thelovehypothesis

[thelovehypothesis]

Picked Up Anyway

✨ summary: Where Harry drinks too much and costs him the things he loves most. 

📝 word count: 8.5k

⚠️ content warning: drinking, cursing. 

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The phone rang at 2:12 a.m.

It didn’t startle her awake—she wasn’t sleeping, just listening to the rain as it pattered lightly on the roof. She hadn’t really been sleeping in weeks, not properly. Just drifting in and out, half-conscious with the fan spinning above her, eyes dry from too much screen time and not enough rest. The sound cut through the stillness like a blade, sharp and sudden, and her body froze before her mind caught up.

She didn’t need to check the screen. Somewhere deep in her chest, she already knew.

She rolled over anyway, the bedsheets tangling around her legs, and reached blindly for the phone on the nightstand. The screen lit her face. H. Just that. One letter. She’d never changed the contact after the breakup. It felt wrong to delete it and even more wrong to leave his full name sitting there like a wound.

The call kept ringing. She stared at it. Her thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.

She should ignore it.

But she didn’t.

“Hello?”

There was a pause. Shuffling. Background noise—harsh fluorescent lighting buzzing, maybe, and the distant echo of someone talking over a crackly intercom.

Then his voice. Thick. Slurred. Familiar in a way that made her heart twist painfully inside her chest.

“Hey. S’me.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

“I, uh… I’m sorry it’s so late. I just—I didn’t know who else t’call.”

Of course he didn’t. He never did. Not when things got bad.

Her voice was flat. “Where are you, Harry?”

“Station. Again.”

Jesus.

She sat up slowly, brushing a hand down her face. “Are you okay?”

A soft laugh crackled through the speaker, bitter and tired. “Yeah, m’alright. Bit of a shiner, maybe. They said I weren’t bleedin’ enough to get patched up, so. Just waitin’ for someone t’come get me.”

There was shame in his voice, buried beneath the booze and bravado. And something softer too—something closer to the version of him she used to know. The version she loved.

“I shouldn’t’ve called,” he said after a beat. “I know that. Just—fuck, I didn’t mean t’ruin your night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said quietly, though they both knew it wasn’t true. Her sleep had been ruined for weeks. Her peace, too.

There was a silence that stretched too long.

Then he said, “Could you… come get me?”

She hesitated.

He filled the gap like he always did, voice turning smaller, rougher. “I’ll pay you back for the gas or whatever. You don’t have to speak to me, promise. Just need a lift.”

“Harry.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t know who else.”

She breathed in through her nose. Out through her mouth.

This wasn’t the first time. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But the thing about love—the hard kind, the ugly kind, the kind that lingers even after it should’ve rotted away—is that it doesn’t always die clean. Sometimes it sits in your chest and makes choices for you.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

She heard him exhale, like she’d pulled him up from underwater. “Thank you.”

The line went dead.

She sat still for a moment. Then she stood, quietly grabbing the hoodie off the back of her chair and slipping on the nearest pair of sneakers. Her keys were already by the door.

The police station sat on the edge of town, half-lit and quiet, the kind of place that looked more like a post office than a holding cell. A single streetlamp flickered above the front door, casting a pale yellow glow over the cracked sidewalk and wilted landscaping. She pulled into the empty lot and shut off the engine, letting the silence settle before reaching for the handle.

The chill in the air hit her first—thick with humidity, but sharp enough to raise goosebumps along her arms. She crossed the lot quickly, her sneakers whispering against the pavement, and pushed open the door.

Inside, it smelled like old coffee, sweat, and something sourer—regret, maybe. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright for the hour. At the front desk, a bored-looking officer glanced up, recognition flashing in his eyes. This wasn’t her first time here.

“Hey. He’s in the back,” the officer said, not unkindly. “Didn’t resist this time. Just loud and asking for you.”

She nodded wordlessly, throat tight.

He stood to lead her down a short hallway, past a row of empty chairs and posters about opioid misuse and town hall meetings. The floor creaked under their steps. When they reached the door, he turned to her.

“He’s not hurt, just drunk and mouthy. Calmed down once he knew you were coming.”

She didn’t answer.

The door opened with a loud click, and there he was—sitting on a metal bench, hands folded between his knees, head bowed like a boy in detention. The room was small, gray, sterile. His knuckles were red and scraped. A faint bruise bloomed along his jaw, ugly and half-formed.

He looked up when he heard the door. And when he saw her, his whole face changed.

Like shame moved through him all at once.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think they’d actually call you.”

“You gave them my name,” she said.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, looking down again. “Still didn’t think you’d come.”

She stepped inside. The officer left them alone, closing the door behind him with a soft snick.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, slowly, he stood.

He looked rough. Clothes rumpled. The collar of his shirt stained with sweat and something darker. Eyes bloodshot. Hair a mess.

But somehow, still him. Still Harry.

“I don’t remember what started it,” he said. “Think some guy said somethin’ and I just—couldn’t let it go. Got stupid. Again.”

She didn’t move. Just watched him.

“I’m tired,” he added, voice lower now. “Tired of fuckin’ up. Tired of callin’ you and makin’ you clean up after me.”

“You didn’t ask me to clean up,” she said softly. “You asked me for a ride.”

He looked at her then. Really looked. Eyes a little glassy. “Still. You didn’t deserve the call.”

She blinked. Her chest ached. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t argue. Just nodded once, like he knew better than to push for anything more. He followed her out in silence, hands in his pockets, head bowed.

When they stepped into the night, he flinched slightly at the air. It was heavier now—humid and thick with the weight of everything unspoken between them. She unlocked the car. He slipped into the passenger seat, still saying nothing.

She sat behind the wheel for a second before starting the engine.

The hum of the car filled the space between them, steady and low.

Then his voice, quiet.

“You look tired.”

She gripped the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I am.”

He swallowed.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

A beat passed. Then—

“I used to hate when you didn’t sleep ‘cause of me.”

She glanced at him, just once, then back to the road. “Used to.”

He didn’t reply.

And that silence was louder than anything else.

They drove through town without a word.

The streets were empty—just the occasional glow of a porch light or the flicker of a TV behind thin curtains. Everything felt still, like the world was holding its breath around them. The only sound was the soft whir of the tires and the occasional creak of the suspension over uneven pavement.

She didn’t look at him, but she felt him there. Heavy in the passenger seat. Like a presence she hadn’t fully shaken.

It wasn’t until they passed the gas station on Main Street that she spoke.

“Where do you want me to drop you?”

He didn’t answer.

She flicked her eyes over to him, barely.

He was slumped against the window, one hand curled near his mouth, thumb grazing his bottom lip in thought. His forearm rested against his knee, and she caught the familiar shapes of ink beneath his shirt—smudged swallows, a butterfly, a tiny letter “A,” and the faint outline of something newer along the inside of his wrist she didn’t recognize.

His knuckles were scraped raw. His lip looked like it might split if he smiled too wide.

But he wasn’t smiling.

He turned his head slightly toward her, voice low.

“Could I… stay at yours tonight? Just the couch.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her hands tightened on the wheel, then released.

He kept going, like he felt the need to explain.

“I know it’s a lot to ask. I won’t bother you, I swear. Just—it’s late, and I’m not exactly welcome back at Mattie’s after what happened.”

She stayed quiet for a few more seconds, staring at the road ahead like it might give her the answer.

Then softly, “Okay.”

His shoulders dropped like he’d been holding them up for hours.

“Thanks,” he murmured, almost under his breath. “You’re kind.”

She didn’t respond to that. Kindness had nothing to do with it. Habit, maybe. Muscle memory.

She turned the wheel, took the familiar turn toward her street.

And for the first time since the call, he looked at her like he was really seeing her—like the weight of everything between them hadn’t dulled how much he still remembered her face in the dark, still noticed the way she held tension in her jaw or blinked a little more when she was trying not to cry.

But he didn’t say another word.

Neither did she.

Her porch light flickered like it always did, casting a faint glow across the front steps as she pulled into the drive. The house was quiet, small, the kind of place where sound carried easily and memories stuck to the walls. She turned off the ignition. The silence that followed felt louder than the engine.

Harry sat still beside her, fingers picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt. His rings clinked softly against one another, the sound barely noticeable but familiar.

She didn’t ask if he was coming. Just got out of the car and left the door unlocked behind her. He followed, wordless, dragging one hand through his hair as he stepped into the soft yellow of her entryway.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of lavender and something warm—like sleep. He stood just inside the door, not moving further than the rug. He looked out of place, like a ghost she wasn’t sure she believed in.

She turned to face him. “Blanket’s in the hall closet. You remember where that is?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

But he didn’t move.

And for a moment, neither did she.

Their relationship hadn’t always looked like this—quiet, strained, stitched together by late-night rescues and the weight of what they didn’t say. There was a time when it had been all possibility and open windows, when they moved into the town with nothing but secondhand furniture and too many dreams. She remembered unpacking boxes in the summer heat, both of them laughing, sweaty, barefoot on the hardwood floors. She remembered the way he kissed her neck while holding a stack of books, how they argued over where to hang their first framed photo, how he played guitar on the porch while she watered the plants.

Back then, he drank, but it was fun. Just a beer on the porch. A shot of whiskey to celebrate something small. Harmless.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the bar became a second home, and he started coming back smelling like cigarette smoke and stale liquor, eyes red, words louder. Fights started slipping into their mornings—over dishes, over nothing. He’d come home long past midnight, stumbling into the hallway, waking her with the slam of a door. Sometimes he forgot what they fought about the night before. She never did.

What hurt more than anything was how he was with his friends.

How rowdy he became. The way he got loud when they were around, like he had something to prove. Laughing too hard, talking too fast, calling her babe in that too-casual way that made her feel small. If she tried to pull him back—ask him to quiet down, to go home, to stop drinking so much—he’d wave her off. Tell her she was “overthinking everything,” that he was just “bein’ a lad, love. S’nothin’.”

He never hit her. Never touched her in anger.

But sometimes, the things he said hit harder than he knew.

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you,” he’d muttered once, drunk and swaying in the kitchen, eyes glassy. “Like you’re ashamed of me.”

She was. That night, she was.

And he knew it.

Back in the present, she watched him as he stepped out of his shoes, walking quietly to the hall closet to retrieve the blanket. He moved slower than usual, like his body ached. Like everything inside him had been rung out and left in the sun to dry.

She brought him a pillow without saying anything and placed it on the couch.

He took it with a murmured thanks, sat down heavily, and looked up at her through dark lashes.

“D’you want me to leave in the morning?”

“I don’t care,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if it was true.

He nodded once, adjusting the pillow behind him. His arms were bare now, his sleeves rolled higher. The tattoos she used to trace with her fingers were dulled by the low light—his mermaid, the rose, the anchor by his wrist. They used to mean something to her. Now they just reminded her of who he used to be.

She stood there for a moment longer than she should have, arms crossed over her chest like she needed to physically hold herself together.

Then she turned away and walked down the hall, back to the bed she probably wouldn’t sleep in.

The bed was cold, the kind of cold that settled in the bones. She lay still for what felt like hours, eyes tracing the outline of the ceiling in the dark. Every creak from the living room felt louder than it should have been. She could hear the occasional shift of the blanket, the subtle drag of fabric as he turned on the couch. Neither of them were sleeping.

She rolled to her other side. Then back.

Then sat up.

The floor was cold beneath her feet, but she didn’t bother with socks. She opened the door slowly, careful not to let it creak, though she wasn’t sure why. He knew she was there. He probably hoped she wasn’t.

The living room was lit only by the faint blue spill of moonlight through the blinds. He was lying on his back, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting across his stomach. The blanket was half-kicked off, and his shirt had ridden up just enough to show a strip of his lower stomach, pale and soft in the light. His tattoos stood out like ink on paper—bold, black, familiar. Her eyes flicked over the butterfly, the anchor, the tiny “you booze, you lose” on the inside of his bicep, now faded. All of it still felt like home. And that made her angry.

She took a step forward. The floor creaked.

His head turned, slow. He blinked up at her like he wasn’t sure she was real.

She didn’t speak. Just crossed the room and sat on the edge of the coffee table facing him, her knees between his.

He pushed himself up a little, wincing. The bruise on his jaw looked darker now. She didn’t ask how he got it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough with sleep—or something close to it.

She nodded, though it wasn’t true. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He let out a breath, rubbed a hand over his face. “Me neither.”

She studied him. The circles under his eyes. The cut on his lip. The slope of his shoulders, still tense. He was thinner than she remembered. Not in a way that looked good.

He must’ve felt her staring because he looked back at her, something soft flickering behind his eyes.

“Sorry for talkin’,” he said. “I heard you moving. Didn’t wanna be weird. Just… I dunno.”

“You never used to say sorry this much,” she murmured.

He gave a humorless smile. “Yeah, well. S’what happens when you fuck everything up, innit?”

She looked down at her hands in her lap.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she said quietly.

He swallowed. “No. It wasn’t.”

“We used to be good.”

His voice dropped, gentle. “We were better than good.”

Silence stretched between them. Thick. Unbearable.

She glanced up, met his eyes. “What happened, Harry?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands for a second. When he looked back up, he looked tired. Older than he should have.

“I don’t know. I got comfortable, maybe. Stopped payin’ attention. Started drinkin’ more when things got hard. Didn’t know how to be a version of myself that deserved you. So I just… gave up.”

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t cry.

“You used to love me out loud,” she said. “And then you stopped.”

His throat bobbed. “Didn’t mean to. I never stopped lovin’ you, not even for a fuckin’ second.”

He said it like it hurt.

She believed him.

That was the problem.

She reached out, just barely, fingertips brushing the edge of the blanket near his knee. “Get some sleep.”

His voice was small. “Will you stay out here? Just for a bit?”

She hesitated.

Then she nodded.

And when she curled up on the far end of the couch, blanket pulled over her legs, they didn’t speak again. But he shifted so their feet just barely touched, and neither of them moved away.

The room was still. Just the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the slow tick of the clock on the wall. Moonlight slipped through the blinds and striped the floor like something borrowed from a memory.

They hadn’t spoken in a while. Just breathed in the same space, close enough to feel it, far enough to pretend it meant nothing.

Harry had leaned back again, head resting against the arm of the couch. She stayed where she was, legs tucked under her, staring blankly at the floor, too tired to sleep, too wired to get up.

And then, into the quiet—so quiet she almost didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice—she spoke.

“I wish I didn’t love you.”

His eyes opened slowly.

She didn’t look at him.

“It’d make this easier,” she said. “All of it. Getting the call. Picking you up. Sitting here and pretending like I don’t still want to ask if you’ve eaten today or if you’re warm enough or if you’re gonna disappear again for three days and forget how to answer your fucking phone.”

Her voice didn’t shake. It was steady. Not angry—just tired in a way that came from the soul.

“I wish I could hate you. I really do.”

He didn’t speak, but she felt the shift in the air. The sharp inhale. The way his body went tense at her words, like he’d been bracing for them but still wasn’t ready.

She let out a bitter breath and leaned her head back against the cushion, eyes closed now.

“But I don’t. I still love you. And I don’t know what that says about me anymore.”

Silence pressed in again. But heavier now. Thicker.

He sat up slowly, elbows on his knees, staring at the rug beneath his bare feet.

His voice came out low, rough. “I never deserved the way you loved me.”

She turned her head, finally meeting his eyes in the dark.

“Then why did you let me?”

That was the question. And he didn’t have an answer.

Because there were no good ones.

He looked at her like he wanted to say something—something real. But all that came out was a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. But in this moment, it was all there was.

She didn’t know why she kept talking.

Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the weight of the hour—the way the world felt too still, like it was waiting for something to break.

Or maybe she was just done pretending.

Her voice was quieter now. Almost gentle. But every word cut like glass.

“This was supposed to be our house.”

He flinched.

She didn’t stop.

“We picked it together. Drove out here in the rain. Remember?” She laughed, soft and sharp. “We got lost on the way. You said we’d figure it out—said we’d make it home.”

Harry didn’t say a word. Just stared at the floor like it might forgive him better than she could.

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth for a second, then dropped her hand.

“I still think about that night,” she whispered. “The one you left. You were angry, I know. But I don’t think you meant it. About me nagging. About me never being satisfied. About how you couldn’t breathe when I walked into the room.”

His jaw clenched. He looked at her now—really looked. And it nearly shattered her.

“You packed your bags in ten minutes,” she said, voice cracking. “Tossed your clothes into that old duffel and said you needed space. That I was suffocating you. That this—us—wasn’t working anymore.”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“I sat on that bed after you slammed the door. All night. Just sat there. The closet was still open. Half your shirts still hanging. I kept thinking—I should’ve asked you to stay. I should’ve begged. I didn’t. I wanted you to come back on your own.”

Harry swallowed hard, eyes glassy.

She leaned forward a little, elbows on her knees now, staring at her own hands. Her voice dropped to almost nothing.

“I thought we were gonna get married.”

His breath hitched. She didn’t look up.

“I thought we’d have babies. You’d make breakfast on Sundays. I’d work part-time. We’d take walks with a stroller down by the lake. I had the whole fucking future in my head, Harry.”

Silence filled the room. Heavy. Sharp around the edges.

She finally looked up.

“I bet you didn’t even know that.”

His face was stricken. Pale and stunned and young in the worst way—like someone had just told him he’d broken something he didn’t know was fragile.

“I did,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I knew.”

She stared at him. “Then why’d you ruin it?”

His mouth opened. Closed. No answer came.

Just the sound of her breath, tight and broken.

And the way he looked at her like he’d give anything to take it all back.

But he couldn’t.

And they both knew that.

Harry stayed quiet for a long time.

Too long.

She almost thought he wouldn’t respond—that he’d let her words settle and sour in the silence like he always used to. Shrink into himself. Shut down. Escape in the quiet.

But then—

“I know I ruined it.”

His voice was soft. Unsteady.

She looked up.

He was hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly like he was trying to wring something out of them. His head hung low. Eyes fixed on the rug.

“I ruined us,” he said again. “Not just that night. Not just when I left. I started breakin’ it before that—little pieces. Letting things rot. Sayin’ shit I didn’t mean. Comin’ home drunk. Lookin’ right at you and still makin’ you feel like you were invisible.”

He shook his head slowly, jaw clenched.

“I hated myself for it. Still do. Every time I looked at you back then—every time you were standin’ in the kitchen with your hair pulled back and that worried look on your face—I’d think, ‘She deserves better than this. Better than me.’ And instead of gettin’ better, I just started actin’ worse.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t dare.

His voice cracked as he went on, barely above a whisper.

“I got in the fight ‘cause someone brought you up.”

Her stomach turned.

“Said they saw you in town the other day. Said I was a fuckin’ idiot for losin’ you. Said you looked happier now—free.”

His mouth twisted. “Then he laughed. Said somethin’ disgusting. Somethin’ I won’t repeat. And I—I fuckin’ lost it.”

He leaned forward, running both hands through his hair. “Didn’t even remember hittin’ him. Just blinked and we were both on the floor and someone was shoutin’. Next thing I knew, I was in cuffs.”

He looked up at her now. Eyes rimmed red. “They put me in the back of the car, asked who I wanted to call.”

A pause.

“And I said your name.”

Of course he did.

He blinked hard, like the memory stung.

“The cop—he laughed. Said, ‘You need to leave that girl alone. She’s done with you.’”

He looked away, shame blooming hot across his face.

“But I couldn’t. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew you didn’t owe me a single fuckin’ thing. But the minute they asked me who to call, it was you. It was always gonna be you.”

She swallowed hard.

He let out a breath that shook all the way through him. “I never felt good enough for you. Even when we were good. Even when things were bright. I’d look at you and think, ‘She picked me. Why the fuck would she pick me?’”

Her voice came out quiet. “Because I loved you.”

“I know,” he rasped. “And I didn’t know what to do with that.”

The room was spinning with everything unsaid. All the broken parts laid bare between them. It was too much. It was everything.

And still not enough.

She watched him, barely breathing.

There was something about the way he looked in that moment—hunched forward, heart split wide open in his lap—that reached past the version of him she’d spent the last year trying to forget. Past the bitter fights and slammed doors and aching nights she spent wondering if it was her fault he changed.

And maybe it was a mistake, maybe it would make everything worse—but her hand moved before her brain could stop it.

Fingers light, she reached out and touched his knee.

He flinched, just slightly. Then froze.

She let her hand stay there, palm resting over the soft denim of his jeans, thumb grazing a threadbare spot where the fabric had thinned. It was nothing. Barely a touch. But the heat of him hit her like a memory. And just like that, she was somewhere else.

It was a summer evening. Their first apartment. They didn’t have air conditioning and the windows were thrown open, letting in the thick breeze and the sound of kids riding bikes in the parking lot below. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, a popsicle dripping down her wrist because Harry had distracted her by dancing like an idiot in the middle of their linoleum floor.

He was shirtless, his curls damp from a cold shower, tattoos gleaming with sweat. He’d just bought a new speaker and was blasting Fleetwood Mac, singing every word into a wooden spoon. She was laughing so hard her stomach hurt, cheeks sore, heart too full.

And then, out of nowhere, he spun toward her, grinning wide, and said it.

“I love you, you know.”

Just like that.

Like he hadn’t even realized he was going to say it until the words left his mouth.

She blinked at him, popsicle halfway to her lips, trying to pretend her entire world hadn’t just shifted. “You do?”

He’d stepped between her knees, hands on her thighs, forehead pressed to hers with the most ridiculous smile on his face. “Mhm. Properly love you. Like, can’t-think-straight love you. Like, wanna-wake-up-next-to-you-forever love you.”

She’d giggled, kissed him once, then again, deeper. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you eat the last of the cereal.”

“God’s honest truth,” he whispered, before kissing her like he meant it. Like he knew he was sealing something into her bones.

After that, they said it all the time. In stupid voices. In serious ones. Shouted across the room, murmured into pillows. Texted in the middle of the day for no reason. Scribbled onto receipts and tucked into coat pockets. It became the air between them. Effortless. Warm.

And now—

Now it lived behind her ribcage like a ghost. Haunting.

She blinked herself back into the present.

Her hand was still on his leg.

He was watching her with wide, cautious eyes, like he could tell something had cracked open inside her.

She pulled her hand away gently.

“Don’t you remember?” she asked, voice barely more than a breath. “Don’t you remember what we were before it all got so… heavy?”

Harry exhaled, slow and unsteady. “I remember everything.”

And he said it with such aching truth that her chest physically hurt.

He sat there watching her, eyes darker than she remembered but still holding that flicker—the one that always undid her. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t desperate or loud. Just soft. Steady. Like he’d been holding it in for far too long.

“I want to be better,” he said. “Not just for you. For me, too.”

She stared at him, tired and sore and so full of feeling she didn’t know where to put it all. She didn’t want another promise. She didn’t want to cradle his words like a matchstick and hope they lit something that didn’t just burn her down again.

So she didn’t cry. She didn’t ask him what changed. She didn’t tell him she loved him, even though it sat thick in her throat like honey gone sour.

She just looked him in the eyes, lids heavy, and whispered, “Show me.”

That was it.

A challenge. A plea. A door she wasn’t sure she was ready to open again—but wasn’t ready to lock either.

He nodded once. No smile. No drama. Just that small tilt of his head like he’d heard her, truly heard her, and knew what she meant.

And in that quiet space, the exhaustion finally crept in. The adrenaline was gone, leaving behind the hollow ache of too much emotion with nowhere to go. Her body felt heavier by the second, her chest worn out from everything it had held.

She curled back into the couch, pulling the blanket over her legs again. He shifted too, sitting beside her now, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him. The kind of nearness that said everything they hadn’t.

He didn’t try to hold her.

She didn’t ask him to.

And like that, she let her eyes close. Her breathing slowed. The noise in her chest quieted.

For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep next to him without dreaming of the past or fearing the future.

When she woke, the sun was bleeding through the blinds, soft and gold, cutting across the living room floor in wide stripes. Her neck ached from the awkward position she’d fallen asleep in, the blanket tangled around her legs. She blinked slowly, disoriented.

Then she turned her head.

The couch cushion beside her was cold.

Empty.

He was gone.

The blanket was folded neatly on the arm of the couch when she woke. No note. No sound. Just the faint trace of him still hanging in the room like something she’d dreamed.

She sat there for a long time that morning. Staring at the empty space beside her. Waiting for the door to open again.

It never did.

And eventually, she stopped waiting.

Time passed the way it always does—slow, then all at once. Days folding into weeks. Then months. Seasons changing around her before she even realized she’d stopped counting them.

She got a new job. Something small, local, steady. She repotted her plants. Gave up caffeine for two months and then caved. Started keeping her windows open again, even on rainy days. It didn’t happen overnight, but her body stopped bracing every time her phone rang after midnight. Her heart stopped trying to conjure him in every crowd.

She started to feel like herself again—just a little different. Softer in some places. Tougher in others.

And that morning, she was just running errands. Coffee in hand. Browsing a small bookstore she hadn’t been in before, letting herself enjoy the quiet.

Until she saw him.

She was flipping through the fiction shelf, fingers grazing over the spine of a paperback when something shifted in the corner of her eye. A shape. A movement. A posture her body hadn’t forgotten.

He was standing by the window. Back to her. Hands in the pockets of a navy sweater that clung to him in that familiar way—loose at the shoulders, fitted through the arms. His hair was longer, the curls brushing the nape of his neck. He looked… steady. Calm.

She didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.

Just watched him.

He reached for something on the shelf beside him—a book or a card, she couldn’t see. Turned slightly, enough for her to catch the profile of his face.

It knocked the breath from her lungs.

He looked good. Better, even. His skin had color. His jaw was sharp, his eyes soft. He looked rested. Like someone who’d started again. Like someone who had found something to hold onto.

For a long time, she just stood there.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t make a scene.

She didn’t cry.

She just looked at him and let the ache settle where it belonged—not in the center of her chest anymore, but somewhere deeper. Somewhere quieter.

She didn’t think.

Didn’t talk herself out of it, didn’t weigh the options or second-guess her heart like she used to. She just moved—slowly, purposefully—across the polished floor, each step syncing with the steady hum of her breath.

She stopped behind him.

Close enough to smell the soft cedar of his cologne. Close enough to remember the feel of his sweater under her fingers.

He hadn’t noticed her. He was still flipping absently through a small paperback, the kind with a creased spine and a coffee stain on the corner.

She lifted her hand.

And gently—so gently—tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned.

And for a second, the entire world narrowed.

His face hit her like a memory she hadn’t been ready for. Like something tender and dangerous all at once.

His curls were longer now, darker at the roots. A few strands fell loose across his forehead, and he pushed them back out of habit. His jaw was sharper, cheeks dusted with just enough stubble to make him look older, quieter, more lived-in. There was a scar near his eyebrow she didn’t recognize. His mouth parted slightly as he looked at her, lips still full, still soft.

But it was his eyes that undid her.

Green, yes—but darker than they used to be. Like something had changed behind them. Like time had smoothed the edges of the storm but left the depth intact. He looked—God—he looked beautiful.

Not in the way he did when she used to wake up beside him and trace the curve of his collarbone under golden sheets.

But in a way that felt real.

Worn in. Weathered. Human.

“Hi,” she said, voice steady despite the tremble in her spine.

He blinked, stunned silent for a moment. His lips moved like he wasn’t sure what language to use.

Then—softly—“Hi.”

And in that one word, she heard everything she used to love. Everything she’d lost. Everything that still remained.

He kept looking at her like he wasn’t sure she was real.

Like his eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. Like she was a dream walking up to him in the daylight—heart beating, mouth moving, solid and impossible.

She smiled, but it was tentative. Careful. Her breath was shallow, like her lungs hadn’t caught up to the weight of the moment.

“I—” she started, then stopped. Laughed under her breath, small and shaky. “Sorry. I didn’t really think past ‘hi.’”

His smile flickered across his mouth, soft and stunned. “No, yeah. Same.”

He cleared his throat, closed the book in his hand without looking down at it, and held it awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

She watched him try to speak, the way his mouth opened, then closed again. The way he ran his tongue over his bottom lip like it might steady him. It didn’t.

“I didn’t think I’d see you,” he said, finally.

“Me either.”

Another beat passed. The world kept moving around them—quiet footsteps, the distant hiss of the espresso machine—but they were standing still, frozen in a moment neither of them had prepared for.

“You look—” he started, then paused. Swallowed. Tried again. “You look really good.”

Her face softened. “Thanks. You do too.”

He huffed out a breath, like he didn’t know what to do with the compliment. “I’ve been… trying.”

“I can tell.”

He looked down at the book in his hand, then back at her, like he was searching for some kind of script to follow. There wasn’t one.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, voice low. “There’s too much. And also—nothing.”

She nodded. Her fingers were curled gently around the strap of her bag, but her knuckles had gone white.

“I didn’t expect to feel like this,” she said. “Like I forgot how to talk to you.”

His eyes found hers again, and for a split second, they both smiled. Not because it was funny. But because it was true.

“I used to know everything about you,” he murmured.

Her throat tightened. “You still know parts.”

“Yeah?” His voice cracked, just a little.

“Yeah.”

There were tears behind her eyes, but she held them back. Not out of pride. But because she didn’t want to blur him. Not now. Not when he was standing right there, breathing the same air, close enough to touch if she let herself.

She reached for something to say. Something real. Something simple.

“Do you want to sit?”

He blinked. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

They found a table tucked near the back, away from the windows and the soft chatter of morning regulars. The chairs were mismatched, chipped paint peeling at the edges, but she liked that. It felt unpolished. Lived-in. Honest.

Harry sat across from her, one hand wrapped around his coffee cup, the other resting on the table like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. She noticed the rings were gone. No chipped nail polish. No tremble in his fingers. Just him—solid and still and a little more grown.

She pulled her sleeves over her hands, glanced out the window, then back at him. “So… what’ve you been up to?”

He exhaled, eyes dropping briefly to the table. “Got a job. In the city.”

She tilted her head, interested. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He nodded slowly. “Music shop. Records, old guitars. Mostly just organizing stock and talkin’ to people who think they know more about vinyl than they actually do.”

That made her smile, just a little. “Sounds like a good fit.”

“S’not bad.” He looked up at her again, eyes soft. “Pays enough. Keeps my hands busy.”

She nodded. “That’s good.”

“What about you?”

She shrugged, but it was an easy kind. “I’ve been doing a bit of everything. I work at the co-op now—back office stuff. Not exciting, but it’s stable. I started painting again too. Badly, but still.”

He smiled. “You always said you’d get back to it.”

“Yeah, well. I ran out of excuses.”

A soft laugh passed between them. The kind that didn’t try too hard.

She told him about her sister’s new baby. About the weird old man who comes into the co-op every Tuesday and insists the bananas are watching him. About the cat she almost adopted before realizing it hated her.

He listened.

Really listened.

And then—

A pause.

The kind that felt too intentional to ignore.

He looked down at his coffee. Swirled what was left of it absently.

Then, quietly—almost like he wasn’t sure he had the right to say it—he said, “I got clean.”

The words hung in the air like dust.

She didn’t move at first.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared at him.

His eyes stayed down. Like if he looked at her, the truth might dissolve.

“It’s been almost nine months,” he added. “Meetin’s. Therapy. The whole thing.”

She swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight. Her fingers curled under the edge of the table.

“That’s…” She stopped, breath shaking. “That’s really fucking brave.”

He finally looked up.

And for the first time since she tapped his shoulder, there was something in his face that wasn’t shock. Or shame. Or nerves.

It was pride.

Quiet. Earned.

Not for her. Not to impress.

Just his.

“I didn’t think I could,” he said. “And then I had to.”

She nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t smile.

But something in him softened.

He sipped his coffee again, then set it down gently, like he was giving himself a moment to think. His thumb traced a slow line along the rim of the cup.

Then, with a wry half-smile and eyes flicking up to meet hers, he said, “Figured it was time to clean up. Havin’ your ex-girlfriend bail you out gets a bit pathetic after the third time.”

The words slipped out like a joke—light, easy.

But they hit her like a punch to the chest.

Ex-girlfriend.

Of course that’s what she was. She’d known that. She’d lived in that title for nearly a year, tried it on in her mind over and over like it might one day stop feeling like a poor imitation of what she used to be.

But hearing it in his voice—casual, matter-of-fact—landed hard.

Her laugh came out a second too late. A little too sharp at the edges. “Yeah, I imagine the cops started to recognize me by name.”

He smirked, not noticing the flicker in her voice. Or maybe pretending not to.

She looked down at the table, her fingernail tracing a faded scratch in the wood. Something tightened in her chest—something familiar and heavy.

She missed him.

Still.

Even now, sitting across from the better version of the man who broke her heart, she missed the weight of his hand on the back of her neck. The way he used to mouth mine against her shoulder. The way he used to kiss her with his whole chest, like every day was the last time.

She didn’t know if she missed who he was, or just how she used to feel around him.

Maybe both.

She looked back up at him, blinking past the sting in her throat.

“Guess I always did have a soft spot for lost causes,” she teased, her voice gentler now, even as it wobbled.

He looked at her carefully. His smile faded, just slightly.

“I wasn’t just lost,” he said, quiet. “I was drowning.”

Her breath caught.

And this time, neither of them laughed.

Her eyes were still on him, quiet and searching, but something in her gaze had changed. Like she’d stopped trying to protect herself. Like the dam had finally cracked.

He waited.

Didn’t press. Didn’t move.

Just let the silence bloom between them, soft and full of something that felt like surrender.

She leaned back slightly, hands folded in her lap now, fingers twisting together like she needed somewhere to put the nerves building in her chest.

“I used to come home from work,” she said, voice low, “and expect you to be there. For months. Even after you left. I’d unlock the door and—” She exhaled a shaky breath. “There’d be this second where I forgot. Where I still expected to hear your music playing from the kitchen or your keys on the counter. Your shoes by the door.”

Harry didn’t speak. His face was still, but something in his eyes flickered. Broke.

“I didn’t just lose the person I loved,” she went on, staring at the floor now, words unraveling. “I lost the everyday part of you. The Tuesday afternoon you. The rainy morning you. The person who’d hold my ankle under the blanket while we watched TV and hum under his breath while he rinsed dishes. I lost the future we built in my head. And then I had to keep living in the house we picked out together and pretend I didn’t feel like a ghost in it.”

Her voice caught. Just once.

She lifted her eyes to meet his again.

“I thought if I got far enough away from the pain, maybe the love would fade too. But it didn’t. It changed. It quieted. But it never left.”

The silence was thick now. Sacred.

And she didn’t mean to say it. Not really. It slipped out, soft and broken and holy.

“I miss you.”

His lips parted, stunned.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I still love you.”

And the truth of it spread across the table between them like light breaking through a crack in the door.

She wasn’t trying to fix what was broken.

She was just telling the truth.

Because it was time.

Because it mattered.

Because he mattered.

And she needed him to know.

She hadn’t meant to say it.

But now that she had, there was no taking it back. It hung between them, real and trembling. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, chest heaving with everything she’d just let fall out of her.

He stared at her like she’d knocked the wind out of him.

Her voice shook, barely holding together. “God,” she whispered, the word like a prayer, like a curse. “After everything. After what you did. What you put me through. After how long it took to put myself back together…”

She swallowed hard, a single tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it.

“I’d still run back into your arms in a fucking heartbeat.”

His mouth parted, like he couldn’t breathe.

Like the words had stunned something in him awake.

The coffee shop around them blurred. She didn’t care who was watching. Didn’t care if her voice shook, or if she looked too eager, too exposed. She had held this in for too long—the wanting, the missing, the grief of still loving someone who left.

Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table, like he physically couldn’t stay away from her now that the truth was out.

He let out a breath. Then another.

And then—

“I still sleep on the left side,” he said softly, eyes locked on hers. “Haven’t let anyone touch the other. Haven’t wanted anyone else to.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I kept your mug,” he added, quieter now. “The chipped one. The one you said made your coffee taste better ‘cause it was ugly.”

She laughed—just a small, broken sound.

“I thought if I kept that one thing, it’d be okay. Like maybe some part of you would still be with me. Like if I made enough coffee, maybe one day you’d walk in and pour a cup like nothin’ ever happened.”

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, shaking her head. “Harry…”

“I dream about you,” he said, the words spilling fast now, like he’d waited a year to say them. “I swear—almost every night. Doesn’t matter how many months go by. It’s always you. Always your laugh, your voice, the way you used to hum when you folded laundry.”

He reached across the table, palm up, not pushing—just offering.

Her hand moved before she could think.

She let her fingers fall into his.

He held them gently, reverently. Like he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“I didn’t stop loving you,” he said, voice thick. “I just didn’t know how to love you well. But I’ve been learning. Every day. Since I left. Since I woke up and realized I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t fucking change.”

Tears spilled freely now, silent and hot. She wasn’t ashamed.

He squeezed her hand.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

She shook her head slowly, eyes locked on his. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“And still,” she said, a tearful smile tugging at her mouth, “you’re sitting here. And I’m holding your hand.”

He blinked hard. Let out a shaky breath that sounded like the start of something new.

Or maybe the return of something that had never truly left.

She didn’t know how long they sat there, hands joined across the table, the silence between them warm now instead of strained. Everything felt softer. Like the air had shifted. Like it was finally safe to speak without hurtin’ each other.

He rubbed his thumb gently along the side of her hand. It was small, steady. The kind of touch that said I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me.

She looked at him through watery lashes, heart full and fragile.

“I don’t want to fall back into something too fast,” she said, carefully. “I don’t want to pretend the past didn’t happen.”

He nodded, slow and sure. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I still have questions. Hurt that hasn’t gone away. And I think… I think I need help understandin’ all of it. Understandin’ you.”

He swallowed, jaw flexin’ like he was holdin’ something steady in his throat. But he didn’t flinch. “I’d be open to that. Therapy. Together. If that’s what you want.”

“I do,” she said. “But not as a couple. Not yet. I need to know who we are now. Not just who we used to be.”

His eyes turned glassy again, but there was more behind them now. Not panic—just hope. Measured. Real.

“I’ve been goin’ every week on my own,” he said. “Group and solo. Been learnin’ a lot. About the drinkin’. My temper. How I used to bury shit instead of sayin’ what I needed.”

Her chest tightened at that. Quiet pride flickered in her ribs.

“I want to do this right, love,” he added, voice low. “Not just to win you back—but to be someone who could keep you. Someone who’s good for you. For real this time.”

She nodded, another tear fallin’ without permission—but this time it wasn’t heavy. It didn’t burn. It felt like it belonged.

“We take it slow,” she said. “One session at a time. One coffee. One walk. One truth.”

“One truth,” he repeated softly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I can do that.”

He looked down at their joined hands, then up at her again.

“Can I see you again?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Soon?”

She smiled, gentle and honest. “Of course.”

And that was enough.

They leaned back in their chairs, still connected. Still fragile.

But for the first time in a long time—steady.

[thelovehypothesis]

Charles Leclerc: [Gets pole] The grid: [Dies]

[thelovehypothesis]

why does Lando always get the preferential strategy after bottling the start 😭

[thelovehypothesis]

✧ mr. wrong - smau ✧ - part 2

⋆° summary: in the spotlight of Formula 1 and heartbreak pop, yn and charles leclerc’s whirlwind romance spirals from “first and last love” to cryptic posts, bitter lyrics, and emotional fallout. love burns fast on the paddock but heartbreak burns faster.

⋆° pairings: charles leclerc x verstappen!singer!reader x ?

⋆° genre: some angst, some fluff (it'll come). lots of drama and mainly musical.

⋆° warnings: cheating, swear words.

author notes: guys thank you all so much for all the love this fic has been receiving, i'm really shocked by that!!! english is not my first language so please excuse my poor grammar and spelling mistakes. i tried to tag everyone who askd to be tagged<3 hope you all like it.

part 1

Feb/2025. Pre-season

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, lando and 5,879,666 users

tagged mclaren oscarpiastri lando

yn McLaren x YN video collab out now. I'm so happy to be a part of this project, this means a lot to me as an artist and also a F1 fan. Thank you, McLaren for always believing in me and thank you Oscar and Lando for always been by my side (and also participating in this...). To those who claimed we were a throuple, there's your answer. This is McLaren's year, I promise.

mclaren Our triple threat! ❤️liked by author

oscarpiastri i'm not paid well enough for this actually yn ? huh oscarpiastri my bad

lando but i'm free if you want..... ❤️liked by author yn know your limits lando just saying maxverstappen1 stop saying. no more drivers for yn. yn noooooooooo what about lewis he's my crush carlossainz55 really yn? yn sorry carlitos... i know he snatched your seat :<

user her brother drives for redbull yet she only promotes mclaren.. user istg... she would even support alpine but wouldn't dare to support her brother

user let me innnnnn

user honestly? i wanna be a part of this throuple. ❤️liked by author

liked by iamrebecad, user, user and 457,556 users

f1gossip a day to remember... 5 leaked pics (we can legally show you only 2) from the Charles x Yn saga. Were you online when the tea spilled?

So babes… in this very day in 2021 during one of his lives, Charles Leclerc accidentally dropped some very NSFW shots from his camera roll. The star of the pics? Yn Verstappen (or just Yn —your call 🫠).

And OH, the drama was real. The pop girlie herself spoke out in a Marie Claire interview later that year, saying: "Obviously I was frustrated. I don’t care if the whole world sees — but my parents saw, my brother saw, and that was kinda a problem. I admire people who do that, but I’m not the type to drop a sex tape." 💬

Fast forward to now... Yn was just spotted kissing not one but TWO (81 and 4) guys. We had Miley Cyrus going wild last decade—are we entering the pop princess rebel era with Yn now??

💬 Sound off in the comments. We’re watching.

user they were wild.. cant believe he's now playing happy family user agree... no hate towards his new girl, but everything feels like its a pr move. user yall dont know these people, bffr rn. user did we lie tho ?

user not rebeca liking the post...

user honestly i dont know how sainz claims to be a very good friend to yn but still dates a woman who destroyed her relationship with charles and likes tendencious posts about yn... user i dont think yn cares much about this... she already stated that she was never really a part of this whole wag world. maybe charles's new girl is a lot more interested and thats why rebeca is friends with her user yn always gave off the vibe of someone who thought like she was above the other wags... user she's THE yn... being charles's girlfriend was not her job user maybe thats why he broke up with her

March 2025

yn posted a story

caption gonna miss him...

replies

lando just give me a chance yn im pretty sure i'm not the one you wanna bang lando we could have double dates in australia... yn stop this nonsense... i just came out of a relationship, i dont wanna engage in another one anytime soon. lando if i'm not blind, which clearly i am not, i saw you engaging in a lot of things with a certain aussie yn stooooop. anyways, i'm going to the australian gp too...

lando ofc you are... does max knows about this? yn nope, i'm not going to the paddock... i have some friends to meet there. lando perhaps i know some of these friends... yn not gonna tell you, you have such a big mouth.

iamrebecad girl you should come to my bday party! next saturday yn dear rebeca, i only ever bothered being nice to you because you were dating one of my best friends. but now that we’re not stuck doing double dates anymore? No point keeping up the act. also… let’s be honest, you’re practically glued to my ex’s new girlfriend. want me to show up just so you two can laugh about what a sore loser I am? nah, I still have some self-esteem left. anyway, it’s cool. no hard feelings. sure, you introduced charles to alexandra, but you didn’t exactly hold his hand through the cheating. pretty sure he managed that part all on his own. user iamrebecad stopped following you you stopped following user iamrebecad

charles_leclerc16 we have a lot to talk yn really charles? now that i can do things on my own you wanna talk? the cat got your tongue 5 months ago when I wanted to talk? yn also i'm not in monaco charles_leclerc16 yes you are. i asked around yn creep charles_leclerc16 yeah i know i fucked things up... i'm on the verge of knocking on your door, i can hear you walking around your kitchen. yn so? i'll call the cops on you. charles_leclerc16 open the door please.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

you open the door to your apartment and the cool night breeze slips in, carrying the distant hum of coastal traffic. he stands on the threshold, shoulders hunched, relief flooding his face when your silhouette fills the doorway. your jaw tightens at the sight of him —every polite instinct gone. god how you wanted to hate him. the foyer lights cast long shadows across the marble floor, emphasizing the rigid line of your crossed arms.

“can we talk?” he whispers, voice hoarse like he’s been hauling regret around for days.

your laugh is brittle. “i think you had too many chances to talk. what about me? did i ever get those chances? you blocked me, barred me from your life, asked your family to ignore my calls, painted me as the crazy one." your voice carried the pain you have been suffering all these months. "now it’s your turn to listen. and if i ever feel like knowing about your life again — maybe i’ll let you speak.”

your voice trembles then hardens, as if the walls themselves echo your fury. he shrinks back, eyes glistening, but you press on, heart pounding in your ears like a drum.

“you were my first love, charles. i gave you everything a man could dream of — i let go of dreams, plans, pieces of myself for you. and you cheated. twice.” your hands clench into fists at your sides, knuckles white under the soft glow of the chandelier. “you shoved me out, turned your family against me. do you think it was fair i spent months trapped in my own home, terrified to even breathe fresh air? all i ever wanted was you: marriage, kids, build my own career. but to you i was just an accessory, someone to show off at races and dinners. and her..." — your voice catches as you picture that other woman — “she’s your perfect creation: lives in your shadow, does exactly what you want. i refuse to ever shrink myself again.”

the room falls silent except for the steady tick of the antique clock on the wall. his greenish, almost blue eyes, bright with remorse, search your face. finally he asks, voice barely louder than a breath.

“are you really... seeing oscar and lando?”

you throw your head back and laugh, a sound that echoes through the room.

“please. it’s just promo. we’re good friends. besides, they will kill me when i tell them i let you in.” you swipe a tear from your cheek, voice softer but no less fierce.

he bows his head, stepping forward as though to reach for your hand, but stops himself. “i’m sorry. nothing i say can undo what i did. i was wrong, and i wanted to come back to you —b ut i know i shouldn’t ask. you deserve better.” he swallows hard. “carlos won’t speak to me anymore. everyone assumes it’s about the contract issues with ferrari, but it’s not—it’s you. max almost gave me a black eye last month... i know i deserve it. the hurt i caused you made half of my... our friends turn away from me.”

you lift your chin, heart thumping so loud it drowns out his words.

“please go. i don’t deserve to relive that pain. i don’t care if you’re sorry, or if you’re bored of playing doll with your new girlfriend.” your voice is soft as you see him voluntary walking out the door. "can't you see that i'm way happier now? so you want me now that i met someone else? now that i'm starting to feel trust someone again?

as it shuts, the tension melts from your shoulders and you crumble onto the plush rug, tears soaking into the fabric, you hear him saying "i'm sorry", voice cracked. the chandelier’s light flickers. you bury your face in your hands, sobs rattling your chest. a sudden buzz from your phone jolts you upright — missed calls from lando, oscar and your agents, and even worse: texts messages from your family groupchat asking you to not pay attention to social media.

but you do. one scroll and it’s hell: aftershock headlines, tabloid fury, recycled images from that terrible leak — the private photos that once shattered you now splashed again across every feed. and the new paparazzi scoop, gleaming like a fresh wound under the flash of a thousand cameras. your breath catches, and the room spins, the floor tilting beneath you. even alone, his shadow stretches across your world. you dare to think that maybe this is god's way of saying to you that things will never work out in your favor, or maybe you weren't mean to be happy.

✩

liked by user, user and 1,523,166 users

f1gossip Spotted: it's giving “where one girl leaves crying, no girl walks away smiling” energy... and sadly, that might hit a little too close to home for miss Alex. Her man was seen creeping out of Yn Monaco apartment — and yeah, not exactly skipping with joy. 👀 Reconciliation? Collab? Emotional damage™? Unclear. But judging by Monaco's prince's face… this convo did not end in heart emojis. 💔

Someone grab this lost puppy before he ends up back in her drafts. Or better yet, should alex start packing too? Asking for a friend.

user i knew he'd do that... poor alex was only a summer thing

user this close up of a pic ? istg if this whole break up thing is only a pr move i'm gonna be real pissed

user rumour has it yn and rebeca donaldson stopped being mutuals on this app... user i mean, its pretty obvious that they werent really that much of friends. user also... carlos claims to be yn's friend but still dates rebeca... user you're not tired of saying the same thing over and over again?

user lmao i thought i was crazy when i saw chalex fighting the other day at a random club in maranello. user spill the tea sis user i didnt catch much of it, but i dont think it was abt yn... user i mean maybe theyre tired of eo

user id understand if she came back to him.

user she can have any man she wants right now, why would she come back to a cheating loser?

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, maxverstappen1 and 8,555,666 users

yn so thrilled to finally announce that “Red” album drops march 16. it’s been forever since i released something that didn’t sound like heartbreak therapy, so if you’ve been waiting for my sunshiny, in-love, head-in-the-clouds era... this one’s for you 💿💋

oh, and if you haven’t watched the “Bed Chem” music video yet what are you even doing?? link’s in bio, babygirls and babyboys.

🤍 p.s. nice to share my love life for once, instead of reading about it through leaked pics and gossip threads. this time, the funny business is coming straight from the source. enjoy.

user WHOS THIS user i think i recognize these moles....

user soft launch vibes????? gooooood i missed this yn

lando polite cat my ass lmao yn stop bullying him lando "who's the cute guy with wide brown eyes and a thick accent"?

oscarpiastri really excited!! ❤️liked by author maxverstappen1 please say sike rn user what does max know that we dont??

user another one girl??? rest for awhile user i really hope you're talking about the album being released so close to the last one... i really hope

carlossainz55 whos this, ms yn? ❤️liked by author yn a cute guy with wide brown eyes... maxverstappen1 you really dont know? youre getting reaaaal old sainz yn my versainz <3 carlossainz55 stop rn.

taylorswift This one is for the history books!!! Loved working with you, Yn. ❤️liked by author yn totally my honour!

rosielovesrose Prettiest blondie in the world. yn not you sayin thaaaat

𖡡 Melbourne, Aus

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 3,223,445 users

yn i'm actually proud of these so i'm sharing them bc i want to.

lando miss nsfw leaks yn be glad i let you be a vouyeur... i know you wanna a piece of MY delicious meal lando that aussie meat might be thicc mmm yn now its time to stop.

oscarpiastri glad to see you happy, yn!! ❤️liked by author

nicolepiastri When are we going to see you again, dear?? ❤️liked by author yn whoaaaa, i hope soon!! im kinda waiting for that person to invite me again.

user so now she hopped to best new thing?? lmao...

user and you said charles was your first and only, right?

user istg charles fans are just boymoms... he cheats yet she cant move on? cant find her happiness? god.

maxverstappen1 i need to have my eyes bleached urgent yn kellypiquet please he's out again kellypiquet Dont worry, Yn! I'll take care of him .

carlossainz55 so you were in melbourne having fun while i begged you to stop by at my garage yn you know... love duties carlossainz55 funny how i saw a mysterious blonde around mclaren... yn i fear i'm becoming a part of them carlossainz55 not you ditching me too 😭

user this might be oscar. i knoooooow it i can feel. user nurse shes out again... user are you on something?

liked by lando, yn, kellypiquet and 1,665,223 users

oscarpiastri last week in melbourne

lando what you were doing there oscarpiastri its my city

lando ive been planting this seed for years and you came stomping through my garden mate oscarpiastri what can i say? i have my charms lando mf finally did it

yn oooooh her body tea oscarpiastri she said thank you pretty yn did she let you sweet talk me like that? 😭

user why you're not posting about thisssss?? its clearly yn and him f1gossip f1gossip is it a gossip if everyone knows?? user lets be reaaaaal yall are afraid of a lawsuit after the last post abt yn.

June 2025

yn posted a story "living the tour life"

oscarpiastri my insta feed when i'm hungry yn stop being silly yn i'm coming to spain... gonna see you get that podium oscarpiastri be at front row, i wanna do something stupid after the race yn so you're winning for real? oscarpiastri its a promise, baby...

𖡡 Barcelona, Spain

liked by nicolepiastri, oscarpiastri, lando and 3,778,555 users

yn met a cutie in Barcelona! Thank you mclaren for always inviting me, it's a pleasure to be a part of the papaya squad. P1 and P2 for my dearest friends <3

lando why did oscar win a solo shoot at your insta and i dont? i meannn you and i go waaaaay back yn i do things to him you wouldnt allow me to do to you lando wouldnt i? oscarpiastri please dont give him ideas.

oscarpiastri babe i have kissed you on live, i fear they already know maxverstappen1 i couldnt believe my eyes. how dare you piastri? yn dont bully him

maxverstappen1 you're on thin fucking ice oscarpiastri

maxverstappen1 Love you, babysis! ❤️liked by author

lando my couple! yn STOP i have nightmares user THE SHADE OMGGGGG LANDO user he's so unserious

carlossainz55 it only took him a few months to ask you out, honestly i'm impressed by his game yn one of his many qualities

user yn lover girl era again!!! so glad to be a part of it.

user now lets be for real, who inspired better music: charles or oscar? user i'm sensing a grammy nomination with this one so yeah oscar wins... user a woman is behind it all and all you bitches can talk about is men

liked by mclaren, yn, nicolepiastri and 1,354,789 users

oscarpiastri got the podium and got the girl. @/yn

yn kinda hot... are you single? oscarpiastri blocked.

maxverstappen1 congrats man... dont you dare make her cry. i know where you live <3 oscarpiastri never, mate!

lando my couple!!! oscarpiastri we're not having a third, lando

mclaren that's our girl! ❤️liked by author

user honestly? idc anymore...

user that should be meeeeeeeee (with yn, ofc).

user he doesnt know i'm feral for him. god.

3 years later.

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, lando and 4,356,888 users

oscarpiastri It’s been three years. Three years of you. Of us. Of slow mornings and loud laughter and quiet, unspoken understanding. Yesterday, I looked at you and thought, “Surely this must be the peak. Surely, love can’t go deeper than this.” Honestly, I was wrong... Because I do love you more today. More than I did in the golden hours of yesterday. More than I believed was even possible. It’s a love that rewrites itself daily. It doesn't plateau, it ascends. It stretches me wide and fills the corners of my soul I didn’t know were empty. You are the miracle my heart never dared to demand. And I keep waking up thinking, “There’s no way I could love you more than I do right now.” But then I do. Every single day. More. And then even more than that. So if someone asks me what love looks like I'm sure It looks like this. It looks like you.

yn you're making me cry. this is not fair, i'm the one good with words in this relationship. ❤️liked by author

nicolepiastri So good to see you happy, my son! yn brings out the best in you! ❤️liked by author

maxverstappen1 Thank you, Piastri for always being there for my babysis! (ps.: when are you going to pop the ring....) ❤️liked by author

lando i knew for a fact that yall were gonna last! my couple, after all...

yn my baby, thank you for loving me more today than you did yesterday, for proving, in the quietest ways, that love doesn’t just stay, it grows. thank you for holding me up when i couldn’t do it alone, for believing in me even when i questioned myself, for being the one soul i can trust with mine completely. i know your heart is mine, just as mine belongs entirely to you. thank you for never flinching at my past. you saw the mess, the mistakes, the shadows, and you chose me anyway. thank you for loving me for who i am and everything i’m (we are) becoming. these past three years by your side have been the most important years of my life. and if this is what love looks like, i want to keep waking up in it forever. ❤️liked by author oscarpiastri love you forever and ever 'cause you're my, my, my... lover yn every other man in this planet would hate to remember their girlfriends wrote love songs to their exes, but you use it to make fun of me... cant belive you, baby. oscarpiastri hmmm 1. i'm not like other men; 2. you're my wife; 3. love your love songs baby, you're just a lovergirl. yn wife? oscarpiastri i'm manifesting you accepting my proposal tonight...

taglist: @lost-library-of-violets @strawberrylov-er @lauvender-bolter @prettypink11 @isagrace22 @ketsuekiakane @kenkozkmg @thechosen-neo @gnarlynorris

[thelovehypothesis]

A Special World

Aaron Hotchner x fem!BAU!wife!reader

Summary: While you're on maternity leave, an agent with something to prove temporarily fills your place in the BAU team. Derek, Morgan, and JJ don't like her, but for a different reason than why your husband fires her.

Warnings/Word Count: pregnant!r, r is talked down to, protective!Hotch, one suggestive part, fluffy! 2.5k+ words, requested

A/N: This is my first time writing Hotch, so apologies if he's OOC!

“I could have worked for another week,” you insist.

Aaron clicks his tongue with a mix of exasperation and tenderness as he places a glass of water and your favorite snack on your nightstand. He straightens, then leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. As he moves, his hand brushes along your stomach, each touch a clear expression of love and care.

“You’re on maternity leave,” he reminds you. “For my sanity as much as your health.”

Sighing, you purse your lips to request a kiss. Aaron obliges, though he shakes his head. Not leaving for work with Aaron after years at the BAU feels strange. Still, you’re excited for this next chapter.

“I need to go,” Aaron murmurs against your lips. “Your replacement is coming in early.”

“She has a name, Hotch,” you remind him when he stands. “Emerson Dempsey, remember?”

“I’ll remember it when I have to. Call me if you need anything.”

“Ah, Derek beat you to that offer,” you joke, pulling the comforter up to your chin. “He’s in my speed dial now.”

Aaron glares at you for a moment, then breaks. He kisses you once more, lays his hand flat on your bump, then leaves. You have four weeks left until your due date, but your doctor convinced you to start taking it easy now. Looking around your empty bedroom, you realize that you don’t remember how to do that.

“Morgan, JJ, Reid,” Hotch calls. “This is Special Agent Emerson Dempsey. She’ll be assisting us for a few months.”

“It’s an honor,” Emerson gushes, reaching forward to shake JJ’s hand. “I’ve heard so many amazing things about the BAU and SSA Hotchner.”

“SSA Hotchner?” Derek repeats, his brows raising as he smiles at Hotch, who only clenches his jaw tighter and shakes his head.

“Oh, right,” Emerson giggles, lifting her hand to cover her mouth. “He told me I could call him Hotch.”

“Singular syllable names are easier to remember and faster to exclaim in the heat of the moment,” Spencer explains. “Many of history’s most well-remembered leaders have names or sobriquets that consist of three of fewer syllables.”

“Hotchner: lady-killer is one too many,” Derek jokes.

“Boys,” JJ interrupts. She shakes her head, then looks at Hotch. “Where would you like us to begin today?”

“We’ve got a new case,” Hotch explains, showing a file folder. “Close to home for once. Six men have gone missing in Woodbridge in the last two weeks.”

“Could be a Cinderella killer,” Emerson interrupts.

“That’s-“ Hotch trails off, then gestures for Spencer to speak.

“We can’t make that kind of assumption based on such limited evidence. If there is a connection between victims, an overlapping woman in their shared histories or a common location, then we could pursue that line of investigation. As it stands, however, it could just as likely be Bigfoot. Or perhaps the Woodbooger has migrated north.”

“Woodbooger?” Emerson repeats under her breath.

“That said,” Hotch says, refocusing the group, “we need to take a look at the evidence Woodbridge PD sent, then we can go up there.”

He leads the others toward the conference room, his blinks growing longer as Emerson matches her steps to his, talking rapidly about how excited she is to be on a real case with the real BAU.

“I miss Mrs. Hotchner,” JJ complains.

“She’ll be gone for at least ten weeks,” Spencer reminds her. “Following childbirth, the female body-“

“That’s enough,” JJ and Derek exclaim together.

“It is funny, though,” Derek muses.

“Childbirth?” JJ wonders incredulously.

“What? No. The fact that Dempsey has a crush on Hotch.”

Spencer and JJ stop then, looking through the open door at Hotch and the team’s newest – and most temporary – member. She lays her hand on Hotch’s bicep, batting her lashes at him when he steps back.

“I thought his wife leaving would make him miserable,” Spencer mumbles. “Seems I was wrong.”

“If Pretty Boy can see the crush…” Derek trails off and whistles under his breath. He leads the others into the conference room, then unlocks his phone under the table. The first message he sends to you is answered with a laughing emoji, the second with assurance that you’re okay. He gets yelled at by Hotch before he can tell you that your replacement isn’t so different from you. In one way, at least.

“Can you show me exactly where the shoe was found?” Agent Dempsey inquires.

The officer assisting her points toward a cone fifteen yards away, then begins walking.

“Your wife says hello,” Derek says as he approaches Hotch’s side.

“Stop texting her,” Hotch grumbles. “We’ve got a job to do.”

“And Dempsey is doing it,” JJ points out from Hotch’s other side. “She’s good.”

“Good enough,” Hotch argues.

“She’s asking questions, but not the right ones,” Spencer agrees, seeming to spawn at Derek’s side – though Derek will never admit to flinching. “Without inquiring as to the men’s habits, their reasons for being at the sites from which they were abducted, we’re not going to make any progress in identifying the unsub.”

“Agent Hotchner asks the right questions,” Derek pouts.

“My wife is preparing to give birth,” Hotch reminds him firmly. “I understand that you miss her. I don’t understand much that goes on in your head, but this I do get. Try to work with Dempsey, give her some direction, and let’s get back to Quantico.”

“Hey!” Emerson calls, jogging to reach the team. “So, I talked to the officer that found the fifth’s victims shoe and his wallet. Apparently the guy was known to jog in this area every morning, but the shoes aren’t running shoes, and it was approximately four hours after his usual run time.”

“Interesting,” Spencer muses.

“Is it possible that the scene is staged?” JJ suggests. “He was taken from somewhere else, but his belongings were abandoned somewhere he was seen regularly?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Emerson squeals, taking JJ’s hand quickly before turning toward Hotch. “Do you want me to start mapping their average daily routes so we can find clues about where they may have encountered the, uh, the unsub?”

“That will take too much time and manpower,” Derek argues. “And if this guy got through the abduction with both shoes and his wallet, it’s unlikely we’ll find evidence anywhere else.”

“Sure,” Emerson replies, her shoulders dropping.

“Reid, go with Emerson back to the station and find out where these men frequented,” Hotch decides. “JJ, Morgan, you’re with me.”

“Thank you, Hotch!” Emerson calls after him.

“Yes!” Derek agrees, clutching his hands before his chest. “Thank you, Hotch! Thank you for being born and blessing our eyes with that strong jawline and heartbreaker stare!”

“Does- did she even ask who she was covering for?” JJ inquires. “She does know this is temporary, right?”

“I’m not sure,” Hotch grumbles as he opens his car door. “But she may need a reminder that out ream is established, and she’s not here to make a place for herself.”

“I’ll give it to her!” Derek offers excitedly.

“No, I’m in communications, it should be me!” JJ argues from the backseat.

“What next?” Hotch deadpans. “Going to fight over who gets to order in the McDonald’s drive-thru?”

“I know that was supposed to be a blow about us acting like kids,” Derek murmurs, “but I could go for some fries.”

Hotch ignores him and pulls the gear shift down into drive.

You’d get me French fries, right? Derek texts you.

“Leave my wife alone,” Hotch says, his eyes still on the road.

You’re going to get in trouble, you reply at the same time.

“Okay, that’s just creepy,” Derek whispers.

A week and a half into your maternity leave, Derek texts you (again) to tell you that the disgruntled gym manager who was abducting clients planning to cancel their membership has been arrested. Then, he mentions that Aaron isn’t in a great mood and they’re on their way back to the office.

Immediately, you leave your comfortable position on the couch, pause your movie, and begin getting ready. If you can do something small to brighten Hotch’s day, then you’ll do it. Today, that includes picking up lunch from his favorite restaurant and visiting him at the office. If Derek, Spencer, and JJ will give you privacy, that is. The BAU is your family, but their interruptions aren’t always well-timed, as your pre-marital history with Hotch demonstrated. Dating in the department was probably stupid, but something about the danger of getting caught kept the romance alive for about two weeks before Penelope walked into Hotch’s office without knocking. You were perched on the edge of Hotch's desk with your head dropped to kiss the base of his neck. Since then, you’ve had to set incredibly specific boundaries, but you still love the overbearing friends you’ve made.

An hour after Derek’s first text, you’re told they’re back at the office and pick up lunch for everyone. You enter the elevator with food and drinks, feeling a sense of coming home. You don’t miss the stress or pace, but you can’t deny missing the team.

“Who are you?” a female agent demands when you step into the BAU bullpen.

You step back in surprise, your brows furrowing at her forwardness. She stands from the usually empty desk at the far edge of the office and crosses her arms across her chest, her intricately manicured nails tapping her sides as she lifts a well-shaped brow.

“This is a restricted area,” she snaps. “You need a special visitor’s badge to get in here.”

“I have a badge,” you reply.

“Okay, listen, sweetheart,” she restarts, dropping her hands to her hips. “This isn’t just the FBI, we’re not just cops. This is the BAU, the behavioral analysis unit.”

Your lips part, but you can’t get a word in. Behind the woman, whose badge you can’t read, Derek stands from his desk. His eyes meet yours, but rather than replying to your clear question of who is this and why is she in my way? Derek just smiles and rushes in the opposite direction.

“Can I interrupt you?” you request. “Agent…”

“Special Agent Dempsey,” she answers. “And I’ve already explained why you shouldn’t even be here. This is no place for a civilian, especially one like you.”

Derek nearly runs into Hotch when he pulls his office door open.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asks, looking at Derek’s raised fist.

“I was coming to get you,” Derek explains.

“My wife is here,” Hotch already knows. Somehow.

“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling brightly. “Lead the way boss.”

Derek and Hotch enter the bullpen, both able to hear Emerson ranting about something. When they pass Spencer’s desk, you come into view. Derek slaps Spencer’s shoulder too hard, wide-eyed as he watches Hotch’s jaw tick.

“… This is no place for a civilian, especially one like you,” Emerson snaps.

Your patient smile falls before you ask, “What does that mean?”

“I’m not going to answer any question from a civilian who isn’t even supposed to be here!”

“I’m trying to tell you-“

“What are you not understanding?” Emerson interrupts you. “This is the BAU, the best of the best, not an open house for a stupid, pregnant-“

“Dempsey!” Hotch yells, stepping forward into your sight.

Her shoulders drop immediately, a flirty smile appearing on her face as she straightens her hair. “Hotch,” she replies sweetly. “I was just trying to tell this-“

“Get out,” Hotch demands.

“But-“

“You just talked down to a senior agent,” Hotch seethes, ignorant of Spencer, Derek, and JJ watching behind him. “I’ve fired agents for far less. But you made the mistake of talking down to my wife.”

Emerson’s eyes widen, her fingers spread against her pants, and she swallows harshly. She glances toward you, then fixes her big, suddenly teary eyes on Hotch. “Sir, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology,” Hotch snaps. “I want you out of my sight.”

Emerson nods rapidly as she pulls her bag out of a desk drawer. She presses the down button on the elevator, chewing her bottom lip as she waits for the doors to open.

“One more thing,” Hotch calls. He waits until she turns to say, “You were right about one thing: we’re the best of the best.” The elevator doors open, and he concludes, “You never would have fit in.”

She looks down at her shoes, rushes onto the elevator, closes the door, and disappears. As soon as the elevator indicator changes floors, Derek jumps from Spencer’s desk and thrusts his hands in the air, Spencer smiles and waves excitedly at you, and JJ sits back, sighing in relief.

“I feel like I interrupted something,” you muse, looking at Hotch.

He doesn’t reply as he takes the items from your hand to place them on Emerson’s now-empty desk.

“That was your replacement,” Derek offers.

“She was terrible,” JJ adds. “We missed you.”

“Oh.” You take Hotch’s hand when he turns back toward you. “Sorry.”

Hotch shrugs, then tips his chin so his nose presses into your hair above your ear. “What are you doing here?” he whispers.

“I brought lunch,” you reply, fighting shivers when his hand moves beneath your bump.

“Thank you. I missed you, too.”

“There’s food for everyone,” you tell Derek, aware of his eyes on you.

Within seconds, Derek and JJ have wrapped you in a hug. At the center of the office, you feel even more at home than you anticipated feeling.

“How’s my niece treating you?” JJ asks as she steps back.

“Nephew,” Hotch murmurs.

“The betting pool thinks differently,” Spencer says. “Current odds are about 7-2 in favor of baby girl Hotchner.”

“Simplified?” you inquire.

“Of course.”

Hotch leads you to your desk, encourages you to sit, then pulls up a chair to sit with you and the others.

“Should you have fired my sub?” you ask Hotch.

“Absolutely,” he answers while Derek, Spencer, and JJ say, “Yes.”

“She ran out of here with her tail between her legs, Hotch,” you point out. “You need help.”

“We need competent help that doesn’t talk down to anyone. Especially not you.”

You nod, twisting the straw in your cup. “I was going to say she was pretty… then she opened her mouth.”

“Pretty?” Derek repeats. “You see yourself in the elevator reflection?”

“Easy,” Hotch warns.

“Need help with anything?” you offer. “I can do whatever you want from here.”

Hotch hooks his foot around the base of your chair and pulls you forward, your knee slotting between his legs.

“Maternity leave,” he reminds you lowly.

“He do that to you when people make fun of you, Spencer?” Derek stage whispers.

“Not historically, no,” Spencer replies.

“Shut up,” Hotch says. “I’m in a firing mood right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” JJ interjects.

You direct Hotch’s hand from your knee to your stomach, smiling when his eyes soften as your baby kicks. Then, three more hands join his. Your baby is coming into a special world.

[thelovehypothesis]

Everything I Didn't Say

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Former BAU!Reader Summary:She was used and left behind. Now, head of London’s BAU, she’s unstoppable. When Hotch calls her back, he’s hit with what he lost—and what he might never get again. Jealousy, regret, and slow-burn love ignite in this story of second chances. Word Count: 2.8k Tone: Angsty → Slow Burn → Fluff

You remember the exact moment the glass shattered.

It wasn’t during a case. It wasn’t when blood stained your shirt, or when a child died in your arms, or even when Hotch barked an order without sparing you a glance. No. The glass didn’t shatter in the chaos. It shattered in the quiet.

The moment he looked at you—eyes so dark, so serious—and said, “You know I care about you. I’ve always cared,” while your heart bloomed and bloomed in your chest like it had just been given sunlight for the first time. You had smiled through your tears. Said you’d do anything to help. And he’d nodded, hand brushing yours like it meant something.

Except it didn’t.

Because hours later, after the unsub was cuffed and crying, Morgan had told you.

“That line about loving someone in the team? That was part of the trap.”

And it hit you like a bullet to the ribs. You weren’t the bait.

You were the lie.

The next morning, you walked up to his office with your heart in your hands, stupidly hopeful. You still remember your voice—it was light. Warm. Vulnerable. “Was any of it true? What you said last night?”

Hotch didn’t even look up from his file.

“You’re a good agent,” he said. “Don’t get too involved next time.”

That was it. No explanation. No apology. Just a door slammed in the shape of a man you used to love.

You didn’t cry.

You packed your desk that night, left a note for Garcia, and took the transfer to London without saying goodbye.

And somehow, that was the best decision you ever made.

FOUR YEARS LATER.

Hotch isn’t prepared for you.

He’s read your file. Knows you lead the London office now. High-clearance, higher-profile, and, according to Strauss, “unflinchingly efficient.” The photo attached to the case file doesn’t do you justice.

But when you walk into the BAU conference room again, it’s like every oxygen molecule in the room bends toward you.

Your hair’s longer. Or maybe just styled differently. Your walk is slower now—controlled, regal almost. You’re wearing heels you wouldn’t have worn before. Red lips. Black turtleneck. Blazer cinched at the waist.

JJ nearly cries seeing you. Emily practically tackles you. Morgan lets out the kind of whistle that would’ve earned him a slap four years ago.

Hotch watches from the corner, silent, still. You don’t look at him.

Not once.

Not even a polite nod.

And it guts him.

The moment you enters the briefing room, time stutters.

Hotch is already standing at the head of the table, file in hand, trying to look composed—but it’s as if someone just yanked all the gravity out of the room.

You doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t pause. You just walks in like you own the floor. And maybe you does. You're no longer the junior profiler with too-big eyes and an open heart. This version of you? She’s a storm wrapped in tailored wool. Commanding. Cold. Unreachable.

“Pleasure to see you all again,” your voice is warm, diplomatic, but there’s a clipped edge to it. Like your kindness has conditions now.

Garcia’s already bouncing on her heels, nearly crying as she hugs you. “You look like a Bond villain and an angel had a baby.”

Hotch doesn’t speak.

Because he can’t.

Because you’re standing ten feet away and he’s already spent.

He swallows hard as you turn slightly to face the team, pulling up the case files like it’s second nature. You’re not just beautiful, you’re lethal with it now. Sleek. Focused.

“Three victims, all male, mid-30s, DC metro area,” you begin. “Stab wounds to the abdomen, eyes gouged post-mortem. Signs of restraint but no sexual assault. Whoever he is—he’s targeting these men for symbolic reasons.”

Morgan nods. “Any link between the vics?”

You spin the screen to show a map and timeline, the click of your Louboutin heels a punctuation mark. “They all attended the same group therapy center ten years ago, court-mandated for domestic abusers. That center was shut down after a whistleblower leaked audio of a counselor laughing with one of the abusers about their victim’s injuries.”

Rossi exhales low. “So, a vigilante with personal stakes.”

“Very personal,” you say. “Which is why we need to profile him as someone whose trauma was minimized—someone who has been waiting years for justice.”

Hotch watches you dissect the profile like you’re carving meat. He watches the way your fingers tap once, twice, before a breakthrough. How your lips purse when someone’s too slow. How your eyes no longer scan for his approval.

God, you used to light up when he nodded at you.

Now you don’t even look at him.

Later, in the field, you stand over the latest crime scene—a small apartment with a faint smell of bleach and desperation. You tug on latex gloves, crouching to study the drag marks on the floor.

“Unsub’s right-handed,” you murmur. “He moved the body post-kill, probably struggled with the dead weight. Look at that angle—he hesitated before the final wound. Not rage. Ritual. Maybe even remorse.”

Hotch is next to you, watching you work. He’s trying not to stare.

Trying. And failing.

You glance up at the victim, then—unprompted—stand and face him.

“You have the rest of his file?” you ask curtly, like you’d ask any other agent. No softness. No bitterness. Just clean indifference.

He nods, but he’s a second too slow handing it over.

Your fingers brush. You don’t flinch.

He does.

Back at the BAU

“She’s different,” JJ whispers to Morgan. “You see it too, right?”

“She’s hot,” Morgan says without shame. “But it’s more than that. She’s… something else now. Unshakable.”

Hotch listens from the hallway. Pretends he doesn’t care. But he does. He’s noticing things no one else is.

How you laugh easier with everyone else but not him.

How you wear your hair up now, like it’s armor.

How Spencer tries to impress you with stats and you smile gently, like an older sister.

How you spoke to the Deputy Director without even blinking.

You’ve outgrown him.

And he’s drowning in regret.

In the Interrogation Room

You sit across from the unsub’s sister, expression calm. Empathetic, but unreadable. Your voice is slow and steady.

“You lost your parents young. You raised your brother. But even you knew something was wrong with him.”

Hotch watches from the glass window. Watches the way you lean forward just enough to earn trust, but not enough to seem invested. You’ve perfected the distance. You’re no longer the girl who cried after cases ended.

“You didn’t come here to protect him,” you whisper. “You came here to give him up.”

The sister breaks. Sobs. Gives a name.

Hotch stares at the curve of your cheek, the steel in your posture, and he wants to bang his fist against the wall because you’re better than ever and he let you go.

That night, he knocks on your hotel room door.

You open it.

No makeup. Just a simple tee and silk shorts. You look tired. Gorgeous.

“What do you want, Hotchner?”

Not Aaron.

He swallows.

“You were remarkable today.”

You sigh. “Is that all?”

“No.” He hesitates. Then: “I think about that day a lot.”

You don’t say anything. Your eyes are like locked vaults.

“I was wrong,” he adds. “I used your heart. I knew how you felt and I used it. Not because I didn’t feel the same, but because I was afraid I did.”

And there it is.

Finally.

The truth.

You stare at him for a long, long time.

“I’m not that girl anymore,” you say quietly. “You don’t get to make this right just because I turned into something you want now.”

He nods. Accepts it.

But still doesn’t leave.

“I know,” he says. “I don’t want her back. I want you. Now. The version of you that terrifies everyone and still somehow makes me feel safe.”

Your breath hitches.

He steps closer, lowering his voice like a vow:

“I want to start over. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll work. I’ll prove it.”

You don’t kiss him.

But you don’t close the door, either.

And for now—that’s enough.

The next morning, you walk into the bullpen in a navy sheath dress and sharp heels. Sleek. Clean. All business.

Hotch is already there, sipping coffee, jaw tight. He didn’t sleep. You can tell. His shirt’s slightly wrinkled. Tie crooked.

He’s been thinking.

About you.

About last night.

About what he said—and how you didn’t slam the door in his face, but didn’t open it either.

And he was clinging to that silence like a lifeline.

Until you walked in… with him.

Agent Christophe Dufour. Interpol liaison. Half-French, half-dangerous. All charm.

And far too comfortable with you.

You’re barely two steps in when Christophe slides beside you with a grin, dropping an arm around the back of your chair like it’s natural. “Ma reine,” he teases. “You always make the American field offices feel like luxury hotels.”

You smirk without looking up. “Don’t flatter me before I’ve had my coffee.”

Christophe turns to the team. “She acts cold, but once in Paris, I saw her talk a suspect into confessing and giving her his coat. She could run MI6 if she wanted.”

“Christophe,” you say dryly. “You’re oversharing again.”

“No,” he replies with a wink. “Just showing reverence where it’s due.”

JJ shoots you a look. Emily raises her brows. Even Morgan mutters, “Damn, is that guy real?”

But it’s Hotch who cracks.

Barely.

Internally.

Outwardly, his fingers grip the file so tight it crumples slightly. His jaw pulses once. Twice. His eyes don’t leave the way Christophe leans in, whispering something that makes you roll your eyes—but smile.

You smiled.

At him.

And that’s when Hotch snaps.

“Agent Dufour,” he says flatly. “If you’re finished flirting, we have a case.”

The room stills.

You look up slowly.

Christophe lifts a brow. “Apologies. Didn’t realize we were on such a tight leash.”

Hotch’s voice sharpens. “I expect focus, not theatrics.”

“I am focused,” Christophe replies, his accent thickening just enough to seem like a challenge. “Just happens I can multitask.”

You shift in your seat. “Let’s move on.”

But Hotch? He’s not done.

Because all through the meeting, Christophe steals glances at you. Small, harmless things—offering you a pen, brushing your arm when you both reach for a document, whispering low to make you laugh.

Hotch sees every. Single. One.

And by the time the meeting ends, he’s vibrating.

Later, at the elevator

You and Christophe are waiting side by side, mid-conversation.

“You could come to Paris again,” he says. “I still owe you dinner for that bank job in Marseille.”

“Christophe.”

“I meant it professionally,” he says with a smirk. “Unless you want it to mean more.”

You roll your eyes—but Hotch appears right then.

Like a damn wraith. Silent. Menacing.

“You got a second?” he says to you. No hello. No smile.

Christophe gives a low whistle. “Boss man’s timing is impeccable.”

You barely hide your sigh. “Make it quick.”

In the conference room — door closed.

“You need something?” you ask coolly.

Hotch doesn’t answer right away. He’s staring at you like you’re a riddle he’s dying to solve but too proud to ask for help.

“You’re humoring him,” he says finally.

“Christophe?” You tilt your head. “He’s charming.”

“Manipulative.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Hotchner.”

His eyes flash. “I’m not jealous.”

You smirk. “Then why are we here?”

Silence.

And then, slowly, he steps closer. Not in a threatening way. In a territorial way.

The kind that makes air feel thick.

“He gets to flirt with you because I didn’t,” he says quietly. “Because I pushed you away. Because I told myself I couldn’t want you and lead this team.”

His voice drops.

“I was wrong.”

You blink.

“Now you’re here,” he says, “and all I can think about is how I threw you away like you didn’t mean everything.”

The air crackles.

You shift slightly, trying to breathe, but he’s right there.

“He touches you,” he murmurs, “and I want to break his hand.”

Your breath hitches.

He leans just a little closer.

“But I won’t. Not unless you ask me to.”

You stare at him.

Silent.

But not unmoved.

Finally, you speak—quiet and sharp:

“You don’t get to dictate who makes me laugh anymore.”

His jaw clenches. He nods.

“But if I did,” he says, voice like gravel, “it would only ever be me.”

And he walks out before you can respond—leaving you with your pulse thrumming and your mind spinning.

The case is solved. Christophe’s gone.

You’re still here.

But not for long.

Your flight back to London leaves tomorrow morning. 8:20 AM. First class. Already packed. Already said your goodbyes to the others—long hugs from JJ, a quiet kiss on the cheek from Spencer, and a wistful “don’t be a stranger” from Morgan. You even promised Garcia she could visit and stay in your guest flat with the purple walls and overpriced throw pillows.

Everyone had their moment.

Except him.

You expected him to let it go.

But when the knock comes—midnight, soft, apologetic—you know it’s him before you even open the door.

Aaron.

Wearing a black sweater you’ve never seen. Holding two paper cups of tea like an idiot who didn’t know what else to bring.

“I didn’t know what you drank in London,” he says quietly. “But I figured—”

“Tea was a safe bet,” you finish, letting him in.

You take one of the cups and sit on the edge of the hotel bed. He stays standing, hands clenched, like he’s in court waiting for the verdict.

You sip.

Silence.

And then—

“I was afraid of how much I needed you,” he says suddenly.

You look up.

“I told myself that what I said was for the case,” he continues. “That the lie was necessary. But the part I didn’t plan for—the part that wasn’t in the trap—was how easy it was to say it. Because I already felt it.”

You say nothing.

So he keeps going.

“I didn’t just cross a line, I drew a new one. One where you were never allowed to matter. One where needing you made me weak.”

You watch his throat tighten.

“And then you left. And I realized I was already weak. Because I hadn’t just lost a brilliant agent—I’d lost the only person I couldn’t stop thinking about.”

There it is.

All of it.

Raw. Undressed. Humble.

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” he says softer.

“Would it have changed anything?” you ask.

“No,” he admits. “But maybe I would’ve chased you.”

You blink. “Would you have caught me?”

He walks closer, kneels in front of you slowly.

“I’m trying now.”

You stare at him. Your hand trembles slightly around the cup.

“I don’t want a moment,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be some crisis of yours. Or something you remember fondly between flights and late case files.”

“You’re not,” he breathes. “You’re it. I want all of it. The hard parts. The distance. The fight. The way you take over every room. I want to be worthy of standing next to you again.”

You stare.

And it’s there—finally—the weight in your chest cracking open.

You place the tea down, slowly.

Then raise your hand.

And trace the edge of his jaw, soft and reverent. He leans into it like he’s been starving for years.

“You don’t deserve it,” you say.

“I know.”

“But you’ll work for it.”

He nods. “Every day.”

You look down at him. This man who was once untouchable. Who made you feel like nothing. Now kneeling at your feet like you hung the moon and the damn sun.

“I loved you once,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes.

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his temple.

“And if you’re lucky,” you murmur, “I might fall again.”

He exhales a laugh. Broken. Beautiful.

And then he kisses you.

Not a claim.

Not a prize.

Just two people who survived their own ruin—and chose to rebuild.

Together.

EPILOGUE – 3 MONTHS LATER

You’re back in D.C.

Not permanently. Just for another joint case.

But when Hotch picks you up at the airport, he’s holding a travel mug with your name on it and a small bouquet of violets—your favorite.

And when he walks with you through the bullpen, his hand is on your lower back the entire time, like a quiet vow:

I won’t lose you again.

Garcia calls you “Mom & Dad” now.

Rossi just grins knowingly.

You catch Christophe texting sometimes—still harmlessly flirty—and Hotch only ever smirks now, slipping an arm around your waist in full view, whispering, “He had his chance.”

And maybe it wasn’t fate.

Maybe it was timing. Patience. Growth.

But mostly?

It was you.

Choosing yourself first.

So someone worthy could finally follow.

And this time?

He does.

Every step.

—

💌 fin.

[thelovehypothesis]

🥹🫶🏼🤍

⟢ pet friendly · lando norris #4

he always said a dog was too much responsibility… unless he had someone to share it with. now there’s a name picked out and fans are asking the obvious question: who’s the someone?

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader faceclaim: olivia grivas and pinterest girlies warning: use of y/n, fluff, overdose of cuteness. also this is just for fun and obviously fiction, i'm not trying to reflect any person in real life ‹3

a/n: tysm for all the likes and love in my first smau 🤍 hope y'all like this one too! any feedback, likes, or reblogs mean a lot

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lando and 443 others

yourusername if you know someone who's thinking of getting a dog or a cat, please tell them to adopt. there are so many animals waiting for someone to love them back !! a forever home means everything to them 🐾

tagged: battersea

view all comments

yourbff you make me wanna adopt 12 dogs

friend1 this is so important thank you for sharing 🩷

battersea We’re so lucky to have you on our team! Thank you for everything you do. Enjoy your break 🐶🐱

yourusername missing everyone already

friend2 more ppl need to hear this ❤︎ liked by author

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f1gossipwags

liked by username1, username2 and 10,728 others

f1gossipwags After disappearing for the entire winter break and only showing up at the O2 for the F1 75 Live, Lando Norris was spotted boarding a private flight (possibly heading to Australia for the first race of the season) and he's not alone...

tagged: lando

view all comments

username1 EXCUSE ME????? who is she and where did she come from

username2 when they asked if he was up to netflix & chill during his break and he said yes... now we know why

username3 wait wait wait is this his girlfriend??? like officially??

⤷ username4 well... they're kissing... i feel like that counts ⤷ username5 noooo i don't want him with a girlfriend i was so happy in my delusions 😩

username6 not me zooming in on every pixel trying to figure out who she is

username7 she must be special if he's been this private about her

username8 i hope she likes dogs because clearly lando’s ready to be a dog dad

username9 i wasn't ready to see lando snogging someone's face

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f1gossipwags

liked by username1, username2 and 25.369 others

f1gossipwags UPDATE 🚨 we found Lando's mystery girl, the one spotted jogging with him in Melbourne this morning.

Her name is Y/N L/N and she's a vet student and volunteer at Battersea Dogs & Cats Home (battersea) where she’s been helping rehome rescues for the past three years. Her username is yourusername and if you scroll far back enough you’ll notice Lando’s been liking her photos since late last summer…

The two seem to have met during a visit on August 2024 when a few Battersea pups were brought to MTC. Since then, quiet likes, subtle comments, and now their first public appareance. Adam Norris (Lando’s dad) and Max Fewtrell (Lando’s best friend) already follow her.

view all comments

username3 SHE'S A VOLUNTEER AT A DOG SHELTER??? too pure for this world omg protect her

username4 she had 587 followers and now she has 27.3k YOU GUYS ARE FAST

username5 ok but his dog era makes so much sense now… she's the reason for charlie isn't she

⤷ username6 lando has been wanting a dog for years but with his scheduling travel i guess he couldn't commit for that responsibility but if he has someone to help him makes more sense

username7 she's not even a wag she's a disney princess who saves puppies for a living 🥹

username8 SO GORGEOUS SHE COULD BE A MODEL ARE WE SURE SHE’S REAL

username9 how did lando bag her let’s start with the real questions here

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yourusername

liked by lando, f1gossipwags and 75.088 others

yourusername sorry to disappoint the fbi wags but i don’t really have much to offer other than these pics from the past few days in aus

view all comments

username1 lowkey iconic response

username2 SHE KNOWS 😭😭😭

lando 🦋 ❤︎ liked by author

⤷ username3 HE’S HEREEEE

username4 ok she's funny i love her already

username4 "sorry to disappoint" bestie you could never

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lando.jpg

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell and 462,863 others

lando.jpg she told me to bring back this account

view all comments

yourusername 🫡 ❤︎ liked by author

⤷ username1 help they communicate through emojis like a secret code

username2 oh he’s whipped whipped (me too)

username3 please don’t forget the password again we NEED charlie.jpg when the time comes

⤷ username4 omg you’re right i can’t wait for charlie pics

username5 thanks yourusername for ur service queen

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channel10au

liked by yourusername, lando, battersea and 362.567 others

channel10au Today at Albert Park's media day we were incredibly lucky to sit down with McLaren's Lando Norris. Now, we didn't just talk about racing and his expectations for Sunday's Australian Grand Prix, Lando actually took the opportunity to raise some awareness in an important matter for him.

“I've been going through the process of adopting a rescue dog. It's something I've wanted to do for a while but with my schedule and everything, I wanted to make sure I could give a dog the proper home and attention they deserve. My girlfriend works at Battersea —a organization where they rescuing and rehoming dogs and cats— and through her, I've gotten really involved in understanding the whole process.”

Full interview in our bio 🔗🐶

view all comments

username1 this interview just made me love lando even more. the way he talks about his girlfriend and the dog adoption... 🥺

username2 this is why lando is my favorite driver. using his platform for good and being so genuine about it

username3 great interview! can't wait to see him on track sunday

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📰 Lando Norris Exclusive Interview with Channel 10 · Australian GP Media Day

[...]

Interviewer: There's been a lot of talk about you being championship material. How do you handle that conversation?

Lando: I think I've proven I can win races and be consistent over a season. But championships are won on track, race by race. I'm not going to sit here and make bold predictions, but I feel more ready than I ever have.

Interviewer: How will you handle the pressure this year? There's obviously heightened expectations now.

Lando: It's something I've had to learn to manage. I used to let it consume me, honestly. Every comment, every criticism, every "what if" scenario would just eat away at me. But I've learned that you can't control what people say or think. You can only control how you prepare, how you drive, and how you respond to challenges.

Interviewer: That sounds like growth. What's helped you develop that mindset?

Lando: A lot of things, really. Having good people around me, definitely. My family, the team, and... my girlfriend has been incredible. She's got this way of keeping me grounded, you know? When I'm spiraling about something that went wrong, she'll just look at me and be like, "Okay, but did you do your best with what you had?" Usually the answer is yes.

Interviewer: Can you tell us a bit about her? She sounds like she's had quite an influence on you.

Lando: She's studying to be a vet and she taught me so much about patience. Whenever I can, I'm always helping her with her work and tagging along to learn more about what she does.

Interviewer: We heard you're getting involved in that world too?

Lando: Yeah, I've been going through the process of adopting a dog. It's something I've wanted to do for a while but with my schedule and everything, I wanted to make sure I could give a dog the proper home and attention they deserve. She works at Battersea—an organization where they're rescuing and rehoming dogs and cats—and through her, I've gotten really involved in understanding the whole process.

Interviewer: That sounds like a big commitment with your racing schedule. What's the process been like?

Lando: It's been really thorough, which is exactly what you want from a good shelter. They do home visits, they want to make sure you're prepared, they ask all the right questions. And honestly, it's made me realize how much thought should go into adopting any pet. This isn't just a cute puppy, this is a family member for the next years hopefully.

Interviewer: What would you say to someone who's thinking about getting a pet?

Lando: Please consider adoption first. There are so many incredible animals in shelters just waiting for a chance. When I started visiting shelters, seeing these dogs who've been through difficult situations but still have so much love to give... it just made sense. Why wouldn't you want to give one of them a home?

[...]

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mclaren · McLaren Technology Center

liked by yourusername, lnfour and 328.943 others

mclaren Home sweet home 🏆

view all comments

username1 LIKE A WINNER

username2 every trophy in the whole world belongs in his hands

username3 well deserved yup yup

yourusername 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

⤷ username4 YNNNN HI

username5 inside his head he was like don't drop it don't drop it

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lando

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1.258.804 others

lando welcome home charlie. thank you to everyone at battersea for helping us find our perfect match. this little guy has no idea how much his life is about to change or how much ours already has ❤️

yourusername was right, i bought too many toys

view all comments

lnfour cuteeeeee 🥺

mclaren We’re all officially Charlie fans now 🧡

yourusername he's perfect and you're the best dog dad already (even if you did buy every toy in the shop)

⤷ lando you’re always right (except when you said he’d sleep in his bed and not ours)

username2 LANDO WITH DOGS IS EVERYTHING 😭😭😭

maxverstappen1 Charlie > Lando. Sorry, I don't make the rules

⤷ lando fair enough he's already more popular than me

username3 i'm having an overdose of cuteness pls help

battersea We’re so happy Charlie found his forever home 🐾 Thank you for giving him the love (and toys) he deserves

username4 STOP I’M CRYING HE’S SO SMALL

oscarpiastri Can he come to the next race debrief?

f1 We're calling it now: Rookie of the Year ❤︎ liked by author

username5 I'M MELTINGGG

georgerussell63 Okay but when does he start media duties?

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yourusername

liked by lando, yourbff and 128.047 others

yourusername my study buddy 🧡

view all comments

username1 Charlie content >>> everything else on this app rn

username2 TOO MUCH CUTENESS

lando stop posting better pics than me it’s rude

lando tell them how he tried to eat your anatomy notes

⤷ yourusername it was one page and it wasn’t important (maybe)

username3 charlie is the main character now sorry ❤︎ liked by author

lilymhe no bc i would literally drop everything for him

username4 lando found the perfect girl AND the perfect dog 🥺

alexandrasaintmleux leo is going to have a best friend <33

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lando.jpg

liked by yourusername, lnfour and 427.369 others

lando.jpg 🏠

view all comments

yourusername always❤️

comments on this post has been limited

[thelovehypothesis]

Reputation

Summary: YN LN, daughter of Red Bull Racing CEO, has always been a PR team's worst headache, this is especially true when she takes interest in McLaren driver Lando Norris.

Requested / YES - requests are open

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 4,792,901 others

yn.ln: headlines say i'm out of control....okay and???

username: fuck she's hot

username: iconic really

username: why are all the f1 guys in the likes?

| username: she's the ceo of rbr's daughter and a pr nightmare

username: is she ever sober?

username: say what you want about her but the way she just does not gaf is so funny

username: get this bitch away from f1

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: lando, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 2,392,901 others

yn.ln: Told my dad I was networking. Just threw up in a Ferrari bin and flirted with a cute McLaren driver.

username: god i wish that was me

username: showing up in the paddock hungover and flirting, icon

username: ok but the real question is is she talking about lando???

| username: no she can stay the fuck away from him

danielricciardo: never seen someone look so good throwing up

| yn.ln: choosing to ignore the fact you saw me throwing up in favour of the fact that you think im hot

lando: she thinks i'm cute guys

Instagram /

liked by: danielricciardo, yn.ln, maxverstappen1, and 8,792,901 others

lando: always nice to meet the fans

username: STOP IS THAT YN?!?

username: not him calling yn a fan 💀

username: wtf is that bitch doing on his instagram

| yn.ln: right!?!? what a bitch

| lando: yn 🤦🏻‍♂️

yn.ln: couldn't catch me DEAD being a mclaren fan

| lando: give it time you'll be repping that papaya

Instagram /

liked by: lando, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 2,792,901 others

yn.ln: drinks on dad's card 🥂🍾

username: she's a brat but at least she knows it ig

username: THAT'S LANDO!!

| username: get a life

| username: girl im telling you its lando, he was seen out in a hoodie like that

| username: ok but what business does she have with lando like that, stay the fuck away

username: not yall thinking yn ln is soft launching a relationship have you seen this girl, shes a mess

| username: fr shes a one night stand and see you never type of girl

danielricciardo: invite me next time

| yn.ln: you're always invited ricciardo, especially if you bring that cute mclaren driver

| lando: cancelling all my plan in case you call

| yn.ln: ok taylor swift

| username: iconic.

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: lando, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 3,792,901 others

yn.ln: you wish you were me rn

username: i can't stand her but god she's real with that caption

username: imagine her having life, spoilt brat who drinks every day funded by daddy, just partying with the f1 grid

danielricciardo: wow we're hot

| yn.ln: right?

lando: so hungover, so worth it

| yn.ln: hungover?? that was just the warm up for tonight, norris

| lando: i am not surviving you

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, danielricciardo, mclaren and 8,792,901 others

lando: what a way to die

username: ok dont hate me when i say it BUT i kind of like them together

| username: right like i think he'd be really good for her

yn.ln: come on the hangover cant be that bad

| lando: it is.

| yn.ln: well you know what they say, practice makes perfect. see you tonight norris!

| username: she doesnt give a fuck i love it

username: ew this bitch again 🤮

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: lando, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 4,792,901 others

yn.ln: BREAKING: yn ln ruins lando norris' reputation by going clubbing like he isn't a grown man who makes his own choices. also: lando norris cannot handle his drink

lando: honestly im blaming you to pr

| yn.ln: go for it, everyone else blames me

| lando: drama queen

| yn.ln: this is new information to you?

| lando: not even close

| yn.ln: just bring me my food Norris

| lando: anything for you 🙄

| username: wtf did i just read

username: she really said fuck you f1 twitter

username:  i love lando i hate her but you cant deny theyre hot together

Instagram /

liked by: maxfewtrell, yn.ln, mclaren and 9,792,901 others

lando: life away from the track

username: she made it into the dump

username:  noooooooooo

username:  fuck her

| yn.ln: right!?!!

username: not a chance hes with her

| username: right it's def pr to make her look better

| username: be so fr how the fuck would that work it doesn't benefit lando being around her

yn.ln: nooo not this bitch making it onto the dump 😭

| lando: what is wrong with you

| yn.ln: so so much

| lando: absolute muppet

username: who cares who he dates???

| username: bc shes the worst

| username: why because she goes out and drinks??

| username: it's not just that she drinks shes a spoilt entitled brat who thinks the world owes her something

| yn.ln: real

| lando: stop @/yn.ln

| yn.ln: never

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 10,792,901 others

lando: back on track

username: not her being snuck into the dump again 😤😤

username:  no wtf

username: why couldnt it have been anyone else

username: wait why does she look so pretty like this

yn.ln: what. the. fuck. is that picture

yn.ln: i have a reputation norris

| lando: please that reputation is so fake

| yn.ln: NORRIS

| lando: 🙂

| yn.ln: im blocking you wow

username: not her being more worried about her cold girl act 😭

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 5,792,901 others

yn.ln: fuck lando norris

username: girl i would if i could

| yn.ln: real

| username: and wtf does that mean

lando: sorry guys, she's heartless really

| yn.ln: damn right

| lando: muppet

| username: ok they're kind of in love

| username: i hate it BUTTT

username:  iconic flipping off lando norris tho

| yn.ln: deserved

| lando: for posting ONE cute picture of you!?

| yn.ln: i don't do cute norris

| lando: lmao tell that to you waking up in the morning

| username: WHAT

lando: also you're welcome for picking you up from the club at 5am

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 11,792,901 others

lando: she doesn't do cute apparently

maxfewtrell: happy for you mate

| lando: cheers mate

| maxfewtrell: hope you don't get killed for this post tho

| lando: I waited til she was asleep to post

| maxfewtrell: praying for you mate

username:  ooooo shes gonna hate this post

username:  wait why is she bearable like this

username: wow are we sure this is yn

| username: fr theres no drink in her hand

username: lando norris taming yn ln wtf

| lando: she doesn't need taming

| username: HOLY SHIT

yn.ln: wow. ok. what. the. fuck. am i waking up to

yn.ln: delete this shit

| lando: not a chance

| lando: let me be soft

| yn.ln: this isn't you being soft this is ME being soft 🤮

| lando: god forbid

| yn.ln youre so so lucky youre cute

| lando: and that i buy all of your drinks

| yn.ln: well yeah that as well

username: nooooo wtf is she doing her like this

| username: lando seriously needs to get a grip this girl will ruin in life and reputation

| yn.ln: im with these people, delete this bitch from your insta @/lando

| lando: never

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 9,792,901 others

yn.ln: ruining lando norris' reputation one post at a time

username: lando posting a well crafted soft launch < yn hard launching them making out

username: ok i was a hater but i acc like this girl

lando: seriously

| yn.ln: you post me being soft. i post this.

| yn.ln: i have a brand norris

| lando: post what you want if it means I can keep posting too

| yn.ln: not sure i love this deal but i do love being a pr nightmare

| lando: you're the worst

| yn.ln: no shit

| username: obsessed that she still just calls him Norris

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, maxfewtrell, mclaren and 11,792,901 others

lando: what a special weekend, p1 for you baby, @/yn.ln

username: him dedicating his win to her 😭

username: noooooo we've lost him

username: honestly i've been converted

| username: no bc did you see her screaming for him when he won

| username: right she was jumping and clapping, reputation clearly out of the window

| username: his mum was looking at her like she was something special

| username: if Cisca approves then im on board

| username: she was actually weirdly cute cheering him on

yn.ln: im about to be soft on the main and youre all gonna stfu about it but LANDO!!! BABY!!! IM SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU OMG 😭😭

| username: damn who the hell is this girl

| lando: i love you, thank you for being here love

maxfewtrell: good company to watch you win

| yn.ln: the best company

| lando: so you'll be soft with my best mate but not me, ok??

| maxfewtrell: clearly she has a favourite

| yn.ln: i said i was proud of you, don't push it

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 11,792,901 others

yn.ln: my bf is so much hotter and so much better than yours

username: cant even argue with that caption (sorry to my boyfriend if you see this)

username: real

username: his victory post was so cute, hers is.... well its there

username: still cant stand her but damn shes feeding us with these hot lando pics

| yn.ln: here to provide for the haters 🫡💋

username: i know every time she posts landos pr team dreads opening this app

| lando: they do

| yn.ln: god i love knowing that

lando: i love you so much

| yn.ln: you're alright i suppose

| username: dead

| lando: just want everyone to know she messaged me saying she is in love with me

| yn.ln: you have no proof of this

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 15,792,901 others

lando: proof

username: he really said you want reciepts?

yn.ln: wow you really did that to me, five years of a well crafted reputation down the drain

| lando: that reputation was hanging on by a thread love

| yn.ln: sorry im gonna have to cancel our date this weekend bc i have to go get shit faced and cause a massive scandal

| lando: i'll drive

yn.ln: deleting my account forever

| lando: who would give the pr teams a headache

| yn.ln: fuck the pr teams you just exposed me my life is ruined

| lando: god i love you

username: ok maybe i like them maybe shes not just using lando

username: im obsessed with them

yn.ln: 🧡

[thelovehypothesis]

Stream Nights

Summary— Lando has to do bedtime with Luka, but also has to stream with Max.

Warnings— none fluffy asf

A/N— Im back bitches 😝

Dad Lando Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Request— Hello! I have a request for a lando!dad story. With either a boy a girl who is about 3-4 years old. Lando is having a hang out with max fewtrell few more friends, they are live on twitch. Lando had put the kid to bed a while ago but at some point in he stream the kid wakes up, and stays on the stream for a while, the fans love it and think it's cute, but lando eventually puts them back to bed. I love your stories so much!!

Lando and Max planned to stream with friends, but Lando was on bedtime duty so it was pushed back. Max played a few rounds on stream and the chat got increasingly insistent on Lando joining.

“Chat would you take a chill pill, he’s got dad duties.” Max said. The chat conversed about it for a bit and calmed down, realizing that yeah- Lando is a dad.

In the other room Lando was giving his little boy a bath before bed. Bubbles and toys strewn about the warm water while he got splashed and drenched. “Oh no! Your boat sunk!” Lando exclaimed playfully as Luka dunked the toy ship.

Giggles erupted from the boy and Lando couldn’t help but smile. “No daddy, it’s a special ship.” Luka explained. “They can go underwater.” Lando chuckled and scoffed a bit at his son.

“It’s a submarine then?” Lando asked with a brow raised. Luka gave him a scowl.

“No. It’s a boat daddy.” He corrected. His face serious before a yawn interrupted. His playing hands got more uncoordinated and Lando began draining the tub.

“Alright let’s get you ready for bed.” He said lifting the boy from the tub and drying him. Luka gave his mum resistance during bedtime but never Lando. Which is why she implemented he do bedtime when he’s home and away from racing.

He got the boy dressed and in a pull up— something Luka wears strictly at night while they’re still trying to potty train him. He read a quick story and got the boy calm and relaxed in his arms, snuggling close.

He laid the boy in his toddler bed and gave him a kiss goodnight. “Dream of race cars little one, mummy and daddy love you lots.” He whispered while caressing the boys damp hair. He exited the room, solely lit by a nightlight and rain pattering from the sound machine fills the room.

He retreats to the master bed to change and tell his wife goodnight, and that Luka should be out cold before going to his gaming room. His friends lounging on the couch and Max engrossed in a heated game already, headset on one ear but not the other.

“Who’s next?” Lando asked the group. The room had soundproofing and was nearly across the house from the bedrooms so if they were loud it wasn’t an issue.

A few hours pass of the guys taking turns in the game, Max entertaining chat one way or another. Lando nursing a monster all night. One of the guys gets up for the bathroom and opens the room door, he walks about a step out before returning in and giving Lando a look.

Lando smiles and gives him a confused expression before he hears it. “Where’s dada?” Lando shoots up and walks into the hall. He crouches in front of the boy and rubs his arm.

“Hey bubba, what’s the matter?” Lando asked softly. His friend went to where he was headed in the house and left the two. When Luka realized it was Lando he opened his arms and curled them around his neck.

“Mama’s door ‘s locked.” He whined. Lando rubbed a soothing arm on the boys back and stood up. Luka had a horrible habit of trying to sleep with his mum when Lando was gone so she retreated to locking her door at night, it mostly worked. Luka knew that Lando had friends over though and so he got a free pass to be with Lando.

“Is it now?” Lando cooed. “How about you hang out with daddy and Maxie hm?” He offered. Luka nodded and Lando entered the room again. The chat erupted with too fast comments.

“He joins the stream!” Max said, quieter than usual. “Hey bud, why are you up this late?” He lightly tickled the boys side and got a giggle and smile.

“It’s about the time he sneaks into mama’s room huh bub?” Lando said. Luka curled into Lando again and he chucked. “He’s just going to hang out for a bit.”

Lando forfeit his turns to hold Luka and they watched them play round after round. The chat roars across the screen about how adorable Luka and Lando are. ‘Look at him how tired, aww’ or ‘Max you’re yelling is scaring the poor boy!!’ And ‘he better be getting so many cuddles after dealing with this group’

After around 30 minutes he noticed Luka trying to suck his thumb and his eyes drooping again. “Can I sleep with Mama?” He mumbled.

“Let’s go see bub.” Lando answered and brought the boy to the door, fishing the key from his pocket and unlocking the door. She was already up, having to use the bathroom. She looked over to her boys and smiled.

“Come see Luka.” She mumbled, voice laced with tiredness. Lando brought the boy over and she pulled him close to her chest. Luka sighed contentedly and fell back asleep.

“I’ll be done in a minute, just finishing up.” Lando whispered, placing a kiss to her head and Luka’s.

Lando cuddles are the best cuddles

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv @pandabiiissh @sol3chu

[thelovehypothesis]

She Sleeps, He Races, and the Internet Falls in Love

Charles races on Twitch while Y/N naps in his lap—one forehead kiss sends the chat spiraling into romance-core chaos.

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story created purely for entertainment and imaginative purposes.

Charles Leclerc is live on Twitch.

The chat’s buzzing. The screen shows the iconic F1 track layout. Charles, laser-focused, hands gripping the controller, brows slightly furrowed.

But in his lap—her face is not fully visible—is Y/N.

She's wrapped in a plush, pastel blanket with tiny embroidered race cars and little stitched strawberries. She's curled up on his lap, arms tucked around his waist like muscle memory, head nestled into the crook of his neck. Her breath is soft against his skin, and her feet are peeking out from beneath the blanket.

The chat catches on.

“WAIT IS SOMEONE ON HIS LAP???” “Charles blink twice if you’re holding a human burrito.” “What is that blanket, and where do I buy one???”

Charles glances at the comments and chuckles quietly.

“Ah—yeah. She’s asleep,” he says, nudging the mic aside. “This is her racing blanket. She made it.” His voice dips instinctively softer, protective. “It’s got little strawberries because they’re her favorite. She’s the creative one.”

Then someone in chat notices the forehead kiss.

Charles botched a corner—too wide, lost grip. The game penalized him. Instinctively, Charles leaned back, pressing a quiet kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, murmuring a “désolé” under his breath like she could sense his mistake in her dreams.

The chat breaks.

“HE KISSED HER HEAD BECAUSE HE MISSED A TURN I’M GOING TO CRY” “THIS IS THE SOFTEST FERRARI CONTENT SINCE HE FED THE BIRDS IN MONACO” “Charles Leclerc winning boyfriend of the year and it’s not even close.”

Then he nails a sector. Fastest lap.

His fist pumps silently. He smiles and whispers, “C’est pour toi,” to the girl on his lap who’s still sound asleep.

At one point, Y/N stirs gently—he pauses mid-turn, shifts just enough to help her resettle, adjusts the blanket around her shoulders, and whispers, “Sleep, mon ange. You’re safe.”

She murmurs something unintelligible and presses her cheek tighter into his neck.

And every viewer watching? Emotionally obliterated.

[thelovehypothesis]

Mama

Oscar Piastri x Pregnant!reader

Summary: 9 months of growing a baby, Oscar and Y/N go through it all

(a/n: on reflection the timeline of races in relation to pregnany is off but I realised too late)

Masterlist / TipJar

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, kikagomes, and 54,297 others

ynusername Making my 1st trimester's turmoil look aesthetic. I threw up 20 mintues ago.

view all 56 comments

oscarpiastri So sorry to hear that my love

ynusername Oh shut up you did this to me ynusername Is my memory serves me right, you enjoyed doing this to me oscarpiastri okay okay shush

kikagomes Looking beautiful mama!

ynusername Thank you, looking forward to pushing it out! kikagomes Really? ynusername No, more looking forward to when the pregancy is no longer vomiting, and when my baby is in my arms oscarpiastri *Our arms ynusername Hmmm you are still in time out for this though

lilymhe Awww I want one

ynusername They aren't even born yet! alexalbon Um... shall we have a discussion? lilymhe ;))

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, alexalbon, and 245,098 others

oscarpiastri P3 finish in Japan! Going strong into the rest of the season!

view all 234 comments

user Congrats!!

landonorris Love being on the podium with you

landonorris Especially when the first thing you do after is phone your girlfriend oscarpiastri I was checking on the baby landonorris Oh you are such a daddy oscarpiastri .... alexalbon Daddy Oscar liked by ynusername

ynusername WOOOO!!! Podium baby!!

oscarpiastri Love you xx oscarpiastri And the baked bean ynusername No. You cannot call it that

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, kikagomes, lilymhe, and 49,241 others

ynusername Bump isn't even bumping and he has seperation anxiety

view all 39 comments

kikagomes Glowing

ynusername *Sweating kikagomes Still going through it? ynusername Doctor says it should be over soon! kikagomes Hope so, for you sake xx

oscarpiastri My darling <3

ynusername You are an ugly man oscarpiastri What did I do ynusername You didn't get me my snack oscarpiastri Cause it was crazy!! lilymhe Do you know nothing about pregnant women?! alexalbon What was it? oscarpiastri Wasabi and vinegar on strawberries....

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, lilymhe, alexalbon, and 155,979 others

oscarpiastri Spending a few rare days in peace and quiet (while we still can)

view all 302 comments

user Oscar is already dreading the baby

oscarpiastri Not at all, I love my baby user Parental protective instincts already working lol

alexalbon You get pizza?

oscarpiastri No the beautiful pregnant woman eats the pizza but refuses to eat the ham oscarpiastri I was allowed the scraps alexalbon Diva oscarpiastri Deserves everything in life

ynusername I am going to get bigger...

oscarpiastri I mean, yes darling, that's how this works ynusername UGhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh oscarpiastri Can I help? ynusername Get a vasectomy

ynusername

liked by kikagomes, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 78,876 others

ynusername I am sad to announce to the world that this is the last time I will be able to get these jeans on

view all 53 comments

lilymhe Damn, it is maternity clothes time?

ynusername I don't want to lilymhe We can go on a shopping trip kikagomes Omggg yesss ynusername I was going to do a Vinted haul.... kikagomes Coffee date then! ynusername Got to find somewhere with good non caffeinated options kikagomes Good god, why did you even get pregnant? ynusername Have you SEEN my man?? kikagomes Oka,y I will give you that pierregasly What? liked by ynusername, kikagomes

oscarpiastri You will still support me even though I did this to you?

ynusername We don't have to keep pretending like I didn't ask for this oscarpiastri Thank god oscarpiastri Sending you love, I'll be back soon love x

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, alexalbon, landonorris, and 214,742 others

oscarpiastri Saudi you were amazing. My girlfriend sent me a photo of her walking a dog. We do not have a dog. Took me 30 minutes and help from Lando to clock it was Pierre's dog Simba

view all 382 comments

landonorris In our defense we couldn't see the dogs face

ynusername I wasn't about to steal a dog! landonorris Who knows what pregancy will make a woman do? ynusername I will attack you oscarpiastri Don't over exerct yourself, I will do it for you landonorris Hey what No ynusername Never doubted you baby!!

oscarpiastri Love you so much xx

ynusername Love the baby more? oscarpiastri No, yes, idk. No, I love you more ynusername Omg I'm going to tell it! oscarpiastri it?

user Not Oscar thinking Y/N stole a dog

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, kikagomes, and 68,234 others

ynusername Look at this man. You cannot blame me for being in the situation I am in.

view all 82 comments

kikagomes No one blames you at all

pierregasly Do we seriously need to talk? kikagomes Can you blame her? pierregasly I cannot find a single fault with him or her actions kikagomes I think we do NOT need a talk then ynusername Shall I leave you be? kikagomes Maybe...

oscarpiastri Look at this woman. Can you blame me??

lilymhe I would also try to get her pregnant oscarpiastri What? alexalbon What? ynusername I would've let you try alexalbon WHAT?

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, alexalbon, landonorris, 254,242 others

oscarpiastri I am going to be outnumbered

view all 322 comments

user Girl dad Oscar! Girl dad Oscar!

ynusername You are never going to be able to say no ever again

oscarpiastri I want to buy everything ynusername Calm down, Mister

alexalbon Piastri's love to have girls man, you are the anomaly

oscarpiastri Wouldn't have it any other way lilymhe Can I buy her things?? Many things?? ynusername She is going to be so spoiled, I'm scared oscarpiastri But she will be loved

ynusername

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, kikagomes, and 75,224 others

ynusername It is an early babymoon for us as someone decided to race cars

view all 59 comments

oscarpiastri Hey its a respectable job

ynusername Oh my, look it's my talking wallet oscarpiastri Watch it missy ynusername ;0

lilymhe Gorgeous girlie

ynusername Thank you xx kikagomes how much longer? ynusername Couple of months kikagomes AHhh it's getting close ynusername Stil gotta push her out though

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, maxverstappen, and 298,354 others

oscarpiastri Canada, thank you, you were great. Shame we missed out on a podium, but still a big thanks to the team

view all 410 comments

user Tried your hardest!

ynusername I am bursting oscarpiastri Okay. How can I help? ynusername Home? oscarpiastri Soon darling

alexalbon Not long till baby!

oscarpiastri So soon, I am so ready alexalbon Really?? oscarpiastri NO! I am shitting it ynusername Same alexalbon You will be the best parents

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, kikagomes, and 49,112 others

ynusername Feeling like a balloon

view all 61 comments

oscarpiastri A pretty balloon

ynusername A BALLOON oscarpiastri PRETTY ynusername Hmmm

kikagomes Was that the last coffee date for a while?

ynusername I took me 10 minutes to get my shorts on today ynusername So I am going to say yes? kikagomes Pity x

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, ynusername, alexalbon, and 365,142 others

oscarpiastri Going to miss the bump

view all 326 comments

user Y/N is glowing

ynusername Love you xx

oscarpiastri Love you and the bean ynusername Fine, at least it's not the baked bean oscarpiastri OooO ynusername NO

landonorris Beautiful couple

oscarpiastri Aww you are too kind landonorris ... oh yeah I guess you are there too landonorris Seriously congrats x oscarpiastri I can't wait

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, kikagomes, and 120,554 others

ynusername Valerie Piastri

view all 134 comments

lilymhe She is so stunning

ynusername Thank you deeply oscarpiastri She is all her mother

[thelovehypothesis]

OUCH

Never Forget

Couple - Spencer x fem!reader

Warnings - Language, no happy ending

Summary - Instead of JJ confessing, Spencer confesses his love for her while you listen in.

Category - angst

Word Count - 2k

A/N - I cri :(

masterlist

Join my taglist here!

—————————————-

“I’ve always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before.”

You dropped the phone that was connected to the audio of Penelope’s computer— the one that had access to what was happening inside the building where Spencer and JJ were being held hostage.

Your phone wasn’t the only thing that hit the floor, your heart also followed— shattering onto the ground beneath you. He loved her?

You were too stuck in the whirlwind that controlled your mind… too caught up in trying to find the lies that he had spit out in the 3 years the two of you had been together. The only thing that snapped you out of your trance was the gunshot you could hear coming from the small piece of technology at your feet.

You picked it up hastily. “Penelope. Penelope! What’s going on?”

“H- he’s fine, Sweetpea. They’re both okay.”

“Um, c- can you,” you hiccuped, trying your best not to let the tightness in your chest manifest itself into a tangible sound, “Can you keep him from c- coming home. I don’t know, j- just try to keep him there for l- longer, please?”

“Anything for you, sugar. If you need anything, call me.” You gave her a sound of affirmation, ending the call shortly after. You stumbled over onto the armchair that rested in the corner of your home— the very same armchair that you and Spencer would cuddle up and read on.

How could he have said that? After everything the two of you had been through together, the trust and love you built together were tossed in the trash in a matter of seconds. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt that way when he first met you, after he first kissed you, after your first night together— was he thinking about her?

You had dreamed of your forever with him. One that was filled with late-night kisses, date nights on the rooftop looking at the stars, sleepless days and nights together in bed. It was already planned, written in the stars.

You hated how every good thing that had ever happened to you revolved around him, because it was ruined. Tainted by the twisted, sweet nothings he whispered into your ears at night or the fallacy of the future he laid out before you.

Before you knew it, your feet picked up from the ground and made their way to your room as your hands grabbed the nearest bag that you could stuff your clothes in. Hot tears burned your cheeks, staining your shirt like the broken fantasy of your love stained your heart.

Your mind tried its best to command the rest of your body to ignore the seething rage of sadness and despair from taking over. You tried your hardest to hold yourself together long enough so you could leave the place you thought would be your forever.

But you couldn’t.

Your knees buckled as they hit the ground, your hands immediately coming up to instinctually wipe away the flood of tears that were released from your eyes. He promised that he’d never hurt you, that he’d never lie— but you were a fool to believe in anyone that wasn’t yourself.

Sobs racked from your chest as the pitiful cries that came from your mouth reverberated around the cold, empty room that was once filled with light-hearted humor.

You sat there, sunken down as your head rested against the dresser. Staring at the ceiling had seemed to calm you down, your eyes growing heavy from the crying that you had done.

You were too far away from earth to hear his footsteps shuffling in after he slammed the door with a force that you had never known before.

“Y/N?” He looked down, seeing your eyes staring into him with a lifeless glare. “Y/N, I- I’m sorry.”

You stood up wordlessly and continued packing, ignoring the shaking man beside you.

“Y/N, please. L- let me explain.”

��What’s there to explain. You love her and I know you would never lie… except to me.”

He turned his head to look at the piles and piles of unfolded clothing you were packing into a small duffel bag. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Y/N, don’t go.”

You looked up at him with tears stinging your eyes. “How could you be so selfish, Spencer? You know what you said to JJ and you’re asking me to stay? After all the lies you’ve told me? After everything that I’ve done for you, for us? You don’t even have the decency to let me go after the shit you pulled?”

“You’re just giving up on us?”

“There is no ‘us’, not anymore.”

You zipped up the bag and put it on your shoulder, inhaling before you left the bedroom and went to put on your shoes. You took one last look around the apartment that had been yours for nearly 3 years, silently thanking it for the memories it held but was no longer obligated to keep.

Your departure was stilled by Spencer and his hands pulling the bag off of you. Before you could say anything, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t leave me, Y/N. You can’t go. I need you to stay.”

You tried to wiggle out of his hold. “Spencer let go.”

He ignored you, repeating his words of affirmation over and over again to make him believe that he had lost you. “You can’t go, Y/N.”

“Spencer, please. Let me go.”

“No, no. You have to stay with me. I can’t do this without you. You can’t…” He let go and blocked the front door, picking up the bag and emptying the contents inside. Spencer stared straight at you as you tried to decipher the look on his face.

“I won’t l- let you go.” He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder as you used your hands to pound on his back.

“Sp- Spencer, please. You need to let go, I need to go,” you sobbed. He tossed you onto the bed and laid beside you, holding you close into his chest.

“I w- won’t let you go, Y/N. I- I will never let go.” He cried, his tears falling into your hair as you thrashed and kicked and punched to get free from his grasp. Your arms flailed around as your legs kicked him anywhere they could reach. He held you through the pain, through the pain that he caused.

You gave up.

Leaning into him as the two of you grieved for the love that you had lost. His beating heart sounded faint after the truth was revealed, your longing for a life with him had been broken.

“Do you love me,” you whispered. You could hear his heart cracking through his chest.

“Of course I do.”

A single tear slid down your cheek, landing on his hand that held you in place. “Do you love me as much as you love her?”

Silence.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the tightness in your chest all over again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You looked up at him, using your arm to gently caress his face. He looked back down at you as you felt his tears land on your skin. The two of you looked deeply into each other’s eyes, crying together as you both came to terms that your relationship was over.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Spencer. I know you love me.” He nodded, pulling you impossibly closer into his body. He shifted you upward so your face was level with his. He placed a kiss onto your lips, possibly the last one that you two would share.

Spencer released from his arms… but you didn’t move.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding onto whatever remnant of love you had left. You just wanted to hold him.

Just for a little while longer.

—————————————-

You felt him move, pulling you up with him so that you were straddling his lap. He entangled his hands in your hair, resting his chin on your shoulder and leaning the side of his head onto yours.

Your legs wrapped around his torso out of habit as you leaned into his touch.

“We can try to fix this, Y/N. We c- could do… I- I don’t know. We could t- try again.”

You leaned back to get a clear look of his face, all swollen and puffy from the tears he shed. “If it came down to me and her, if it wasn’t uncomplicated, black and white, would you choose her?”

He winced at your question. “Please, Y/N.”

“Answer.”

He looked at you as his eyes began to turn glassy again. “Yes,” he whispered.

Your lips formed into a pout as you tried your hardest to withhold tears— looking up towards the ceiling to keep them from coming out. “That’s why we can’t try again. You love me, but not enough. If it was between me and JJ, you’d choose her. Being second-best might be enough for some people, but it isn’t for me.”

“I- I know.”

“I need to leave, Spencer.”

“I know. I know you do.”

He waited for you to move off of him. You clambered off his lap as your bare feet touched the wooden floor. He took your hand, holding it in his as he gave you a tender kiss on the back of it.

Spencer stood up with you, physically connected as the two of you walked out of the bedroom together. He let go and sat down next to the clothes that he had emptied on the floor, picking each one and folding them up one by one, placing them neatly into the bag.

Silent tears rolled down your faces. You sat down next to him to help, leaning your head onto his shoulder as the two of you worked together to pack your bags. Your arms were linked together so the two of you could be as close as you could before your inevitable goodbye.

“Wait here.” He ran back into the room, you stood up, settling the bag onto your shoulder once again. He came back out with a stack of paper and a little box in his hand.

Spencer handed them to you as you looked down and realized… it was the anniversary gift you saw him hiding weeks ago.

“It’s a locket… of us. B- but you can take the um, the picture of,” he stopped, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes, “Us out. A- and I was going to p- put the photos in a book for you but I didn’t have enough time.”

“Spencer.”

“Please, just take it. D- do what you want with it. K- keep it or th- throw it away. I just… I need you to take a piece of me with you, so you’ll never forget how much I cherish you.”

You nodded, placing the things he handed you in your bag. You felt like it burned a hole right through the fabric all the way to your heart.

You were really leaving… really saying goodbye.

He walked you out to the elevator, pressing the button for you. You both looked at each other, knowing full well that it was your last fleeting moment together. He pulled you into him one last time, trying to show you how much he cared in one motion.

“I will never forget you, Spencer. I could never forget.”

He placed his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The elevator doors pinged open, you walked in and faced him. You gave him a soft smile so all the crying and the pain wouldn’t be the last thing he remembered about you.

The doors gave way and closed, ending a chapter of your life that you thought would be the last.

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Taglist:

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[thelovehypothesis]

I do, I do, I do | charles leclerc social media au

| charles leclerc x childhood best friend fem!reader

| It's always been you- his loyal friend, his unrelenting pen pal, his doting girlfriend, and now, his wife. Through curated posts on the socials of people close to you, your story together is played out.

| had a lot of fun writing my last smau with Kimi Antonelli, this one is pretty spur of the moment, but I'm excited :) And this one has an ABBA song as a title too haha

f1updates

f1updates Wedding bells are ringing for Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc and his longtime girlfriend, now wife, Y/n L/n-Leclerc! Fans are flocking to the accounts of wedding guests to get a glimpse at these two loverbirds' ceremony, and it's no surprise as to why!

comments

user1 When you literally watch your favorite ship grow up together... actual tears in my eyes

user2 Man, he actually put a ring on her

user3 The amount of organs I would sell to have been a guest at that wedding

-> user4 Real for that tho

user5 Mom and Dad are finally married!!

youroldersister

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 204, 587 others

youroldersister Ever since you were little, you and Charles were inseparable. I remember one night specifically, you were over at Charles' house and Mom and Dad sat me down after dinner. I was probably around 10 or 11, you would have been only 6 or 7. Mom started talking first. She explained to me that a big sister's job was to protect her little sister, no matter what. She said that nothing should come between us- not distance, not money, especially not boys.

Of course, I asked about Charles. 'Does that mean Y/n shouldn't spend so much time with Charles? 'Cause I think he's really nice, and he doesn't pull at my hair or make fun of me like other boys do.' And that's when Dad whispered to me, like it was a special secret just for us three, 'Charles is someone special, sweetheart. He's a part of the family, too.' Even as children, everyone could tell that you two were meant for each other.

comments

youroldersister Sorry for the paragraphs, but I love this story ❤️

-> yourusername 🥹

charles_leclerc My favorite sister-in-law in the world

-> youroldersister I'm your only sister-in-law, but it's the thought that counts

user8 Omg, little Y/n in one of Charles' racing helmets?? My heart 🥰🥰🥰

user9 The fact that mama and papa L/n KNEW, even at such a young age... So precious!

user10 The holding handssss, they were adorable

user11 Can just imagine them terrorizing the streets of Monaco when they were little

-> youroldersister Trust me, they did. They may have looked cute, but they were evil masterminds at manipulating our parents into more pastries

-> yourusername Not my fault I was born with the better puppy dog eyes

-> charles_leclerc Now that she's done convincing her parents to buy her croissants, she's moved onto me

-> yourusername Speaking of croissants... 🥺

-> charles_leclerc Anything for you, ma cherie 💕💕

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 764, 928 others

maxverstappen1 Charles, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you were insufferable as a teenager. Seriously, I've never met a single other teenage boy pine so besotted over a girl. After every single race, as soon as you were done reviewing the data and checking over the kart, you sat down and began writing a letter. Without fail, after every race you filled page upon page with everything you wanted to tell this one, special girl.

Once, I asked what you seemed to write so much about, and you told me with a straight face that you were telling her about the race, everything down to your tyre strategy and a lap-by-lap review. I thought for sure that no girl would want to date you if all you wrote about was karting, but apparently, Y/n was that girl.

Even if you two are so in love it makes me a bit sick, I'm so happy for both of you. To your future together 🥂

comments

charles_leclerc My best man, everybody!

-> user12 Best man??? Watch me go insane over this information

-> user13 I NEED to know all the drivers who were at this wedding... Guest list must go crazyyy

yourusername Aww Maxie 🥹

lando.norris What he doesn't mention is that his speech at the wedding was about ten times this length

-> charles_leclerc I wouldn't have asked him to be by my best man if I wasn't ready for the Maxplaining of my own relationship

-> user14 So now we have Lando confirmed at the wedding?!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, youroldersister and 67, 302 others

yourusername My love, we've done it! Married at last- though now that all the wedding planning is over, I can't wait for it to be just us two once more. (And Leo, of course.)

I've loved you all my life, and I'm so excited for us to start building a new life together. You are my light, je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et les étoiles ❤️[I love you to the moon and the stars]

comments

user15 The reason I believe in love fr

user16 Married life looks good on you!!

charles_leclerc Tu es ma vie <3 [You are my life]

user17 Their relationship >>>

-> user18 No one does romance like them lol

-> user19 Absolutely! When I heard that they literally exchanged love letters for years, I knew they were made for each other

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and 309, 291 others

charles_leclerc Y/n, mon cher, you are the calm in the storm that is my life. Without you, I'd have drowned or succumbed to the pressure a thousand times over. With you, I am strong enough to withstand anything, as long as I face it with you. Monaco is my home country, but you are my home. Being yours is better than any podium, and our future together is brighter than any trophy. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime!

comments

yourusername Je t'aime ❤️

-> charles_leclerc ❤️

user20 'Being yours is better than any podium'??? Excuse me while I go cry from pure adorableness

user21 Her literally being his anchor 😭

lewishamilton Congrats to both of you! Definitely winning cutest paddock couple award this year

maxverstappen1 Congratulations, both of you

user22 The grid in the comments congratulating them 🥹

carlos.sainzjr Congrats!

oscarpiastri So. Grid mom?

-> yourusername Ofc darling!! I'm bringing stepmom brownies next time I visit

-> oscarpiastri 😁

-> lando.norris Eyy Osc my buddy! Abt those brownies, sharing is caring, right?

-> oscarpiastri 🤨

-> yourusername Dw Lando, I'll bring some for you too

-> charles_leclerc Darling? Betraying me this early in our marriage?

-> yourusername Don't be dramatic, you're my favorite taste tester and spoon licker!

[thelovehypothesis]

[thelovehypothesis]

Imagine: Two Ghosts (PART TWO)

TRIGGER WARNING: sadness, mentions of abusive actions. angst**

here’s a link to part one

The one where she’s insignificant, alone and hurting.

Y/N walked all the way home, getting lost numerous times and possessing a set of cuts on her bare legs from the times of impact when she’d ran from the eyes of the public, or ran so she could get home before any man had the chance to come near her. She was paranoid, the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight, she tried to blink the tears blurring her vision away.

She was alone.

Y/N had always loved being surrounded by a number of people, ever since she had been young. People who loved her, because the more people you were close with the more would be there for you when you needed it the most, right?

But that wasn’t true.

As Y/N began to grow up, she started letting a selected number of people into her. People who she thought truly mattered, who thought she mattered right back. But it’d always be her driving them back home when they were drunk, it was always her making the chicken soup and taking care of them when they were sick, it was always her being the punching bag they took their inner frustrations out upon. People are always trying to find the opposite of loneliness, but what’s the point? What’s the point when no one is there when you need it the most?

Companionship can only go so long, until you have to pay someone to listen to your problems, instead of telling someone who’s supposed to care for you that you feel like you’re at your breaking point. Because if we tell others how we truly feel, we’ll be perceived as the weak, dramatic people, and will eventually be left. We are ultimately the ones who feel loneliness, because we do not want to be lonely.

Although it was futile, y/n continued to hope someone would come who would truly be her “opposite of loneliness.” But it never happened. Boyfriends came and go; some bruising her with their words and actions, others going as far to use her body to relieve their tension, scarring her physically and mentally. As much as she tried to forget about it, tried not to question why everyone abandoned her, why she was only ever temporary, why she was so unlovable, she lived it all over again during the endless night.

When Harry came by, y/n’s heart was hesitant for the first time. So, she said ‘no’ when he asked her out. It broke her heart when she said no to him, his response being a stuttered ‘oh. Okay. Sorry,” before he fled the scene, but it had to be done. They were all there at first, until they weren’t anymore. Why would he be any different?

Y/N and Harry kept meeting by coincidence, either in simple coffee shops, or huge celebrity gatherings. They unconsciously began going not a day without each other’s presence. They were friends, but there was a special air that they could both feel. Something that was precious and silently theirs.

Friendship grew to something else, and before they knew it, they were on a field filled with daises and pretty, yellow dandelions. Y/N was wearing a white sundress, the straps falling off of her shoulders as she laughed, and they were under an oak tree, far away from reality. Harry asked her if he could kiss her, and she said yes. So he did, and they kissed for the rest of that day, before Harry finally asked again, nervous, but hopeful and quite smug when she said yes.

The fans noticed soon after, and there were still many haters, but that was okay. It was him and her.

People who had left her began to make an entrance again, but she had locked the gates and set the walls high again, because she had Harry and that was enough. It would always be enough. Or so she thought.

Now, here she was, with scratched up legs and a worn dress, with aching feet and an exhausted mind. This was it for her. She couldn’t take anymore.

It was well after dawn when y/n had finally reached home- or, she corrected herself, Harry’s home.

She bitterly laughed at herself, for spending months painting a fucking series dedicated to some who didn’t love her back, instead of paying attention to how weak the relationship really was. Pathetic.

Her cheeks were swollen and her eyes were sore from the crying she’d done, fearful and hopeless.

Shakily grabbing her keys, y/n slipped them into the keyhole and twisted the item, causing the door to open wide. Not a sound came from inside. Breathing shakily, y/n’s eyes glazed over the pictures of her and Harry, decorating the walls and the flat. It made something large feel more like home.

Stepping in, she dropped all of the items she had clutched and carried for hours onto the floor. The stupid trophy she’d thought meant something hours ago, seemed so far away. It was smashed in places and looked like a clump of gold and metal.

“Home sweet home,” she muttered drily, feeling worse while reaching the kitchen. She turned the tap on for the release of fresh water, not bothering to get a glass, she simply tilted her head underneath the fountain of clear liquid and drank thirstily. She felt the cool drops slide down her face.

Exhausted, y/n emotionlessly sat down on the kitchen floor, the gravity of the events that had happened tonight hitting her. She pressed a hand to her heart, gasping. It burned and her stomach clenched painfully. Crouching into herself, a sob seemed to get stuck in her throat, the thickness making her cough. She began to cry. It was a quiet sound at first, barely noticeable, but then it grew in volume until her cries were racking throughout her body, releasing some of the tension and pain she’d felt throughout the day.

“W-why?” She gasped, another round of warm tears splashing her neck as they traveled down her cheeks in streams of sorrow. “Why d-does this a-always happen?”

The universe did not answer back.

At the sound of her violent cries, he woke up with a throbbing headache and a bottle of vodka next to him. Grumbling in confusion, he walked out his bedroom and to the kitchen.

“Why are you fuckin’ yelling?” He growled, rubbing his forehead with a clear grimace on his face. He ran his hands through his curly locks and his green eyes were the same green, but y/n didn’t see a masterpiece anymore. In its place, she saw a problematic relationship. A relationship where she cared more, and although that seemed to happen a lot, it still wasn’t healthy. It was a relationship she had stuck herself in, despite having her past relationships. She never learned. She never let go, she was always pushed away.

Her tears never stopping flowing, y/n stood up and otherwise stayed silent. Seeming to look for something of her own furiously.

“Y/N?” Harry asked confusedly, perplexed as he watched his girlfriend look for something through tears. “What are you looking for?”

Not answering him, y/n continued to search for whatever she was looking for; opening cabinets and drawers madly and loudly.

“Y/N, what are you looking for? That noise is driving me fucking crazy, I have a hangover,” he hissed, green eyes flashing dangerously.

Y/N stopped for a moment to look at the boy she was in love with. She took a moment to really study him. Was it his warm green eyes that had drawn her in? They turned icily cool so fast… was it the way he looked at her? That wasn’t very loving, to say the least. To think of it, he wasn’t loyal, either. y/n didn’t think getting drunk at some party, asking Kendall Jenner to take her top off, and talking shit about the woman he was supposed to love and respect was loyal. He preached for everyone to ‘Treat People With Kindness’, but couldn’t even keep his own girlfriend happy.

That was it: she wasn’t happy.

After this brief moment of thought, y/n picked up a glass and dropped it, right under Harry’s gaze. It shattered loudly and the shards spread along the lineolium floor. His green eyes widened and his mouth gaped in disbelief.

“What the fuck-“

Y/N dropped a case.

“That was expensive!”

She felt immense satisfaction. So, she did it again. This time with a guitar close by. Before Harry could understand what was happening, she speed walked to the guitar with everything in her and bent it over a table, the strings breaking off with strange noises and the guitar, itself, now in halves; crushed and covered in sawdust.

Wiping her tears away, she began to laugh, using her arm to knock over a rack of breakable things, which shattered onto the floor upon impact immediately. y/n cackled as she pushed the T.V. back before Harry could catch her, missing her by half an inch. The electrical cords sparkled in distaste.

“Have you gone fucking insane?” Harry squawked, running to her and restraining her by the wrists.

She spat on his face and his grip loosened as he cursed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry roared, his temple creasing and eyes narrowing. The vein at the side of his neck was visible.

“Do you hear and see this mess? Is it loud and disgusting? Does it hurt you? Does my behaviour make you feel sick and uncomfortable?”

“What the fuck?” Harry muttered as y/n threw open his cupboard and pulled out Gucci suits, tearing at them manically with her fingers and teeth.

“Well guess the fuck what, Harry: you make me feel the exact same way!”

“What are you on?” He yelled, holding her down by the shoulders.

“You asshole!” She cried, punching Harry square in the face before sinking into his chest. “You.. you don’t even care!”

“What is this about, y/n?” He asked, softening his expression slightly once he caught sight of her tears. Something was wrong.

“You didn’t come to the art exhibit,even after you promised you would, and you went to Kendall fucking Jenner’s party, instead! Note to mention, you treated me like I was the dirt at the bottom of your YSL boots, afterwards.”

“That is what this is about?” Harry’s voice was monotone, before he began to laugh in disbelief, mockingly. “‘Oh, Harry couldn’t go to my little exhibit. Now I’m going to break his expensive things.’ Grow up, y/n. Stop acting like a child,” he hissed.

What? A child? Me?

Letting out a scream of rage, y/n pushed him away from her, tangling her fingers into her hair frustratedly.

“I wanted to be your priority, for once,” she admitted rarely, her voice soft and vulnerable. She kept her eyes downturned. “I wanted to you to be there for something important for me. I- I’m always there for every concert, every song, every little worry you’ve had,” she whispered.

“Jus’ thought you’d do the same and be there for once. You’re always away on these tours and I don’t see you for more than three months a year. I have to fly to another country to kiss you. I just.. wanted you to be there, even if it was just an exhibit.”

A moment of silence.

“Unbelievable,” Harry barked, causing y/n to look up in confusion. “You want me to sacrifice my work and success for this relationship? You want me to sacrifice my happiness? The fans are my happiness. This life that I’ve worked hard for where I can chill out with those who are close to me is my happiness. And you want me to sacrifice that for you?”

“That’s not what I said, Harry,” y/n exclaimed. “And I’d hardly call asking Kendall Jenner to take her top off getting close to her personally.”

His cheeks flushed with anger.

“You can’t tell my how to live my life,” he snapped. “You can’t take away what makes me happy for this stupid relationship.”

“I didn’t think it was stupid. I thought I made you happy. Like you made me- enough to stay in this relationship,” she said softly in speculation.

“Stop being so overdramatic, y/n,” he rolled his eyes in irritation, before muttering “This wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“Then why did you?” y/n asked, staring him right in those green eyes. The ones that still made her heart skip a beat. “I said ‘no’ repeatedly, and you knew I wa afraid. You know I wanted someone who would stay. Then why did you, Harry?”

“Y/N, I…”

“No. I wanted you there at that art exhibit, because I… i was stupid enough to work on a series of paintings for a contest. Whoever won would have their paintings framed at the museum forever. You were my muse- fuck, Harry, falling in love with you was my muse. So I worked on simple things that mattered so much to me, like how your eyelashes fan over your cheeks when you’re fast asleep- how your eyes look when you’re happy. But you haven’t even grown to care enough to be there for me. Sometimes, in relationships, one person cares more than the other. But it’s always me who cares significantly more than you and about you. You don’t give a shit about me, Harry.”

“That’s not true,” he argued.

“It is,” she whispers. “You don’t care, Harry. It’s why I’m always the last one to pull away from the kiss. It’s why I’m always the one giving. It’s the reason why you got drunk instead of attending this one event that meant so much to me, because I’d dedicated every colour and every emotion to you. Every word I said during my speech, and every daydream I dream when you’re away in some other country or just at the cornerstore. It’s why you got drunk and insulted me in front of so many strangers. It’s why you said I was boring and clingy as fuck, and how you were done with me. As if I’m some toy you’d been handed that you had suddenly lost interest using. I’m a human being, Harry. Can you acknowledge that?” y/n sobbed, her emotions pouring out and her words remaining strong and steady.

“I’m a human being and I feel things. I feel pain when you say you don’t need me in your life anymore. I feel pain when you call me your ex girlfriend. I feel pain when you admit that I’ll always be second best to you or when you tell me to go and never come back. All I feel is pain, Harry, and I can’t take it anymore,” she whimpers, her shoulders shaking with her cries, her breathing uneven and violently sharp.

“You didn’t even care enough to ask me why my legs are scratched up. Why I’m wearing this tattered dress. Why I’m crying. All you cared about was your own hangover, and your own life choices. You don’t care that I spent the night running from the paparazzi to save your image. You don’t care that I had no ride home, because I had no money, because I spent what I had getting to that party, miles away, just so I could take you home, because what if you drove home drunk and something happened? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

“But, here you are, living smugly with yourself after your girlfriend spent the entire night trying to get home. She couldn’t call anyone, because the last of her battery was spent on trying to make sure you were okay, and not in a hospital getting your stomach pumped. You didn’t care when I shrunk into myself every time some man whistled or cat called in my direction. Yet you go preaching ‘Treat People With Kindness’ to everyone and anyone, but you never do. Or maybe you do, but never with me,. I’m trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat, but I can’t,” y/n mutters softly, although her words had great power, they were near inaudible.

“You made me feel like- like I was this insignificant speck, whose existence didn’t matter one bit, just because I didn’t matter in your life. that’s what hurts.”

“y/n,” Harry swallowed thickly, clutching her hands in his larger ones, “I didn’t know, baby. I’m so sorry- I- are you okay? Where are you hurt? I can make this better-“

“No you can’t,” y/n stated, not in a robotic voice or in monotone. She said it clearly, with emotion, fact and a lot of sadness and disappointment. “You can’t use your Prince Charming side to erase this. What you’ve done- it’s considered abusive. And don’t tell me you’re not abusive, because I know you aren’t. That doesn’t make your actions any more commendable.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t go,” he pleaded, bringing her closer to him by the waist. For the first time, she was the one to pull away first. “We can make this work, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Harry,” she said, smiling sadly while reminiscing their relationship as it flashed before her eyes. Grabbing her broken, heavily damaged trophy and pictures of the art she had created for him, y/n handed both to a helpless Harry, watching the woman he loved walk straight out of his life, because of him.

“This is for you. For being such a good boyfriend,” a hint of sarcasm edged her comment, but a sincere smile made up for it. “I really did love you.”

“Wh-what do you mean you ‘did love me’? Don’t you anymore?” He’s frantically trying to put the pieces back together, but it’s all in vain and they both know it. He’s just the own who can’t accept it.

“I’ve realized that I’m second best to you— or third best, or the last one to be held in importance to you. But if wherever I hold myself is higher than that, no matter how low it may be, I will have the self respect to walk out of this relationship before things get too toxic. I can’t get hurt anymore, and part of that not happening is my choice,” she enunciated. “I’d rather be alone than alone and hurting.”

“Maybe one day, you’ll find someone someday who makes you realize that the way their eyelashes fan across their cheeks while they’re sleeping is suddenly the most important thing in the world. That something as simple as feeling them breathe is precious. That their green eyes hold the entire universe and everything beyond that in them,” blinking away tears, y/n grabbed her coat, throwing it over herself, and grabbed her purse after filling it with cash while Harry followed her around like a helpless puppy.

“I have the right to happiness, just as you do. I am one of seven billion, and I have the right to happiness as much as you do, and you are not making me happy,” y/n said strongly, her tone wavering with tears. Not sad, dreary tears. They were the tears of moving on.

“Maybe, someday, I’ll find someone who might actually treat me well,” y/n whispered, turning around and looking into Harry’s eyes. Memorizing the wave and smoothness to his brown, semi curly locks. The dip between his eyebrows. His cherry lips. His forest green eyes. Leaning in, she asked the one question that had started this whole thing.

“Can I kiss you?”

He nodded, albeit a little bit dazed. His eyes fluttered shut, in sync with hers. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips with his in a long, purely emotional kiss.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

And she never looked back.

The one where they’re just trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.

i am so grateful for you significant people taking the time to read my insignificant story.

MASTERLIST| Requests are open!

tags: @i-swam-through-twelve-oceans @mizluv @ariah1252 @yoannacm @trumpettay @fangirl-moment-x @kaybaby219 @pxrrishly @hestylesno @alwaysjacked-up @trustfulhaz @maliasheda @magicwithaknife

[thelovehypothesis]

My shy little boy masterpost!

A copilation of every single blurb about Artemis and Harry! More blurbs are coming but i you wanna request something, go ahead!

You can find the rest of my masterlist here 

❥ My shy little boy.

y/n’s son is too shy to play with other kids at anne’s house.

❥ The first meeting.

y/n and artemis met a handsome (to y/n) and intimidating (to artemis) man.

Afficher davantage

[thelovehypothesis]

Any advice for those looking to start writing their own f1 ofc fanfic?

Don't focus so much on the driver, put more focus on your original character. Let them grow, have complex thoughts and pasts, and don't be afraid to explore with your writing style. Shorter chapters, less dialogue, more dialogue. You'll eventually find something that fits. Oh, and also music and Pinterest and also its very normal to base your OFC off of a TV show character, book character, etc. That can be really helpful!

Hugs and good luck <3