need to think about your son!” Lance exclaimed, making the boy cry harder.

“I don’t even know if he is my son!” Esteban shouted.

“Well, maybe you should start there! Esteban, I know you are terrified right now but you need to put him first while you decide what you are going to do! You need to call your team, first the doctor and next the lawyer.” 

While they waited for the team to arrive at Lance’s room, he couldn’t help but think about how he himself became a father. Unlinke Esteban, he couldn’t point the exact moment he realise he had someone under his care. He had not found Lily one day at his door, instead, Lily had found him one night at her door.

He had never had to make that decision to love and protect her. He had never had to wonder if she was his or not. That had never mattered to him. But he understood why it did matter to Esteban. He understood why he felt the world shif under him and how scary that could be. Lance had been ready for that change but he could blame Esteban if he wasn’t. 

“That was his mother…” Esteban said after he left the room to take a call “She is coming for him”

“What did she said?”

“I texter her to tell her he was sick. She said… She said that he is mine… although she freaked out when I told her I was going to do a paternity test. She probably thought that I would get sick of him and not ask any questions as long as she took him back... in exchange for a good sum of money, obviously. She's on her way and won't bother me again if I don't call the authorities.”

“That's fucked up, man. What kind of mother abandons her son for money without knowing if he's okay? He's just a kid and she's only known you a few nights before he was even bron…” Lance whispered, careful not to wake the little boy that had finally fallen asleep.

“Well yes, but it's not my problem,” Esteban answered, plopping down on the couch in the hotel room. Suddenly much more relaxed and rejuvenated.

“He may not be your son, but it's not right!” 

"So what do you want me to do, Lance? I don’t it is fucked up but it is what it is. I know this all may seem easy for you, man, but you just help raise your girl’s baby, that’s not the same of having a baby or raising one on your own”

Lance knew Esteban was on edge, he knew. Lance knew Esteban was stress and scared, he knew he need to be gentle and understanding with him… but how could Lance be fair when he was the one being questioned about his parenting?

“Why not? Why it is not the same?” 

“Because she is not yours! I know you love her, you know I like her too! But it's not the same as her being your responsibility” Esteban tried to explain.

And Lance did his best not to scream in his face. Esteban was his friend, a good one. He was just stressed and going through some deep issues. But those words were so untrue that it made him see red.

Since when was he entitled to speak about being a father? He had certainly not wanted to be one half an hour ago! Why did no one seem to understand that Lance wanted to be a father to a child who might not be of his own blood, but was so understanding when another man put his lifestyle before raising a child that was his!?

“Lily is mine, Esteban” he said and he realized in that moment that there wasn’t an inch of doubt in him. “She is my baby girl, my responsibility, my duty and my pleasure to care for. When you have a kid for real you would understand. Blood doesn't mean shit when you look at their face and you just know”.

At that, Esteban just nodded even if he didn't quite understand. But it was fine, Lance accepted while caressing Bruno's back when he whimpered. One day Esteban would tell him he was right. Lance himself wouldn't have understood it either before meeting his girls. Life is just crazy like that, taking you to where you belong without expecting it.

And Lance couldn’t be happier with where life had taken him. He just couldn't wait to go back home. To his girls. And he just hoped maybe some day Esteban found something like that too. Bruno too.

Because if there was one thing he would never have doubted, it was that Lily deserved to be loved unconditionally by all the people in her life, her parents above all. Her father hadn't been up to the task, but he would be. Bruno also deserved a family that loved him that way and Lance was not going to let that child go with someone who was not willing to do everything possible to deserve him.

I went a little different with this one, hope you like it!

[itsjaywalkers]

laurie do you have any spare boxer!barty headcanons… from boxer james au…

SAINTS ANYTHING FOR U BABE U KNOW THIS

*cracks knuckles* okay so

he fights very methodically, almost like he's fucking possessed sometimes BUT his rivals still have a hard time reading him and predicting his moves bc he's also . reckless . and will break routine all of a sudden with the most dangerous combination u can think of

a lot of ppl are convinced he plays dirty or even cheats but the truth is that he's just Good and really fucking smart

as in, the thing about boxer barty is that he can get a read on his rivals during the first handful of seconds

yes he's strong yes he's a wild card and yes he has the technique but what makes him win at the end is his ability to . get into his opponent's head

the exception to this is james and not bc barty can't read him. it's simply that the hatred they profess each other is so visceral he just goes fucking Feral. both of them do

speaking of, they rarely get to finish their matches bc they always end up disqualified halfway through bc it gets Nasty pretty quickly when those two are involved

he's been on so many scandals. So Many. it's sort of ruined his reputation but his fans think is part of his charm

like . you know how athletes are very careful when it comes to their public images and take care of their bodies or whatever . yeah barty doesn't give a fuck about that and you WILL see a headline about him getting blackout drunk after one of his victories

this is mostly due to how controlling his father used to be back when barty was still under his thumb

in a way, most of what barty does has something to do with his father one way or another

everyone knows they had a very bad fallout like . it's public knowledge but since they don't have the details they're all soooo curious

interviewers know not to bring barty's dad up tho bc barty has flipped his shit before and on national television too so . they stray away from the topic completely

he's anti pr. his team has tried to clean up his act so many times. it never works. they've given up. at this point they're just ready to do some damage control

most of his money goes to his mother (his parents are divorced in this one and since his dad left her with pretty much nothing after they broke things off, barty took it upon himself to take care of her)

in fact, he lives with her

whenever barty loses a fight is Always on purpose

because he's obsessed with a certain nurse.. so he lets himself get beaten up from time to time just so he has an excuse to go see said nurse.. (it's evan. evan is the nurse)

evan is odd and offputing and he doesn't seem to like barty very much BUT he does seem to enjoy the sight of blood.. and analysing ppl's injuries even more than he does fixing them up.. so barty's happy to let him poke around

one time he lost a couple of teeth after a especially hard punch and while they tried to check his head and take him to the hospital barty's only concern was finding his lost teeth so he could bring them to evan

his friendship with regulus starts off as him finding reg Hot while simultaneously wanting to piss james off

but they end up Clicking and reg is the very first person barty opens up with about his dad + everything that happened with his mum

he had a thing with lily a while ago but it was mostly casual and he broke it off as soon as he found about her also sleeping with james.. they're still friends tho!! and barty is very fond of her

his first kiss with evan happens after he's dizzy and very out of it bc of the amount of blood evan just took from him (he spends more than a week thinking he dreamt it)

honestly most of his appointments with evan can be summarised by barty getting a lot of random erections and evan blinking at him with his dead brown eyes while he pokes around his body and worsens every single one of his injuries (before actually patching him up)

and im gonna stop myself there bc this is getting out of hand

[euripidestrousers]

The Bridget Jones Wolfstar AU that No One Asked For

Dear Diary, 

Even writing those words makes me physically ill so I’d like to start this off by disclosing that getting a diary was not my idea. 

You see, my best friend, James - excellent, wonderful best friend who has recently become a family man by choice, and has therefore become one of the most insufferable people on earth - gave me this diary and said it’s either this or he’s buying me therapy because one more rubbish one-week relationship of mine is going to kill him.

And I don’t need a fucking therapist, so here you are, and here I am. I feel better already.

(haha)

Dear Diary, 

James might be onto something. Today I found myself smoking my third morning cigarette while drinking my coffee and muttering that the drive to work is going to be hell because of the rain. 

I’ve become my father. 

Of course, I asked James if he ever looks in the mirror and sees Monty staring back and if it makes him want to buy a motorbike and he replied, ‘Uh, I’m literally his son, we look alike. Are you okay?’

My thirty third birthday is coming up. 

Please don’t let this be a mid-life crisis. I’m not in a relationship because I don’t want one, and haven’t had one in over ten years because the men in London either want to meet you in the park or meet your parents. It’s the last hour of the buffet and all that’s left is the salad. And I don’t need a relationship either. James and Lily are a match made in heaven since the first time he told her ugly friend he was ugly (rightfully so, the man is still hideous and a complete prick), and she told him to watch his fucking mouth. Made for each other.

But the last time I met a guy that made me laugh and was any sort of attractive and not a complete knob about being attractive, was over three years ago. 

Ie, it’s not for me. End of story.

I bought a motorbike

Dear Diary, 

I’m going to do away with the whole ‘dear diary’ thing, it makes me feel like a schoolgirl and if James ever finds you when we’re drunk he’s going to read out at least one embarrassing entry at me. They’re all embarrassing. 

I went on a blind date today.

“Long black for… Sirish?”

What? Oh. That vague jumble of mush must have been his name. Sirius grabs the takeaway cup and makes for the door briskly. He has the Binkley case to catch up on and write a piece on by the end of the week and he’s still not clear who the man is. A football star perhaps? He’s still being sidelined into the sports area of the paper because he did football for a year. Nevermind that he has an interest in politics and would very much like to report on where the country will be in ten years if it keeps going-

J: You busy after work?

Sirius grins, flopping his jacket over one arm to type back to James Potter, best friend and inarguably lesser half of Lily Potter. 

S: drinks?

J: I have a one year old

S: too early for him to start?

S: kidding. Don’t tell Lily. She’s already started making him take his helmet every time I take him for a day. 

J: It’s not for drinks. Lily has a friend who’s just come to town. I thought maybe you could show him around.

S: Worst lie ever. 

J: I haven’t had coffee yet.

J: It’s actually true though. He just came to town and doesn’t know anyone other than Lily, and Harry has a cold so we’re both staying home.

J: He’s quite attractive I’m told. Lily told me to say ‘tall Martin Freeman’, and that you’d know what it means

S: Potter, if I was so desperate that I would open to a blind date, I definitely wouldn’t start with any of Lily’s friends, they’re all college professors and about 50 years old. 

J: He’s 37

S: He has elbow patches. Guaranteed. Bet he says ‘but the Torries are actually not as conservative as they’re made out to be.’

S: Bet he has a mahogany desk and wanks to Aristotle

J: Jesus christ

J: Photo sent

Sirius glances down uninterestedly and sees a photo of a man. But instead of the expected stuffy looking balding man with a sour face, as most of Lily’s fellow professors are to be fair, instead he’s looking at a tall, brown haired man with flecks of grey at the temples and smiling softly at the camera, and he’s well, he’s not not handsome. Tall Martin Freeman is actually quite right. Hello.

He brings the phone closer to examine the photo as he blindly barges into the office building with the large Get Up, Britain sign gaudy and bright above him. 

The man is younger on second glance, although he is wearing a suit jacket with elbow patches (told you, Jamie), and standing a little awkwardly, like he’s not used to photos being taken of him, and it’s entirely likely that he’s more accustomed to being nose deep in a book ninety percent of the time. 

He’s shagged worse. 

S: I was right about the elbow patches

J: I really tried to find one without them too

J: But he sounds nice. Funny. Lily likes him, she talks about him all the time. They were prefects together in school and used to bunk off and smoke behind the bins

One the one hand: prefect. Disgusting. Hall monitors. Pigs-to-be, snooty, law-abiding to the most irritating degree (Lily being the exception, of course). On the other hand: smoking behind the bins is more his style. Speaking of, he’d love one right now-

J: I really think you’d like him. Even just friends. Moving cities is lonely and he sounds alright. He likes Manchester U?

S: Fine, I’m free after 6

S: Don’t yell at me if I shag him, work has been shit.

So that’s how Sirius finds himself, half past six, swearing up a storm and running with his tote bag over his head in the pouring rain, late for his blind date (or something).

He slams into the restaurant door, shaking himself off like a wet dog, his casual Friday jeans and black t-shirt soaking wet, his shoulder length, black hair is dripping around his face, hoping his laptop has survived, and shivering like a chihuahua at a children’s party. 

“Uh, I’m here for uh-” he consults his phone again and reads the name to the maitre d, “Reh-mus?”

“It’s Remus, actually”, comes a soft voice from his left. 

Sirius turns quickly and immediately drenches the man standing at his elbow in droplets of water from his hair and coat. Tall Martin Freeman indeed - he has one of those faces that’s even better in person, where the way he stoops his shoulders and holds himself makes him look soft and welcoming, and the warm lighting gives him that attractive, cozy professor look, rather than an uptight old man.

“Oh”, Sirius grins quickly, hoping his dazzling smile will make up for their flimsy introduction, “Right, Sirius. Are you still waiting for a table-?”

“I er, well, I was about to leave actually”, Remus says, glancing at the maitre d awkwardly, “You’re quite late.”

Sirius’ smile freezes. Well, then. 

“Got caught up at work”, he replies stiffly, brushing his hair back and letting his eyes go cold, “If you’d prefer we don’t-”

“No, no, of course not”, Remus appears to snap back, as if remembering his manners and seeming oddly distracted, “Please, let’s sit. You look like you could use a drink.”

Sirius runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he follows Remus to the table and wonders if that was a slight about him looking like a drowned rat. He notices the man has worn an absolutely hideous brown jumper that wouldn’t be out of place in an aged care home, so he doesn’t really have the right to judge Sirius’ appearance. 

“Wine?” The waiter offers politely. It’s a nice place - James said Lily had picked it because she thought Remus would like it. It is a little stuffy, honestly. Something his parents might have stopped by and deemed adequate, which is to say, the beer is fucking overpriced, Jesus-

“I’ll have the Stout again, please”, Remus answers briskly, nodding at Sirius to order his.

“Uh, yeah, Stout. Cheers”, Sirius adds, dumping his bag beneath the table and trying to surreptitiously dry his hair in the napkin. Remus looks away as if embarrassed by him. Swot.

“So, you know Lily through school?” Sirius starts, unable to keep the boredom completely out of his voice. 

“Yes. I take it you know James through yours”, Remus answers, very politely but also sounding just as bored. 

“Yeah, grew up together”, Sirius nods. 

Remus doesn’t say anything to that, just hums and sips some water. 

It’s fucking awkward. Normally, Sirius would give him an ultimatum - ��look, do you want to liven it up a bit and turn this into a fun one-night thing? Because otherwise, I’m not feeling it and I’ve got work to do.’

But Lily knows this guy, they have mutual friends, and if this isn’t what makes blind dates the most excruciating, hellish thing on earth, worse than job interviews, worse than-

“I don’t really do blind dates”, Remus says suddenly, and then blinks as if he hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

“Right”, Sirius says, bewildered. 

“I, er, the dating scene. Not really my thing”, he says quietly, still not looking Sirius in the eye, “But I just moved here from Wales and I don’t know anyone, so this doesn’t have to be… anything. Just-”

“Oh- oh yeah. Fine with me”, Sirius finds himself swallowing down a touch of regret, offended really, because he’s not used to someone not immediately being ready to come home with him. “I’m not really looking for anything and blind dates are, well - eugh, you know? Like, thanks, my friends think I can’t get laid on my own or something so they set me up with whoever they think isn’t a serial killer, like any gay dude will do-”

“Yes, well”, Remus says tightly, taking another sip, “I rather thought Lily knew me better than that.”

His tone is rather pointed and Sirius realises he’s let his mouth run. Well… to be fair, the guy is kind of a snob. What was Lily thinking anyway?

“Yeah”, he agrees through his teeth, crossing his arms and legs and sitting back in his chair to wait for his beer. Maybe he can make an excuse after one drink. He can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t have a sense of humour and if this bloke doesn’t want to be a one-night stand, then he’d much rather be home. Alone.

“Is there anything around here you’d recommend?” Remus tries, voice clipped and still sounding slightly offended, “Restaurants? More importantly, ones you don’t recommend?”

“There’s a place that does turkey curry. It’s awful.”

“What? What curry?” The tightness in Remus’ face slips momentarily and he looks genuinely bewildered. He’s actually not a bad looker when he’s not frowning. 

“Turkey. It’s as bad as it sounds. Actually it’s worse, like eating a lamb burrito, it’s just not right. Shittest fucking curry and it’s as bad going in as it is bad going ou-”

“Two Stouts.”

The waiter delivers their beers and they fade off into silence as they drink. 

Remus sips delicately, in a way that’s completely inappropriate for a beer, and says awkwardly, “Yes well, thank you for the tip. I’ll rest easy never knowing what turkey curry tastes like.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can avoid it then I guess this date wasn’t a waste after all.”

Remus blinks, expression dropping. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Double fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom”, Remus says abruptly and stands. He stalks away quickly and leaves Sirius gnawing at his lip and furious at both himself and this infuriating man who seems to loathe him, minutes after meeting him and who Lily apparently thinks is nice. 

He’s got other shit to be getting on with, he decides. And this bloke probably shags like a limp fish anyway, an Oxford type that thinks poetry is foreplay and once a month sex is scandalously frequent.

He drains his beer and half of Remus’ for good measure, and heads to the bathroom so he can catch Remus on his way out, only to hear his own name hissed furiously. He sees Remus standing out the front of the restaurant, shoulders raised against the cold and holding the phone to his ear. He steps closer and half opens the door to tell him he’s going to head off when he hears the conversation.

“... how did you think someone like Sirius would be good for me? After the hell I’ve had in the last year? Going on a date with someone like him? He showed up thirty minutes late, dressed like he’s going to a bar playing exclusively Metallica, and insulted me immediately. I told you, I don’t mind being alone for a while, especially after the divorce. I certainly don’t want to be shown around London by a rude, arrogant berk who dresses like a teenager and doesn’t seem to have a filter between his brain and his mouth. He probably thinks the bar scene is-oh”

Remus catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye and he spins. They stare at each other for a few excruciation moments, Remus still holding the phone to his ear. 

Sirius breaks the tension with a forced laugh, “Right. I’m definitely going home.”

“Wait, shit, I’ll call you back”, Remus mutters into the phone and hangs up, stepping forward but Sirius pushes past him, temper steadily rising into a roaring bonfire within his chest.

“Sirius, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re absolutely right, I wouldn’t know the first thing about showing a bloke like you around London”, he turns and says loudly so it carries over the sounds of the cars driving by on the busy street, “You’d be more comfortable in a fucking graveyard, honestly. There’s one ten minutes that way-” he turns his back and points over to the left, calling back over his shoulder, “You’ll find someone much more your speed there, Remus.”

Blind date disastrous as expected. 

Remus fucking Lupin, a professor extraordinaire who wouldn’t be able to find his funny bone if it conked him on the fucking head, is not an exception to the blind date rule, even though he’s easy on the eyes at first glance. At second glance, he is a miserable, dried up academic whose own self-importance has completely consumed him despite dressing like his grandfather for Halloween. 

If this is what my friends think of me, I need to sort my fucking shit out. 

I should have asked him to shag before he opened his stupid fucking mouth. 

[blossom-works]

Love Always Comes With Pain

"Hunnigan, patch me to Anastasia." The computer guru asks you why, but you tell her that there is no time to explain. Your eyes are frantic and your breathing is heavy. Hunnigan nods and types away at her keyboard. You quickly take an earpiece and put it into your left ear.

"Anastasia?" You tell the woman who you are and that you work for the federal government (without specifying which one).

"What do you want? Do you want to tell me how crazy I am for doing this to avenge my husband?" The woman spits with venom.

You shake your head "No" even though she cannot see you. "I'm here to tell you that I understand. I'm married and I can't imagine losing my husband."

Anastasia who was about to pour the virus down her gullot stops.

"Listen to me Anastasia, I can't imagine what you've gone through. I can't imagine the pain you felt when you found out your husband died, but I do know that he doesn't want this for you. He doesn't want you to take the path of hatred."

"What do you know? Your husband is alive! You get to hear him say that he loves you! I didn't get that! The last conversation we had was an argument about him not quitting his stupid job!"

"But he loved you! He loved you so much, Anastasia. In fact, before he went on that mission he left you a letter."

"What letter? I never got one."

You take the stack of two papers and hold it out in front of you. You take a nearby sticky note and write something down real quick and show it to Claire.

"That's because you disappeared before the authorities could give it to you." And then, you start reading the letter.

"My dear lily," Hearing the nickname only her husband called her broke Anasatsia's heart.

"If you're reading this, then that means that I am no longer part of this earth. I don't want you thinking too much about my death. I want to let you know that I love my job and I would do it all over again even if it meant my death. If I were to go back in time though, I would've taken the time to listen to you and to tell you that I love you. I regret how we left things off.

Don't cry too much okay, Lily? And don't hate the agency too. If we don't do our jobs then the whole world is doomed. As much as I loved my job and my title, they mean nothing compared to you. My greatest honor in life was being able to call myself your husband, and my greatest accomplishment was calling you my wife.

I left some money in a separate account. I'm sorry that I kept that from you, but I created it for this exact case. Why don't you use that money and go on that trip we always talked about. The one in Australia? Seeing so many damn kangaroos that we end up becoming them. You should go, for the both of us.

It's time that I say goodbye Lily. It doesn't matter where you go, or if you fall in love with someone else and have that family you've always wanted, I'll always be with you. You will never be alone. I love you, Lily."

It took you everything in your power not to break down while reading the letter. Your heart truly breaks for Anastasia. The woman had nothing before meeting Jared. No living relative or children. When Jared died, Anastasia had nothing to keep her grounded.

In the background, you can hear some shouting and the sound of a door being broken down. Heavy boots hitting metal and guns cocking. With a broken voice, Anastasia asks you, "Did he really write that?"

"Yes...He wrote this letter for you Anastasia." You do not know what happens in the next two minutes because Anastasia tossed her phone aside, but then Claire came running in.

"You guys! They have Anastasia Boyette in custody and the vile of the virus."

Hunnigan cheers but it falls dead in your ears. You clasp the edge of the desk and take in a series of deep breaths. You try your best to blink the tears away but one water droplet manages to escape. Your two friends ask if you are okay and you just nod your head. You hand the letter to Claire and ask if she can personally hand the letter to Anastasia when time permits.

Later in the day, you hear the front door open and boots being taken off.

"Babe?"

Huddled on the couch you tell Leon where you are. When they successfully captured Anastasia, you immediately went home. You did not feel like celebrating this win. Leon comes around the corner and makes his way to you, but you beat him to it.

Seeing your husband brings a wave of emotions to you. Your arms wrap themselves around his torso and you bury your face in his chest. Leon thinks that you just miss him a lot and jokes that he should leave more often if this is the greeting he gets. You say nothing. You do not even laugh. Instead, you cry. Feeling his shirt getting wet, Leon asks you what is wrong.

"What's wrong sunshine? Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did something happen?" Leon cups your cheeks and tilts your head up. His heart clenches at how defeated you look. Again, he asks if anything happened but you cut him off.

"I don't care." Your statement stumps Leon a bit. "I don't care where you go in this world to do God knows what because you have to. I don't care about that. I don't care how long it takes. I just...I just want you home." Your voice cracks.

Hysterically, you continue spilling everything you feel. "I don't care how you do it. Just come home. Do whatever you have to do. Shit, I don't care if you have to lose a limb or two. An eye. I don't care if your body is scorched or if you end up paralyzed for the rest of your life." By now your face is wet with tears. "I don't care Leon...I don't care about any of that. I just want you to come home to me. I want you home."

When you finish, you are completely overwhelmed with emotions. Leon shushes you and kisses your head. He wraps one arm around your back and cups the back of your head. Leon tenses the muscles in his arms to hold you even tighter. Soothingly, Leon rocks your bodies while carding his fingers in your hair.

Leon always believed that he would not survive this world without you. That if he ever lost you he would go insane and might even become the very people he is tasked to stop. Leon still believes this, but he realizes that this way of thinking is selfish. He forgot about you. He forgot about the scenarios when you lose him, not the other way around. Leon realizes that it is not just you who needs to live for him, but that he needs to live for you. The both of you would be empty shells if you lost the other. Your hearts just cannot work if they lose their reason to pump.

---

This idea randomly came to me and I couldn't let the opportunity pass, so please excuse the sloppy work.

FYI, I teared up thinking about this and again when I wrote it.

[e-dubbc11]

Songbird

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Ah, let’s see…in this part, none really I don’t think.

Word Count: 3.3k-ish

Summary: Part 1 of 3 (maybe 4, if you guys like longer fics, it will be 3) You live in the same building as the “Penthouse Playboy” as you call him. He eavesdrops on you singing in the stairwell and is immediately smitten but you rebuff his charms. It goes back and forth between Reader and Billy's POV. The two songs used in this chapter are Paint It, Black by Ciara and Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman by Bryan Adams

A/N: Based off this ask from my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass

Okay, a little idea for you 🩷 We know Billy is charming and could get any woman he wants. But... what if he one night meets a woman who doesn't swoon? Someone who doesn't fall for his smooth talking or handsome looks? Of course she's interested (who wouldn't be?), but she's a tough nut to crack. Billy is instantly intrigued and wants to win her over.

I had the idea of a singer reader for awhile now and I thought combined with this ask, it sounded like a perfect combination so I hope you enjoy this and I do have a playlist that goes along with this, it's linked with the series masterlist.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The sky appeared heavy with the promise of a storm that had not yet broken. Would it be rain or would it be snow? It was difficult to tell on this cold afternoon in November, walking home from work.

Everyone on the sidewalk rushed past you and desperately wanted to get indoors before the sky opened up. They didn’t care if they bumped into you or if they knocked your purse off of your shoulder…THEY had to get inside before the rain or snow melted them into the sidewalk next to you. It was an amusing scenario to think about.

Walking in the rain and snow never bothered you. It soothed you, helped to calm you down after a rough day. You did want to get home soon to practice for tomorrow night but you didn’t rush, you took your time walking home, stopping to look in storefront windows and coffee shops.

You could smell the delicious roasted nuts from the vendors on the street from a block away, a baby crying in a stroller coming toward you, and a couple arguing as they drank their coffee walking ahead of you.

Those were just some of the sights and sounds the city produced on a daily basis and on your walk home every day, they were all different. No two days were the same, it kept you on your toes.

A cold droplet landed on the tip of your nose. As you looked around, there were little white flakes floating down, surrounding you as you watched them hit the ground and instantly disappear.

The ground was still a little warm for the snowflakes to stick to the sidewalk but they sparkled like a carpet of diamonds on the patches of grass and the bare tree branches as you continued your walk past the park toward your apartment building.

When you walked inside, you saw him standing in front of the mailboxes. His nickname was “The Penthouse Playboy.” You had no idea what his actual name was so that’s the nickname you came up with for him. He was always bringing home different women, no one steady.

Sure, he was incredibly handsome, an impeccable dresser, and he had a smile that could melt your insides but you knew his type. You knew it a little too well, you dated plenty like him and they were all the same…handsome, charming, and could smooth talk the pants right off of you.

You decided to hang back a little before checking your mail.

He’s made eyes at you a couple of times, those endless dark eyes that looked like two wells of black ink. You could definitely lose yourself in those eyes but you were immune to his charms.

You’d always give him a polite smile but that was it. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the women he brought home, they were as dumb as a box of rocks but they were very beautiful.

Finally, he headed for the elevators and you could get your mail without an awkward encounter. After checking the mail, you headed up to your not-the-penthouse apartment but it was perfect for you. Changing out of your work clothes, you were trying to remember your set list for tomorrow night.

Your little singing hobby actually turned into a regular weekend gig with a few of your friends. There were a few small intimate clubs that booked you and your band on a semi-regular basis. It wasn’t every weekend but you really were having a lot of fun.

You had always been a little shy when it came to showing off your talent but each time you performed, it became easier. Finding a good place to practice was always a challenge. You didn’t want to bother your neighbors so you never really practiced inside your apartment other than the occasional shower concert.

Your favorite place to practice was actually in the stairwell. It was out of the way, you didn’t really bother anyone and hardly ever ran into anyone while you were out there.

But on your walk home, you had an idea.

Instead of practicing on the same floor as your apartment, you would go up to the top. You thought maybe there’s less of a chance of running into anyone on the top floor. Penthouse Playboy always took the elevator anyway, he wasn’t walking down all of those stairs.

It sounded like a perfect plan.

Billy

It was almost time for you to leave and meet Agent Madani for a drink. After adjusting the cufflinks on your shirt, you added an extra spritz of cologne before putting on your jacket and locking up.

Removing the key from the door lock, you noticed how quiet it was at the top. No one else to wait for the elevator with, it was just you. It was lonely sometimes but you didn’t do relationships, they were a weakness. The company you kept was sporadic and in a matter of hours, they were gone and you’d never see them again. You liked it that way.

You had awhile to wait before the elevator stopped at the top and that’s when you heard her. The melody was coming from the stairwell and it was…beautiful. You needed to find out who she was so you crept closer to the door to see if you could see her face. The dull ache in your chest caught you off guard, it was incessant.

As you inched closer, you finally recognized the song but it was slowed down. It was a version you had never heard before.

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore, I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black

With flowers and my love both never to come back

I see people turn their heads and quickly look away

Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day

Paralyzed in place, you stood in silence listening to her. You made sure to stay away from the window of the door so she couldn’t see you and she finally turned so you could see her face, her beautiful face to go along with her beautiful voice. You’ve seen her many times before, getting her mail, talking in the lobby with the neighbors or helping them with their groceries.

She was the only woman that didn’t fall apart at your feet when you would smile at her and was completely immune to your charms. You knew deep down that she was probably too good for you.

Madani was a tough egg to crack too but not like your little songbird here, she liked to play hardball. She would ignore you most times while getting her mail, you’d steal glances at her in an elevator full of people but she never looked back.

That feeling of vulnerability would take over when you would see her but you didn’t like feeling that way. You were used to being in control but seeing her took you out of the driver’s seat and threw you into the trunk.

It was difficult to keep this new feeling you were experiencing under control, you were a marine, a soldier…you were always composed and unemotional. Emotions will get you killed and you were definitely in the line of fire after listening to her sing.

Her hypnotic voice had made you late for drinks. You were never late for anything. She was like a siren enticing a sailor. Your little songbird wasn’t just a mission anymore, these feelings she had stirred up inside of you were something that maybe you could give into for the first time in your life, but will she let you?

You

Sound check went well, it felt good, and you were ready for tonight. Your makeup, hair and outfit were perfect. The club was intimate and the dim lights were a welcome sight as opposed to the bright fluorescent ones in the stairwell in your apartment building.

The stairs outside the penthouse were a perfect place to practice, you didn’t see a single person and you weren’t interrupted at all but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched as you sang but that couldn’t be, could it? But you forgot all about it as it got closer to show time.

There were a lot of familiar faces in the crowd tonight, a lot of the same people came to see you sing each time you performed. You didn’t want to call them “groupies” but let’s face it, they were groupies. They’d sit at the front tables, bring you flowers and hang on your every word.

And you thought getting cat called walking by a construction site was bad, these guys didn’t let up for almost the entire show. The club actually provided you with some security so they couldn’t come near you which you were thankful for.

But you had a sinking feeling, tonight was going to be an interesting one.

Billy

This was the second night in a row you had met Dinah out for drinks, you could tell she wanted to sleep with you by the way she would lean into you as she sipped her drink or brush up against you when she excused herself to go to the restroom. You knew she was using you for something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet.

Walking in the crisp autumn air next to her, you were trying to listen as she talked and talked and that’s when you heard it. Paint It, Black…slowed down just like your songbird had been singing it. The music was coming from up ahead, from a club called Berlin.

You turned to Dinah. “Let’s go in here for a drink.”

She looked at you confused. “I thought we were goin’ back to my place.”

“Well, I wanna have a drink here first.” You said, walking ahead of her. And however a sure thing she was, she wasn’t what you desired anymore. She wanted you but you wanted another and when you looked up at that stage, you swore your heart skipped a beat.

It WAS her.

She looked even more beautiful than when you saw her in the stairwell. The way she held the audience's gaze and captivated them with her voice, you stopped dead in your tracks. Her voice gave you goosebumps.

I look inside myself and see my heart is black

I see my red door I must have it painted black

Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts

It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black

She performed like she was born to do it. The microphone was a part of her hand, she held it so naturally and interacted with the audience with just a couple of glances and smiles in their direction.

They loved her.

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue

I could not foresee this thing happening to you

If I look hard enough into the setting sun

My love will laugh with me before the morning comes

She glanced over to the side of the stage where you were standing with Dinah and her face froze for the briefest of seconds before going back to her performance. She obviously was not expecting to see you there and you could feel Dinah burning a hole in the back of your head because you were ignoring her.

She kept trying to get your attention but you wanted to listen to her finish the song because you weren’t able to the night before.

I wanna see it painted, painted black

Black as night, black as coal

I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors any more, I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

Hmm, hmm, hmm...

She made eye contact with you again, you made sure to clap louder than anyone else in that room, and the slightest of smiles stretched across her face as she bit down on her bottom lip to try and keep you from seeing.

At that point, you couldn’t deny it anymore. You were smitten and determined to make her yours.

You

As you started to sing your next song, you looked over to your left again, through the stage lights there was no mistaking that it was definitely your Penthouse Playboy. He was still there and he had a date with him…and why wouldn’t he?

She was beautiful, dark hair, deep brown eyes and glowing tan skin, but her eyes quickly narrowed when she saw the way he was looking at you.

Clearly, he wanted your attention but you were determined not to give it to him no matter how handsome he was, no matter how loud he clapped for you and no matter how many times he flashed that perfect smile at you.

Trading cash for a table close to the stage, he sat down with his date. Of course he sat down closest to you and instantly became one of your “groupies.” He hung on your every word and paid zero attention to his date, no matter how hard she flirted with him. She removed her jacket to reveal a silk camisole underneath, with lace detail decorating the top. Surely that would grab his attention…but it didn’t.

To really love a woman

To understand her, you gotta know her deep inside

Hear every thought, see every dream

And give her wings when she wants to fly

Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms

You know you really love a woman

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's really wanted

When you love a woman, you tell her that she's the one

'Cause she needs somebody, to tell her that it's gonna last forever

So, tell me have you ever really, really, really, ever loved a woman? Yeah

Your Penthouse Playboy was staring at you like you had hung the stars in the sky, looking at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at any of the women he brought home before. Apparently you had a knack for being in the lobby at the same time he was when he would bring a “date” home with him.

You made sure to show your regular admirers more attention than him, before taking your break for the evening. The members of the band always took their break outside where you preferred to stay on your stool which is when your smooth talker made his move toward the stage.

Security stopped him before he could get too close but you were kind of intrigued as to what he had to say to you.

“It’s alright, Nick. You can let him through.” You said, sitting down at the edge of the stage with your feet dangling off.

With a concerned look on his face, Nick said “You sure, y/n? I’ve never seen this one before.”

Your Penthouse Playboy scoffed at being called “this one” which made you smile a little too hard.

“No, really it’s ok. He lives in my building.” You said. “Or should I say, I live in HIS building. He looks down at all the peasants under him that DON’T live in the penthouse.” You said with a slightly wicked grin.

You could tell that comment got under his skin a little.

Nick was glaring at Penthouse Playboy as he walked back over to the other side of the stage and left you alone with your new admirer. He was trying his hardest to charm you just with his smile but this wasn’t your first rodeo. His type was all the same and you’ve fallen for it one too many times.

“You, uh…have a really beautiful voice.” He said, leaning in closer to you.

“Thank you.” You said indifferently and took a sip of your water. “What made you descend from on high to come mingle with the common folk?”

“I was walking by and heard you singing.” He said with a tough expression, matching your indifference.

You glanced in back of him at his date sitting by herself at the table.

“I don’t think your date appreciates you talking to me.” You said.

His lips curled back from his teeth as he said “Well right now, I don’t care what she thinks. And right now, I wanna talk to YOU.”

“Oh and you always do what you want, right?” You asked. Sarcasm dripping from your voice and inching even closer to him so you were both breathing the same air.

“Yeah…I do.” He said. “I apologize for never introducing myself before now but you do tend to ignore me when we cross paths…Billy Russo.” With such a short distance in between the two of you, he didn’t have to extend his hand very much for you to shake it.

You finally knew his actual name.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you Billy Russo. I’m y/f/n y/l/n.” You said in a harsh whisper.

Billy turned around to glance at his date, she had a scorching glare on her face and he licked his bottom lip as he turned back to face you. The space in between your bodies seemed smaller and his warm breath brushed against your eyelids.

His voice was full of confidence as he said “I’d really love to take you out sometime.”

Shocked that he would have the audacity to ask you out while on a date with another woman, it was another level of confidence or just egotistical, maybe a bit of both.

“I bet you would, Mr. Russo. And you have a lot of balls to ask me out while on a date with someone else. She looks like she wants to spit venom in my face, by the way.” You said.

Motioning for him to come closer so you could whisper in his ear, your hand snaked around the back of his head as you ran your fingers through his ebony colored hair.

“And…you’re gonna have to work a little harder than that, my Penthouse Playboy.” You said sharply, your lip pulled back over clenched teeth and adding a slight tug on his hair before pulling away.

Billy raised his eyebrows at you. “Penthouse Playboy, huh?”

“I didn’t know your name before tonight so I just referred to you as the Penthouse Playboy.” You said with a genuine smile this time.

“Is there something I could do to get you to change that nickname?” He asked.

There was a slight bitterness to your voice as you told him “Like I said, Mr. Russo…you’re gonna have to work a little harder than that. I’m not like the little bimbos you typically bring home.”

You watched as Billy’s date pushed herself away from the table and stormed out of the club, trying to make as much noise as possible on her way out, just as your band members made their way back to the stage.

Pointing to Billy’s empty table, you said to him. “Looks like your date had enough.”

“I guess she did.” He replied, not phased at all.

“Well I do have a set to finish, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

Billy turned to walk away in defeat.

Your expression softened just a little as you said “And Billy?”

He turned back around to face you.

“I’m sorry I ruined your date. I hope you’ll stay for the rest of the set anyway.”

He flashed you that perfect smile again. “You didn’t ruin anything, my little songbird. I’d love to stay. Besides…I have to earn that new nickname, don’t I.”

And with a wink, he headed back to his table and patiently waited to hear what you were going to sing next.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[lueurjun]

━━━━ cupid’s pond. c.soobin

soobin x reader! — when you least expect it, love can find its way into your life; like a bolt of lightning, cupid's arrows can strike at any moment in the most unpredictable places.

deep into the forest where most dare to stay away, sits a pond which sparkles beneath the kind eye of the sun. lily pads dot around the water, bobbing gently with the quiet waves and the patch of grass dances smoothly with the breeze. a sweet symphony of birdsong fills the air, quieting it into an endless serenity.

not too far from the pond stands a majestic tree, its wisdom evident in the decades it has weathered. recently, it was blessed with the sight of something new—a budding love between two strangers who find solace in its quiet seclusion.

it was a chance encounter when you stumbled upon the pond a few months ago — more precisely, six months. a sunny lunchtime called for an escape into the depths of the forest — nothing to accompany you but the music streaming from your headphones that lulled you into a state of peaceful contentment. you had no idea how far away from civilization you had traveled until the stillness was broken by this tranquil body of water. and with no sounds of traffic or people in sight, it was the perfect spot to unwind.

the pond became your haven, a peaceful refuge from the worries of the world and an escape to a faraway land only the pages of a book could bring. you’d find solace in this quiet spot, burying your nose in literature and allowing yourself to be transported away from reality.

you had only stumbled upon the hidden oasis a week prior, but already it had become like a second home to you. here, you stumbled across soobin deep in thought beneath an ancient tree. a sketch pad was balanced on his lap and a kaleidoscope of coloured pencils lay scattered around him. he hadn't noticed your presence until you inadvertently let out a surprised shriek - it had been your secret hideaway, and you were surprised to know he'd found it too.

he hastily moved to apologize for intruding, explaining that he had been visiting this spot for months and was unaware that someone else knew about it. you assured him it was alright, gesturing for him to remain there since he had arrived before you. after a brief introduction, a peaceful albeit awkward silence fell between you two as you went about your business, occasionally engaging in pleasant small talk.

the two of you crossed paths more often after that, getting into a routine of sitting in each others presence beside the pond. soobin’s jovial jokes brought warmth to your heart and your snacks eventually doubled until it felt like a picnic just for the two of you. you found yourself eagerly anticipating these meetings, savoring the private moments that felt like a little slice of paradise.

six months later, a blossoming friendship was accompanied by two flourishing crushes.

it had been a crisp sunny day when cupid sprinkled his magic.

as usual, you arrived after soobin, but his face was not lit up with its familiar brightness. earphones plugged into his ears, the pencil in his fingers moved with vigorous strokes rather than his usual feather-light touch. the frown on his lips subdued his delicate features, and the shadows in his eyes seemed darker than ever before.

reaching down, you tenderly extracted one of his earbuds, successfully garnering his focus. His head jerked up abruptly and for a moment his expression was guarded, but then his whole demeanor softened as soon as your eyes met. instead of the usual practice of taking a seat opposite him, this time you plopped yourself down beside him. he couldn't help but allow a small smile to grace his lips.

you poked his dimple. “you look stressed, is everything okay?”

a breathy chuckle drifted into the wind at your action, sending the butterflies in your stomach absolutely feral.

“i had an argument with my friend, yeonjun. it’s left me feeling tense, sorry for not greeting you. i was lost in my thoughts,” he explained, his gaze conveying a sincere apology.

his voice was filled with warmth and sincerity, a soothing balm for even the most festering of wounds. he was always so compassionate; it was impossible to imagine him angry with someone. you couldn't even fathom the thought of him ever becoming raising his voice. he had told you all about yeonjun before, and the stories between them sounded like two inseparable partners in crime, making it easy to understand just how much this argument had impacted him.

there was a brief curiosity, perhaps your inner gossip, that prodded at you to ask what the argument was about—after all, we’re only human and curiosity is natural, but you knew better. it was soobin’s issue and if he wanted to tell you, then he would on his own accord.

“im sorry, is there anything i can do to help?”

he shook his head, declining with a simple but resolute no. while he was grateful for your kind offer, he wasn't sure anything could really help his somber mood. he shifted slightly and offered up the other bud of his earphones. "would you like to listen to some music with me?"

soobin’s playlist surprises you with its stark contrast to his persona, given the large presence of bebe rexha. It's almost amusing, yet it also stirs some strange sort of fondness within you. it makes you realize how little you know about him and just how much there is left to discover. you find yourself more intrigued by him than ever before and wanting to learn every single detail about who he is as a person.

the music cascades into your ears as you settle, and the once forceful strokes of his pencil become gentle as his previously annoyed countenance relaxes. you have never been so close to him before, yet there's something about it that attracts you; it's soothing. a sense of ease pervades your being.

so at ease that you naturally nestled your head into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his firm biceps. soobin paused for a moment and just as you were about to pull away, embarrassed that you had gone too far, he gently set his head upon yours and you were certain you could feel the warmth of his smile. a contented calm washed over both of you as the two of embrace in a blissful moment, completely lost in each other's company.

it’s uncharted territory, but the way he draws a cluster of hearts at the very top of the page reveals that there may be more to discover in this newfound intimacy. a warmth and excitement builds inside you at the thought of venturing into something unknown, yet full of potential.

who would have imagined that the secluded pond, nestled away in a forgotten corner of the forest, would be the very spot where cupid’s magic was set loose?

[a-998h]

This Is Real

Creator's POV

A knock wakes me up and I notice that I'm in a soft bed. Thinking back to yesterday events it clicks that Venti took me to someone's house or an inn. Remembering Venti has no money for his bar tab let alone a room in an inn. So now I have to play a game of Guess Who to find out who let Venti dump me in their house. I get out of bed and walk out of the room to get a better sense of where I am. The exploring leads me down a stair case where I notice a fake owl on a small table at the end of the stairs. I look at it and unknowingly start petting it. I keep doing that till I hear something behind me.

"Hello,it is nice to see you awake your grace," a deep voices says.

I jump at throw my fist back. It hits something,hear a grunt,and I look to see the poor soul I hit and is met with the sight of red hair. Diluc,I hit Diluc.

"Oh my god,I'm sorry Diluc I didn't meet too!" I say in a panicked tone with a nervous laugh.

"It's okay your grace,I should not have startled you," Diluc says. Apologies are still spilling form me cause I like Diluc and I don't ever want to hurt him or any of the others. I ask how Venti got me hear and I'm told he showed up with me asleep and gave me to Diluc who brought me to a guest room. I stare at Diluc and thank him for not turning me away.

"I would not be foolish enough to turn you away your grace," Diluc answered.

"Why are you calling me 'your grace' just use my name!" I tell him.

"I'm sorry but it would be disrespectful to not call you by your title."

I get annoyed,knowing there is nothing I can do but go with it. I thank Diluc for his kindness and ask if there's a way I can pay him back. Diluc starts laughing,it was weird cause Diluc rarely smiles let alone laughs. I guess he noticed me being scared cause he stopped as quickly as he started.

"It was an honor to have you in my home,so there is no need to repay me," he explained.

I was going to insist that I owe him something when we hear my stomach makes noises that mean feed me.

Diluc's POV

Hearing a sound come from the Creator's stomach their face turns red and they rush out. I have a feeling of excitement at getting to met them along with sadness that they left so soon. I wrote a letter to Jean, informing her about the Creator. It was sent and I went to do my work.

Timeskip

Creator's POV

I was walking around Mondstadt and everyone was as friendly as they were in game. When walking near the cathedral I saw Barbara standing in front of it an her bright smile got brighter when she saw me.

"Welcome your grace! I would like to show you the offerings the people of Mondstadt have given you!" Barbara said.

I tried to pull away but she seemed to have an iron grip n my arm. I was pulled into the cathedral and saw a statue similar to the one in Liyue. Near the bottom of the statue was a large table full of Snapdragons,like in Liyue, but this time there were Calla Lilies. Barbara asked what I thought. I couldn't say anything,I felt like this was a dream. Dreams can feel like days at times and it felt nice to have people care about me,or at least a dream version of me. Turning around I ignore Barbara and leave. The voices of people blend together as a crushing feeling washes over me. I don't know what happened,I just know I was walking before hearing a few gasps and feeling a stinging on my hand.

"Your grace,you are bleeding!" Noelle yells.

I look at my stinging hand and see that its bleeding.

"Wait, if this is a dream I wouldn't feel the stinging so that means it real," I told myself.

The blood oozing out of the cut was a golden color. My mind was all over the place as Noelle was bringing me somewhere. I couldn't focus on anything. I was scared,scared that I would never be able to go home. I was now paranoid about everything,like if I ate something from here would I be stuck,or was there a way home at all! I was patched up and thanked Noelle but told her I had to be somewhere. She tried to stop me but I got past her. I walked in the direction of Dawn Winery cause that was the best way to get to Wangshu Inn. I made it there by nightfall. I felt like I would face plant on the floor any second. I found the elevator and got on. Getting off I went to find the front desk,forgetting that I was broke. Finding the desk and talking to the woman behind it was easy, the problem was finding a room. She apologized that she couldn't give me a room for free. I walked off,tired,hungry,and home sick. I sat down on the balcony and started to cry. I wanted to go home but I didn't know how I got her in the first place. The wind picked up,like it was trying to dry my tears. My cries went on for who knows how long till I had to move and leave. I decided to go find Xiangling and ask if I could stay with her. I searched for the chef and found her ask her dad and her were leaving Wanmin Restaurant.

"Xiangling! Xiangling!" I called out.

She looked over at me and waved back. I asked it I could stay the night with her. She was confused and said I could stay I Wangshu Inn. I didn't bother pointing out that I wouldn't be asking her if I could stay at Wangshu Inn. She asked her dad if it was okay and he said I could. I thanked them both and said I would pay them back. That night I slept in a warm house and not outside next to a statue. When my head hit the pillow I passed out with a thud.

Venti's POV

I was in Liyue catching up with Zhongli and I let it slip about the Creator being in Teyvat. He almost choked on his tea and asked me to explain. I told him everything I knew and he got a look on his face. He said I should check to see if they were still in Mondstadt and he would check if they came back to Liyue. I agreed and started making my way towards Monstadt. A feeling in my gut telling me that something happened while I was gone.

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends <3

Hope you are all okay! As always, thank you so much for all the love on this fic - it means the world. I love this version of them so so much and it is incredible to me that they mean a lot to you too.

I have so much more planned for them and will carry on writing this fic as long as you are still enjoying it.

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans, the sound turning into a yawn as she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder as they walk, the early morning sun too much for her tired eyes. 

He chuckles and turns his head to kiss her temple before he looks down at Lily, fast asleep and content in her stroller as he pushes it around the park, the little girl finally lulled to sleep after keeping her parents awake most of the night. 

“She’s fallen asleep,” he says, smiling when Emily groans again, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his as they carry on walking, both hesitant to stop in case it woke the baby up. 

“She is lucky she’s so fucking cute,” Emily says, reaching down and adjusting the blanket she’d placed over Lily when they arrived, covering the tiny foot that was exposed to the cool spring morning air, “She and Jack and are only ones who are allowed to keep me awake all night.” 

Aaron hums and raises his eyebrow at his wife, “You don’t seem to mind when I keep you up all night either.” 

She smiles at him and kisses his cheek, “I guess you’re allowed to keep me awake too,” she says, winking at him. Her smile fades slightly as she looks down at their daughter, “I hope she’s almost done with this round of teething, I hate seeing her so upset.” 

It had been a difficult few days. Lily not sleeping meant Aaron and Emily hadn’t slept very much either. It meant emotions were running high. It was almost impossible to settle Lily, which meant that Emily was on edge - all of her insecurities about her ability as a mother come to life as she was unable to settle her little girl. It was why Aaron had suggested they go for a walk in the first place. He knew his wife needed some fresh air and that it was likely Lily would fall asleep the moment they got her settled in the stroller. 

“I know, sweetheart. I do too,” he says softly, “But she’ll be okay.” 

She hums and looks down at her little girl, smiling at the sight of her fast asleep, her mouth hanging open slightly, “She looks like you when she sleeps.” 

He laughs, “Says the woman who routinely drools on me when she’s asleep.” 

She scoffs in mock outrage and narrows her eyes at him, “Oh you are so-”

“Emily?” 

She freezes, her eyes going wide as she looks up to see her mother standing in front of them, looking just as surprised to see them as they were to see her. She looked good, much better than she had when Emily had last seen her. She’d gained back a little weight and the bags under her eyes were gone, her skin not as dull as it had been. 

Aaron comes to a stop, his grip on the handle tightening as he looks at his mother-in-law, his protective instincts kicking in as he looks down at his daughter, glad to see she is still asleep. He feels Emily tense next to him, her fingers digging into his arm through his jacket as she tries to figure out what to do. 

Emily had only spoken to her mother a handful of times since they met for coffee five months ago. 

She was finding it hard. The work to try and fix the relationship that had already been broken so many times emotionally draining in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Every conversation felt like a patch job, as if she was trying to sew together threadbare edges that simply wouldn’t hold, always prone to give way and tear when up against something even as small as a passive-aggressive comment. Elizabeth had asked more than once if she could meet Lily and Emily always said no. She didn’t feel ready, didn’t want to open her little girl up to heartache even though she was too young to understand. Emily wanted her mother to prove herself, to reassure her that she wasn’t going to slip again, that her priorities were finally what they should be. 

“Mother,” she chokes out, clearing her throat as she tightens her hold on Aaron’s arm. She flicks her gaze down to Lily, still mercifully fast asleep, and she’s grateful that they haven’t yet switched the stroller around to allow Lily to face forward. The thought of her mother accidentally meeting Lily, for yet another thing being taken out of her control, is enough to make her tense, her shoulders tight as she heaves in a deep breath, “What are you doing here?” 

Elizabeth’s eyes are fixed on the back of the stroller, as if she wishes she could see through the material of it. She looks up at Emily and Aaron and smiles politely, “My sponsor is very much an advocate of exercise,” she says, rolling her eyes as if she didn’t see the benefit of it, “And since I’m not exactly going to go to a gym I try and go on a walk every few days.” 

Emily simply stares at her, digging her nails into Aaron’s arm in a way she’s sure will leave tiny little crescents on his skin, fighting against every instinct to pick up her daughter and run in the other direction. It’s primal, a need she doesn’t fully understand to protect Lily from the woman who had broken her down so many times. It makes her sad, her gut churning over the that she feels like this about her mother. 

As she always did when she thought of Elizabeth in moments like this, she wondered what it was like when she was Lily’s age. If her parents walked around a park just after the sun rose in an attempt to calm her after a hard night, or if someone else did it. There was a disconnect she knew she’d never solve, pieces of the puzzle she wasn’t even sure she wanted as she constantly tried to put the picture of her early childhood together.

“We had a bit of a rough night,” Aaron says politely, only giving away what he knows Emily would be comfortable with, “We thought some fresh air would help.” 

Elizabeth’s gaze is drawn to the stroller, her eyes fixed on the back of it. Emily can see the desire in her mother’s expression, how she is itching to step forward and look in the stroller, to set her eyes on her granddaughter for the first time. To see her outside of the few pictures Emily had shown her of when she was much younger. But she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a step backwards and clears her throat.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you both,” she says, smiling tightly as her eyes meet Emily’s, “I’ll call you to arrange for us to get coffee again soon?”

Emily stares at her for a second, not used to her mother respecting her boundaries, frozen in place as she’s unsure what to do next. It’s only when Aaron places his hand over hers, his skin warm despite the cool tinge to the air around them, that she nods, his touch always enough to bring her back to herself. 

“Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat as her voice shakes a little, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Elizabeth nods and looks at the stroller once more before she turns and heads in the direction she’d come from. Emily and Aaron stand still until they can no longer see her, and Emily eventually lets out a slow breath, her grip on her husband loosening as her shoulders relax.

“That was���something,” she says, furrowing her brow as she looks at him, “She looked good though. Better than when I last saw her.” 

“She looks like she’s looking after herself,” Aaron says as he releases his hold on the stroller and places his hands on Emily’s hip, turning her to look at him. He smiles softly at her as he squeezes her skin through her jacket, “Are you okay?” 

She nods, although she isn’t sure she is okay, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looks back in the direction her mother had walked in, “I think so. I’m glad she didn’t…” she swallows thickly and looks back at him, “It’s nice she respected my wishes with the whole Lily thing.” 

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and leans forward to kiss her, “She’s trying.” 

Emily hums and rests her head on his shoulder as she leans in for a hug, something he welcomes gratefully as he wraps his arms tightly around her, “I just don’t know if it’s enough.” 

He rubs his hands up and down her back, “And that’s okay Em,” he says as he pulls back, cupping her cheek, “It doesn’t have to be. Not after everything she’s put you through.” 

She smiles at him, her hand on the back of his head as she runs her fingers through his hair. Anything she wants to say in response is cut off by a cry, and both of them look at Lily, sighs escaping them at the same time as she shifts back and forth, her hands up and grasping for Emily as she demands their attention. 

“Oh baby,” Emily says, disconnecting herself from Aaron as she reaches into the stroller and unbuckles Lily from it as she lifts her up, “Did you enjoy the world's shortest nap?” She settles Lily against her chest and kisses the side of her head.  

Lily babbles against her, sounds that were sounding more and more like words every day muffled against Emily’s skin. She settles almost immediately in her mother’s embrace, her favourite place to be at any given moment. Emily cups the back of her head and adjusts her little hat, smiling at Aaron when she looks at him and their eyes meet. 

“Why don’t we go home and I’ll make us all breakfast?” Aaron offers, smiling at the sight of his girls together. He never got used to it, always blown away by watching them, by seeing how excellent a mother Emily is, even in the moments she still doubted herself. He couldn’t wait to have more children with her, to build their family into something he knew they both wanted. 

“That sounds perfect, huh, Lil?” Emily says, settling her on her hip as they turn back to head towards the car, “Daddy can make breakfast.” She says, and Lily babbles again, the sound so close to Dada that it makes Aaron beam and Emily groan. “I swear to god, if your first word is Dada after you lived inside of me and I fed you with my body for 8 months we’re going to have words, sweet girl.” 

Aaron laughs, “Research does show that babies are more likely to say Dada first,” he says, his smile only widening when she playfully glares at him, “It’s something to do with it being easier to pronounce.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “What was Jack’s first word?” She asks, realising she’d never asked before, that she didn’t know that piece of information about the little boy who she loved as her own, “Did he say Dada first?” 

He nods as they approach their car, “He did,” he says, his smile fading slightly as he collapses the stroller and avoids eye contact with her, “I missed it though, we were on a case,” he smiles tightly at her as he puts the stroller in the trunk, “Haley told me about it when I got home.” 

Her heart clenches in her chest for him. She wishes she could promise that this wouldn’t happen again, that the nature of his job didn’t mean that he might miss Lily’s first word too, but she can’t. But she knows it doesn’t make him any less of a good father. He loved his children unconditionally, tenderly in a way that those who didn’t know him would likely think he wasn’t capable of. She knows she couldn’t have picked a better man to have a child with, to have more children with at some point in the future, and she’d happily spend the rest of her life making sure he believed it. 

She leans in and stamps a kiss against his lips, Lily contently pressed between them, and she smiles contentedly as she pulls back, “Let’s get this little one home, and maybe we’ll even be able to sneak in a nap ourselves.” 

He chuckles and nods, “I think there’s more chance of her first words being Behavioural Analysis Unit than that happening, sweetheart.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[wastelandmoony]

Déjà Vécu: Cough Syrup

Chapter Thirty-Six : Cough Syrup

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI.

TW for this chapter: mentions of abuse, mentions of SA, use of the word r*pe.

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

Companion Playlist

Read on AO3

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

The sound of muffled voices buzzed close-by, along with the smell of Earl Grey and laundry soap. She groaned softly as one of the voices drew closer. 

“Shhh…it’s okay.”

A gentle hand ran over the top of her head. Eyelids cracking open, the blurry image of Remus came into view. She lifted her head and tried to gaze around; the mismatched furniture paired with the homey smell signaled they were at Molly and Arthur’s house. “Relax, we’re safe.”

Groggily, she blinked at him, “W-what happened?”

“You were stupefied.”

She groaned again, shutting her eyes, “Fuckin’ Barty…”

Remus let out an exasperated chuckle, “You also got a nasty slice on your arm thanks to one of ‘em, but Molly was able to patch it up as best she could.”

Moving slightly, the pain in her arm had definitely dulled, though she now sported a large bandage wrapped around her bicep. “How’d we get back here?”

Remus sighed; he looked so tired. “I caught you before you fell, and just apparated to the first place I thought of.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Which happened to be Molly’s house?”

He shook his head, “Great Russell Street.”

“…The British Museum?”

Remus nodded sheepishly, “You love it there…anyway, it’s not important. Once I saw no one had followed, I brought us here. You were bleeding pretty badly, and I just knew Molly’d be the best that could help on such short notice…”

She took his hand and squeezed it, watching the tension in his shoulders ease. Sitting up slowly, the room spun only slightly as Remus held her shoulders steady.

“I’ll go grab Molly, she’d want to know you were awake. Prongs is here too, he’s standing watch outside—”

“—he should be at home with Lily! The baby could come any day—“ Her feeble protest was silenced by a commotion in the next room over. 

“—get the fuck off me, James—“

A dull thump, followed by footsteps.

“Where is she?”

“Calm down, mate. She’s fine, you can’t go in there acting like—“

“Where is she?!”

Sirius flew around the corner looking livid. The moment his wild eyes landed on her, every feature in his face softened. 

“I’m sorry…“ she started, as he kneeled before the small couch and cupped her face. His grey-blue eyes searched for any and all injuries, falling on the bandage covering the better part of her left arm. Sirius’ voice was soft as he brushed her hair back, “We’ll talk about it later…” 

As quickly as he’d arrived at her side, he was standing, turning to Remus. “You knew what the mission was, and you let her go?” Sirius’ voice began to take on a sharp edge, “You promised to keep her safe. We agreed.”

Remus visibly deflated a bit, mouth opening to speak before she intervened.

“He did keep me safe, he’s the one that brought us back here. Remus got us out—”

“You let her walk into a den of fucking wolves as bait!” Sirius shouted at his friend, not even acknowledging her statement. 

“She wasn’t bait, she had a cover—“

Sirius let out a bitter laugh, “As what? A little werewolf-sympathizer, there to support her poor, bitten friend?” 

“I work for the Ministry you fucking asshole,” she spat, blood beginning to boil at the minimization of her efforts, “Or have you forgotten? Too busy trying to play the fucking rogue hero all the time.”

Sirius’ eyes were blazing as he glanced over a shoulder, “Better than playing a faux savior.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“At least I’m not pretending to be making a difference.”

A sucker punch to the gut. All air had been sucked from her lungs as she stared at Sirius, the love of her life, suddenly a stranger. She knew how he got when he was this angry; the words just spewing out of him with no filter and no remorse until after-the-fact. It was a trauma response, one that was built over years and years of abuse growing up. She knew that, she’d accepted it and vowed to help him work on it. She’d just never been on the receiving end before.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Remus stepped closer, fists clenched at his side, “Just because she’s not going around blasting apart Death Eater strongholds, doesn’t mean she’s not helping. This mission gave us a lot of valuable intel, and it wouldn’t have been possible without her.”

Sirius continued to glare at him, “You let her walk into a fucking ambush!”

Remus shook his head, “It wasn’t an ambush, everything was fine and under control—“

 “Under control?!” She could hear the panic in Sirius’s voice, the shrill tone echoing throughout the room. For a split second, Walburga’s face flashed in her mind; a memory from years ago in Diagon Alley. The same tone Sirius’s mother had used to chastise her in the street was almost identical to the one he shouted at Remus with. The thought caused a shiver to creep up her spine.

“You let her walk into a room full of Death Eaters and fucking werewolves, without backup, and you want me to consider that ‘under fucking control’?”

She crossed her arms defiantly, “We’re fine. We just…had a little hiccup, but it all worked out.”

Remus nodded fondly, “Her quick thinking got us out of it. Everything would’ve gone smoothly if it wasn’t for Rosier and Crouch—“

Immediately, she felt the blood drain from her face.

Sirius slowly turned to look at her, and suddenly they were back in the Forbidden Forest, his wand at Evan’s throat. “Rosier did this to you?” He whispered. 

Uttering those two names was like tossing gasoline onto an already blazing fire.

He snapped his attention back to Remus, shoving him back into the wall, “Evan fucking Rosier?!”

Remus stared like he’d lost his mind. “Barty is the one that hit her. Both of them are working with the Death Eaters.” For a moment, they were silent, the only sound being the clock ticking softly in the back of the room. It happened almost in slow motion (at least from her still-mildly-dazed state) but before anyone could react, Sirius had launched himself at Remus, pinning him against the wall. He grabbed him by the shirt and they both began to grapple with each other.

Surging forward, she ripped at Sirius’s arm, trying to separate them. “Stop, it’s over!” 

Hearing the commotion, James rushed in and pulled his best friend away, not without some thrashing and empty threats. Sirius continued to glare at Remus from where he was being held across the room. The latter stared back, in a state somewhere between rage and confusion and hurt. 

She didn’t move, just watching as Sirius’s began to burn from the inside. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he inhaled a deep breath.

“They still don’t know, do they? Just another one of your little secrets you seem so keen on keeping…” He was going for blood, something she should’ve expected; Sirius always bit back.

“Stop…” the plea came out as a whimper, tears beginning to fill her vision. Remus shifted beside her.

“Why don’t you tell them? Tell them what happened in the forest—“ Sirius cocked his head, taunting her. There was a sheen of cruelty in his eyes, one that had become more frequent as the war raged on. It was the same one she had always seen in Regulus.

“Tell us what?” Remus looked between the two of them, the tension in the air close to catastrophic levels. She shook her head slowly, eyes shooting daggers at Sirius.

He held her gaze as he fired the killing blow, “About how Rosier tried to rape her during 6th year.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” she hissed, fists clenched as she tried to not wrap both hands around his throat. 

Sirius ignored her, “Rosier, Crouch, and Mulciber lured her into the forest and held her down—” Remus had gone pale. “—and you let her walk into an unsupervised, unarmed, unprotected meeting with two of them. Way to go, Moony.”

She couldn’t stand being in the room anymore, not as Sirius spewed his venom, not as Remus and James looked at her with such pity that she wanted to throw up. Pushing past them, she fled toward the front door and out into the night, breath coming in giant heaving gasps as she spiraled into a panic. 

———

August 1st, 1980

The morning after the mission, she woke up in Remus’ bed, her best friend sprawled beside her with his arm wrapped protectively around her body. After apparating back to the flat the night prior, she’d fallen asleep curled on the floor of his bedroom, having cried so hard it was surprising she hadn’t vomited. Barely lucid, she vaguely remembered him entering the room quietly and carrying her to his bed. She’d been staying in there ever since, barely leaving out of fear of seeing Sirius.

Slipping out of his bed a few days later, she grabbed one of Remus’ sweaters from the floor and threw it over her t-shirt to ward off the morning chill (or was that a side-effect of the numbness she felt in her bones). The flat was quiet as she padded down towards the kitchen, desperate for a coffee. Her bedroom door was open, the bed vacant as she cautioned a glance inside; the covers were rumpled, and she didn’t miss the almost-empty bottle of firewhisky on the bedside table. The living room was empty as well. Sirius wasn’t here. She didn’t care, nor did she want to waste the energy trying to worry about it. 

The nutty-rich smell of coffee filled the small space as she leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to quiet the buzzing in her head. The scent must have reached the back bedrooms, because no sooner than she’d poured a cup, Remus trudged in, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely. He placed a gentle kiss to her head, pulling another mug out of the cabinet and helping himself. They sipped in comfortable silence on opposite sides of the kitchen, a lot left unsaid from the other night, neither wanting to touch it with a 200-meter pole at the moment. 

“He went to Peter’s,” Remus muttered.

“I don’t care, Moons,” she sighed. 

He hummed, “Yes, you do.” She shot him a glare as the mug was brought to her lips. 

“Lily had the baby last night,” changing the subject, he set his cup down on the counter, a tiny bit of hope gleaming in his eyes. 

She almost dropped her mug, “What?! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged, and she caught the pity in his expression briefly, something that hadn’t been there until recently. She hated it.

“You were sleeping when James sent word, I didn’t want to wake you.”

He’d been doing that a lot the past few days, letting her sleep for hours upon hours, knowing she was doing it to escape. She swallowed and avoided his eyes.

“Prongs is a dad,” he said in whispered disbelief, shaking his head slightly.

“Jesus, that’s terrifying,” she laughed, eliciting a grin from Remus. 

“We’re going over today to see them…all of us,” he said quietly.

“Bold of you to assume I’m joining.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, “We both know you’d never miss the opportunity to meet Lily’s and James’s baby.”

One eye roll later, they finished their liquid breakfast and began to prepare for the day, her ears constantly searching for the sound of a distant motorbike engine.

———

Later that day, her and Remus apparated to the Potter’s in silence, Sirius and Peter traveling separately. The second they arrived on the doorstep, she ran inside without so much as a knock. James was waiting in the entryway.

“Hiya,” he grinned. She’d never seen him glow like this, light practically radiated out of every pore of his body. 

She threw both arms around his neck, “Congratulations Jamie!” He hugged her back, swaying them both. 

“Thank you, he’s…he’s perfect,” he had tears in his eyes as she pulled away. 

“Where’s Lils?” She was anxious to see her friend, and the newest little addition to their band of marauders. James motioned up the stairs, and she quickly bounded up to the second floor as quietly as possible to not wake the baby. Soft voices could be heard coming from the last room at the end of the hallway, and she followed the sound to find her friend reclining on a large four poster bed, a small bundle cradled in her arms. As she pushed the door open wider, she recognized the familiar scent of smoke and spice, goosebumps cascading up her arms as she tried to ignore it. Sirius sat in an armchair near the top of the bed, eyes shooting to her as she entered. 

Lily looked up, “Hi,” she smiled. Remus and James entered the bedroom quietly, while she moved to sit beside her friend on the bed. 

Lily moved the blanket to show off the baby’s chubby little face and unruly dark hair atop his tiny head.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, “Lily…he’s gorgeous…” Tears welled as her friend beamed, the baby stirring in her arms.

“Want to hold him? He’s very calm, I’m almost worried that he’s not James’—“ Lily shifted to place the baby into her waiting arms, “—I’m joking darling, relax.” James was giving her a non-amused glare from across the room. Lily sat back against the headboard, watching as her friend held her son. 

“Meet Harry James Potter,” Lily smiled at her. Baby Harry nuzzled into the blankets, and she leaned down to kiss his forehead. 

“Hi Harry,” she cooed, running a finger over his soft black hair, “Welcome to this truly bizarre, but incredibly loving family.”

Remus chuckled from the foot of the bed, shifting closer to get a look at their friend’s new baby. Sirius moved to sit beside her (a bold choice if she was honest), peering at the little boy held in her arms. She could feel his body heat like a homing beacon calling to her. 

“I think he looks like you Prongs,” Sirius brushed a gentle hand over Harry’s head, “…how unfortunate.” 

Lily giggled.

“I swear Pads,” James said with barely restrained annoyance, “if you weren’t inches away from my son right now…”

Sirius smirked, focus turned back to the baby. Harry yawned, opening his little eyes to reveal twin versions of Lily’s exact emerald coloring. He reached out a chubby hand and latched onto her finger, simultaneously gripping her heartstrings as well. Everything terrible was forgotten; the war, the fighting, the deaths, the uncertainty. All of it melted away as she stared at this new little life, the perfect combination of her two best friends. Sirius must have felt it too, because he bent down and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder, never saying a word as he ran another hand over Harry’s tiny head. 

———

They apparated back home just before dinner to let their friends relax with their new baby. The mood between the three of them was still tense, but seeing Harry seemed to alleviate some of the animosity. Remus ushered her inside the house with a gentle hand on her lower back, Sirius following closely behind. 

“Chinese for dinner?” Remus asked to no one in particular. Sirius made a grunt of approval.

“Get whatever, I’m going to shower and probably go to bed early,” she was exhausted from the past few days, hell, from the past few weeks if she was being honest. Remus didn’t press as she left them both in the living room to meander down the hall towards the small bathroom. 

She let the water heat to near boiling before stepping under the stream, releasing an audible sigh as the scalding droplets washed away the leftover emotions. As she stood under the shower-head and inhaled the steam, the bathroom door opened.

“What happened to knocking?”

No response.

The door shut, and she continued her aquatic dissociation. The sound of shuffling beyond the shower curtain made her roll her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned, “does nobody in this house respect boundaries?!” 

Fully expecting the person standing against the counter to be Remus, she froze when she ripped open the curtain to see Sirius staring back. He didn’t say a word as he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. She glared at him, annoyed at his audacity. His face resembled nothing of the toxic person that had appeared a few nights ago, returning to the Sirius she fell in love with, the one that would do anything for her. He said her name as barely a whisper, the sound of which cracked her bitter shell.

“What are you doing?” She asked, voice still grasping at the remaining rage she harbored.

He moved closer, hand itching to touch her, “Apologizing…”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” she stared up at him, the spray of water warming her shoulders. 

He sighed, “Can I touch you?” There was an undertone of pain in his voice as he searched her face for an answer.

“No.”

“Then can I at least stand under the water with you, it’s fucking cold over here.”

“Also no.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and groaned, “Fine, I deserve that.” She hummed in agreement. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for everything to escalate like that, I just…I was so afraid, I had no idea where you were—“

She cut him off with a hand, “Being afraid is not an excuse for the way you acted, the way you spoke to me. You don’t treat the person you love like that, Sirius.”

His dark hair fell over his eyes as he bowed his head in shame.

“I joined the Order just like you did, we took the same oath. I wanted to go on that mission, no one else could’ve gone with Remus and I wasn’t about to let him face it alone. You of all people should understand that—”

“I know, I’m sorry—“

“I only lied to you because I was sworn to not say a word of it to anyone other than the people directly involved. God, it was eating me alive, Sirius.” She dipped her head back into the stream of water to center herself again. “We both knew the risks when joining the Order, we knew that we’d be under a constant threat of danger and need to make sacrifices—“

“What if i’m not willing to make some sacrifices?” Sirius dared to run a hand along her arm, ending with a gentle grasp of her wrist. The touch sent shockwaves rolling through her body.

“I’m not sure if we have a choice in the end,” she whispered, reaching out to trace her fingertips up his side. It was pathetic how much she needed him. It had only been a few days and she was practically gnawing at the bit to touch him, hold him, just be near him. 

Sirius threw caution to the wind and pulled her into his chest gently, allowing her to melt against his body. She almost moaned at the contact, but kept her voice in check as she savored his warmth. 

“I’ll always choose you,” he murmured into the top of her head. 

She hummed in question. 

He tipped her chin back to look him in the eye, “Out of any choice I’m given, it will always be for you.” He kissed her deeply, the rest of her anger instantly swirling down the drain. 

Afterwards, as they laid in bed, tangled with each other, Sirius traced patterns on her back with his hand. 

“I liked seeing you with Harry earlier,” he mused, eyes bright in the darkness of their bedroom. 

She smiled at the thought of the little baby boy, “He’s quite possibly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He was quiet for longer than a few heartbeats, brows furrow slightly in thought. “Have you ever thought about having children?” He asked cautiously. 

The thought of bringing a child into the world at the present moment was absolutely insane to her; how Lily and James were doing it was beyond comprehension. She exhaled slowly, “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t ever thought about it. What about you?”

Sirius would be an excellent father, growing up with a family like his had shown him precisely what not to do, so she had no doubt he’d love his own children with every atom in his being. The thought made her heart swell.

Sirius’s mouth lifted at the corner, “I’ve toyed with it.”

She matched his smile, “A tiny version of you, with the same big blue eyes running around causing mayhem?”

Sirius’s grin widened, “I’d teach them how to fly as fast as her mum used to on the quidditch pitch.”

The image made her tear up a little. She’d never given serious thought to children and the future until more recently. War did that. The uncertainty of each day, never knowing if your friends and partners would come back home after a mission. Too many of them had been lost, too many of them had plans that were snuffed out. She didn’t want to feel sad anymore, didn’t want to worry if today would be the last day she made coffee for Remus, or the last time she spoke to Lily and James. More than anything, she just wanted the chance at a future, a future with Sirius. 

She brushed his hair back from his beautiful face,”Let’s get through the war first, love. We’ve got time.”

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

Taglist (Message me to be added!):

@otterlockholmes

@sofacover

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Will Halstead & Monique Lawson (Untitled for Now) 1

This is an AU starting with 4x19. It will follow the show storyline generally but not to the same extent as my Rewind, Remix, & Replay Burgstead (Kim & Jay) story. These two stories in the same universe. So, there will be mentions of Burgstead in this story just to warn all of you. I took some liberties (a lot of them) with Monique’s character since we do not know her backstory. I want to stay true to her personality though kind, sweet-natured, and pretty timid.  

Will rubbed his eyes as he stepped out of the hospital. His body ached and all he wanted was a hot shower and his bed. It had been one hell of a day. A shooter in the hospital. People injured a young man shot down by snipers. Will was over having guns waved in his face. He didn’t know how his brother could deal with it on a nearly daily basis. 

Jay hadn’t been on the scene for this one. He had been working a UC case and hadn’t been notified and his little brother was notably pissed off. He had talked to him briefly after David had been taken down. He could hear Jay’s concern and had only spent enough time on the phone with him to let him know he was okay and decline his invitation to stay the night at his place. He needed time to get his head on straight and process the day before rehashing. 

Will heard the automatic door slide open and saw a head of blonde hair. Monique was stepping down the stairs. She had been one of the few that had been trapped inside with him. For such a timid girl she had kept her head while helping them patch up Lily’s father and the security guard. She looked distracted and a little pale but he imagined he didn’t look much better. Staring down the barrel of a gun had that effect on people. 

“Monique,” The blonde startled before relaxing and seeing the vivid red hair of Dr. Halstead. “How are you?” She took the last few steps down the stairs and gave him a little shrug of her shoulders silently. Will looked her over, she seemed like she was holding up okay from what he could see. “You were good in there today. You kept a cool head.” 

Her lips twitched at the start of a smile before it fell. “Not the first time I’ve had a gun in my face.” The words were soft but blunt. It left her lips without her permission in her state of prolonged shock. It took Will a second to wrap his brain around them and recall the incident she was referring to.  

“Right that Incel guy a couple years back. The drive-by.” If Will hadn’t been distracted so much by the long day or his phone ringing he would have caught the look in her eyes. He would have realized that wasn’t what she had been talking about. “Do you have family to stay with tonight? You shouldn’t be alone after something like this.” Will fingers silenced his phone bringing his attention back to the nurse in front of him. She shifted awkwardly readjusting her purse on her shoulder, the weight of his attention back on her feeling heavy.  

“No, they live out of state.” Monique offered vaguely. Will’s phone went off again the same ringtone and he looked down distractedly before silencing it again. 

“That might not be a terrible thing. My brother has been blowing up my phone since he found out. He wants me to come stay with him but I’ve spent more than my fair share of nights on his couch and it's the most uncomfortable thing.” Will's voice is teasing but there is an undertone of frustration. Monique felt a pang echo through her wondering what it would be like for someone to care that much. Her own phone hadn’t rung in days except from the hospital to request her to come in on her off day because they were short-staffed.  

“Do you have any friends-” He sighed and gave her an apologetic look as he silenced his ringing phone again. “Sorry about that, I-” His phone dinged again but this time it was only a text message. Will clicks it and rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh at the photo attached. When he looks back up Monique tilts her head in question. “My detective brother just broke into my apartment with his girlfriend and my niece. They are currently camping out on my living room floor.”  

Monique smiled because it was such a loving gesture. “I didn’t know you had a niece.” She says instead.  

“I don’t technically. It’s Kim’s niece- I just claim her.” Will shook his head his eyes warm and some of the tension easing out of him. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth. “You have siblings?” Monique paused as she considered if her half-brother whom she hadn’t talked to since was sixteen counted to a man with a family like Will’s. She is saved from answering when Dr. Charles calls her name. 

“Thank you for checking up on me, but I’m okay Dr. Halstead.” Monique gives him one more halfhearted smile. She turns to head back up the stairs to meet with the head of physiatry. Will is glad the older man is checking up on her after a day like today. He heads to the parking lot to go to his full house. 

“I just wanted to check up on you before you left,” Monique twisted her anxiety ring as Dr. Charles assessed her with a sympathetic eye. “It is completely understandable, normal even, if you are not okay. Especially with your past and your triggers.” Monique is quiet pressing her lips together. She didn’t want to talk about any of that tonight. The day had been awful for her, but it hadn’t been any more awful than anyone else. She just wanted to go home and hide away until she felt a little less raw.  

Dr. Charles had done therapy sessions with Monique since she had started her job at Med. They had been a lot more frequent in the beginning as she tried to put her life together. Now he saw her maybe once a month. He knew the young woman in front of him had been through a lot in her short life. He also knew the signs when she was disassociating and shutting down. 

Dr. Charles relents and takes a different approach. “You seem to be okay now. So, how about we table this for now. You go home and get a good night's sleep. We can have a quick talk tomorrow before your shift. Everyone has to be evaluated before they can return to work anyways.” Monique simply nodded her consent.  

Will watched as Monique bustled around the ED. He had been keeping an eye on her throughout the day. The previous day had been traumatic for all of them but he was extra concerned for her. He hadn’t known that she didn’t have any family in Chicago and he felt a need to make up for that lack of support himself.  

He hadn’t realized how much he need it until he had gotten home the night before and the day's events had really set in. Jay, Kim, and Zoey had kept him grounded while he had time to come to terms with it. They had been the same support that had got him through the aftermath of his CI run on the Burks. When Natalie had kicked him out for wanting the protection of a gun and then again when she had gotten distant and started spending more time with Philip and ending their engagement officially. It was Jay and them that had kept him from completely losing it. 

He had struggled with their support, and couldn’t imagine doing it alone. And if he had a say- she wouldn’t. For working with her for over two years Will was startled to realize he knew little about her. He knew she was a good and capable nurse- one that had been trained by Maggie and Doris but that was all he really knew about her. 

 He knew that she had to be doing okay- they had all had to be cleared through a psych evaluation in the morning before they were allowed to start their shifts. He had requested her on his caseload for the day. It had been a relatively easy shift so far. Will cleansed his hand with hand sanitizer as he walked out of the room and towards the nurse station. “Monique, can you run a blood panel and get me a CTC and a CBC.”  

The blonde turned to give him her full attention as she answered, “Sure, Dr. Halstead.”  

“And Monique.” He called as she set her chart down to start heading towards the patient's room. “We’ve worked together for what two years, maybe three?” The blonde looked confused by his change of topic but nodded her agreement, “And we went through a lock down shooting together. Made it out alive.” Again, she nodded. “I think you can call me Will.”

Tag List: @annieradcliff, @chicataku17

(I tagged you guys because you said you would be interested in the story. I won't tag you again if you don't want to be. 

[exilynn]

I actually liked Lily's voice in Brazilian(my Voice in i.a), god, the way they communicate each other, the touch of cuteness, concern and support is my everything here🥺♥️ Eddie is a sweethheart in Echoes Nocteris

Translate: Quote from chapter 33 🦇

"And who is Lily Klung when no one is watching?"

"Someone who doesn’t care about systems and doesn’t want to care about opinions anymore!"

"Perfect, baby." He praises me. "What do you feel when you're with me?"

A smile is painted on both sides of my cheeks.

"I may not be the best poet, but overall, you’re the only one who comforts me..."

Eddie is moved, locking eyes with me, his gaze filled with gratitude, scanning my eyes, which shine like the dwarf star, Alpha Centauri.

"You have starry eyes. Starry eyes, and they must envy your shine, baby. If you think you’re not good at writing, that’s a lie!"

Time break

"Implying that I’m not grateful?"

"You are... but in your own way. And there’s nothing wrong with being frustrated..."

"Why, Eddie?"

"You are my star. And I’m going to prove to you every day that you shine!"

"I don’t take pride in being a voice in writing that feels below my talent..."

"In quantum calculations, you could choose between giving up or shutting everyone up!"

"Do you use nerdy terms just to embrace my soul?"

"Man, you danced with my dragons, and weren’t afraid of them breathing fire in your face!"

"This figurative definition is concerning. If the elemental breath gets on me, Eddie!"

"I couldn’t let them capture you. Listen, we both know you underestimate yourself and that’s not good!"

"That’s a lack of self-love..."

"Lily, you’re going through a rough patch, and I’m not going to tell you to isolate yourself... The world is a mess, but you taught me a sacred proverb that changed my way of thinking!"

"Living in a world full of bad people is a drag..."

"There were no more curses that made me give up composing, or even considering leaving the band. Black Coffin should thank your existence..."

"Don’t thank me. You know that since I was young it was about walking in music with Jamie and the guys. Was it about me? But I’ll say, even as a child you showed signs you were born for music, Eddie! Remember the cardboard guitars?"

"The cardboard guitars. You haven’t forgotten?"

Eddie’s eyes light up, the little boy inside him manifests.

"I would never forget... I remember people’s passions as if they were mine..."

"I hit the jackpot being loved by you."

We laugh like two love-struck idiots. And that’s what we were, after all.

"Stop flattering me, okay? Pretend to be an adult and mature."