This One Is Perfect And Sad. I Need A Part Two!😢😢

One year of coloured lights | CS55

+18/MDNI

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!reader.

Genre: Fluff.

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 1517.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, use of Y/N.

Author's note: Hello! This is my first published one shot in here. I'm a writer in my free time, and I finally decided to publish here. I hope you like it. Also, English is my third language, sorry for any mistakes.

A simple Thursday night changed my life, making it turn upside-down when I least expected it. I don't know if it was the hour, the weather or the music in the background when everything happened, but my life shifted completely.

I was out with some friends when I felt a pair of eyes on me that followed my every move and conversation that I was having. They felt extremely close but far enough that I wouldn't catch them every time I turned around. Shivers were continuously running down my spine but they weren't unpleasant. I didn't know who was watching me until one time I caught a pair of dark brown eyes shining brightly under the coloured lights of the venue. I forced my eyes to focus on the face that those eyes adorned, noticing a pair of full lips that hid a beautiful smile that shone bright when I caught him staring at me.

I turned around with a soft smile on my face and a faint blush covering my cheeks, continuing my conversation with my friends. I danced through a few songs, still feeling his eyes on me, but I tried not to turn and look at him. That was until one of my friends noticed something was making me nervous and a smile was permanently on my face. She looked around and found the eyes that were looking at me.

"You know that you have an admirer?" my friend asked with a teasing smirk.

"Yeah," I answered with a shy smile. "He's quite attractive."

"You should go and say something to him," she added as she made me turn around, making me look at him directly.

I looked back and saw how my friend encouraged me, so I continued walking until I reached the bar where he was standing. I stood a few meters apart from him, calling the bartender to grab another drink, and I caught his eyes a few times. I smiled at him as I grabbed my drink, rummaging through my bag to grab my phone to pay but I stopped when I saw a hand holding a card and paying for my drink.

With my eyes, I followed the hand up and I found that beautiful pair of dark brown eyes that were observing me before. I smiled at him and I extended my hand to greet him, but he surprised me when he grabbed it and left a soft kiss on the back, a soft blush dusting over my cheeks.

"Thanks," I said with a soft smile. "My name is Y/N."

"Carlos," he said with a Spanish accent. "It's nothing," he added with a bright smile.

"I think that I caught you staring at me a few times," I said, moving closer so he could hear me over the music.

"Yeah," he said with confidence. "You looked beautiful, but I can say that you're more beautiful up close," he added, leaning to whisper it in my ear, making me blush a deep shade of red that wasn't visible under the coloured lights.

I locked eyes with him and I saw a bit of mischief in them. In that moment, I felt his arm sneak around my waist, pulling me closer and making me gasp in surprise, and I ended up resting my hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart and making me smile.

"Care to dance?" he asked with a soft smirk.

I couldn't utter a word and I just nodded, letting him lead me to the centre of the dance floor. He grabbed my hand and made me twirl, putting me against his chest and hugging my waist, moving our bodies to the rhythm of the music.

"Are you having fun?" he whispered when he leaned his face against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"Yeah," I said moving my head a little, realising that we were closer than I expected.

After a few songs, we moved to the bar again and I saw my friend approaching us. She told me that they were going home and asked me if I wanted to go with them. When I said no, Carlos assured her that he would take me home safely, making my friend relax, and we said our goodbyes.

"You don't have to do that," I said to him with a smile.

"I know but I want to," he responded, his answer making me lock eyes with him.

"Want to dance again?" I asked him as I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to me.

He nodded with a soft smile, letting me drag him back to the dance floor. I let go of his hand and I twirled, shaking my hair with my hands. I ended up facing him and I put my arms around his neck, moving my hips to the rhythm of the music. He smiled, looking down at me and grabbing my hips, dancing with me and changing the rhythm when the music changed to a slow song. When the song finished, he moved closer until he rested his forehead on my shoulder.

"Want to get out of here?" he whispered in my ear, making a shiver run down my spine.

"Yes, but only if you take me home," I whispered back as I put one hand on his chest and the other went to touch his soft hair.

He pulled away and grabbed my hand, guiding me to the backdoor where he had his car parked. The ride to my apartment was engulfed in a comfortable silence, with stolen glances and his hand resting on my thigh while he drove. After a while, he stopped the car in front of my apartment complex and I turned to look at him.

"Thank you for bringing me home, Carlos," I said softly with a smile that he mirrored.

"It's nothing, Y/N," he said as I grabbed the door handle to get out of his car, when he suddenly grabbed my wrist, making me stop in my tracks. "Wait."

"Wha-" he stopped me mid-sentence with a soft kiss, that I immediately followed, sighing against his mouth.

We pulled apart, me blushing and him smirking, and tried to catch our breaths. I let out a nervous giggle and I moved slightly forward, resting my head on his shoulder while he put one hand on my back.

"That was incredible," I said, still out of breath and with a smile lingering on my face.

"Yeah," he said as he moved his head slightly to kiss the side of my head. "I want to see you again on a more relaxed place," he blurted out after a moment of silence.

"Are you asking me on a date?" I asked teasingly as I straightened my posture.

"Maybe..." he said, blushing a bit. "Only if you want to," he added, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

"Then it's a date," I said with a smile. "Here's my number," I added as I put a business card on his hand.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said as I opened the door of his car.

"I hope so," I responded with a smile as I got out of his car. "Thanks again, Carlos. And good night," I said before I closed the door of his car.

"Good night Y/N," he said from his car after he rolled his window down.

I walked towards the entrance of the complex and I turned around before I entered, seeing that he was waiting for me to get inside and waved at me before starting his car and disappearing into the night.

That was a year ago, the night I met Carlos Sainz and he entered into my life, putting it upside down. I wouldn't change anything that happened during this year, not when I get to wake up with his arm around my waist after a date night.

That's our current situation, where I'm feeling his breath against the back of my neck before I turn in his embrace to face him. I use this peaceful moment to count his freckles, thing that I do at every occasion I have, before he wakes up.

"Good morning, princesa," he says suddenly, his voice laced with sleep.

"Good morning, love," I say as I nuzzle against his chest, leaving a kiss there at the same time he kisses my temple.

"Do you want pancakes for breakfast?" he asks with a smile as he starts caressing my hips.

"Yes, please," I answer, looking up with a pout that he kisses before pulling away from me to get up, leaving me laying on the bed as I observe how he puts on some shorts before going to the kitchen.

I let out a soft sigh, feeling content and relaxed, before I get up and follow him, not before grabbing his shirt from the night before and my panties. I sit down on the kitchen bar, seeing him move around the kitchen, humming softly and throwing a wink when he sees me. I smile at him, feeling lucky to have him in my life.

So cute😍😍

peter parker swinging by your bedroom window, full suit and everything, just to hand you a single wildflower he chaotically just picked from the side of the road. (who knows why he’s doing it, maybe he’s just being adorable, maybe he fucked up and is trying to apologise?)

my first ever peter fic!! i hope you like this, ilysm ♡︎ | fem!reader, fluff, 0.8k

warning: reader having summertime sadness

—

You've been feeling shitty, like really very shitty. A type of feeling that one gets when they're kicked out of the house with no money? Yeah, that kind of crappy and for no reason. That makes it even worse. 

You tried everything, from making some tea for yourself to doing your hair to cleaning your room and even clearing the god damn spam emails. Nothing worked. It sort of felt good to be doing something, at least you're not sitting idle, but the overwhelming feeling never left.

It's sticky and humid today and you're just waiting for the sun to go down. Summers suck.

You're loathing the weather when something hits your window. Like a bird, a very large bird or something.

Nevermind, It's your boyfriend. You see him before you can panic.

He and his weird ways, You smile a little and slide the window door open.

“Hi” he says breathlessly, as he sits down leaning against the wall, just as he enters. Mouth slightly open, gasping for air. He's in his spiderman suit with the ever present bag on his back. 

Which is quite a feeling because he usually doesn't show up like that. And you still don't know how to react knowing your own boyfriend is a vigilante. Quite too much to digest.

“Everything okay?” you ask, worried.

“Yeah. I'm cool.” he replies, getting up. A smile on his pretty face as he does so.

“Well?” you gesture towards his getup. 

“Oh yeah, that— I was on my way to meet you and then, let's say I happened to cross paths with an old, not so friendly friend.”

Understandable. 

“You're okay right?” you inquire, running your gaze from his head to toe, looking for any sort of bruise or cuts. Hands reaching to rub his shoulders up and down softly.  

“Ouch!” Peter feigns hurt, just to see that look on your face. skittish and way too scared for him. You're just so easy to tease, not that he's complaining. Truthfully his heart blooms with love whenever you worry over him. It's sort of lovely. Very very lovely.

 “Oh fu- I'm so sorry.” 

“Don't be, I was kidding.” he says, planting a quick kiss on your forehead and then immediately. “Oh, hey I got something.” 

He shrugs off the bag, puts it on your study desk. You watch his hand when he zips it open, you watch his arm when he lifts the bunch of green stems up, purple, pinks and whites adorning the top of it. 

“They reminded me of you.” Peter says, and You watch his lips curve upwards, brown eyes shining as he extends his hands to give you the flowers, so earnestly.

And you're not going to cry. Definitely not going to cry. Nobody cries in these kind of situations. You think. How do they react though? You don't know.

You have given plenty of gifts to your friends and family but never been on the receiving end ever. And the fact that he thought of you, like he really looked at the flower and thought of you? The thought makes you a bit dizzy but with love and something melancholic. You'd like to blame your mood earlier.

Which is why, though you didn't mean it, your lips slightly curve downwards and before you could stop it, tears manage to escape your eyes, down to your cheeks. You fucking hate yourself.

“Hey no- I- is it something i did?.” he asks, a hand reaching for your face instinctively, baffled by the response. 

Why would you cry, unless he hit a nerve? You're fairly new in your relationship and even though he knows alot about you, there are still plenty of things he doesn't know, yet. Though you literally know everything about him. 

“No.” you shake your head, “ it's just- nobody ever did something like this” you say, furtively. 

“I love them,” you tell him, bringing the flowers closer to your chest. 

He looks at you, fondly with so much adoration in his eyes as he wipes your tears with his thumb, his fingers behind your ear. 

“thank yo—” he cuts you off connecting his lips with yours. A hand snakes down to your waist, pulling you closer, the other holding your face.

For a second you freeze and then time. You lax in his hold, closing your eyes shut, letting the dizziness of love take over.

It takes a second to recover from the love haze when he pulls away. 

“What was that for?” you ask and Peter smiles looking at your love sick face.

“I don't need a reason to kiss my girlfriend.” he says, matter of factly before doting a few more kisses on your face. 

“You're crushing my flowers.” You giggle, the precious sound he longs to listen to whenever you're not around. 

That's okay. He thinks. He's going to bring you Chamomile and Tulips tomorrow, Chrysanthemum and Hyacinths the day after and more day after day until the novelty wears off or better he'd make you a garden. 

That's so true

sometimes the love of your life is a 40 year old french man…

In love, specially with the last two💖💖🫠🫠

Louis Garrel

In the next 3 months, you will be richer, happier, wiser and healthier!

Reblog to affirm!

I freaking loved it honey. So sweet💖💖😍😍

Hi!!!! Happy one year🥳🥳💖💖

I hope you are doing great love. I would like to ask for a blurb where Aaron and the reader aren't dating but them seem a couple and they get in an argument in which Aaron says something that hurts the reader and she answers saying "That, that really hurt" because she did something reckless and when she's about to cry he says "I can't lose you" and "You are so worth it". If it could have a happy ending it would be fantastic but whatever you end up doing will be wonderful.

Have a nice day and week💖💖

Didn’t Mean It

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort basically, Hotch is kinda dumb in the beginning

A/n: this was a cute request, really enjoyed this one :)

——————————-

“This is stupid Hotch.” You sigh as you collapse on the chair in front of his desk. I did what I was supposed to do. I did my job.” He shakes his head, and clenches his fist.

“You disobeyed a direct order Y/l/n.” He stands and leans over his desk. “I specifically told you not to go in the house and you did just that!”

“There was a little girl in there. She was screaming. For all I know the unsub could have been killing her right then! What else was I supposed to do!?” You ask in return. Why couldn’t he just understand why you did what you did. He’s done the same countless times, why is it any different now?

“She was scared! And he wasn’t, it wasn’t profiled that he would.”

“Well our profiles aren’t always correct.”

“No, just yours.” You pause at that and look up at him.

“What?”

“Your profiles are inaccurate, you disobey direct orders, and you are borderline insubordinate. I’m not even sure how you are on this team. You clearly are t qualified or ready to be in the BAU.” Your heart falls at his words, and your face drops. Hotch watches the change in your expression and instantly regrets his words.

“Oh. That, uh, that really hurt.” You murmur, standing. “I didn’t realize I was such a burden to your team sir. I’ll talk to Strauss about transfer options.” You turned to walk away but stopped when a hand gripped your arm.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“That’s not, I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch-“

“No, I didn’t mean that.” You turn and face him as a tear falls down your cheek slowly. “I-“

“What Hotch. Clearly I’m not worth it.” Hotch shook his head, grabbing both of your hands in his own.

“You are so worth it.” He smiles slightly. “I just, I can’t lose you. I didn’t mean any of that. You are on of the best agents on this team. I just can’t lose you.” You tilted your head in confusion before truly understanding the meaning of his words.

“You can’t lose me?” You ask.

“I can’t lose you. You mean, you mean so much to me. More than you will ever know.” Your heart pounds rapidly out of your chest before you being yourself closer to him.

“Really?”

“Y/n, I think I might be in love with you.” A watery chuckle leaves your lips as you move your face even closer. To the point where your noses are lightly brushing eachother.

“I think I might be in love with you too Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Kiss me.” His lips touch your delicately. They’re soft but firm. He deepens the kiss after a moment. A soft sigh leaves your mouth when his hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face and pulling you in closer.

“So worth it sweetheart.” He murmurs again before sealing your lips once more.

—————————-

Thanks for reading <3

This one is so sad and soft. It's perfect💖💖💓💓

The World Can Wait

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: no matter whether he’s wearing Ferrari red or Williams blue, standing on the top step of podiums or fighting for points, you’ll love Carlos through it all

The podium is eerily quiet now. The lights are dimmed, the bright flashes of cameras long gone, and the chaotic hum of celebration has faded into nothing. The night wraps itself around the circuit like a heavy blanket, but Carlos is still there. Sitting cross-legged on the podium, the silver P2 trophy rests beside him, untouched.

You find him like this after weaving through the empty paddock, the distant sounds of dismantling garages growing fainter as you near him. At first, you’re hesitant. You stop at the base of the podium steps, watching him from the shadows.

His head is tilted back, eyes fixed on the sky, though you doubt he’s really looking at anything. The set of his shoulders is tight, his elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t notice you.

“Carlos,” you say softly, almost unsure if you should disturb him.

He doesn’t startle. Instead, his gaze drops, and he looks at you. There’s something hollow in his expression, a weariness that no trophy can mask. He doesn’t say anything, just gestures faintly with his hand for you to come up.

You climb the steps slowly, the sound of your shoes against the metal breaking the heavy silence. When you reach him, you hesitate again, standing just a few feet away.

“Are you okay?” You ask, careful, your voice low.

He exhales sharply, almost a laugh but not quite. “Am I okay?” He repeats, shaking his head. He leans forward, running both hands through his hair. “I don’t know, cariño. I don’t think I know how to answer that.”

You lower yourself down beside him, close enough that your knees brush. The chill of the night air seeps into your skin, but you ignore it, your eyes fixed on him. “Talk to me,” you urge gently. “What’s going on in your head?”

He doesn’t respond right away. For a while, the only sound is the distant murmur of the city beyond the circuit. Then he sighs, deep and heavy, as if it’s been trapped inside him all night.

“I’m just ... taking it all in,” he says finally, his voice quiet, almost broken. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stand up here again.”

The weight of his words sinks into your chest. You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm. “Carlos, don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“But I don’t know that I will, either,” he counters, turning to look at you. His dark eyes are glassy under the dim lights, his jaw tight. “It’s Williams next year. Williams. You know what everyone is saying. You know what they expect.”

“Forget what they expect,” you insist. “This isn’t the end for you. It’s just-”

“-a step back?” He interrupts, his tone bitter. He shakes his head again, lips pressing into a hard line. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it? That it’s a ‘rebuilding year,’ a ‘fresh start.’” His voice drops, softer now but no less anguished. “But what if it’s not? What if this really is the end? What if I’ve peaked, and it’s all downhill from here?”

Your heart twists at the vulnerability in his voice. You don’t know how long he’s been holding this in, how long he’s been carrying this fear. “Carlos-”

“Do you know what I thought, standing on that podium tonight?” He cuts you off, his voice thick. He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I thought, ‘This is it. This is the last time.’ I smiled, I waved, but inside I was just ... empty.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and he swallows hard, looking away from you. But you can see it — his hands trembling slightly, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

You don’t think. You just move. You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him into you. He doesn’t resist. His head drops against your chest, and that’s when it happens. The tears come fast, silent at first, then with a shuddering breath that rips through him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your hand threading through his hair. “Let it out, baby. I’ve got you.”

He clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, his arms wrapping around your waist. His tears soak through your shirt, but you don’t care. You press your cheek to the top of his head, rocking him gently. “Even if you never stand on another podium,” you whisper, your voice steady, “it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make you any less. It doesn’t make me love you any less.”

He stiffens slightly at your words, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are red, his face streaked with tears. “You say that now,” he says, his voice cracking. “But what if I can’t give you the life you deserve? What if I can’t be-”

“Stop,” you cut him off firmly, your hands cradling his face. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say you’re not enough for me. Carlos, you are everything. Do you hear me? Everything.”

His eyes search yours desperately, as if looking for something to hold onto. “Promise me,” he whispers. “Promise me you’ll still feel that way, even if ... even if everything goes wrong.”

“I promise,” you say without hesitation, your voice trembling with the weight of it. “On my life. I promise.”

He closes his eyes, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek. You wipe it away with your thumb, your fingers lingering against his skin. Then, slowly, you lean in, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing still uneven but steadier now. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” you counter, your hands slipping down to rest on his shoulders. “And if you can’t believe that right now, then believe this: I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He doesn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he pulls you back into his arms, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. And maybe, for now, that’s exactly what you are.

The night stretches on, the podium still and silent around you. But neither of you moves. The world can wait.

This one is so cute😍😍🥺🥺

"(Not) dancing in the moonlight" - teacher!Remus Lupin x teacher!reader

A/N: I was in a desperate need for something soft and winterish so uhhh here have this! <3 Headcanons? Memes? Let’s talk! My asks are here.

Warnings: setting of NYE, post-full moon Remus (minor descriptions of physical and mental discomfort), wit/sarcasm, smoking cigarettes, use of mobility aid, minor description of fireworks (hurt/comfort + fluff - mostly major fluff)

Summary: Professor Remus Lupin and his partner spend a soft NYE evening within the walls of Hogwarts. Turns out being on a teacher night duty isn’t so bad when you’re your pupils’ favourite.

Word count: 1.2K+

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist

my AO3 archive is here

"On my heart, where you're resting your head.

And you just look so beautiful.

It's like you were an angel.

Can I stop the flow of time?

Can I swim in your divine?

'Cause I don't think I'd ever leave this place."

“You’ve got options,” you said, holding up two tea bags for him to see. “Which will it be, darling?”

Remus was sitting on the leather sofa of Gryffindor’s common room with his legs propped up on a wooden coffee table.

Unfortunately, Remus ended up being assigned for a New Year’s Eve teacher duty for Gryffindor. At first, you’d been quite disappointed by the fact that you and Remus couldn’t attend New Year’s Eve ball organized in your beloved restaurant in Hogsmeade. It was your annual tradition to go there ever since you were teenagers. The tradition started after Lily and James had found the restaurant – it wasn’t very popular amongst Hogwarts students since it’s on the fancier side. But after going there once you all made a promise to save some money throughout the year so that all of you could go there at least once a year for the New Year’s Eve party. Lily particularly loved the place for the delicious food. She hadn’t been able to stop raving about it for at least a couple of days back at school.  After their passing it felt mandatory for you and Moony to keep the tradition alive.

Even if it wasn’t for the teacher duty your plans would have changed anyway – full moon had fallen right after Christmas leaving Remus drained both physically and mentally. So, the change of plans kind of worked out for the better in a way. The idea of loud crowds and dancing was obviously out of the question. As much as you wanted to enjoy an evening out, you were glad to be with him in a way that didn’t push him beyond what he could handle.

Remus squinted across the room, clearly trying to see what you were holding up, but then he gave up with a small sigh. Leaning forward, he reached for his cane and slowly made his way towards you. The soft taps of the cane against the wooden floor were the only sound besides the crackle of the fireplace.

When he reached you, he stood for a moment, his head tilting as he scanned the options you held in your hands.

“Hmm,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he reached out. He plucked one of the tea bags from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with a warmth that gave you butterflies.

“I’ll take this one.” He watched you as you carefully poured water into your mugs. You turned over your shoulder to shoo him away and make him settle on the sofa comfortably, careful not to spill the boiling hot water over yourself.

Just as you were about to hand him his mug, the portrait hole creaked open. The cold outer air mixed in with the warm, pine-scented air within the common room.

You turned your head, half-expecting it to be the Fat Lady herself popping in to complain about something. Instead, three familiar figures shuffled in, trying - and failing to move quietly.

Ron tripped, stumbling over the hem of his own robe.

“Shhh!” Hermione hissed, quickly grabbing his arm to steady him.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Ron whispered back, louder than necessary.

She sent him a deathly glare in response.

Harry, stuck in the middle, shot both of them an irritated look before glancing towards the sofa. His blue eyes widened when he spotted you and Remus, clearly realizing they weren’t as sneaky as they thought.

“Weee- we. Umm we-- weren’t expecting anyone to be up.” he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Clearly…There’s nothing more subtle than tripping over your own feet, whisper-shouting, and holding the portrait hole open like you’re inviting Filch in for tea.”

You tried really hard not to laugh at your husband's remark. His quick wit was one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place.

Ron turned bright red.

“We weren’t doing anything! Just, uh, checking to see if—”

“You’re sneaking out." you interrupted, crossing your arms completely unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. Their shenanigans reminded you so much of yourself and the rest of marauders back in the day.

“No, we’re not!” Ron protested, which would’ve been more convincing if Hermione didn’t shoot him a sharp don’t-lie-to-a-teacher look.

“Alright, fine. WE ARE sneaking out…” Harry said. Honesty was the best approach in this situation.

“We just wanted to watch the fireworks over the lake. We’ll come right back, I promise.”

You exchanged a glance with Remus, who took a slow sip of his tea, clearly dragging out the suspense just to mess with them. You poked his side noticing Hermione’s pale face.

“Well,” he finally said, setting the mug down, “Fireworks over the lake, huh? Sounds nice."

“But let me guess — you haven’t thought this plan all the way through, have you?” Remus continued.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked defensively.

“We have!” Hermione said quickly, holding up a piece of fabric.

“We’ve got the invisibility cloak.”

Remus tilted his head, looking at the cloak with mock seriousness.

“And how, exactly, are you planning to fit all three of you under it?”

Ron looked down at his feet.

“It might be a liiiittle bit snug.” You shook your head.

“Remus, just let them go. If they get caught, they will have something funny to talk about.”

Remus sighed dramatically, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Fine. But,” he said, pointing a finger at them, “if you get caught, don’t come crying to me and professor Y/N.”

“Deal!” Harry said quickly, nudging Ron and Hermione back toward the portrait hole.

“Happy New Year!” Ron called over his shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late professor Lupin — you’re looking a bit peaky! Good night professor Lupin II! Love you both!”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head.

The portrait closed, and you tucked yourself into his side.

“I swear to merlin that boy has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.”

He looked down to search through his pocket to grab his cigarette box and a lighter.

“We’re such pushovers for them.” You said laughing.

“Maybe so,” he admitted with a sincere smile.

He held out his cigarette box motioning to the balcony.

“Fancy a smoke ma’am?”

“Baaad, bad influence Lupin.“

He smirked, lighting his cigarette as he held the balcony door open for you.

“I’ve been called worse.”

You stepped out into the crisp night air, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“But ‘bad influence’ suits you tonight.” He lit your cigarette.

“Only on special occasions.” he said with a grin, blowing a stream of smoke.

“I can’t believe Ron called me ‘Professor Lupin II’.”

“See? You’re the second Lupin on the list. Maybe being soft isn’t so bad hun.“

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. He wrapped his arm around your waist and huffed with laughter into your hair.

In the distance, you could see the first flash of fireworks lighting up the sky over the lake, shimmering almost like falling stars, leaving a trail of glowing sparks that slowly disappeared into the night.

“Happy new year love.”

Thank you for reading! stay whelmed xx

I'm going to cry😢😢 It's so good

a hug from peter would solve all my problems 😭 can you write something where peter hugs reader i'm sorry it's vague but i just need a hug but it's okay if you choose to not write it </3

same here babe same here :) i hope this is okay — peter visits you at your work and literally that's all you needed | sad/anxious reader, wc : 0.8k

The office has been busy today. It's scary, suffocating and you hate the way the files on your desk just keeps on increasing with every passing minute.

It's lunch time and you're staring at the desktop screen, not in the mood to eat or drink or do anything. You just want to finish everything that is left and leave for home.

You woke up with an aching dread in your chest, heavy and unbearable. Heart pounding so loud in your ear and yet you pushed yourself out of your bed. Though now you regret doing it.

But in your defence it wasn't something new, worrying is like a second nature to you and it has been since forever, so you did what you're good at. Pushing your limits. Even if it felt heavier than the other days for some reason.

The feeling intensified when you found a sticky note on the bedside table that said Peter had to leave earlier than usual because his boss, Mr.Jameson was in a funny mood today.

When he is not though?

And with that you forced yourself to brush your teeth, to take a shower, to look presentable for your day. You forced yourself to work, forced yourself to smile when your coworkers smiled at you. No matter how exhausted you're feeling you somehow manage to do every single task that you're supposed to do.

It's when your colleague calls your name that you blink out of your muddled thoughts.

“Your boyfriend is here.” your colleague smiles and then you smile too. It's the only good thing about the day, getting to see him. In fact Peter is the only good thing in your life. Him and Aunt May to be precise.

You make your way downstairs and find him at the reception, standing in a corner he's looking outside the glass window, bag hugging his back, earphones wired in. Pretty as ever as he patiently waits for you.

He pulls the earphones out when he sees you. It's less crowded here since everybody is out for lunch, it's just you, him and two others from the cleaning staff.

“Hey, baby” Peter smiles, as you near him, hand reaching to hold yours.

“Hey, yourself.” You greet. The lump in your throat tightens at his touch.

“I'm sorry, I didn't call, I-I saw your texts but I was kinda stuck somewhere, and then I figured maybe I should just come here and see my girl.”

My girl. It's not the first that he has referred you as his girl but it affects you the same way each time.

Your nose stings and you think you're going to cry. You're sad. exhausted. And you missed him so much.

“Please don't be sorry, Pete. I understand you're busy.” you say, leaning into his chest, arms limp at your sides. Wordlessly, he needles his arms around you. You didn't realise that you needed this- that you needed him to hug you, until you got it.

“Bad day?” his chest rumbles as he speaks. You nod, your nose rubbing against his shirt as you do so. He smells like your detergent, his cologne and coffee and something smokey.

And it happens before you can stop it, your feelings come crashing down at you in the form of tears, his hold around you tightens, hot tears soaking through his shirt.

“Hey, hey, baby.” he whispers, petting your hair. “Everything is fine. I'm here. You're safe.”

You know you're safe, it's the safest place in the whole world. His arms. Peter knows it too but he also knows how louder things get in your head sometimes. Which is why he tells you again and he'd do it every time you need him to remind you that you're safe ; that he is safe and that the world is not on fire.

You stand there, in that corner for quite some time, holding him close listening to his calming voice, his heartbeat.

“I'm sorry, You came here to see me and I just-” you sniff, pulling back. “ I don't even know why I am crying.” well you kind of know but it's hard to explain with words. Like it's so many things but also nothing at the same time. It seems pointless but you can't help the way you're feeling.

“No more sorrys, bub.” he urges. “What do you have a boyfriend for?” he brackets your cheeks between his palms and smiles before leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Hug me all you want, I'm all yours.” his lips hot against the soft skin as he kisses each of your damp eyelids.

“How are you feeling? If it's too much then we can leave, I'm sure your boss won't mind, would he?”

“I'm feeling much better, all thanks to you .” you mumble, eyes closed, arms snaking around his waist.

“You're amazing, you know that right?”

“Nope, you are.” a peck on your nose.

“Excuse me, I'm complimenting you here, so shut up and take it.” your lips curve upwards, your first smile since he showed up here.

“Okay.” Peter says as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into a hug again. “I'm amazing.”

Not more than you. He thinks. The smile on his face is unmatchable.

This is a piece of art. I'm almost crying and I'm in class, so I can't. It's perfect and now I need a part 2 to see how he suffers when he realises that she's not his and it's never coming back. I don't care if she's with Oscar or not, I just need to hug her and see that she's happy. Thank you for your amazing writing and for the time spent creating this beautiful thing. 💖💖❤️❤️

HEAR ME (PURPLE LACED BRA) | LN4

an: i've been dying to post something to this so i'm glad i finally have something written - hope you guys enjoy it! go listen to so close to what!!

wc: 4.6k

THE MUSIC WAS DEAFENING, the bass shaking the floor beneath her heels, but she barely heard it. She stood at the edge of the VIP section, half-watching the celebration unfold in front of her. The club was packed—champagne bottles with sparklers, models draped over the backs of velvet sofas, cameras flashing every few seconds. And at the centre of it all was Lando.

He was grinning, drink in hand, surrounded by his team and a few celebrities she half-recognised. Another win. Another podium. Another reason for the world to love him. And they did—God, they did. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

She used to feel lucky just to stand beside him. Now, she wasn’t sure if she even existed in his world at all.

A hand brushed against the small of her back. She startled, turning to see Lando looking down at her with that easy, practised smirk—the one that melted screens and made headlines.

“Where’ve you disappeared to?” he asked, pulling her into his side. His hand rested low on her waist, fingers playing at the hem of her dress. He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning down, his lips grazing her ear. “Come on, don’t do that thing where you get all quiet on me.”

Her jaw clenched. He said it like it was a mood she put on, like she was being difficult. But what was the point of speaking when he never heard her?

So she did what she always did. She tilted her head, plastered on a smile, let him pull her closer. He liked her like this—silent, beautiful, easy.

A photographer stepped forward, camera ready. Lando straightened, his grip tightening just slightly, and just like that, she knew her role. She shifted towards him, leant into the picture, let them capture exactly what they wanted: The driver and his perfect girl.

But she was starting to wonder if that was all she would ever be.

The camera flash flickered, catching the sharp angles of Lando’s jaw, the gleam of his watch, the perfect way her body fit against his. The photographer gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already chasing after someone else worth capturing.

Lando exhaled through his nose, his grip on her easing now that the moment had passed. “See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Was that so hard?”

Her smile didn’t waver. It never did. But something in her chest twisted so tightly she almost felt breathless.

He turned back to his conversation, already lost in some animated discussion about the race, his hands moving as he recounted the final laps. She knew the words before they left his mouth—the same adrenaline-fuelled debrief he gave after every win. The late braking, the perfect strategy call, the rivals he left in his dust.

He was electric when he spoke about racing. It was the only time she ever saw him truly alive.

She used to love watching him like this. Now, she just felt like a shadow beside him.

Her fingers skimmed the rim of her untouched drink as she scanned the room. Everywhere she looked, people were watching him. Not her. Never her. She could disappear right now and no one would notice.

Well—almost no one.

Lando’s teammates, Oscar, was watching her from across the table. He had that knowing look in his eye, the one that made her stomach twist. He always seemed to see things, things she wasn’t ready to admit.

She turned away before he could say anything.

“I’m going to the loo,” she said quietly, but Lando didn’t even glance at her. He just gave a distracted nod, still deep in conversation.

Of course.

She stepped away, weaving through the throng of people, their laughter and shouting merging into white noise. The ladies’ toilets were tucked behind a velvet curtain, far enough from the chaos that the music was just a dull thud in the walls. She pushed open the door and exhaled, gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked exactly how she was supposed to. The perfect dress, the flawless makeup, the effortless kind of beauty that people expected from the girlfriend of a star.

But looking perfect had never felt so exhausting.

The door swung open behind her, and she braced herself, half-expecting one of the other WAGs to stroll in. Instead, it was Oscar.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. “You alright?”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Maybe.” His gaze didn’t waver. “But I think you should hear yourself answer it.”

Her throat tightened.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t alright. And she was starting to think she never had been.

She turned back to the mirror, gripping the porcelain edge of the sink as if it could steady her. Behind her, Oscar hadn’t moved. He wasn’t pushing her to answer, but his silence said enough.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing the words out smoothly. Too smoothly.

Oscar huffed a quiet breath, tilting his head slightly. “That’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, and for a second, something flickered in her chest—something that made her want to fold, to speak, to say all the things she’d been swallowing down for too long.

But what was the point? She could scream at the top of her lungs, and Lando still wouldn’t hear her.

She turned away, brushing past Oscar as she pulled open the door. “I should get back.”

“Should you?” His voice was quiet but steady.

She paused.

Oscar sighed, shifting his weight. “Look, I know it’s not my business, but I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look when he’s not.”

Her breath hitched slightly. She hated that he noticed. She hated that someone had caught onto the thing she’d spent months trying to ignore.

Still, she forced a light laugh, giving him an amused glance over her shoulder. “You analysing me now?”

His lips twitched. “You could say that. You know, body positioning determines whether or not someone’s actually listening.”

The words sent a sharp pang through her chest.

Because Lando never did listen. She could whisper in his ear, touch him, scream until her throat was raw—but the only time he truly paid attention was when she was undressing, when she was playing the role he wanted her to. And maybe she’d accepted that for a while, maybe she’d let herself believe that was just part of loving someone like him.

But now… now it felt suffocating.

Her phone buzzed.

Lando: Where’d you go? Come back.

No “Are you okay?” No “Do you need me?” Just come back. Like she was a misplaced watch or a forgotten drink.

She swallowed the bitter lump in her throat, forcing another easy smile as she tucked her phone away. “I should go.”

Oscar didn’t stop her. He just nodded, but the look in his eyes stayed with her as she slipped back into the club, where Lando was waiting.

Waiting for her.

Not her thoughts, not her words, not the things that made her her. Just her body, her presence, her silence.

And she was starting to wonder if that was all she’d ever be to him.

The night dragged on. More drinks, more cameras, more mindless conversations she wasn’t part of. She stayed close to Lando, playing the role as she always did, but she felt herself slipping further and further away.

By the time he decided they were leaving, she felt like a ghost in her own body.

As Lando shook hands and exchanged goodbyes with the people that mattered, she glanced towards the bar, her eyes catching on Oscar.

He was already looking at her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something steady in his gaze—something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

Before she could stop herself, she gave him a small, tired smile.

Oscar didn’t smile back, but the way his jaw clenched slightly told her enough.

Lando’s hand landed on her hip, pulling her back into focus. “Come on,” he murmured, already leading her towards the exit, towards his car, towards another night of being exactly what he wanted.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the McLaren filling the silence between them. Lando was relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on her bare thigh.

She stared out the window, watching the city blur past, her thoughts tangled.

Would he hear me more if I whispered? If I touched him the way he wanted? If I played this part forever?

Would he ever hear me?

She barely realised they’d arrived until the car pulled smoothly into the hotel’s private entrance. The valet opened her door, and she stepped out into the warm night air, still feeling that lingering touch on her skin.

The lift ride was just as silent. Lando didn’t notice—he was scrolling through his phone, probably checking messages, reading about his win, soaking in the world’s praise.

She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself.

The moment they stepped into their suite, the tension shifted.

Before she could even take a breath, Lando’s hands were on her, spinning her towards him.

She barely had time to react before he had her pressed against the wall, his body firm against hers, his lips brushing against her neck. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he murmured against her skin.

She swallowed, her hands coming up to his chest, pushing lightly. “I’m tired.”

Lando barely hesitated. “Come on,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her jaw, his hands sliding over her hips. “Don’t do that.”

That.

That meaning the exhaustion in her voice. That meaning the part of her that wanted something more than this.

“I’m not in the mood, Lando.” Her voice was firmer this time.

He let out a sharp exhale, pulling back just enough to look at her properly. His dark eyes scanned her face, and for a second, she thought—hoped—that maybe he’d see something. Maybe he’d hear something.

But then he just scoffed. “You’re always bloody tired these days.”

And just like that, she knew.

There was no concern in his voice. No question of what was wrong. No care for why she felt like this, for why she had been drifting further and further from him. Just frustration. Just disappointment that she wasn’t giving him what he wanted.

She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as something inside her cracked wide open. “I think I’m going to take a bath.”

Lando studied her for a moment longer, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. “Yeah, whatever.”

And then—just like that—he turned and walked out of the suite, the door clicking shut behind him.

She stood there, frozen.

Not surprised. Not angry.

Just… empty.

And that was the worst part.

She moved through the next couple of hours on autopilot.

She took off her makeup, wiped away the remnants of the night. She ran a bath but barely stayed in it long enough for the heat to sink into her skin. She changed into one of Lando’s oversized shirts, something she always did before bed—more out of habit than comfort now.

And then she sat.

Just sat on the edge of their bed, staring at nothing, the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. The weight in her chest pressed heavier and heavier until it finally cracked, and before she even realised it, tears spilled over her cheeks.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to blink them away. What the hell is wrong with me?

It wasn’t like this was new. Lando had always been like this. She had always been an accessory to him, something to be looked at, shown off, touched when it suited him.

But tonight felt different.

Tonight, she had said no. And he had walked away like she was nothing more than an inconvenience.

A quiet sob broke from her throat, and she buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

She didn’t even hear the door open at first.

It wasn’t until she caught the heavy thud of something hitting the sofa that she jolted upright, quickly wiping at her tear-streaked face. Her heart pounded as she turned towards the noise, her breath catching in her throat.

Lando was slumped on the suite’s sofa, looking barely conscious. And standing over him, an arm still half-draped around his shoulders, was Oscar.

Her stomach twisted. “What—?”

Oscar let out a breath, straightening up and shaking his head. “Your boyfriend’s had one too many.”

Her eyes flickered back to Lando. His head lolled against the cushion, his shirt slightly rumpled, his hair a mess. He was clearly out of it.

She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Where did you find him?”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, looking both exasperated and unimpressed. “Slumped in the back of the club, surrounded by people who were more interested in snapping pictures of him than making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Figured you might want to know.”

Her chest tightened.

Of course. Of course this was how he handled things—getting wasted, drowning himself in attention that didn’t require him to actually feel anything. It was easier than facing his own reflection.

Or maybe… it was easier than facing her.

She let out a slow breath, rubbing at her temple. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

Oscar nodded but didn’t move. He was watching her carefully, like he could still see too much.

Like maybe, just maybe, he knew she had been sitting here crying before he walked in.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “You don’t have to stay.”

Oscar hesitated for half a second before his jaw tightened, and he gave a small, reluctant nod. “Alright.”

But as he moved towards the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You know… if you ever get tired of this,” he gestured vaguely to Lando’s slumped form, “you don’t have to stay.”

Her throat closed up.

Oscar didn’t wait for an answer. He just slipped out the door, leaving her alone with the man who was supposed to love her.

But as she sat there, staring at Lando—passed out, blissfully unaware—she realised something.

She had never felt lonelier in her life.

She sat down on the floor beside the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest. The carpet was soft beneath her, but everything else felt unbearably sharp.

Her gaze flickered over Lando’s face—the strong jawline, the perfect cheekbones, the dark lashes that cast faint shadows against his skin. He looked almost peaceful like this, lost in whatever drunken haze he had drowned himself in.

Her chest ached as she reached out, fingers threading gently through his hair. It was soft beneath her touch, familiar in a way that made her heart hurt even more.

A quiet sob broke from her lips as she whispered, “Why wasn’t I enough?”

She had loved him so fiercely. She had stood by him, supported him, adored him. She had been everything he wanted her to be—poised, beautiful, silent when it mattered.

And yet, as she sat there, her tears slipping onto the fabric of his shirt, she finally understood.

She had fallen in love with him. But he had only ever fallen in love with her body.

Her hands curled into fists in his shirt as a quiet, broken sound left her throat. She had spent so long trying to be heard, to be seen, but the truth was devastatingly simple. Lando had never wanted to know her. He had never cared about her thoughts, her fears, her soul.

Only how she looked standing beside him. Only how she felt beneath him.

A shaky breath shuddered through her as she slowly pulled back.

Her gaze landed on his phone, lying loosely in his hand.

For a long moment, she just stared at it.

Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she carefully pried it from his grip. He didn’t stir. She tilted it towards his face, and with a soft sound, the lock screen vanished.

Her heart pounded as she pulled up his messages, ready to text Oscar.

But she never got that far.

Because the moment she opened his messages, her stomach dropped.

Hundreds.

Hundreds of messages.

All from different girls.

Some were old, buried beneath months of conversations. Others were recent. Some from tonight.

Her breath caught in her throat as she scrolled. He hadn’t even bothered to be subtle. Flirty messages, suggestive photos, hotel room numbers exchanged without hesitation.

Like it was nothing.

Like she was nothing.

A sharp, painful lump formed in her throat, but no more tears came. Maybe because there was nothing left to grieve.

Because the man she thought she loved?

He had never existed.

Her hands shook slightly as she backed out of the messages and pulled up his texts. She typed quickly, her fingers moving without hesitation.

Lando: What’s your room number?

The reply came almost instantly.

Oscar: Why?

She swallowed hard, staring at the screen. Then, without another thought, she typed back.

Lando: Please. Just tell me.

There was a long pause. Then—

Oscar: 2209.

She exhaled slowly, then locked the phone and set it back beside Lando.

For the first time in a long, long time, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

And for the first time—she wasn’t going to ask for permission.

She didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t stop to second-guess herself.

For so long, she had been trapped in this cycle—ignoring the things she didn’t want to see, pretending everything was fine. But now? The truth had cracked open in front of her, and there was no going back.

She stood up, wiping at her face, even though no more tears had fallen. Her body felt strangely light, like the weight pressing down on her for months had finally started to lift.

But she wasn’t free yet.

She grabbed a bag from the wardrobe, moving quickly, shoving in the essentials—her passport, her wallet, a few clothes. Enough to get her away from here, away from him.

She hesitated when she reached for one of Lando’s oversized shirts—the one she was still wearing. Then, with a bitter exhale, she pulled it off, yanking on a cropped tank top and a pair of shorts instead.

This wasn’t his to keep anymore.

Without a second glance, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out of the suite, her pulse hammering as she stepped into the empty hallway.

She didn’t look back.

The corridor outside 2209 was quiet.

Her hands felt clammy as she knocked once. A part of her expected Oscar to ignore it, to assume it was Lando being drunk and annoying.

But after a moment, the door cracked open, and Oscar stood there, his brows pulling together the second he saw her.

“What the hell—?”

“I—” Her voice wavered, and suddenly, everything hit her all at once. The weight of the last few hours. The betrayal. The realisation that the man she had given her heart to had never truly wanted it in the first place.

She dropped her gaze, blinking hard. “I can’t—I can’t stay there.”

Oscar was silent for a beat. Then, without another word, he stepped aside, pulling the door open wider.

She hesitated, guilt twisting in her stomach. “I—I’ll book my own room. I just—needed to get out.”

Oscar’s jaw tensed, his eyes scanning her face. “You’re not booking a hotel at—” he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, “—two in the bloody morning.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet huff. “For fuck’s sake, just—get in.”

Her throat closed up, but she nodded, stepping inside as he shut the door behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with herself. The adrenaline that had carried her here was wearing off, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and heartbreak.

She felt Oscar watching her.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” His voice was steady. Not pushing, not demanding. Just there.

That was what undid her.

Because when was the last time anyone had asked her how she felt? When was the last time someone had wanted to hear what she had to say—without conditions, without expectations?

Her shoulders shook as she sucked in a breath, her hand coming up to cover her face.

And then she broke.

A strangled sob ripped from her throat as she sank onto the edge of the bed, the tears she had been holding back finally crashing over her.

Oscar didn’t say anything.

He just moved.

She barely registered it at first—the dip of the mattress beside her, the way his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest.

For a moment, she stiffened. She wasn’t used to this—to comfort without expectation. But Oscar just held her, warm and solid, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

She sobbed harder.

“He never loved me,” she whispered through the tears, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. “I—I thought he did, but he just—he just loved the way I looked. The way I made him look.”

Oscar’s grip on her tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. “I know.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “I was so stupid.”

Oscar exhaled sharply. “You weren’t stupid.”

She let out a hollow laugh. “Then what was I?”

Oscar was quiet for a long time. Then—

“You were in love.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because she still was.

Oscar didn’t pull away. He just kept holding her, letting her cry against him. His hands were steady on her back, his touch warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her own shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, voice muffled in his shirt, her tears soaking into the fabric. “I thought… I thought I could fix it. But I don’t even know who he is anymore. Or who I am to him.”

Oscar’s hand smoothed through her hair, the motion gentle. “You don’t have to fix anything, alright?” he said softly, his voice low and comforting. “You don’t owe him anything. You only owe yourself the truth.”

She nodded weakly, though it felt like a hundred-pound weight was sitting on her chest.

He let her cry for as long as she needed, and when the sobs finally slowed, he shifted slightly, coaxing her to lie down.

“Let me get you into bed,” he murmured.

She wanted to protest, but she was too tired—physically and emotionally—so she allowed him to help her, shifting her legs as he gently guided her onto the mattress. Oscar tucked the blanket around her and, for a moment, just stood there, looking down at her.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she managed to lift her head slightly to meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, barely a whisper.

Oscar gave her a small smile, but there was no mockery, no playfulness in it—just something real. “Get some sleep. I’m right here.”

She didn’t have the strength to say anything else. Her eyes fluttered shut, and before she knew it, the exhaustion of the day caught up with her.

When she woke up, the room was bathed in the soft morning light. She blinked a few times, groggy, trying to remember where she was, what had happened.

Then the events of the night came flooding back, and her chest squeezed with pain.

But as she stirred beneath the covers, she realised the weight on her was gone. There was no harshness, no cold emptiness pressing in on her. Instead, she smelled something familiar. Something warm.

She turned her head, and there, sitting at the desk, was Oscar.

He was holding a tray with a simple breakfast—croissants, fruit, and coffee. “Morning,” he said with a small smile, looking up from the screen of his phone.

Her stomach grumbled, and she smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture more than she could express. “I didn’t expect this,” she murmured, sitting up slowly.

Oscar grinned, though there was something soft in his eyes. “Well, you’ve had a rough night, haven’t you? Figured you could use something other than room service for a change.”

She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

After a few moments of eating in silence, she reached for her phone. The screen lit up with a message notification—nothing from Lando.

Her heart skipped, but she told herself not to feel disappointed.

She unlocked her phone and opened Instagram, the app taking a moment to load. She tapped through her feed absentmindedly, but her thumb froze as her eyes landed on a photo—Lando, in his usual athletic wear, standing on a padel court, laughing with some other drivers.

He hadn’t noticed.

She stared at the photo for a long, long time.

He hadn’t even thought to message her.

There it was again. That crushing, suffocating truth.

She had spent the entire night worrying about him, about why he hadn’t cared, about why he had left her feeling like this.

And there he was, looking perfectly fine. Having fun. Living his life without a single care in the world about what she had gone through.

Her breath hitched, and she set her phone down, her hands trembling.

It hit her all over again—the truth that Lando had never cared about her in the way she had hoped. He never would.

The realisation was sharp and brutal. And this time, it didn’t feel like the first time she had felt heartbroken—it felt like the first time she had truly woken up.

She looked up at Oscar, her breath still shaky. He was watching her, waiting for something.

“Lando’s out there,” she whispered, her voice a little too quiet, too small. “He’s out there, laughing, living his life, like nothing happened.”

Oscar nodded, but his expression wasn’t pitying. It wasn’t anything like the way Lando would have looked at her in that moment. “Yeah. He is.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, and he set the breakfast tray down beside her. He sat next to her on the bed, his hand brushing hers. “You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

She met his eyes, and this time, there was a calmness inside her—a stillness, like she was beginning to see herself for the first time in forever.

“I’m not going to let you stay in that toxic shit,” Oscar said, his voice steady. “You’ve already put up with it for too long. But if you need time, I’m here.”

She didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling, but for once, she didn’t need to.

“Thank you,” she whispered again, the words feeling like the most sincere thing she’d said in a long time.

And in that moment, as she sat beside Oscar, she realised—maybe she could finally let go. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing things with Lando. Maybe it was about fixing herself.

the end.

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