thelovehypothesis

[thelovehypothesis]

hi lovely are you ever going to continue pieces of us? i’ve been looking forward to it since you posted about it on your blog and i stalk you everyday for updates💕(no pressure tho) lots of love xx

Omg Im so sorry 😣🥺 I got kind of unmotivated with writing and I truly didn't think anyone was waiting on this series (as the only feedback I got was someone telling me I spoiled it all (did not) and that they wouldn't be reading) but anywayssss

HERE

is Promises and Patterns, its truly a rough outline of the begging of their love story, I will be wring fluff blurbs and some angst for this era, but mostly its the important timeline of how everything went down!

I will try to post a blurb at least once a week and every two week or so a longer story for this AU!

-Lots of love, Em

[thelovehypothesis]

Promises and Patterns

Pieces of us - masterlist

Harry Styles x fem!reader

+2k words

warnings: hurt!

Summary: You meet Harry sparking the beginning of an unexpected relationship amidst his rising career.

The Beginning of Everything

February 2017 

It was the first time you met Harry Styles. It was his birthday, and the air was crisp, the London streets alive with celebration as Harry’s 23rd birthday party unfolded in a cozy venue tucked away from prying eyes. You were invited to this party, one that would mark the beginning of what you never expected to become a whirlwind of a relationship by a mutual friend, someone who thought you’d get along with the man of the hour. The room was filled with his closest friends, industry people, and a handful of others he considered important. But amidst the chaos, the laughter, and the clinking of glasses, it was in the quiet moments between the crowd that you first locked eyes with him.

You'd heard the whispers, the stories of his charm, his wit, and the way he made everyone feel seen. What you didn’t know, however, was just how quickly you’d fall into his orbit.

He wasted no time introducing himself, his charm as effortless as the curls framing his face. “Hi,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Harry. And you must be the most beautiful person in the room.” You laughed, brushing off the compliment with a playful roll of your eyes. “You’re too kind. Happy birthday.”

That night, Harry stuck close, asking questions about your life, your interests, your dreams. He listened intently, hanging on to every word as if you were the most fascinating person he’d ever met.  He was magnetic, and there was something about the way he spoke to you—like he actually wanted to know you, not just the person he saw across the room. 

You remembered that first flash of doubt you had—when he looked into your eyes and said, “So, what if I just asked you on a date? Would you say yes then?” You’d laughed it off, turned him down…gently. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for someone like me,” you teased, half-joking, half-serious. You had your own career and life that needed attention. And honestly, you knew how demanding Harry’s would be. You couldn’t help but friend-zone him. It was safer that way. “I’m not someone who does long distance,” you’d told him. 

He looked genuinely crestfallen, but he didn’t give up. Instead, Harry persisted, patiently settling for friendship, texting you the next day and every day after that.  Slowly but surely,  you became close—so close that he started calling you his best friend.

April 2017

There was the time he flew back to London after weeks of promoting his first solo single. He’d barely touched down when he called you, asking if you could meet him for coffee. You agreed, only to find him sitting nervously at the corner table, his heart practically on his sleeve.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, his voice soft.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. But when he leaned in and said, “I think we should give this a shot,” you shook your head.

“Harry, I can’t. You’re about to release an album. Your life is about to get even crazier. And I… I can’t do long-distance. I can’t be in a relationship where I barely see the person I’m with.”

He’d tried to argue, but you’d stayed firm. He deserved someone who could match his energy and keep up with his whirlwind lifestyle, and you didn’t think you were that person.

Harry Styles wasn’t someone who took rejection easily, and yet, you knew that he respected your boundaries. By June, however, Harry had proven you wrong. Despite the chaos surrounding his debut album release, he made time for you. Late-night phone calls, surprise visits, and little notes reminding you that he hadn’t forgotten about you. Slowly, he wore down all your defenses. So when he asked you out again, you said yes.

The first date was magical—a quiet dinner in a tucked-away restaurant, where he made you laugh until your belly hurt.  You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart was beginning to soften, and the idea of being with him, despite all the chaos his life came with, started to appeal to you.

By July, you were officially a couple. But as you both knew, your relationship had to remain private. The media would never let you live it down; you'd both seen what fame could do to relationships, and neither of you wanted the scrutiny, and Harry wasn’t ready to make such a big commitment public, given how intense the press could be. You understood. For once, your relationship felt like it was just between the two of you, something sacred. You were happy, and Harry was happy. It didn’t matter if anyone else knew; it felt right, and that was all that mattered.

For a while, it was perfect. Harry balanced his burgeoning solo career with his newfound relationship, always making you feel like a priority. You’d supported him wholeheartedly, cheering him on from the sidelines, even when it meant late nights and long stretches apart.

2018, the first cracks in your perfect world began to show. You started to feel the growing distance between you two. At first, it was small—Harry being an hour late to a date because of studio sessions. It wasn’t his fault; he’d warned you, texted you beforehand, apologizing profusely, and when he arrived, he brought flowers and your favorite dessert. You’d brushed it off, understanding the demands of his career.  

But as time went on, it started happening more often, the delays became longer, and the dates were cancelled altogether in favor of studio sessions, filming or  last-minute interviews. Then it upscaled, postponed weekend plans because of unexpected flights to LA. Each time, Harry would apologize, and for a while, he’d try harder—planning elaborate dates, sending thoughtful gifts. But the pattern always repeated. You tried to understand, you really did. But the pattern always repeated. “He was living his dream”, and you never wanted to be someone who held him back. Still, it stung when you realized you were no longer a priority.

A breaking point came in July, when he booked a last minute second date Madison Square Garden show on your birthday. He’d promised to spend the day with you, but when his team convinced him to add another date to the tour, he couldn’t say no. You’d spent the day alone, trying to convince yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. When he called that night, his voice full of apologies, you’d let the doubts spill out. 

“I feel like I’m always second, Harry. Like I’m just something you fit in when it’s convenient.” 

He tried to make up for it in small ways, with heartfelt messages and plans for a private celebration later on, but deep down, you felt hurt. You’d always been supportive, but it felt like you were constantly at the back of the line, always waiting for his attention, always trying to make him see your point of view.

From that point forward, whenever you tried to talk to him about it, his response was always the same: 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” “I’ll do better. I promise.”

 He’d be extra sweet for a week, making plans, giving you more of his time. But soon enough, it would all return to the same old rhythm—studio, tour, press. It was the life he chose, and though he never once tried to hide that, you couldn’t help but feel like you were never truly the center of it.

March 2020

When the pandemic hit, everything changed. Suddenly, there were no tours, no press junkets, no studio sessions. For the first time in a long time, Harry was home. The schedule that had kept him running non-stop, chasing deadlines, planes, and more deadlines, had evaporated.The world had come to a halt, and in a way, you finally got Harry back. The quiet moments you’d been craving—the long talks into the night, lazy weekends with no interruptions—suddenly became your reality.

The feeling of him being with you, without distractions, without the weight of his career hanging over him, was nothing short of blissful.

You had time to talk. Really talk. No more rushed dinners or quick check-ins between rehearsals. It was late-night conversations that stretched for hours, discovering new things about each other, about your dreams, your fears, your goals. It was time spent on the couch, watching movies in silence, content simply to exist in the same space. And it was as though all the doubts you had about your relationship, the moments when you felt like his career had overshadowed everything, simply melted away. You knew Harry had always meant well, but the pandemic gave him the chance to prove it.

You began to talk about the future in ways you never had before. You talked about the future you wanted to build together getting married one day, he’d asked you about your thoughts on having children, Harry even began to mention settling down somewhere quieter, somewhere he could escape the media frenzy that came with his fame, truthful the idea of a quiet life outside of the constant spotlight was all you craved for. It felt like everything was falling into place. Harry was there. He was there, in ways he hadn't in a long time. The love you had for him, and the love you saw in his eyes, was real. It was during this time that you began to imagine a life with him, where music and fame didn’t take priority over the simple moments you two could share. It felt like a dream. You’d always known Harry had the ability to be incredibly thoughtful and loving, but seeing it in action, hearing him talk about wanting a family with you, made everything feel possible. For those few months, there was a sense of peace, an understanding between the two of you that no matter what the future held, you'd be able to face it together.

2021

But as the world slowly reopened, so did Harry’s desire to get back to his music, you saw the familiar gleam in his eye. He wasn’t the same man he had been during the pandemic. He still loved you, you could see it in his eyes, but his work, his love for his music, the very thing that brought him so much joy and fulfilment was calling for him again . The tours started up once more, and the press interviews were back in full force. The late-night studio sessions, the time away, the missed dinners—they all came flooding back. You watched the man you had fallen for slip back into the rhythm that had once made you feel like a distant memory . The promises made during the quarantine seemed like distant echoes. Harry tried to reassure you that things were different this time, that he’d be better, that you were still his priority. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all too familiar. 

The Final Straws

By the end of 2021, Love on Tour was in full swing, and Harry had promised you that once the tour wrapped in 2022, things would finally slow down. You both dreamed of 2023 being a year where you could truly reconnect, free from the endless cycle of travel and late-night texts. The idea of Harry being home more often, of finally having the time you’d both been craving, filled you with hope. You envisioned quiet dinners, lazy weekends, and slow mornings without the distraction of tour schedules or constant rehearsals. It was a vision of life outside the chaos—a dream of what could be when his career didn’t come first.

But when Harry announced Harry’s House in early 2022, he also revealed that he would be extending Love on Tour into 2023. Your heart sank. You tried to keep a brave face as he explained the plans, but inside, a knot of dread started to form. It wasn’t the music you minded. You had always supported his career, always admired his passion and dedication. But the truth had never been clearer: no matter how much Harry loved you, no matter how many promises he made, his career would always come first. What you’d thought would be the end of the grueling schedule was now just another chapter in an endless cycle. You came to understand that no matter how much he wanted things to be different, his career would always come first

The realization broke something in you. No matter how much you loved Harry, you couldn’t keep putting yourself last. And as you sat alone on another canceled date night, the doubts that had once crept in now felt impossible to ignore.

And that realization stung in a way you hadn’t expected. Every time he promised things would be different, every time he said, "This time will be different," you’d hoped for a change. But deep down, you knew the pattern. Harry had always been honest about his love for his career, but you’d started to see it for what it was—a love that overshadowed everything else in his life. Even you.

The dream of a quiet life together, of weekends away, of holidays without work looming on the horizon, felt like it was slipping further and further away. And no matter how much you loved him, no matter how much you wished for a life beyond the headlines and the tours, you couldn’t ignore the reality anymore. Harry’s world would always come first, and you had to face that truth, even if it meant letting go of the hope you’d been holding on to for so long.

———The End———

a/n’s: Sorry for the loooong wait! Kind of got unmotivated but this is a timeline of the begging of their love story, I will be wring shorter blurbs of them during this era, but of now that all!

-Lots of love, Em.

[thelovehypothesis]

incroyable! ❤️‍🩹

Radio Silence | Series Masterlist

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, Zak’s daughter OFC, forbidden romance vibes, very very slowburn romance, ableism on page, strong language, autistic meltdowns on page, eventual sexual content.

Notes — Hope you love it. This series will be longer than From Eden, possibly around 20 chapters. Remember to check each chapter for individual warnings.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

[thelovehypothesis]

Midnight Came Anyway 

Ollie Bearman x Fem|high school!Reader

Old request 

-1k

a/n’s: A request made in my last blog before I accidentally deleted it! Hope it gets to the right person!

Warnings: long-distance love, fading promises

Summary: When dreams collide with ambition, who makes it out alright?

Two years.

That’s how long it had been since their story started:  a shared milkshake, fingers barely brushing when they reached for the same straw. Inside jokes that turned into goodnight texts. And those goodnight texts that eventually turned into three a.m. FaceTimes from airport lounges and hotel rooms on the other side of the world.

When Ollie made it to Formula 1, she was the first person he told. Before the press release. Before even his parents. His voice shook with disbelief, and she cried, because she knew what it meant. Everything he had dreamed of was finally his.

And everything they were... was about to change.

The promise of a dream come true

Prom had always been her dream.

Not because of the glittery dresses or the Insta-perfect photos — but because, in a world where Ollie belonged to fast cars and million-dollar teams, prom felt like something that could still belong to them.

And he had promised.

She could still remember the way he said it, breathless over the phone after his first F1 test session:

“Unless it’s a race weekend, I swear I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll wear whatever ridiculous tie you want. Just… save me a dance, yeah?”

So she did.

She saved him everything.

The cleared path 

“Ollie! Guess what!” she nearly screamed over the phone, bouncing on her bed, holding her calendar open.

“Whoa—what?” he laughed, groggy from his post-training nap.

“May 11th is prom and it’s NOT a race weekend! No Grand Prix. Nothing. You can come.”

There was a moment of pause. Her heart thudded.

Then:

“No way. You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. I checked three different calendars.”

“Then I’m there. No arguments.” His voice lit up. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. For the first time in months, it felt like the distance between them didn’t matter. Like maybe they could make it after all.

The hope of it all 

The dress was everything.

Soft tulle that cascaded like petals down her frame. Ivory and blush, delicate and classic. Her friends gasped when she stepped out of the dressing room.

“Oh my god, Ollie is going to lose his mind.”

She blushed, tugging at the waist. “If he doesn’t cry, I return the dress.”

They all laughed. She didn’t say it out loud, but somewhere in her chest, she still held the fear that he wouldn’t show up at all.

But then he texted back to her mirror selfie:

“You look like magic. I can’t wait to see you in it in person.”

So she bought him a matching tie. Pale rose. Subtle. Just like the petals in her dress.

The prom 

The ballroom glittered with fairy lights, chandeliers catching in hair gel and shimmery eyeshadow. Couples danced, shoes were discarded under the table, and the DJ played every anthem of their youth. Y/N smiled, laughed, spun in circles with her friends. The music pulsed. Laughter echoed. The night sparkled.

She took photos she knew she’d treasure someday

Midnight came.

And she stepped outside. The night air was heavy with humidity and tears. A single drop slipped down her cheek, carving through the setting spray and soft blush. 

The prophecy 

 He’d finished P12. His best result yet. So close to the points. So close to glory.

She didn’t even mind staying up until 3:40 AM just to catch his post-race interview.

And the second he called her, she answered immediately, her voice bursting with pride.

“You did amazing, Ollie. The overtakes? Unreal. I’m so, so proud—”

“Y/N…”

Her grin faltered.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Wait—” she laughed nervously, trying to push away the weight building in her stomach. “Let me guess — they’re upgrading your seat again? You’re a top ten driver now?”

“Y/N. Please. Just… listen.”

A strange silence blanketed the call.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

She blinked. “With what? Prom? Because you don’t have to. I get it. Prom must seem boring for an F1 driver like y—”

“With us.”

The words hit like cold water in her lungs.

“W-what? No. No, Ollie. Please don’t do this. Just talk to me—”

“I’ve tried. I thought I could balance it. You. F1. The travel. The pressure. But I can’t.”

“Then tell me what I can do. I can fly out. We can see each other—”

“Y/N… I fell out of love.”

Her chest crumpled. Her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles turned white.

“With me?”

He hesitated.

“There's someone else.”

Silence.

“Alice… I didn’t plan it. It just—”

“Stop.” she whispered. “Please. Just stop. Don’t say her name.”

Her voice broke. And with it, so did she.

“I believed in you. In us. I waited. I gave up so much just to make this work. I loved you, Ollie.”

“I know. And I’ll always be sorry for that.”

Click.

Just like that, everything they built fell apart.

The coming home

Y/N wiped her cheeks  with the back of her hand. Inside, her friends danced like they were invincible. Like their hearts hadn’t just been shattered two weeks ago.

She wanted to enjoy it. God, she wanted to enjoy it like they did.

But she couldn’t.

Because her date was never coming. Because her forever had ended on a phone call from Jeddah.And because no matter how beautiful she looked, how much she had loved him…

“It was always going to end that way.” she whispered to the stars.

“Because what F1 driver would ever want a simple high school girl?”

--—The End—--

Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed and remember my requests  are opened!

Also no shade to Alice, she's probably an amazing girl but you know what they say about Ollie and his tendencies to well yeah.

-Lots of love, Em.

[thelovehypothesis]

ahhhh this ripped my heart

Third

Summary: A bombing suspect causes Spencer to react without using logic, and you’re forced to accept your place in his life.

Tags: mentions of CM violence, bombs/explosions, mentions of burns, angst with a sad ending, angst in general, feelings of being empty/desolate.

*As always, constructive criticism and replies more than welcome!

“Third, third choice”

The hospital room around you is almost overwhelming in its starkness. It feels like someone figured out how you feel inside, and threw it over the room.

Empty.

Nothing is on the walls, no artwork or color, the door is closed and blinds pulled shut. The only noise is the machine tracking your vitals and the sound of your own thoughts.

“Third, third, third”

It’s the only word repeating through your mind as you stare down at your shaking hands. You turn them into fists, fighting against the shaking, determined to control your reactions. When the door to your hospital room opens, you don’t look up, continuing to look at your clenched fists instead.

You don’t react when someone sits down next to you, and you don’t flinch when two large hands encase your fists, and you watch the veins in the back of Spencer’s hands flex as he slowly straightens your hands, holding them in his own, rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hands.

“I’m sorry” Spencer whispers next to you, wishing you would turn your face to view him, to view the sincerity in his eyes. Instead, you slip your hands from his, placing them neatly on your lap again, not letting yourself clench them this time.

Spencer watches as you have trouble swallowing and notices you clench your jaw before wincing.

“Can I, can I get you some water”?

You close your eyes momentarily before giving him a short nod, and Spencer rushes to fill a cup, his hands just barely shaking as he brings a cup over and presses a straw to your lips. You sip slowly, then murmur your first words since the blast that landed you in the hospital.

“Thank you”.

Spencer lets out a small sigh that you spoke to him at all, whispering back to acknowledge your words. He sits once more and clears his throat.

“Pl-please look at me”.

He watches as your hands momentarily tighten, before you relax them again, and you turn your head to face him. Spencer feels his heart as it breaks at the look in your eyes, at the absolute emptiness radiating out from your expression. Your mind replays the only words that seem to matter.

“Third place, third choice, third”

He reaches for you again,

“I’m here. I- I’m sorry. Please, let’s talk”.

“There’s nothing to talk about Spencer. You made a choice and I’m, I’m fine. I’ll be out before the weekend and the burns will heal eventually. There’s nothing else to say”.

“Baby- that’s- I didn’t choose”. He sputters.

You cut him off, your voice remaining monotone.

“You’re right. You didn’t make a conscious choice. You acted on instinct alone and that’s… That’s all there is”.

You meet his eyes briefly before turning your head back to stare down at your lap and Spencer starts to panic. He thought you’d yell at him, that you’d get angry or cry. This, this complete lack of reaction is unnerving and he doesn’t know what to do.

Meanwhile, your mind is replaying every moment of the last 24 hours, still focusing on that one word.

“Third”

The unsub had been easier to track than most, but it didn’t make his kills less deadly. He had profiled as a mission-oriented bomber, and cared more about targeting multiple places at once than making one large statement. There was overkill at each scene, but it was if he had waited to hurt the least amount of people possible, which didn’t fit with the rest of his profile, until the team figured out that he was targeting specific people and wanted to limit the collateral damage.

That had led to four of you, plus SWAT, surrounding an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. You and Spencer were to go around back while the other two members of your team would head to the front with SWAT leading the charge. Right before you split up though, the unsub had appeared, revealing he’d planted tiny explosives around the cabin. Thankfully, he hadn’t judged the distance correctly, and you were all just outside the necessary perimeter.

It had happened so quickly, no one even had a chance to tell the unsub to give himself up, to try to talk him down, before he set off the detonator. One moment, Spencer had been a single step behind you. The next, you saw him turn and leap backwards, tackling your teammate and shielding her from the brunt of the explosions with his own body.

You’d managed to dive back in time, hitting the ground hard with your hands protecting your head, but you had been one of those hit the hardest. You suffered severe burns, and had multiple lacerations from being hit by shrapnel. Suprisingly, your hearing had barely been damaged, although you had passed out shortly after the blast, face still turned to where Spencer had jumped. When you had come to at the hospital, your mind had replayed every single second, wondering what went wrong, and realized that Spencer had made a split second decision, a choice that was on instinct alone - to try to protect the person he couldn’t live without.

Logic would have dictated it be you. After all, you had been his girlfriend for just over two years. Then, physically, you were in front of him, within arms reach, the closest to the discovered perimeter. And finally, she had been behind a SWAT member, diagonally behind Spencer. He had to physically turn and force himself to leap across the yard to protect her. The easier thing would have been to grab your vest from behind and drop to the ground. Or to simply protect himself, as one would expect.

But it wasn’t logic that ruled Spencer in that moment. And the more you replay it in your mind, the more certain you are of what it means.

You’re taken from your thoughts by Spencer’s hand on your cheek and you allow him to turn your head towards his own. His eyes are glassy and you find yourself wondering why. Without allowing yourself to consider your words, you speak once more.

“Did you know you still say Maeve’s name in your sleep?”

When you first opened your mouth Spencer had felt relief, but your words caused his throat to tighten and he looked at you in confusion.

“What?”

You hummed, but kept facing his direction. The bandages wrapping the burns on your arm itched, and you wanted to scratch but resisted the urge.

“You call out her name. Not every week, but often. Sometimes it’s sad, but other times, well I don’t think it’s a nightmare you’re having”.

“I- I didn’t—”

“The first few times it happened, I was upset. I wondered what I was doing wrong. But… I love you. So, I decided that I could live with being your second choice. I could handle knowing you still loved her, and eventually I even understood.”

Spencer is speechless, his mind is empty of all thoughts except your words as you continue talking softly.

“I could be your consolation prize, because you have always been my first choice for everything. But I can’t be the third choice, Spencer. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not my third choice” he tries to protest, his heart stuttering. Your vitals haven’t changed at all during the conversation- nothing you’re saying is upsetting you because in your mind, it’s just a fact.

“You don’t have to stay with me. It’s fine.”

“Angel, no, I- you have never been my third choice or my second choice.”

This time you let out a small snort, the first reaction you’ve had since waking. You look at him again and he’s still devastated by your expression, how resigned you look to the idea in your head. He doesn’t know how to convince you, what words to say to fix this.

“I’m sorry, I should have protected you, I should have been the one to get hurt, not you. I’m so sorry”.

You hum noncommittally again and tilt your head as if his statement has confused you.

“You should have protected yourself. I don’t want you to ever get hurt for me. Like I said earlier, I’m fine.”

“Look, I don’t, I don’t know why I did what I did. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

You cut him off and he lets you, even though it’s something you normally don’t do.

“That’s just it, Spencer. You didn’t think. You reacted. Your instincts drove you to protect the person you love the most. The person you can’t live without. And I understand, I do. I know it wasn’t a conscious choice on your part. But it still is telling. And I—”, you stop momentarily and look up towards the ceiling, blinking twice before looking back at him. “I can’t be third. Not after her. I could accept being behind Maeve, I knew ahead of time you loved her, that I wasn’t ever going to be who you truly wanted. But I won’t do this.”

Tears run down Spencer’s face and he tries to touch you. You don’t flinch from him, but you do remove his hands from yours, placing them gently down on the bed.

“You should go. I’m sure you’re tired. It’s fine, I told you. I still love you, Spencer, which is why I’m letting you go. So please, leave”.

He sobs, trying to find the words to explain that it doesn’t mean that, it can’t, he does love you. But… he knows you’re right. He hadn’t had time to think, to make the choice everyone would have expected. What he would have expected himself to choose. He hates himself for hurting you, feels immense guilt at everything you’ve revealed. He doesn’t want to leave you, needs you more than anyone, but he’s not going to force you to let him stay. He can’t blame you or be upset for how you feel, how he made you feel.

Spencer stands, leaning over and giving your forehead a soft kiss. It’s the only time you flinch. He realizes it’s most likely the last time he’ll ever be able to do this, and squeezes his eyes shut to stop more tears from falling. He whispers again,

“I’m so sorry. I do love you. I’ll- I’ll prove it. You’ve never been a replacement or a secondary choice. I’m sorry”.

You wait for him to walk out the door before you let the tears you’ve been holding fall. The mantra in your head keeps ringing, and you force yourself to acknowledge his parting words aren’t true. He feels guilty right now because of the physical wounds, even though you would rather have those than the pain ripping through your soul. He can’t take back his actions, and in a way you’re grateful they happened now. It doesn’t change the words running through you on repeat or the devastation you feel at being alone.

“Third, third, third”.

[thelovehypothesis]

Sooo cute!

TIMEZONE | OP81

an: i promised after oscar’s pole id promise fluff and also because i got peer pressured by @amyelevenn im a victim fr, enjoy our soft boy - warning it does start off a bit angsty. this was a request from @n0vazsq for my 2k celly thank you ml <3 ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: oscar let the one go, but the longer he spends away from her the more he realises what a stupid mistake it was.

OSCAR WAS MISERABLE.

He'd just won his first ever pole-to-win conversion, and he was bloody miserable.

The champagne was still dripping from his race suit, the taste of victory lingering on his tongue, but it all felt hollow. The cheers from the crowd rang in his ears, deafening, but none of it mattered. Because she wasn’t there.

She should have been. She should have been in the paddock, wrapped up in his fireproof jacket, rolling her eyes at his cocky post-race grin but kissing him breathless anyway. She should have been the first person he saw when he climbed out of the car, arms flung around his neck before he'd even peeled off his gloves.

Instead, she was seven thousand miles away, living a life that no longer included him.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut as he stood on the podium, trophy in hand, the cameras flashing. He should have felt elated, triumphant. Instead, he felt empty. He'd sacrificed so much for this—pushed himself to the absolute limit, given everything he had to his career. But in doing so, he’d lost the one person who made it all mean something.

He barely heard the post-race interviews, barely registered his own answers. His PR manager nudged him at the right moments, and he went through the motions; smiling, nodding, thanking the team. But his heart wasn’t in it. It was still in London, curled up in a tiny uni flat with a girl who used to wear his hoodies to bed and steal his socks when hers went missing.

She used to joke that they spent more time apart than together. At first, she’d said it with a laugh, teasing him about their ridiculous time zone differences, about how she’d wake up just as he was finishing free practice on the other side of the world. But as the months passed, as the late-night FaceTime calls turned into missed texts and unreturned voicemails, the laughter had faded.

And then, one day, she’d stopped waiting.

He should have fought harder. He should have told her she was more important than all of this. That she was the only thing in the world that felt like home.

But he hadn’t.

And even now, standing on the top step of the podium, the world at his feet, he had never felt further away from where he truly wanted to be.

By the time he finally escaped to the driver's room, the buzz of victory had been drowned out by the quiet hum of regret sitting in his chest. His race suit was damp with sweat and champagne, the adrenaline fading, leaving nothing but exhaustion.

He grabbed his phone from where he’d tossed it earlier, the screen lighting up as he pressed the button. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing.

His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked to the clock widget at the top.

London: 10:00 AM

He could never bring himself to delete it. No matter where he was in the world—Australia, Japan, the Middle East—he always knew exactly what time it was for her. He used to check it before calling, before sending stupid voice notes at ungodly hours, before whispering a sleepy “Goodnight, love” when she was already halfway through her morning coffee.

Now, it was just another reminder of how far away she was.

With a frustrated sigh, he chucked his phone onto the massage bed and peeled off his race suit, yanking it down to his waist before grabbing a towel. The knock on the door came exactly two seconds before it was shoved open.

"Oi, I'm changing!" Oscar snapped, instinctively pulling the towel higher over his shoulder.

Lando stood in the doorway, completely unfazed. "Yeah, don’t care." He strolled in like he owned the place, tossing a sweaty towel onto the table before flopping onto the small sofa in the corner. "Right, what’s your problem?"

Oscar frowned. "What?"

Lando gestured vaguely at him. "You won the race, mate. First pole-to-win conversion, team's over the bloody moon. But you look like someone just ran over your cat."

"I'm fine."

"Bollocks," Lando said flatly. "You barely said two words after the race, you legged it out of the debrief like your arse was on fire, and you’re sitting here staring at your phone like you're waiting for it to apologise to you."

Oscar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. "Just... tired."

Lando snorted. "Tired, my arse. Come on, out with it."

Oscar hesitated. He could dodge, change the subject, pretend that he wasn’t slowly losing his mind over someone who didn’t even call him anymore.

But then, before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.

"I broke up with her." His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "I mean, she broke up with me. But only 'cause I was never bloody there. Time zones, flights, races, all of it—it was too much. She got sick of waiting for me to show up, and I—" He stopped, swallowing hard. "I let her go."

Lando didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching him with a look that was more knowing than Oscar would have liked. "Shit."

"Yeah." Oscar let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. "I won the biggest race of my career today, and the only thing I can think about is how she should’ve been in the crowd. She should’ve been the first person I saw when I got out of the car." He exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But she wasn’t. And that’s my fault."

Lando was quiet for a beat, then sighed. "Mate, that’s brutal."

Oscar let out a bitter chuckle. "Tell me about it."

Lando leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "So... what are you gonna do about it?"

Oscar blinked. "What?"

"You love her, right?"

Oscar opened his mouth, ready to protest, but stopped himself. Love. The word sat heavy on his tongue, because of course he did. He always had.

Lando shrugged. "Well, then. Go and fix it."

Oscar shook his head, exhaling sharply. "I can't."

Lando raised a brow. "I can."

And with that, he stood up, clapped Oscar once on the shoulder, and walked out of the room—leaving Oscar sitting there, half-dressed, with a thousand unanswered questions.

What the hell did that even mean?

He stared at the door for a moment, running through every possible way Lando could have just ruined his life. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a flight to Nice that night, back to his apartment, back to his too-quiet routine of training, simulator work, and pretending he wasn’t thinking about her.

Except an hour later, when he was in his hotel room, shoving his clothes and essentials into his suitcase, there was a knock at the door.

Frowning, he padded over, running a hand through his damp hair before swinging it open.

Max stood there, hands in the pockets of his team-branded joggers, looking like he had about two minutes of patience left before he lost interest and walked away.

Oscar blinked. "Uh—"

"I'm leaving for London at six," Max said.

Oscar frowned. "Okay?"

Max tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for Oscar to catch up. When it became clear that wasn’t happening, he sighed, shifting his weight onto one foot. "I've got a spare seat on the jet."

Oscar's brain still wasn’t putting one and one together. He looked over Max’s shoulder, half-expecting Lando to be standing there smirking, but the corridor was empty. "Right. And why exactly are you telling me this?"

Max exhaled through his nose, already looking like he regretted getting involved. "Lando said you were miserable. You broke up with your girlfriend and need to get back to London to fix things. I know you probably have a flight to Nice booked, and Lando seems convinced you’re just going to sit there and wallow until the next race." He paused, glancing at the half-packed suitcase on the bed. "So finish packing. Let’s go. I don’t do well with tardiness."

And with that, he turned on his heel and started walking away.

Oscar stood there for a solid five seconds, staring at the now-empty hallway, his thoughts scrambling to catch up.

Lando. That meddling little—

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Then, without hesitating, he turned back into the room and shoved the rest of his things into his suitcase.

London. He was going to London.

To fix things.

To fix everything.e

It was 7 AM when they landed, and the first thing Oscar did—besides being absolutely jetlagged—was check her schedule.

He never deleted it from his camera roll.

It was an old photo, scribbled notes in her handwriting detailing lectures, seminars, deadlines. He used to check it religiously before calling, making sure he wasn’t waking her up before an important class or messaging when she was in the library. Even now, he found himself doing the same, as if he still had the right to.

Mondays. No morning lectures.

That gave him time.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, then turned to Max, who was stretching his arms over his head like he hadn’t just crossed multiple time zones. "Cheers, mate. For, you know… all of this."

Max just shrugged. "You can thank Lando. I don’t usually offer free therapy and private jet rides to sad bastards."

Oscar let out a breath of laughter. "Duly noted."

With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, headed outside, and hailed a cab.

The drive to her flat was a blur of grey London streets, his heart pounding harder with every passing second. The nerves only set in when he stepped out of the taxi, staring up at her building like it was a bloody racetrack he’d never driven before.

What if she didn’t want to see him?

What if she had moved on?

What if he was about to make an absolute fool of himself?

Still, his feet carried him forward. Up the stairs. To her door.

He raised his hand and knocked.

There was shuffling from inside—soft footsteps, the creak of the floorboards. And then, the door swung open.

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat.

She stood there, blinking at him in sleepy confusion, dressed in nothing but his hoodie, a pair of socks, and—Jesus Christ—his old boxer shorts, worn as makeshift pyjamas.

His hoodie was too big on her, hanging off one shoulder, the sleeves bunched up where she’d pushed them past her wrists. The sight of it, of her, in his clothes like she always used to be, knocked the air from his lungs.

His throat felt tight. "Hi."

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him, like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

Oscar swallowed hard, heart hammering. "Can I come in?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, gripping the edge of the door like she needed to steady herself. "What are you doing here?"

Her voice was quiet, still laced with sleep, but there was something else beneath it—something raw, something hesitant.

Oscar swallowed. "I—" He exhaled, shaking his head like even he couldn't believe it. "I needed to see you."

She blinked again, like she was still processing his sudden appearance. Then her brow furrowed slightly. "You were in China yesterday. You won your race. Now you’re here."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You watched?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Of course, I did."

Something in his chest squeezed tight. He didn't deserve that—didn't deserve her still watching, still caring. But he was selfish enough to let it fuel the courage he needed to say what he’d come here to say.

"I’ve been miserable," he admitted, voice rough. "Since the moment I let you walk away. Since the moment I realised I was losing you, and instead of doing something about it, I just let it happen. I thought I could handle it, you know? Thought I could just keep my head down, focus on racing, distract myself with the next flight, the next circuit, the next podium. But it didn’t work. None of it worked. I won, and it didn’t feel like winning, because you weren’t there. You weren’t insulting me for making you cry and ruining your makeup. I'd check my phone and see the time in London, and I’d realise I had nothing to text you anymore. I kept waiting for it to get easier, but it never did. And I—"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m saying, I didn’t plan this—"

And then she kissed him.

Just like that. No warning, no hesitation. She reached up, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and pulled him down to her. His words died instantly, swallowed by the warmth of her lips, by the way she pressed against him like she’d been waiting for this just as much as he had.

His bag hit the floor with a dull thud as his hands found her waist, gripping tight as he walked her backwards into the flat, not bothering to close the door. He had barley registered the sound of his bag, too caught up in the way she sighed against his mouth, the way her fingers curled into his hair, tugging just enough to send heat racing through him.

He backed her up until she hit the wall, a quiet gasp escaping her as he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. He’d had dreams about this. Stupid, torturous dreams where he’d wake up in hotel rooms alone, still reaching for her. But this—this was real. She was real, warm and soft under his touch, her nails raking lightly over his shoulder blades as his hands slid up beneath the fabric of his hoodie—his hoodie—to feel the warmth of her skin.

Then—

"Ahem."

They froze.

Oscar pulled back just enough to see over his shoulder, his stomach immediately plummeting.

Mrs Hart—her elderly neighbour—stood in the hallway, wrapped in a thick cardigan and holding a shopping bag. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"If you're going to take part in passionate rendezvous before 8 AM," she said dryly, "at least do it with the door closed."

Heat flooded Oscar’s face. He heard her let out a mortified laugh, peaking from in front of him just enough to mumble, "Sorry, Mrs Hart."

Mrs Hart hummed, clearly unimpressed, then shuffled off down the hallway, muttering something under her breath about "young people these days."

The second the front door clicked shut, she turned back to Oscar, biting her lip, eyes full of amusement. "That was—"

"Mortifying?" he supplied, still half-dazed from kissing her.

She grinned. "Hilarious."

And then she kissed him again.

Oscar was so gone for her.

He let out a breath, still slightly dazed, before remembering his bag was still abandoned in the corridor. He pulled away, bent down, grabbed it, and kicked the door shut properly this time. When he turned back, she was watching him, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"So," she said, tilting her head. "You flew across the world to tell me you’re miserable?"

Oscar exhaled a laugh, dropping his bag by the wall. "I guess I did."

"Idiot," she murmured, but there was no bite to it. Just fondness.

His chest ached. God, he’d missed her.

They stood there for a second, neither speaking, neither moving. Then, wordlessly, she reached for his hand.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question. Just curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled.

Oscar followed without resistance, letting her lead him down the hall, into her bedroom, and straight to her bed. He barely had time to react before she gave him a firm shove, sending him tumbling onto the mattress with a surprised grunt.

She stood at the edge, hands on her hips, looking down at him with a raised brow. "First," she said, voice firm, "sleep. Those bags under your eyes are giving me a run for my money, and I’m a uni student."

Oscar huffed a laugh, opening his mouth to argue—only for her to crawl onto the bed, straddle him, and press her lips to his before he could get a single word out.

It wasn’t a soft kiss this time. It was deep, heated, like she was trying to make up for all the time they’d lost.

Oscar groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding under her hoodie, fingers skimming warm skin. He felt her shiver, heard the little gasp she let out when he pulled her closer, felt her shift slightly and—

Yeah. Yeah, she definitely felt that.

She broke the kiss with a breathless laugh, grabbing his wrists and shoving them away. "Naughty!" she scolded, grinning as she sat back. "First, we’re sleeping."

Oscar let out a dramatic groan, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "That’s just cruel. You’re a cruel woman."

She smirked, rolling off him and slipping under the duvet. "You’re the one who looks half dead. Get in."

Oscar stared at her for a moment, something warm curling in his chest. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed this—the casual intimacy, the way she just knew when he needed to rest, the way she could tease him one second and make his heart ache with how much he loved her the next.

He exhaled, then kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside her.

But Oscar didn’t hesitate. The second he was under the covers, he pulled her tight against him, slotting her perfectly against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splayed across her back, the other tangled in her hair as he breathed her in.

She was warm, soft, real.

For months, he’d fallen asleep with nothing but the hum of hotel air conditioning and the occasional distant city noise to keep him company. No whispered conversations under the covers, no sleepy kisses before sunrise, no warmth beside him. Just cold sheets and silence.

But now—now she was here. In his arms. Where she belonged.

She let out a small sigh, nuzzling into his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his side. "You know, I meant what I said earlier," she murmured.

Oscar hummed, his thumb brushing along her spine. "What?"

She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with a teasing glint in her eye. "That you’re an idiot."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

She huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue, just curled in closer.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out, her body relaxing completely against his. Oscar lay awake a little longer, just holding her, letting it all sink in. The ache that had lived in his chest for months—the one he’d ignored, buried under podium celebrations and press conferences—finally eased.

No win, no pole position, and no championship could ever make Oscar feel as happy as he felt then and there.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @obxstiles @iimplicitt @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn

[thelovehypothesis]

omggggg

★ MASTERLIST

it's nice to have a friend lando is one of your closest friends… until he sleeps with you and ghosts you. part one ★ part two ★ part three ★ part four ★ part five ★ part six ★ part seven ★ part eight ★ part nine ★ part ten ★ part eleven ★ part twelve ★ part thirteen ★ part fourteen ★ part fifteen ★ part sixteen ★ part seventeen ★ part eighteen ★ part nineteen ★ part twenty ★ part twenty one ★ part twenty two ★ part twenty three ★ part twenty four ★ part twenty five ★ part twenty six ★ part twenty seven ★ part twenty eight ★ part twenty nine ★ part thirty ★ part thirty one

bonus written parts: bonus part one

[thelovehypothesis]

soooo ready for the next part! 🤍🥰

Papaya Rules doesn’t apply to the heart 🧡

Oscar Piastri is in love with Y/N Brown. Y/N has been and probably will be in love with Lando Norris, and Lando, is in love with the attention and the thrill of chasing his first championship.

Note: this will be part smau & partly written; all pics are from Pinterest and in this Y/N is Zac Browns daughter. The fic takes places over the course of the 2024 season.

Part 2 of 5

Y/Ninsta recent activities:

Lando unblocked

Lando followed

OscarPiastri followed

Account is now public.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Over the course of the weekend; you found yourself in the company of Oscar Piastri more often than not, he wasn’t someone you expected to gel so quickly with, you knew he was on the quieter more reserved side, but he was surprisingly funny, smart and very charming, every moment with him left you smiling and giddy. You tried hard not to think about the butterflies that stirred in your stomach, the last thing you needed was to catch feelings for him, you had vowed not to date another driver, let alone one from the same time as Lando; it would make things too messy and complicated, more so than the last one time.

Yet you didn’t stop yourself from flirting, he was cute, that couldn’t be denied; and just your luck, that caught the attention of the last person you wanted to pay you any mind.

“You and Osc huh?” Lando said as he crept up behind you on Sunday before the start of race.

“What?” You asked, there was no way you were going to admit anything.

“All the flirting?”

“Oh that’s not- shut up” you swatted his arm when he wiggled his eyebrows at you; you laughed so loud you snorted; he smiled brightly back at you, and there is was, butterflies, unwanted and unnerving. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

“We don’t start for another 3 hours” Lando said as he bumped his shoulder against yours as you both continued through the McLaren hospitality. “Besides, you seem to be avoiding me, thought we could have a little chat”

“I’m not avoiding you” you lied, you definitely were.

“I missed you I hope you know that”

“Lando, let’s not do this”

“No- Y/N let’s do this” Lando said and he stepped in front of you, stopping you both in your tracks “you disappeared on me, blocked my number, blocked me on social media and even threatened your dad to not say anything about you to me”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that” you huffed. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to look anywhere but his eyes.

“You just left and didn’t say anything and I didn’t know why”

And then the butterflies churned into angry hornets.

“Oh you didn’t?” You scoffed, of course he’d say that “Lando, I dont know if you didn’t realize it, but let me spell it out for you, I was in love with you; i thought you might have felt the same way- everything we did- all the things we-“ frustratingly you shook your head, shaking away the tears that burned your eyes “then you turn around and do that with someone else? And you claim she was just a friend? So what was I? Just a friend too, right?”

“You never said anything” he frowned, mixed emotions coloring his face.

“I didn’t think I had to, but it doesn’t matter right now. I’m here for my dad, I don’t need this”

“Y/N don’t be like this, we used to be best friends, we can be friends again, just like we were”

“Friends? I’m not interested in fucking you, considering that’s what all your friendships seems to entail” you knew how harsh that was, but you needed to say it; clear the anger you had harbored.

“And you’re not trying to do the same thing with Oscar? Since fucking your friends is something we have in common?” He lashes back, angrily.

“No you asshole, but that’s a new concept to you isn’t it?”

“You know those girls meant nothing to me”

“And neither do I, so if you don’t mind I have to go” but before you could actually move from his space; the hurt and anger on Landos face drained.

“Y/N look I’m sorry, I don’t want us to fight; I wasn’t trying to make this worst, can we just forget all of this and try to be friends again, you still are one of the most important person in my life”

“I don’t know Lando” you signed, the truth was, no time apart could change that, he was one of your best fiends, he meant the world to you too “I need time Lando, I’m sure we can be friends again but I need time to get us back to where we were, not the sex thing” you smiled at the last part “strictly platonic”

“I can be patient to be your strictly platonic friend again” he promises and kisses your cheek before darting off.

You continued down the corridor; your mind reeling from the back and forth, it left you feeling a little whiplashed.

“Hey Y/N” You heard Oscar before you saw him; his voice alone caused your rapid heartbeat to still; the churning in your stomach settled “you look worried, everything okay?” His browns furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, better now” you said with a smile, because everything did feel better now.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Y/Ninsta posted

Y/Ninsta: There’s no place like Monaco; congratulations to the Leclercs for the 1-2

Comments on this post has been limited

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Race weeks drifted from one to the other; before you knew it you were celebrating another podium for Oscar. Oscar who had effortlessly wedge his way into your life, he was apart of your daily life, even when he wasn’t physically near you, he was always on your mind. You hated how easy it was to let your guard down for him, how easy it was for you to fall for him; not that you would admit it, you promised yourself you weren’t going to put yourself in this position again.

“Hey” You smiled when Oscar sat down besides you, the towel he had wiping the champagne from his hair tossed down on the table in front of you.

“Congratulations, I’m happy for you” You said “how are we celebrating”

“How bout dinner”

“Mhm sure you can come out with me and Carmen and George, we are going to celebrate”

“Thanks but no i meant- just us; like a date?”

“Oh um” you frowned “Oscar, you know i really appreciate you and our friendship but I can’t”

“Because of Lando?”

“What?”

“I know you guys were sorta together in the past, I didn’t know either of you still carried those feelings”

“No Oscar; it’s not Lando, I promise” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours.

“You don’t have to explain, I get it. I’ll see you around” he gently pulls his hand away and gets up, grabbing his towel and leaving.

You let out a sigh and collapsed back into the chair you were sitting in; why was all your feelings so complicated.

Quickly you shot off a text to Carmen, needing her and George to distract you with copious amounts of alcohol.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Wine drunk from dinner you found yourself with your phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear. You frowned when he didn’t pick up and called again.

“Y/N?” He answered after the second ring.

“Lando” you pouted though he couldn’t see you, you could hear the beating tempo of music in the background, he must have gone out.

“Y/N? Where are you, is everything okay?”

“I’m good, so good I’m at Oscar’s hotel, I’m going to see him/ you and I, we are platonic friends” You hiccuped, drunker than you had realized “and I’m gonna say yes to Oscar, gone on a date”

“Y/N” he signs your name, you didn’t know how much you broke his heart in that moment.

“I can’t love you anymore Lando, I can’t” the words left your mouth before your brain could stop you; there was a long stretch of silence between you; nothing but the music from his end. You ended the call and muster up the courage to do what you had planned earlier.

One wobbly step after another (heels weren’t your friend on your soberest of day; let alone now) you made your way to Oscars hotel room. You rapidly knocked on the door before a disheveled Oscar opened the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here, is everything okay?”

“We should go on that date”

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying”

“I am” you admitted “but I’m so sure it; Oscar you make me feel things I tried to close myself off to, I had no interest in falling for you, but I am and I’m not going to let what happened year ago to affect what we can have now”

“Come inside Y/N”

“Is that a yes to the date?” You asked hopefully.

He shook his head and led you into his hotel room “let me get you some water and get you into bed, we can talk about this later yeah?”

“Yeah, sleep sounds good” you yawned and let Oscar help you out of your shoes.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

When you drunkenly showed up at Oscar’s door asking for a date, you hadn’t expected to wake up in his bed the next morning, the bed he was notably absent from. Your stomach dripped, you hoped you didn’t royally screw things up. But the note on the nightstand kindly let you know that he was out for coffee and quote, your hungover cure.

You got out of his bed and practically sprinted to the door when a loud knocking came, assuming it was Oscar, who you assumed forgot his key, you swung the door open without a second thought.

“Osc- Y/N?” Lando’s shocked expression greeted you.

“Hey, Oscar stepped out” you said and averted your gaze when you felt his eyes over your body; which was, as you know realized, dressed only in one of Oscar’s tshirt.

“Um yeah, tell him to call me before his flight to London”

You nodded and shut the door.

Your heart raced as you remembered the phone call between you; guilt settled into the pits of your stomach but you quickly pushed any tagging thoughts away, you refused to let any thoughts or feelings for Lando ruin what you knew can be something good. Oscar was sweet and kind, he was funny and charming; you were falling for him, and you didn’t want to let something from the past dull what could be a bright future.

That morning you ate breakfast together and he made you ask again, which you did, cheeks burning hot the entire time. Then you laid in bed and kissed until you had to reluctantly part. You’d see each other again in London.

London, where each day you spent trading sneaky looks and flirty comments; and each night you’d sneak into each other’s hotel room. You couldn’t be happier, even your dad had noticed, but you brushed him off. The last thing you wanted to do was for him to find out when you were still figuring things out.

As for Lando, you barely saw each other and when you did, you both had mastered the art of pretending the other didn’t exist, if it did come down to it, and you did have to speak, it was nothing but court.

It wasn’t until after Silverstone that you and Oscar managed to have your first proper date; you both had agreed to having a pizza baking night at your place in Monaco, you were in a pleasant happy bubble that you didn’t want to be popped just yet; you knew your relationship would be scrutinized, and you wanted to keep it to yourselves just a little bit longer.

Y/Ninsta posted to your story.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Note: oh boy; this part is a little all over the place but it’s just going to get messier and oh so angstyyyyy

Please let me know what you guys think!

Tag list:

@youp4028 @tinystudentblaze-stuff

@kikiki81 @devotedlydelicatefire

@mary-op81

@inthefairygrove

@formulaal

@storminacloud @imagine-it-was-us @landofotographyy @cutelittlefakejourneys

@nichmeddar @whoremores

@charlesgirl16 @mayax2o07

@ajordan2020

@jessica3478

[thelovehypothesis]

sooo cute!

Heyy! Could you maybe write for Oscar, his 2 year old babygirl being very cuddly and clingy? She doesn’t want to be separated from him or her mom. Just very fluffy and sweet

Little Miss Clingy

The moment Oscar and Lily laid eyes on their baby girl two years ago, their world shifted. They had thought they understood love before, but seeing their daughter for the first time, tiny and perfect, was something else entirely. They adored every part of her—the way her little fingers curled around theirs, the sleepy sighs she made when she rested on their chests, and now, at two years old, the way she toddled around their home, her chubby arms always reaching for them.

Yn was the center of their universe, and she knew it.

So, when Oscar suggested bringing her to a race for the first time, Lily had been hesitant. "She’s never been around so many people before, Osc," she had said, running her fingers through Yn’s soft curls as the little girl played with her stuffed rabbit. "She might get overwhelmed."

Oscar, ever the optimist, had grinned. "She’ll be fine, love. She’s got us."

And now, standing in the middle of the paddock with Yn perched on Oscar’s hip, her little fists gripping his shirt tightly, Lily wasn’t so sure about that.

Yn’s big eyes darted around, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces. People were everywhere—talking, laughing, pointing cameras in their direction. Some even called out to her daddy, waving excitedly.

Yn didn’t like it.

She turned her head, burying her face into Oscar’s shoulder. He let out a small chuckle, rubbing her back. "Not a fan of the crowd, huh, sweetheart?"

Yn only gripped him tighter.

"She’s definitely overwhelmed," Lily murmured, adjusting the pink bucket hat on Yn’s head. She had fought hard for that hat. Everyone in the team had wanted to dress their daughter in orange, but Yn had refused. The second Lily showed her the pink one, she had clapped her hands and declared, "Pinky!"

So pink it was.

Oscar pressed a kiss to Yn’s hair. "It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it, bub?"

Yn peeked up at him with wide eyes, then at Lily, before reaching for her. "Mama," she mumbled, her little voice barely audible over the noise of the paddock.

Lily took her immediately, smoothing a hand over her curls. "I’ve got you, baby."

They made their way toward the hospitality area, where a few drivers were gathered, chatting casually. When they spotted Oscar, their faces lit up.

"Ah, so this is the famous Yn!" Lando was the first to approach, grinning wide. "Hey there, little one."

Yn stared at him for a long moment, then turned her face into Lily’s neck.

Lando gasped dramatically. "Rejected. That one stings, not gonna lie."

Alex snorted, leaning over to get a peek at Yn. "She’s shy, mate. Give her a second."

Oscar reached out, stroking Yn’s back. "You okay, bub? These are my friends."

Yn peeked up, glancing at the group again before curling back into her mom’s arms.

Lily chuckled. "She’s in a clingy mood today."

Carlos, standing nearby, tilted his head. "She doesn’t like crowds?"

"She’s just confused," Oscar explained. "This is her first race, and she has no idea what’s going on."

Max, who had been quiet, suddenly crouched down to Yn’s eye level. "Do you like racing, little one?"

Yn blinked at him, then shook her head. "No."

A beat of silence. Then, Lando burst into laughter. "Oh, Oscar, you’re in trouble."

Oscar let out a dramatic sigh. "Come on, bub, you’re breaking my heart here."

Yn just nestled deeper into Lily’s arms.

"You’re not into racing?" Lando tried again. "But your dad is really good at it!"

Yn furrowed her brows. "Where Daddy go?"

Oscar chuckled. "I’m right here, bub."

She shook her head, patting his chest. "No. Later."

It took them a moment to understand what she meant.

"She’s asking where you go during the race," Lily realized, rubbing Yn’s back.

"Ohhh," Oscar grinned. "Daddy goes in the car, sweetheart."

Yn looked unimpressed.

"To drive really fast," Oscar added.

Still unimpressed.

"You don’t think that’s cool?"

Yn shook her head.

Alex doubled over laughing. "She’s killing me!"

Oscar pouted dramatically. "Alright, bub, what do you think is cool?"

Yn thought for a moment, then lifted her hat. "Pinky."

Lily smirked. "Pink is her favorite color. She wasn’t having any of the orange merch."

Carlos hummed. "You have taste, pequeña. Pink is a great color."

Yn finally pulled her face away from Lily’s neck, her big eyes looking at Carlos. "Pink good."

"See?" Carlos beamed. "Smart girl."

Just as she was starting to relax, a crew member approached, handing Oscar his helmet.

"It’s time?" Oscar asked.

"Yeah, you’re needed in the garage."

Oscar turned back to his wife and daughter, taking Yn into his arms and running a soothing hand down Yn’s back. "Alright, bub, Daddy has to go drive now, okay?"

Yn’s little brows furrowed.

"Daddy will be back soon," he promised. "You stay with Mama."

Then, before she could protest, he gently transferred her into Lily’s arms.

Yn made a confused noise, blinking as if trying to process what just happened. Then—

"Daddy!"

Oscar turned just in time to see his little girl reaching for him, her lower lip wobbling.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lily cooed, bouncing her slightly. "It’s okay, baby. Daddy will be back."

But Yn wasn’t having it.

She let out a frustrated whine, her small hands grasping at the air in Oscar’s direction. "Daddy!"

Oscar winced. "Oh man, this is gonna hurt."

"You need to go," Lily said, though she was clearly struggling not to cave at the sight of their daughter’s distress.

"Yeah, but—"

"Daddy!"

It took everything in Oscar not to take her back. But he knew if he did, he’d never leave.

"I love you, bub," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll be back before you know it."

Yn whined again, but this time, she slumped against Lily’s shoulder, defeated.

Oscar gave her one last look, blowing her a kiss, before heading off, feeling a pang in his chest at the sound of her little sniffles.

Lily sighed, adjusting Yn in her arms. "It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you."

Still, Yn was clearly not happy.

And when Lily started talking to a man called Zak Brown, the two-year-old had had enough.

She curled into her mother, pressing her face into Lily’s neck.

Zak chuckled. "She’s not much of a people person, huh?"

Lily smiled, rubbing small circles on Yn’s back. "She’s usually very social. But today is a lot for her."

Zak nodded understandingly. "First race?"

"Yeah. She doesn’t get why people keep wanting Oscar’s attention or where he goes. She just wants her parents."

Yn clung tighter.

"Well," Zak said, giving the little girl a warm smile, "I think she’s got a great support system."

Lily pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head. "That she does."

Yn didn’t understand racing, or why people were so interested in her dad, or why they kept trying to put her in orange when pink was clearly superior.

But she knew one thing for sure.

As long as she was with her mommy and daddy, everything would be okay.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[thelovehypothesis]

accepting it- c.leclerc

summary: charles has been a bit too distant during your pregnancy, and what max said about his own child brought some ugly truths to the surface, hurting you in the process. charles realises his mistake, but it's just too late for you to believe him.

pairing: husband! charles leclerc x fem! pregnant! wife! reader

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The quiet unlocking of the door was what had woken you, Charles was sure of it. He hadn’t wanted to, mostly because he knew he’d say something stupid and piss you off. He wouldn’t mean to, but he would. That’s what the start of the season was, that’s what becoming a father was, that’s what the stress did to him. 

“Hey handsome,” you smiled sleepily from the coach, all bundled up in blankets as some random Netflix series played on the screen. 

“Hey beautiful,” he exhaled harshly, then turned to you, (fake) smiling. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Just tired,” you yawned. “Want to head to bed?”

He nodded with a groan. “Yes, please.” 

He helped you up off the couch and it hit him how close you were to giving birth. You were in the third trimester, heavily pregnant with a slightly complicated pregnancy. He grimaced when he saw you grabbing your back in pain. 

“Alright?” he asked as you winced. 

You took a deep breath and continued on to your bedroom. “Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, the pain easing. 

He led you over to your side of the bed and helped you lie down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned out the lights, ready to sink into his side of the bed after his exhausting day. 

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He woke up to the sound of vomiting. It wasn’t usual to hear, but it had gotten less frequent as the pregnancy went on. “You alright baby?” he called out. 

His question was met with more vomiting. He huffed as he pulled himself out of bed and walked to the bathroom, looking at you hunched over the toilet. He frowned and knelt beside you, holding your hair. After another few minutes the vomiting stopped and you looked up at him, exhausted and sick. 

“Feels any better?” he asked. You shook your head and he frowned again, pulling you into his chest. He smoothed a hand through your hair as you leant against him, trying to calm yourself down. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “You’re alright.” 

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Brunch was going to be hell on earth for both of you, but you still both dressed up and got in the car, pretending to be excited about the family luncheon. 

“Can you believe Max said he wouldn’t miss a race for the birth of his baby?” you scoffed, scrolling through your phone as Charles drove to his mother’s house. “Poor Kelly.”

Charles gulped beside you. He’d been dreading this conversation for weeks, unsure when to have it. It’s not that he didn’t want to be there for the birth of his child, he did, badly, but he couldn’t throw away championship points for anything. He’d make an exception if it was a sprint race, but other than that… he couldn’t chance it. “Well, he has a good reason to,” he shrugged nervously. 

You turned your head to him, shock painting your features. “Are you joking right now?” 

Charles shrugged. “Not really. He’s the World Champion and he needs to stay on top this year, especially if it’s his last year, which he’s thinking it might be. I understand where he’s coming from.”

You were both quiet for a minute, taking in what he’d said. 

“So what about us?” you asked in a small voice. 

“You’re due on a non-race week,” he shrugged. “We just hope she doesn’t come earlier than that.” 

He didn’t dare look over at you, scared of what he might see. He knew this was selfish, but he couldn’t piss away his chance at being champion, not when he’d worked his entire life for it, not when his parents, family, and friends gave up so much.  

“Oh,” you breathed out, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Alright then.” 

The rest of the car ride was silent, you watched the streets of Monaco whip by you as Charles drove up to his mother’s house, and you thought. Thought about giving birth alone. Thought about how Charles had promised you he’d be there. Thought about how shitty it felt to be second to his job. You wiped your unshed tears away before you walked inside.

When you walked inside, Pascale instantly knew something was wrong. Charlotte immediately took you away to chat together, and Lorenzo was too busy giving out to Arthur about breaking up with Jade to notice, but Pascale noticed. She saw the way Charles watched you from across the room, trying desperately to catch your eye, to gauge your reaction, something. 

She pulled him aside. “What’s wrong?” 

He sighed. “Maman, it’s nothing-”

“What did you say to your wife?” he demanded. He looked down, ashamed. He knew he was in the wrong, but he still felt justified, though that justification was slowly dwindling. 

“We were talking about how Max wouldn’t miss a race for his baby, and I said I’d do the same,” he admitted. 

“Excuse me?” Lorenzo inserted himself in the conversation. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Arthur was even looking at him in disgust, Arthur. “Charles, that’s not right-” 

“You don’t get to talk, alright?” he shot at his younger brother, who quietened out of shock. “And what else am I supposed to do? Every single year in Formula One I feel the championship falling away from me! Y/n understands-”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Pascale interjected. “Do you want that little girl? The one your wife has been carrying without complaint for 8 months?” 

Charles nodded vigorously. “Of course I do-!” 

“So you should be there for the woman who’s carrying her! She has been pregnant basically on her own for the past 8 months, either you were racing, or training, or enjoying your break - which meant doing extreme sports that she cannot do! That woman loves you too much to see how you’ve been treating her, and it’s sad, Charles. She does everything for you, and you’re even entertaining the idea of not being there for her while she goes through possibly one of the most painful experiences of her life? Are you insane?” she argued, shocked at her own son's selfishness. “If you cannot see that the woman you love is more important than a race win, you should really just let Y/n go and find a man that actually loves her. Not one who is more focused on his personal goals than the goals of his family. Your father and I raised you to be a racer, yes, but first and foremost we raised you to be a good person. And being a good person means being a good husband and father to your family, which is just starting.” 

Charles stood there for a moment in silence, ashamed of his behaviour. “You’re right.” 

“I know I am,” she scoffed. “Go make it right with Y/n, now.” 

Charles scurried off to find you in the garden with Charlotte, she had her arms around you as you explained everything that had happened, how distant Charles had been, what he’d said about the birth, everything. Charlotte sent him a particularly withering look as he stepped out into the sun, and he knew he deserved it. 

“Can I talk to my wife?” he asked, standing behind you. 

“She’s busy right now Charles,” Charlotte scoffed. “I’m just trying to calm her down from crying. Come back later.” 

His heart broke slightly, he knew you’d been taking the burden of the baby a lot more than he had (obviously), and he thought he was being gracious by not bringing it up. He thought he was doing the right thing by giving you space, but he was just subconsciously trying to ignore the fact that his life was going to change drastically and that he was scared. Still, he never thought he’d be the one to make you cry. 

“Please,” he begged. 

You gave Charlotte a nod, and she smiled at you sadly, then left you to talk. He took the seat she had been sitting in and placed a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m ruining the whole day.” 

His heart actually broke then. He was being a dick, he was in the wrong, and you were apologising. What the actual fuck? He shook his head, squeezing your thigh. “No. If anyone ruined today, it was me. My selfishness has been ruining this entire pregnancy for you,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.” 

You stared up at him in shock. 

“You’ve been doing this on your own since day one, and that’s my personal failing. I’m sorry that I was so… distant. I was busy getting in my own head about my career, when the most important thing was right in front of me. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me,” he took your hand and squeezed, looking at the ground. 

“Charles, I know what I signed up for when I married you,” you admitted, dropping his hand. “I know you’re ambitious, I know you want to win, and I know you won’t stop until you’re the best. Sometimes it just… gets to me that I’m not enough for you, that our family isn’t enough for you. It’s just… hard sometimes, alright? And if I’m being honest this is a bit too much too late. I know my place in your life, and I’ve accepted it. I just hope you prioritise our daughter more than you prioritise me,” you tearfully explained before getting up and going back inside. 

Was that really the standard he’d set for the love of his life? Surely not?  He had to fix this, and quick.

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navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

[thelovehypothesis]

awwww

Can I request an Lando fic with toddler daughter where he is trying to wean her off her pacifier and its just only working cos shes constantly crying and whinning for it and cant sleep without it <3

Paci

Summary— Lando tries to take her prized possession away and has to find a new way to distract her

Warnings— tantrums

A/N— no comment, I enjoyed writing this

Lila was now 3 and Lando had decided she shouldn’t need a pacifier anymore. She was going to start school in the fall and it wouldn’t be ideal for her to be stuck to one.

He had multiples EVERYWHERE, and it was proving difficult to take them all. The main issue was her absolute favorite wasn’t just a pacifier, but a koala stuffie pacifier.

The world about ended for her when he hid it in his drawer. What made it worse was Lila couldn’t exactly say ‘koala’ so Lando’s heart melted when she cried for it over and over again.

“Kala!!” She whined at him. She had been rolling on the floor since he took it away. She worked herself up pretty hard over it and he couldn’t help trying to soothe her.

“I know baby, but you’re a big girl now and big girls don’t need paci’s” He played that card so many times he was getting tired of saying it. She hiccuped from how hard she was crying and Lando sat her down.

Once she did end up calming down it was because she found a pacifier Lando didn’t and stuck it in her mouth. Lando would sigh and she would whine knowing he was going to take it away. More tantrums and crying until she almost passed out.

“Sweetheart look at me.” He said seriously this time. “You don’t need a pacifier anymore, you’re too big for that.” She sniffled and calmed down as he hugged her again.

Lando’s worst nightmare was bedtime. He knew he got all the pacifiers out of her room, moving furniture and fluffing things around to find them. He could not calm her down whatsoever. He rocked her, shushed her, sang to her, nothing worked.

He sighed after almost an hour and gave her back the koala stuffie paci. Nearly a minute and she was out. He laid her in her bed and headed to his room. He called Oscar.

“Mate, I’m begging you please get Mila a new stuffed animal.” He said on the phone and when Oscar asked if she lost her paci, Lando sighed heavily. “I’m trying to wean her away from them and that’s her favorite.”

“So you want me to get her a new koala stuffie without a pacifier?” Oscar confirmed, already looking to an online shop for one.

Lando tried to enforce the no paci rule for just in public now, only so he could get sleep at night. When the new stuffie came in, he let her open it and she was so excited. “A Kala!!” She told him. He tried no paci’s at home again and it was a lot more bearable.

“You can sleep with this koala tonight.” He said replacing the two similar stuffies. She whined but knew this was bound to happen. It took a bit longer to get her to sleep but ultimately she did fall asleep.

He had a celebratory beer until he heard quiet cries from her room. He dropped his head and sighed. This was not going to be an easy fight.

You didn’t think it’d be easy did you?

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff

[thelovehypothesis]

sooo cute!

Strawberries - Charles Leclerc

Words: 939 Summary: Since you’ve gotten together, Charles has been open about how he hates strawberries, the very fruit you are allergic to. Note(s): Reader is allergic to strawberries

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She rubbed her lips together, staring in the mirror as she watched the lip gloss perfectly coat her lips. It was new, a darker red tint to it then she expected, but she liked it. And it felt nice on her mouth as well.

“That is new.” A voice from behind her comments, arms wrapping around her waist and lips being pressed to her cheek.

“It is.” She smiles, leaning back into Charles. “It got sent to me.”

She watches in the mirror as his smile turns into a small frown. “Did you,”

“Yes, Cha.” A laugh leaves her and she can’t help but turn in his arms. “I of course checked the ingredients. No strawberries.”

He pouts. “I can’t help but worry. The last time you tried something new it had that stupid fruit and it was lucky that Arthur remembered where your EpiPen was.”

“I know.” She soothes, running her hands up and down his arms. “But I was okay. Didn’t even have to go to the hospital.”

He gives her an unamused look. “Yes, because there was medical staff just meters away.” He softens a little under her hands as she moves them to his chest. “It scared me what happened. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“I know.” She presses forward, lips brushing lightly against his, mindful of her lip gloss that she already knew from swatching was not transfer proof. “But I’m being even more careful now and I have an EpiPen so do you, Joris, and Pascale.”

He flushes. “Andrea has one and Lorenzo. I might have as well-made sure one is part of the medical kit on Vista and in my motorhome and driver's room.”

“Charles! They aren’t cheap and that’s so many, they expire!”

“It was only a couple hundred.” He waves his hand. “And I have reminders to replace them. I’m not going to let anything happen to you if I can help it.”

Her heart swells at his words and the gesture. She still wasn’t used to it, to him.

“Thank you.” She finally murmurs, brushing their lips together again.

He makes a small noise as she stops him from kissing her fully. “Why?”

“My lip gloss, it will get all over your lips.” She explains, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Chérie, if you think I care about that, I have been doing something very wrong.”

And before she can protest because it was actually the opposite, he had been doing everything very right, he’s kissing her. Not just a brush of the lips or a small peck, but a full on kiss. Their lips moving together seamlessly as she relaxes into him, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Much better.” He murmurs, when they break apart, her eyes half-lidded as she stares at his lips that have a sheen from her lip gloss and he’s pressing another sweet but short kiss to her lips.

He doesn’t let her wipe away the sheen, even as they are about to enter the restaurant they are meeting his family at for dinner.

It makes her face warm, the sight of it on him, a small but simple claim that he is taken, that he is hers. And she knows that he is aware of what she’s thinking, with the small amused look he had given her in the car. He didn’t say anything though, couldn’t, not with how he went out of his way, it seemed to mark her up.

Her face grows hot as she hears Charles asking the waiter, checking with him really, if any dishes are made with strawberries.

“I wasn’t even going to get anything with fruit in it.” She murmurs, making Pascale give a small laugh and patting her hand.

“We don’t want to take any chances.”

“I’m a little surprised that Charles doesn’t carry a travel toothbrush and mouthwash with him.” The whole table looks at Arthur in confusion and his eyebrows raise when he realizes, eyes finally leaving his menu.

“For when he eats strawberries.” Arthur clarifies and the rest of the table makes a small noise of understanding, but she looks at him in confusion, body turning slightly towards Charles.

“But Charles hates strawberries?”

Charles’ winces at her words and Arthur shakes his head.

“I may have lied, but I do hate them now. I haven’t touched one since you told me about your allergy.”

“Charles,” She stops, unsure of what to say. It was a sweet gesture, not even touching them since their second ever date when she had to ask the waitress about their fruit selection and how it was prepared, but she hated the thought that he gave something he liked just because she was allergic to it. She could understand not having them when they were eating together, but completely? It felt like an overreaction.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She finally says, everyone else listening to Charlotte as she talks about a patient she just had, easily taking the attention of them, and she’ll have to make sure to text the other girl later in thanks.

He picks up her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I know, but I wanted to. Not having strawberries is a very small price to pay for you.”

“But you could still have them. There’s plenty of time when we aren’t together and I don’t mind.”

“I know.” He smiles, squeezing her hand. “I know. But I wanted to. It is not like I’m really missing anything. They are a quite boring fruit.”

She stares at him, at the sincerity in his eyes, and she squeezes his hand back. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

[thelovehypothesis]

Soooo cute 🥰

LOUD AND CLEAR | LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!deaf reader

summary: the 4 times that fans noticed the way lando was with you and the 1 time they finally realized why.

warnings: none i don't think

1.the garage whispers

fans noticed things, they always did, but sometimes their reasons were a little bit off, like with lando and his girlfriend.

you had been in the mclaren garage one day. while lando's world was loud, yours was quiet. you were completely deaf, you had cochlear implants but sometimes during race weekends they would get overwhelmed with the loud noise making it harder to process what was happening.

one thing that lando never failed to do though was lean closer for you to hear him. his head falling down so his lips were by your ear, making sure your implants could pick up what he was saying.

"you okay?" he asked you, his voice soft and gentle but still loud enough for your implants to pick up easily, his hand gently resting at the small of your back.

you nodded your head with a smile, "just loud" you say softly.

he nodded his head knowing you hated when he fussed over you and that if you got overwhelmed you'd either tell him or you would leave so he knew you were okay.

his hand came up to tap his heart 3 times, not exactly sign language but a sign that you both had started doing, the simple act saying "i love you."

you smiled and tapped your heart back before saying a small goodbye to him as he left to go get ready for qualifying.

the small whispers and acts didn't go unnoticed by fans though, their theories being far from the truth though.

user1: the way lando's so in love with her user2: watching them whisper to each other feels so intimate user3: WHAT DID HE SAY TO HER?

2.his little taps

lando didn't ever call for you, even when you could hear him. every time he wanted your attention he would simply tap you, a small shoulder tap, the squeeze of an arm, tap on the wrist, just something small.

one time that it was noticed by fans was when you were walking into the paddock together. lando had gotten stopped by some fans and as if on instinct his hand had come to tap your shoulder to get your attention

you turned to him with a small smile, watching as he didn't say anything simply gesturing to the group of fans letting you know he had stopped to sign some stuff, standing and waiting for him to finish with the fans before you guys continued. nothing had been said between the two of you, just silent communication which definitely caused an uproar between fans.

user1: why did bro tap her instead of calling for her user2: he's so in love he needs her to feel him before he speaks user3: they're actually so cute, the way he didn't have to say anything and she knew.

3.face offs

even when you were wearing your cochlears sometimes it was hard to hear so lando would always face you when he spoke so you could read his lips easier.

dinner? he was sat in front of you. talking with fans? he made sure you were stood in front of who was talking to you if you were with him. interviews? if you were watching he was always facing you in some way so you could see his lips.

fans picked up on the pattern easily. the way he always stood in front of you before he started speaking, or the way he'd turn your head, it confused them for sure not knowing the reasoning but they still speculated.

user1: lando being a soft boyfriend for the 200th time. user2: the way he always makes sure she can see him, i love them your honor :( user3: they're so in love it's sickening

4. the signs

it was a no brainer that lando would learn sign language when you guys started to date, despite being able to hear him with your implants he still wanted to learn so if you weren't wearing them he could communicate.

the moment the fans started noticing was during a podium. lando had just finished in P2 and while he was up there he had signed "i love you" to you. from there the fans had started noticing the smaller moments.

the small signs in the garage when he was talking to you, the random signs in interviews as if someone was watching that he wanted them to see.

a favorite clip would be during one of lando's twitch streams though. he was playing a game but suddenly had paused it turning to look in the doorway. you were off camera so they couldn't see you as you stood trying to get lando's attention without disturbing him.

what they did see though was the way lando turned to you and instead of saying anything he had signed with his hands, a silent conversation just for the two of you.

"sorry guys, just checking something," lando had said after turning back to the stream when you had left, leaving the fans confused.

user1: WAS HE SIGNING? user2: since when did lando know sign language? user3: was he signing to Y/N?

+1 the time where everything clicked.

you had been with lando in the paddock one day during a race weekend. at this point you were deaf to the world because the batteries for your implants had died. you were stood scourging for your spares in lando's bag when fans came up, getting lando's attention and trying to get yours.

they were confused when they called your name and you didn't answer until lando tapped you making your head look up from where it was buried searching in the bag on his back, a huge smile coming to your face when you notice the fans.

"hi!" you say as you come to stand at lando's side.

"she's deaf, she can read lips though so just make sure you're facing her when you speak," lando explained, signing with his hands.

the fans' mouths dropped, everything making so much more sense to them, the whispers, the small taps, the way he was always faced to you, the way he knew sign language.

while you talked with fans, taking a couple times to ask for repeats, lando was searching in his bag for your batteries, changing them out for you before a gentle hand came to your shoulder to not startle you as he put them on for you, the noise of the paddock filling your ears as they connected.

the both of you finished talking with the fans, taking a couple pictures with them before saying goodbye, knowing the announcement was about to break the internet.

user1: omg she's deaf it all makes so much more sense now. user2: STOP HE LEARNED SIGN LANGUAGE FOR HER user3: lando "i'd learn another language for her" norris user4: they are actually so cute

everything clicked for the fans after that day, and suddenly lando's love for you was so much bigger, because he didn't just love you, he understood you, and did everything he could do so you could understand him.

[thelovehypothesis]

i was made for loving you - smau mini series masterlist

summary: your ex lando fumbles you. harry won’t make that same mistake.

pairings: lando norris x ex!reader x harry styles

fc: gracie abrams

vicious speaks: this is my first mini series and my first f1 crossover so pls go easy on me 💗 expect an update every friday and sneak peeks every wednesday!

main masterlist

───────── ❤︎ ─────────

❀ chapter one

❀ chapter two

❀ chapter three

❀ chapter four

❀ chapter five

[thelovehypothesis]

any other world - part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader - soulmate au

series masterlist

A/N: there’s no cheating in this story i promise

this chapter is nsfw! minors pls dni

(21)

The sound of another thunder startled you and almost caused you to spill red wine all over the place as you emptied the bottle inside your glass.

Aaron had big plans for that night, fancy restaurant and everything, but the heavy thunderstorm left you no choice but to stay in. You genuinely didn’t mind. You loved nights in with him, feeling like he was only for you.

Full from the pizza you had made earlier, he was laying on the floor with his head on your lap, staring up at you with a drunken smile. You took a big sip from your glass and ran your finger across his face, starting from his forehead, going down his nose and reaching his lips.

He grabbed your hand and brought your wrist to his lips, and as if he was some kind of vampire he bit your wrist. “I wish I could just chew these two letters up and spit them out,” he said, referring to the initials of your own soulmate.

“Can you chew up yours too while you’re at it?”

Aaron reached his hand up to your face and rubbed his thumb on your cheek. “Do you ever get jealous of her?”

“All the time.”

“I’m jealous of the bastard you haven’t even met yet too.”

You grinned at his words, and the gentle stroke on the side of your face turned into a grab of your chin. “You enjoy that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Mhm…” you said, nodding.

He sat up and brought his face close to yours, staring at your lips. “Torturing me…ever since I can remember us.”

“Aw, my poor boy…” you cooed, and gave him a sweet kiss. Already dizzy - a little from the wine and a little from Aaron’s mouth on you - you accidentally spilled what was left in your glass on his shirt.

“Shit, sorry!”

“The lengths you go to just to see me shirtless...” he said, shaking his head in disapproval before taking his shirt off.

You giggled and threw yourself into his arms, quietly begging for another kiss. He was more than happy to give it to you.

“Can I take you here, on the floor?” he whispered.

“Please.”

He gently laid you down and you observed him, letting him undress you and himself.

Growing a bit possessive of him after the events of that year wasn’t something you could really blame yourself for. Staring at him and seeing that deep desire in his eyes made you feel good about yourself. You were the one he wanted so desperately to see naked, you were the one making him hard, you were the one that would make him feel good.

But you weren’t the only one growing possessive. Ever since your own mark had appeared, Aaron was leaving marks all over your body as if it was a competition. Yes you had another man’s initials on your wrist, but it was Aaron’s mouth that had touched every part of your body, and those marks were the evidence.

You wrapped your legs around him and let him fuck you slowly, welcoming every word of praise he would give you.

“You take me so well.”

“Fuck you feel good.”

“Made for me, weren’t you?”

You could swear that sometimes his voice felt as good as his cock.

--

(22)

“Aaron!”

A familiar voice stopped him from walking into the bookshop he had his eye on. The girl had raised her hand to catch his attention, in case her calling out his name wasn’t enough. Her excited smile made him almost sad, so he put on a happy smile to match her energy.

“Haley…I haven’t seen you in a while. How you’ve been?”

“I’m good! Just got a new job, so I’m spending my first paycheck as a reward,” she laughed, and showed him the bags she was holding.

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Well, no better feeling, is there?”

“Nope.” Her smile met her eyes. “How are you?” she asked.

“Good. Shopping as well,” he answered, hesitating to get into more details. Maybe it would be hurtful to tell her he was shopping for his girlfriend’s birthday.

Haley had been really understanding and respectful of his feelings, and he didn’t want to hurt hers any further than he already had.

“Books?” she asked, pointing at the bookshop they were standing outside of.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I join you?”

--

[11.59 pm]

Your phone was in your hand, waiting for your boyfriend to call. He’d call you and sing happy birthday in a very dramatic and very off key tone exactly at midnight, and right after he’d show up with an equally dramatic bouquet of flowers.

It had been a tradition for eight years now and even though you teased him for being too much, you loved that kind of attention on your special day. He never failed to make you feel like a princess.

But then midnight hit, and your phone didn’t ring. Not five minutes later, not ten, not even fifteen.

At exactly 12.30 am, your doorbell rang instead.

Aaron was hiding behind a huge bouquet of roses.

It was just thirty minutes. It was just the half of an hour. It isn’t important. It doesn’t mean anything.

You kept repeating that to yourself when he apologized for being late, for breaking the tradition, for getting you worried. You repeated it when he gave you a first edition of your favorite book. You repeated it when he hugged you, and the scent of another woman’s perfume on his coat made your stomach drop.

--

(45)

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Aaron hadn’t heard your voice in such a long time, that you talking to him would have melted him entirely if it wasn’t for the context of your words. Were you in danger?

He opened his mouth but his voice wouldn’t come out.

“Can we come in?” you asked, your own voice trembling.

We?

His eyes travelled down your body and they caught something moving under your long coat. A tiny arm was wrapped around your leg and a pair of beautiful eyes that looked just like yours looked up at him.

“Of course,” he finally answered.

He stepped aside and made room so you could walk inside his house. You took the hand of the little girl that was attached to your body and entered his home.

A burning feeling of protectiveness took over his chest. If someone had hurt the two of you, he would make sure they’d never see the light of the day again.

He checked the hallway for any suspicious movement and after making sure it was safe, he followed you into the house and locked his door.

“Y/N,” he said, but you raised your hand to cut him off.

“I’ll explain everything. We’re fine. I just…I needed a safe place…and some legal advice.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“My husband. Ex-husband.”

His blood boiled. If that man had laid a hand on you or your daughter he would burn him alive.

“Are you alone?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s just me and my son. He’s sleeping.”

A sweet expression appeared on your face at the mention of his son. He could relate to the feeling of seeing the person you grew up with being a parent.

You were kids just yesterday. And now you had your own.

Your little girl was looking up at him, with an intimidated expression. He was aware that his large frame and angry eyebrows could maybe scare a kid. So he walked closer, squatted down and smiled at her.

“Hello, little one.”

She waved instead of replying, but that was enough for him. She seemed more shy that scared.

“I’m Hotch. What’s your name?” he asked, gently.

“Leila.”

Aaron looked up at you, and found you already staring at him. He knew that the same memory of the two of you planning your future had flashed in front of your eyes.

“Nice to meet you Leila. You’re safe here with me, okay?”

She nodded her head a few times. “Okay. Mommy said you are best friends.”

“We are,” he answered, without a second thought.

tag list: @magical-spit @lilsunshine1092 @hiraethrhapsody @cult-of-enji-todoroki @emo-markie @jxvipike @ttokkisbee @geminitapestry @rae-pottah @the-night-viewer @i-am-funsize @louderfortheback @hasu-ko @rousethemouse @hotchs-bitch

[thelovehypothesis]

kisses will make it better

summary - you think you’ve made aaron upset so decide not to tell him when you’ve been in a car accident

pairing - aaron hotchner x gf!reader

word count - 3k

Today was shit.

Like really terrible.

It was one of those days where nothing had gone right and you felt like the universe was caving in on you. From missing a meeting due to traffic to getting harassed by your boss again, there was nothing that had technically gone right.

Which is why you were calling Aaron on your drive home, because you knew he would make it better.

It was dangerous to rely on someone to make you feel better, but he was your person and there was no one you would rather speak to than him.

“Hotchner.”

You smiled as he always answered the phone the same way.

He said that people wasted time by looking at the caller ID rather than just answering the phone, so you were used to him never answering the phone any other way.

“Hi love.”

“Y/N?” He questioned and you had to chuckle.

“Who else would be calling you ‘love’?” You laughed.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Um,” You looked at the clock on your car dashboard, “Nearly 11PM.”

“Yeah, it is. Look, you know we’ve got a really busy case right now?” He sounded pissed off and it made your heart drop.

“Yeah, I just thought…” You gulped to swallow back the oncoming threat of tears.

You didn’t want to cry over something so trivial as making your boyfriend upset, but when you had had a day as bad as yours anything was a possible trigger. Especially when Aaron was supposed to be the person to listen and comfort you.

“So I need to sleep and I need this phone line to be open for the police detectives.”

You could hear what he wasn’t saying; ‘Don’t call me’.

“Okay.”

“Alright, bye.” And he hung up.

It felt kind of pathetic to cry, but the tears kept falling.

You sniffled as you let out a few shaky breaths. Your eyes tried concentrating on the roads but your tears were sort of blinding your sight.

Your bad day had just gotten even worse.

The one person you knew would have cheered you up had to go and let you down. It wasn’t really his fault. He did have a really big case at the moment that was really stressful, so any sleep he could get was important, but it would’ve been nice to just speak to him for a few minutes.

You pulled down the sleeve of your jumper over your hand so you could wipe away the tears from your eyes.

You were thankful to be stopped at a red light.

Leaning over into your glove compartment you picked out a packet of tissues and took one out so you could blow your nose. Crying always led to a runny nose.

Maybe you’d done something really terrible and that was why the world was taking it out on you. But what had you done?

Except for this morning, you were always on time for work. You put up with endless sexist and gross comments from your boss. You worked really long nights and early mornings just to get the work done. Working as an assistant for a CEO wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded, but it paid the bills.

So why did you deserve to have such a shit day?

That’s what you were hoping Aaron could have answered.

Now you had only gone and upset him too.

The light turned green and you gripped onto the tissue as you took a hold of the steering wheel to turn left.

There were bright lights.

A car horn sounded.

Your feet slammed hard on the breaks.

There was an almighty crash.

And then it all went black.

<.><.><.>

“Miss. Miss, can you hear me?”

Your head felt so heavy and your chest felt tight.

Your eyes were slow to open, but when they finally did they felt so heavy - as if they were being weighed down.

Then you noticed the blue and red flashing lights against the pitch black of night and the paramedic that was leaning into your car to talk to you.

She had a stethoscope pressed against your chest and kept calling out to you for a response.

Slowly it was all coming back to you.

“Miss, answer if you can hear me.”

You nodded your head slowly.

“Okay good.” She said, “You were in a car accident. Do you remember what happened?”

Instead of responding you let the tears fall. Now you were coming back around and things were coming into focus you started to feel how much pain you were in. The seat belt must have stopped you from flying through the front window, but it had definitely bruised your entire chest and rib area in the process. That’s why it was probably painful to breathe.

The lady ducked back out of the car then.

“She’s pretty shaken.”

“We need to get her to a hospital. She could have internal bleeding.”

“Okay let’s cut her out and slowly transport her to an ambulance.”

“Have you asked who we should call?”

Their voices were all a blur as your eyes grew heavier again. The tears in your eyes were making your focus blurry again. It hurt to even cry.

Aaron was going to be so mad.

He was on such a busy case and the last thing he needed was to hear his girlfriend had been in a car accident - a bad one at that. You promised yourself then that you would tell the emergency response people that you didn’t have any emergency contacts. You didn’t need Aaron coming down here.

Not that you didn’t want him, because God you did, but more that you didn’t want to add any extra stress for him.

He had a hard enough job as it was without looking after you too.

He needed his rest, so you would do this alone.

<.><.><.>

Garcia was hurried as she approached Hotch’s office.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” Morgan asked from his desk as he watched his friend rush past.

“It’s Y/N.” She said and that’s when Morgan noticed the tears in her eyes.

Morgan shot up from his desk, as did Emily and Reid who had overheard the conversation. They didn’t ask questions, but did follow Garcia to Hotch’s office to listen in. It was clearly serious if Garcia was upset.

Garcia didn’t even knock before entering.

Hotch looked up from his desk, clearly unimpressed with the lack of knocking until he saw the looks on his team’s faces - especially Garcia’s.

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asked, clicking the lid on his pen.

“Sir, you know how you asked me to set up that system where if any immediate family relatives of ours were admitted to hospital then they’d flag on my system so we’d know?” She asked.

Hotch stood up immediately.

“Is Jack okay?” His heart sank.

“Yes, Sir, he is.” Garcia looked distressed still, “But Y/N was in a major car accident last night. Drunk driver hit her side of the car. Caused her car to be sent spinning across the road where it was then hit at the rear by a lorry.”

Hotch went pale. He felt like his heart had stopped beating.

“When?” Hotch picked up his phone.

No new messages.

Why had no one contacted him about this?

He was your emergency contact. He should have been notified about this.

“Accident happened last night at about 11:15. I only got the notification when I came in this morning, Sir.”

“She’s been in the hospital since 11:15 last night?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where is she now?”

“I had a look and… seems like she’s been in surgery for most of the night.”

Hotch had heard enough. He was ready to go now.

“Prentiss and Morgan. Go to the police station and find out what you can about the accident. I want that drunk driver ID’d.” Hotch ordered and they both left the room immediately.

“Call us if anything changes, Hotch.” Morgan added and Hotch nodded.

Reid…” Hotch said.

“I’m coming to the hospital with you.” Reid said for his boss.

“I need you here to work the case with Dave.”

“Hotch, this will probably be the only time I say this… but no. I’m coming with you and no doubt Rossi will too. Y/N is our friend too.” Reid argued back and Hotch didn’t have to say anything else for everyone to know that he was grateful for it.

Hotch needed the support and he knew you would need it to.

Screw this case.

Family was more important.

“Garcia…”

“I have my computers scanning security footage as we speak, Sir.”

“Good.”

“Go get our girl, Sir.” Garcia said and Hotch wasted no more time before exiting his office.

<.><.><.>

“You can’t blame yourself, Aaron.” Dave said as he drove the car to the hospital.

Aaron had wanted to drive but Dave had disagreed. It would’ve been dangerous for him to drive at a time like this.

“I spoke to her 15 minutes before the accident, Dave.” Aaron said, his composure slowly breaking.

Dave didn’t add anything to the conversation because he knew this was Aaron’s way of opening up as to why he felt so guilty.

“I told her not to call because my phone needed to be open for the police detectives to call me.”

“You were sleep deprived Aaron.” Dave argued.

“That’s not an excuse.”

“Maybe not, but it was the truth.”

Aaron kept his gaze on the road in front of them.

This car journey had felt like the longest twenty minutes of his life. Then he thought about how long you must have been alone in your crumpled car until someone arrived - how long that must have felt. How scary that must have been.

“I can’t lose her too.” Aaron said.

“You won’t. She’s got a strength in her that not everyone does.”

Aaron wanted to smile at that because he knew it was true, but it was hard to smile when he didn’t have a clue what state he was about to find you in.

<.><.><.>

Aaron stormed into the ER.

He did a quick sweep of the room and walked to the front desk. His hands gripped the front desk like it was the only thing keeping him standing up.

“Y/N L/N.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” The nurse questioned.

“I’m here to see Y/N L/N. She was brought in late last night from a car accident.” Hotch explained.

“Let me see.” The nurse typed away on her computer.

Rossi and Reid came up behind Aaron as they also waited to hear what the nurse had to say.

Aaron’s team was like a family to him, which meant they were also a family to you. The team had taken a liking to you ever since they had seen how much you had positively impacted Aaron’s life. They had never seen him smile so much as when he was around you. You brought out the best in him and the thought of losing you meant losing their boss too.

“Are you Aaron Hotchner, Sir?” The nurse questioned.

“Yes.”

The nurse smiled sympathetically, “Miss L/N specifically told the doctors last night that we weren’t to contact you.”

“W-what?” Aaron furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’m her emergency contact.”

“We’re aware, Mr Hotchner.”

“S-so what?” Aaron tried to calm himself down because he knew it wasn’t the nurses fault, “That’s it?...”

“Miss L/N told us not to contact you, Mr Hotchner, so we didn’t. However, now you are here I don’t see any reason to hold you back any further. Just sign this ‘sign in’ sheet, please.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said honestly, feeling both a wave of relief and anxiety.

Why had you told them not to call him?

Well, he knew why…

It was starting to feel like this was his fault. Doubts creeping into his mind as to whether he was the right person for you. It felt like no matter what he did, no matter how happy he became, he would always be tested in some way.

<.><.><.>

Reid and Rossi had gone to buy you flowers, leaving Aaron in the room alone with you.

It had been a shock to see you at first.

He hadn’t really prepared himself for how you might look, but he definitely hadn’t expected this.

You were bandaged like a mummy. Your head had a thick bandage wrapped around. Your hands were littered with plasters and gauze from where tiny bits of shattered glass had cut into your skin. He couldn’t see your chest but he had no doubts that the entire area would be black and bruised.

It made Aaron feel sick seeing you like this.

<.><.><.>

When you finally came around you felt lighter than you had before.

There was no seat belt cutting into your skin and you could breathe a little easier too. The bed you were laid in was really comfortable and someone had clearly dimmed the lights in preparation for you waking up.

Your eyes opened to find yourself in a hospital room.

The small window to the right told you it was a new day because it had been nighttime the last time you had seen the sky. Whether it was the next day or a couple of days was difficult to guess.

You looked down from the window to the small table.

There were six bunches of flowers of all different varieties. All of them had cards underneath them and you were eager to know who they were from.

The one that had a mathematical joke on had to be from Reid. The one that was covered in pink glitter was definitely from Garcia. The one that was clearly handmade had to be the work of Jack Hotchner. That one made you smile.

Your eyes went to the other side of the room where there was a chair facing your bed.

It was empty.

You knew who had been there, though, thanks to the blazer and red tie draped over the back of it.

Just as you started thinking about Aaron, you could hear your two favourite boys approaching.

“But I want to give the giraffe to her now, dad.”

“Ssh, ssh. We have to be quiet now bud, okay? Y/Ns sleeping.”

“But she’s been sleeping all day.”

“That’s because she’s poorly.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron and Jack entered the room a moment later, leaving the door open.

“Y/N!” Jack screamed in excitement when he saw that you were awake. He shuffled himself out of his dad’s hold until he was on the floor and running over to your bedside.

Aaron was ready to tell Jack off until he saw that you were in fact awake.

“Jack, careful.” Aaron said when his son started climbing on the bed.

“He’s okay.” You assured them both.

“Dad said you’re poorly.” Jack said.

“I guess I am.” You smiled at him.

“Does this hurt?” He pointed to the bandage on your forehead.

“A little.”

“Dad can kiss it better.” Jack explained like he was the certified doctor working in this hospital. It made you and Aaron laugh, which was probably the best form of medicine anyways. “Won’t you dad?”

Instead of giving a yes or a no response, Aaron came over to you and placed a kiss on top of the bandage. You couldn’t feel his lips, but his presence was enough to make you a little bit emotional.

He smelt like home and his closeness was so warm that you felt comforted.

Aaron kept his face close to yours as pulled away. He looked at you and noticed your teary eyes. His thumb reached your cheek to softly pad over the skin there - no doubt to check that you were really here and okay.

“Hey Jack, why don’t we go and get a chocolate bar for Y/N, hmm?” You heard Rossi’s voice behind Aaron.

Neither you or Aaron made a move from each other to check. Rossi must have taken Jack from the room because it went so quiet then.

Aaron kept his gaze on your eyes and you could see the sadness lost within them.

You hated to see him so sad. It was your weakness.

“I’m…”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m going to be really upset.” Aaron said quickly to cut you off.

You nodded, crying a bit more now.

“Thank you for coming.” You said instead.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I’ll always be here.” Aaron moved to perch on the bed beside you, careful not to bump into any sore part of you.

“How did you even know?”

“Garcia.”

“Of course” You smiled. Aaron smiled because you smiled.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for being an asshole last night.”

“Aaron, love, I can see that you’re beating yourself up over this but it wasn’t your fault. Yes, you were kind of an asshole. I did need you last night, but you definitely didn’t cause this and I know you know that.”

“You’re too lovely.” He responded.

“I just won’t have you blame yourself for something you had no control over.”

Aaron nodded, “I’ll never not answer the phone again.”

“Okay.”

“But you have to promise to never block me as an emergency contact again. You hear me?” He said sternly.

“I do. It was kind of stupid of me.” You rolled your eyes thinking back now.

“Yeah it was.” Aaron gave you a small smirk, glad to hear you were okay enough to make a joke or two.

“I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Honey. I’m going to worry whether or not you are actually okay.”

“When I told the nurse to not call you she asked whether you were a crazy ex of mine.” You chuckled.

“You’re an absolute menace.”

“A menace that’s going to need lots of kisses to nurse me back to health.”

“Oh yeah?”

“That’s what Dr Jack said.” You shrugged.

“I better get started then.”

[thelovehypothesis]

do we agree that the franco fics need to stay even if he’s not in the grid anymore