#1 is sir
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leonardburton · 1 year ago
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rpg genderqueer pc mechanic where you roll a dice to see how people perceive your gender. is that anything
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edgy-senju · 10 months ago
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Episode 8 was so fun!
Also angel Pentious would absolutely complain that he misses his Eggs at least 10 times a day.
[Commissions open!]
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sweet-marigold · 10 months ago
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Saint pentious!
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deadpoolsmom · 4 months ago
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as far as one piece antagonists go Crocodile truly gets absolutely scooby-doo’d at unmatched levels
He immediately falls for a phone scam and from basically little garden to rainbase he doesn’t even know the strawhats are alive (and clowning towards him at incredible speed). As soon as he does, they’re in his house tearing at his walls and bringing marines into his villain lair.
He uses a literal floor trap door over a gator pit to catch them, gets phone scammed again, full scooby-doo chase scenes after Chopper through the streets while still missing him, and suddenly his prisoners have escaped his impossible cage, and his giant bananagators are dead. and Nico Robin saw it all happen.
He then spends rest of the arc complaining about those meddling kids and their dog “strawhat pirates and their weird pet” and at no point does he even know how many strawhats there are.
Like yeah he keeps having plans on top of plans to stop everything Vivi can do but also she keeps coming up with a new thing to do (Tom and Jerry ass dynamic).
Part of it is that he’s underestimating them and keeps grandstanding villain monologuing but also teens keep killing hundreds of his grand line bounty hunters and he straight up does not know what is happening.
Cause he IS trying to kill them he’s sending top assassins after them and ripping out luffy’s organs, the whole time he’s yelling HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?? DIE. as whack-a-mole Luffy keeps inventing new ways to hit him.
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sir-dahlia · 2 months ago
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at the dangerous market..........buying groceries lethally......
original idea by @ctrl-alt-deleting-yr-face
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quarter-lif3crisis · 9 months ago
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F1 x AO3 tags
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cakewentmissing · 10 months ago
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hes just a lil baby
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quadrilogical · 2 months ago
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Sir Jackie Stewart, president of the Lando Norris fan club
If you don’t like Lando, just remember your favourite driver probably does
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artkaninchenbau · 11 months ago
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I need Hancock to join Cross Guild so bad
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mrsfancyferrari · 28 days ago
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Wild Imagination
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Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton
Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE
Part 2
Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
Word count: 20.8k
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As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.
The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.
You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.
The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.
“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”
“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”
Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”
As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.
“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”
“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”
You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.
Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.
“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”
“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.
“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.
As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.
You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.
Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”
The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”
You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.
“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”
She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”
You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”
As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.
“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"
You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"
"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.
"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"
David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."
You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.
As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.
Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.
To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.
Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.
"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."
Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."
You were taken aback. He knew your name?
The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."
He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."
Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."
Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."
You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.
"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."
He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."
Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."
You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."
He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."
Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."
As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.
"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."
You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."
He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."
Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."
You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."
Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."
He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.
As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.
"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"
You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.
It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.
The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.
Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.
"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.
After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?
You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.
The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.
You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.
As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.
The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.
Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.
"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.
"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.
With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .
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Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.
The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.
Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.
Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.
The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.
The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.
The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.
You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .
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The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.
But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.
Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.
They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.
You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.
As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.
But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.
You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.
Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.
As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.
With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.
The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.
After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.
Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.
"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.
You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.
His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.
"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.
It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."
The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.
Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.
"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.
It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.
The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.
Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.
"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.
The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.
Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.
"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.
Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.
The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.
In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.
Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.
"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.
"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.
Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.
His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.
At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.
However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.
"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.
You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.
Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.
In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.
When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.
You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.
Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?
Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.
You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.
The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.
As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.
His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.
You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.
“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”
Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.
The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.
��Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.
With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”
He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”
Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.
You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”
“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.
He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”
You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”
“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.
You felt like you might burst from happiness.
Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.
He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.
"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.
You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.
You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.
As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.
You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.
“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”
With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.
You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.
As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.
You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.
Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.
This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.
After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.
Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.
You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.
But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.
David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."
The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.
With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.
It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.
Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.
You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.
The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.
You looked stunning—and vulnerable.
It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.
You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.
Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.
When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.
"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.
An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.
“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.
Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.
The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.
A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.
“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”
The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.
The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.
“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.
You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.
His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”
It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.
You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.
“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.
The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.
It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.
“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.
You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.
“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.
His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.
It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.
“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.
“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.
You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.
The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.
You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.
After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.
Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.
How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?
His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.
“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.
You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.
“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .
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The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.
Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.
"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."
"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.
The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.
"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.
Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.
"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.
Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.
You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.
"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.
As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.
He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.
"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.
The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.
In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"
When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.
"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.
The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.
Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.
"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.
"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"
"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .
Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.
Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."
You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.
"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.
"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.
With that, there was no arguing.
When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.
And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.
"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.
"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.
He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.
As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.
A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.
"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."
You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."
His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.
"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."
Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.
The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.
As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.
His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.
You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.
After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.
“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.
“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.
Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”
He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.
You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”
His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”
“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”
“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.
“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”
He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”
You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”
With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.
As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.
You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.
You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.
My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.
“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.
He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.
To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”
What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.
The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.
“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.
The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.
He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .
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As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.
Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.
Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.
You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.
Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.
Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.
You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.
You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.
Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.
Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.
You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.
Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.
You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.
The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.
For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.
A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”
Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.
To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.
“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.
With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.
You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.
The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.
With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.
The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.
As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.
The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.
But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.
The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.
As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.
You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.
You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.
The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.
Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.
They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.
Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.
You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.
"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.
You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.
Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.
In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.
You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.
“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.
“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.
“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.
In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.
With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.
But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.
Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.
As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.
You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."
The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.
You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.
Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .
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You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.
While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.
It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.
As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.
“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.
Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.
In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.
But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.
“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.
“Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.
His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.
“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.
There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.
Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.
As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.
The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.
A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.
What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?
A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.
But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.
He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.
There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.
“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.
Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.
A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.
The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.
Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.
“Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.
“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.
This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.
As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.
As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.
You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.
The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.
And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.
As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.
In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.
You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.
The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.
As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.
The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.
He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”
You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.
“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.
“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”
You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”
“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.
“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.
“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”
“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”
Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”
“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”
You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”
He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”
As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”
“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”
As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.
Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.
"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.
"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.
The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.
"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"
"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.
You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .
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The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.
As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.
You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.
The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.
You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.
After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.
You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.
But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.
It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.
As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.
The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.
Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.
His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.
“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.
You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.
We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.
“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.
You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.
The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.
The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.
Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.
Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.
Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.
You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.
“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.
Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.
His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.
My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.
Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.
You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.
Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.
The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.
Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.
Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.
You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.
Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.
As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.
“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.
Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.
“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.
Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.
The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.
“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.
Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.
“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.
My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.
The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.
“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.
You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.
“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.
As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.
“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”
His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.
“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.
There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.
As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.
“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.
Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.
The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.
Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.
“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.
“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.
His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”
The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.
“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.
“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”
“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.
“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.
You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.
“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.
“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”
The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.
You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.
You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.
“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”
“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.
You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.
"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.
"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.
"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"
You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.
"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.
The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.
"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.
As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.
You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.
"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.
As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"
A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.
"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.
You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.
The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.
Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.
The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.
But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.
"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.
"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.
"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.
You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"
Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.
And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.
As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”
You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”
With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.
As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”
“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”
You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.
“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.
“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.
“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.
His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”
“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.
“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.
Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.
You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.
“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”
After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”
Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”
You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”
Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.
In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.
"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.
Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.
As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.
“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.
Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.
You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.
He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.
“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”
Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.
You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”
“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”
As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.
“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.
Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”
As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”
Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”
"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.
"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.
Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.
The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.
Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.
“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.
You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.
“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.
There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.
“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.
But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.
“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.
You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.
“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.
“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.
“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.
You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.
“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.
“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.
You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.
The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.
Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”
“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.
“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.
As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.
The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.
The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.
When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .
“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.
The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.
But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.
“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.
Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.
“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”
The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.
The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.
“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.
Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."
Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.
Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.
Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.
“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.
"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.
Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.
With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.
“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.
Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”
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You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.
You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.
As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.
But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.
You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.
Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.
Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.
Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.
Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.
The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.
“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.
Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.
Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.
Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.
As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.
“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.
“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.
As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.
And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .
The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.
Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.
Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.
“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.
As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”
With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.
“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”
You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.
By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.
Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.
A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.
He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.
“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.
“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.
The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.
“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.
Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.
“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”
Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”
Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”
Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.
You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.
The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.
You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.
Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.
“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.
You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.
“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”
The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.
You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.
Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You… What?” he stammered, processing your confession.
“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”
The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”
“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”
Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.
The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.
"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.
Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.
"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.
“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.
"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.
“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.
The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.
He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.
You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.
“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”
With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.
His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.
You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.
“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”
It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.
"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.
A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.
And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."
You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.
“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.
His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.
The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.
You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.
As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.
The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.
You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.
Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.
He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.
Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.
It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.
"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.
His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,
“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.
You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.
You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.
His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.
"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.
The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.
Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.
You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.
“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.
The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”
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muzsmocsing · 2 months ago
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The most problematic thing about Hua Cheng isn't the debauched city he runs or the statue drama or even the murders. It's how he didn't let Quan Yizhen ride the spooky skeleton drawn golden carriage even though he clearly really really wanted to.
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vroom-vrooms · 7 months ago
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I… um… yeah I just… I gotta… give me a…
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… no yeah… I just gotta… excuse me… Maybe I… Uh…
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starkwlkr · 6 months ago
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mum said no | lewis hamilton
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an: i love hot ones <3 that’s all
After canceling many times, Lewis finally made his appearance on Hot Ones with Sean Evans. He was a big fan of the show so he was happy to finally get to be a guest. Not only was he a big fan, but so was his eleven year old daughter, Maeve, so naturally she accompanied him to the set.
Maeve Hamilton watched as her dad ate spicy wings and answered questions. When talking about Roscoe, Maeve payed close attention. She loved talking about Roscoe so much.
On the monitor, a picture of Roscoe and Maeve appeared. Maeve was wearing a black Lewis shirt that her mum had bought from an Etsy store while Roscoe licked her face. It was the British Grand Prix and Maeve, along with her sisters, was beyond excited.
“Look, Mavy, that’s you and Roscoe!” Lewis pointed to the screen. “That was taken last year. Do you remember?” Lewis asked his daughter.
Maeve looked at the picture and nodded. “Angela took it!”
“Is your family always at the races?” Sean asked.
“Most of the time during the summer, yeah. It’s always a great time when they’re in the garage, but when it’s school time, they stay home with their mum.” Lewis explained. “They don’t like that at all. But I always tell them education comes first.”
“But I get lots of good grades.” Maeve cut in.
“What’s your favorite subject?” Sean asked the girl.
“I like science.” Replied Maeve.
As the show went on, Maeve was seated next to the camera crew, laughing at her father. He was now taking bigger bites.
“You can do it!” Maeve cheered on.
“Thank you, baby. Love you.” Lewis chuckled and blew a kiss to the girl. “I can always count on my girls to cheer me on.”
“On the topic of family, is it possible that Formula One could get another Hamilton on the track? Or do they want to go into other careers?” Sean asked.
“At one point, they did say they wanted to, but now they’re discovering more careers that they’re interested in. I will support them in whatever choice they make.”
You and Lewis both knew that your daughters would never be Formula one drivers. You both talked about how hard it would be on them. He saw how fans were tough on Mick. He didn’t want his girls to go through that.
The wings got spicier and all Maeve could do was laugh at the faces Lewis was making. He drank milk but that barely helped. Tears were starting to come out his eyes. Maeve noticed and quickly went to her father’s side and used a clean napkin to clean the tears since she didn’t want him using his own hands that were covered in sauce.
“Thank you, baby.” Lewis said as Maeve cleaned up the tears.
“What kind of reaction do you get when somone pulls up alongside of you and then sees that it’s, you know, Lewis Hamilton behind the wheel next to them?” Sean questioned.
“Most people are just like ‘Holy Shit!’ um. . .” Lewis chuckled.
“They’re not revving their engine at you or anything?”
“I’ve had people, yeah traffic light that wanna race yeah.” He nodded. “Definitely when I was young, I felt like yeah. . . smoke this fool.” He laughed.
“This man wanted to race you yesterday!” Maeve spoke up. “Mum said no.”
“I got kids now!” Lewis laughed once again. “I got precious cargo, I can’t be fooling around.”
“And mum said no.” Maeve whispered to him.
“Yup, and mum said no.”
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eccentricwritingbaby · 4 months ago
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home
lewis hamilton x reader
summary - a small drabble of lewis coming back home from a race to his wife and babies. 
masterlist 
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8:26 pm.
that’s when lewis’ flight was landing. the captain had announced it over the intercom and he let out a breath. it was currently seven, so there were only a few more hours before he’d be home. 
lewis loved racing, he loved the adrenaline, the atmosphere, he loved winning. but he loved you more. and he adored your children. you had a small three year old girl, isabella, and just had a newborn boy, noah. since noah was so small, you had stayed back the past few races and lewis couldn’t stand it. after an exhausting race or an energetic high, all he wanted to see was your smiling face. 
having dated for three years, married for four, so overall by his side for seven - lewis hated to be apart from you. you were his rock, his comfort, his encouragement, and his support. with your job being beyond flexible, you rarely missed races - which lewis is now learning was something he took great advantage of. when isabella was born, he was on break between seasons, therefore when it started again she was old enough to tag along with you both. noah being born mid-season, lewis was experiencing a separation anxiety like no other. he was itching to see you, to hold you, to hug and kiss his babies, and overall to relax.
he was constantly tense when you weren’t around, worried about yours and the kids well being along with the pain and stress from being apart. not many were able to tell other than a few superfans who read deeply - noticing when asked about you in interviews his eyes would lightly gloss over, eyebrows knit slightly, and his words would come out with a tinge of melancholy. or when he would be in his driver’s room after a race, alone, and toto would walk by, noticing his strongest driver showing his only weakness. 
but even though the separation hurt, there was nothing like coming back home.
8:26 pm.
his flight has landed and lewis is jumping out of his seat with newfound energy. grabbing his things in haste, he rushes off the private plan and towards the car waiting for him. it was too much of a disruption for you to pick him up this late, the kids already put down and you most likely nodding off yourself. therefore lewis opted for a car, and thirty minutes later he’s exiting it and walking towards your shared home. his footsteps are filled with anticipation, a small jump to them as he holds himself back from practically sprinting into the home. 
from inside, you hear the keys fumbling around from your place on the couch. you swiftly and softly stand, making your way to the door in order to rush into your husband’s arms as soon as possible. the past weeks have been hard on you as well, wanting to be by your husband's side constantly. you didn’t want to be apart from him a second longer than necessary, flinging open the door before lewis had a chance to unlock it. you don’t even let him get a chance to enter before your arms are flying around his neck, his own dropping what he held and trading it to hold you instead. you both let out long breaths, a show of your anxiety finally exiting after being apart. 
“missed you so much,” he mumbled into your shoulder, slightly rocking you both back and forth. 
“missed you so much too,” you sigh into his neck, breathing in the scent you loved so much. him. separating slightly, but not completely, he leans down to meet your lips in an eager, yet tender, kiss. after the time apart, the first kiss back always left you tingly, the feeling always migrating from your lips to your entire body. it was a spark that you always had with lewis, yet came into full effect whenever he was gone for a while. 
you separated again, only slightly, and giggled into him, “i love you, lew,”
“i love you too, baby,” he smiles sweetly, dropping down to plant a few more pecks to your lips before grabbing his bags and going to move inside the house.
he smiles as he walks through the home, smelling the candles you always light after dinner, spotting the little indent from where you sat on the couch, seeing the small playmat that was still set out from where noah most likely was while you were cooking. noticing the plate of food wrapped up on the counter - the leftovers you always leave out for him to eat when he gets back.
he smiles as you drag his luggage over to the bottom of the stairs and make your way into the kitchen, moving to heat up his dinner for him. he hops up onto the counter as you hand him the plate, you standing in between his legs. he eats and recounts the entirety of the weekend, as per your request, telling you about the drama, the race, the interviews and everything else. 
you both were too wrapped up in each other to notice a tiny pitter patter of feet making their way down to meet the both of you. isabella had heard slight commotion and knew her dad had finally arrived home. ever the daddy’s girl, she needed to see him as soon as possible and climbed out of her bed, pushed back the hair from her face, and went on her excursion to the kitchen. 
“dada?” she whispered from the doorway. both you and lewis turned, slightly shocked she was awake, but also heartwarmed at the little sleepy girl in her footie pajamas. 
“hi, bug,” he whispers back, sliding off the counter and making his way to her. he brings her up to sit on his hip, hugging her as she holds onto him in return, “i missed you, lovebug,” whispering into her hair. 
“missed you too, dada,” she burrows herself even further into her father, “don’t wike when you go,”
“aw, bug, i don’t like when i go either,” he chuckles a bit. you slide out of the kitchen after cleaning up lewis’ plate, letting the father-daughter duo have their moment. making your way to his bags, you lift them and begin the trek upstairs towards your bedroom. once inside you check on noah, still too little for the nursery as he sleeps in a bassinet beside your bed, and then move around to unpack your husband’s essentials in order for him to go to sleep easier tonight. 
as you’re bustling around between your bedroom, the adjoining bathroom, and closet, you start to hear the small voices soon approaching. lewis saunters in, isabella still tightly holding him, and he makes his way to the smallest in the family. cooing lightly at the little boy, trying not to wake him, lewis basks in the feeling of his family all together in one room. something he will never take for granted.
you walk towards him, letting him know all his essentials were unpacked if he wanted to get ready for bed and he nods, dropping a kiss to your cheek as a perfect thank you. moving to put isabella on your bed, she begins to whine, not wanting to let go of her dad. 
“i’m just gonna have a shower, lovebug, i’ll be quick, okay?” he speaks softly to her.
“pwomise?” she asks, eyes giving the most puppy dog expression you had ever seen. 
lewis chuckles at her sweetness, leaning down to kiss her head, “i promise, bug, and then you can sleep with mummy and daddy tonight,”
“otay,” she giggles, crawling across the bed to get under the covers and make herself comfortable. you and lewis share a laugh as he makes his way into the bathroom, about to take a record-breakingly quick shower in order to be back with his girls soon enough. 
finally ready for bed, he exits the bathroom, seeing you and isabella cuddled together as she attempts to fight sleep, waiting for her dad to be back soon. 
“scoot over,” he smiles, getting into the bed. isabella scooches over, her dad finally arriving in the bed and laying an arm out. you make your move to lay on it, also wanting to be close to him. now that lewis is comfortably laying down, isabella crawls on top of him, deciding her spot for the night would be right on his stomach, head nuzzling straight into his neck. you copy her actions, moving closer to your husband and laying your head on his other shoulder. 
lewis sighs in content and happiness, home with his two best girls cuddled into him and his little boy sleeping away just a foot over. he pulls his arm that was behind your head to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him. his other arm wraps around isabella’s back, gently stroking her to sleep. he can be world champion seven, eight, times - yet nothing beats being home with his family.
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dittaturamonegasca · 7 months ago
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i think this might be the best tweet ever written about lewis hamilton period
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imaginaryf1shots · 7 months ago
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Age | Lewis Hamilton
WC: 3.6K
Warning: Age Gap, cursing? kissing
Summery:(REQUESTED) When you fall for your boss who is much older than you.
Masterlist
Lewis Masterlist
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Getting with Lewis wasn't what you sat out to do, you started working for his LH team, managing their social media and content. They felt like a younger person would best suit the job, Lewis wasn't involved in hiring you. In fact you hadn't seen him until a few weeks after you were hired. When you were sent to film him for content to post on Instagram. Lewis is a very nice man, it's a well known fact. Everyone that has ever
worked with him would tell you this(just don't ask Nico).
You haven't always been drawn to older men; you don't think about age that much. As long as you're both legal and mature, why not? But it wasn't like a kink or a plus in your books. Lewis just drew you in. Maybe it was his confidence, his maturity, or something completely different that captivated you. What you know for sure is that Lewis had your attention the moment you met and talked; there was no denying it. The pull you had, how easy it was for you to talk and have a laugh, was undeniable. Your relationship started professionally, but the more you met, the more you talked, and the more you got to know each other, the closer you got. And when you exchanged personal phone numbers, it was game over. You were calling each other all the time, texting, and FaceTiming. You hadn't reached the point of meeting when there was no reason to. But then Lewis had you travel with him under the guise of needing content, even though Mercedes had its own media managers.
You were denying your feelings. Lewis is an older, more experienced man, and he could have any woman he wants, why would he care or be interested in you, you found no reason for it. All the calls and texting you just convinced yourself is him being nice. Maybe he sees you as a mentee and nothing else.
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You were at a hotel room in New York, Lewis had a shoot for one sponsor or the other plus a fashion event to attend. The sponsor stuff was already filmed and done the day before, so that was that. Meaning you'd only photograph Lewis with his outfit to the event and your day of work would be done. Your room was booked in the same hotel as Lewis, definitelydefiantly not as lush as his but it was a five star hotel, your room was amazing. You were lounging a bit in your room until you receive a call that Lewis was
done changing. You hear a knock on the door, you haven't ordered room service, so it came as a surprise.
Getting up from your comfy position on the bed, you open the door to see one of the hotel staff standing in front of you with a clothes bag in hand.
"Hi? How can I help you?" You ask the man, who had a polite smile on his face.
"I was asked to bring this to you." The man tries to hand you the bag but you step back.
"Are you sure you got the right room?" You're certain there must be a mistake why would you be sent a clothes bag
"You're Ms. y/n y/n, right?" You nod with a small yes. The man then smiled bigger and handedhands you the bag again. "Then this is for you."
You hesitate before taking the bag, thanking the man and then closing the door. You open the bag and a dress that is more expensive than anything you own is there waiting for you. Your mouth drops, the dress is stunning, you don't know the brand but it lookslooked amazing. After the shock of seeing the dress wore off you lay it on the bed and find your phone, pressing Lewis's name in the recently calls and press the phone to your ear
"Hello"
"Don't hello me." You say looking at the dress as if it just called you cheap in every language on earth, your tone is not happy and Lewis picks up on it instantly
"What's wrong, love? What did I do?" Lewis has an inkling why you're not happy with him and he's trying not to smile, but he's failing miserably
"You just sent me a dress, for some unknown reason, and I bet it cost an arm and a leg!" You exclaim and Lewis could imagine you pouting as you talk, he lets out a small giggle.
"Look it's from one of my favourite up and coming designers and I saw the design and I instantly thought of you." Lewis defends himself, it's the same designer that designed his clothes for the day.
"So you bought it for me?" You ask in disbelief.
"Yeah." Lewis replied as if it's the most normal thing ever
"Lewis!"
"Yes, baby girl." You instantly stop when you hear the new pet name, Lewis calls you love a lot but that's just because he's British. But this, this new, it got you blushing and struggling to say anything, you're feeling shy and speechless. Damn that man, he knew what he was doing "Seeing as you're not saying anything, I expect to see you in that dress when you come up, also I'll be done in 15 minutes or so."
Lewis hangs up and you're left there staring at the dress, before you sigh. Thankfully you showered this morning, so you just started on your make-up a simple look that will complement the dress nicely, and do your hair. It's more than 15 minutes, but you haven't gotten a call from Lewis or anyone else in the team. Once you're finished and with small heels on you're making your way up to Lewis's suite.
It doesn't take long before the door opens by the designer, she gasps looking at you and grins
"You look stunning" You blush at the praise and walk in
"It's all thanks to you." You wave her compliment off.
"Thanks, but it's the person in the clothes that brings out the beauty of the designs." She tells you and you can't fight the redness in your cheeks. "Lewis is in there."
You go to the room she's pointing at, you're holding your camera equipment bag in your hand. You walk in and see Lewis standing in front of the mirror, inspecting everything about his look. He doesn't look up when you walk in, so you take the moment to take him in, the see-through shirt allows you to see the faint outline of his abs and muscles, his tattoos on show.
Lewis feels your presence, he looks at you and you don't realise it so caught up in checking him out. Happy with himself he takes a moment to look at you, and you're stunning, the dress fits you like a glove, tight in the right places and loose in the right places. He's never seen you so dressed up. Lewis is out of his trace before you are. He clears his throat and your eyes snap to his
All you see in his eyes is amusement, the blush comes back to your cheeks but you ignore it and him and take out your camera.
"You're done right?" You ask him busying yourself. You already know where you want to take the photos, where the best lighting is for everything
"You look stunning, love." Lewis's words once more stun you, and you pause in your actions before you look up at him once more, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.
"It's not practical." You say and stand straight your free hand runs over the dress to smooth out any wrinkles, suddenly feeling insecure. Lewis is always having women thrown at him, models and beauty queens, all stunning, and here you are, just him social media manager/photographer
"It's not meant to be practical, besides after the photos, you're off for the night, and you're coming as my plus one." Lewis states and your eyes go wide
"W-What? No, Lewis I can't go as your plus one." You tell him with a shake to your head.
"Why not?" He asked, crossing his arms.
"Because... I just can't, H-I don't want to." You mumble, looking at the floor not meeting his eyes.
"You don't have to walk the carpet with me, just go inside and join me there." Lewis doesn't want to take it personally, he knows being seen with him comes with a lot of packages and you're not even dating yet.
"Okay, yeah, I can do that." You say and look at him and swallow, Lewis had a smile on his face, as his eyes held you in. You cough and wave your camera. "Let's take some photos now.”
Lewis knows how to pose and it doesn't take long before you have the shots you're both happy with, before Lewis leads you to the mirror with his phone in hand.
"Come on, one of us together." Lewis's smile makes it hard for you to refuse, his arm wraps around you pulling you close to his side, you gasp and his quick movement your hand falls onto his chest to stabilise yourself. You look up, and his face is so close to yours, he's facing the mirror, and clicks his phone to capture the look on your face as you look up at him, Licking your lips slightly you face the mirror and
smile, ignoring your fast beating heart, it's so fast Lewis must feel it. You both pose for a few more, all with Lewis's hand one you one way or the other.
The car ride is filled with small talk, as Lewis and the designer talk, they'll walk the red carpet and you'll be dropped at another entrance. You're sitting between Lewis and the designer. You pull at your cuticles an anxious tic you have when you're anxious. Lewis doesn't look at you, before he takes your hand in his. Your heart skips a beat. Lewis only lets go when you arrive, both their doors are open, and before he lets go of your hand he gives it a squeeze and he gets out
Your seat is next to the designer close to where Lewis is sitting, they have all the A-listers sitting next to each other. But Lewis does come to talk to you before the show begins, and makes sure you're okay. But you only get talking after the show. Where the music is playing, people are dancing and the drinks are flowing at the open bar
"Your first show, what do you think?" Lewis asks you, you're both deciding not to drink since you have flights tomorrow.
"It was great." You reply with a smile. "It was so much fun... thank you."
"No worries, did you take any pictures?" Lewis asked and you shook your head no. "We can't have that, come on, I know a spot upstairs"
Lewis doesn't wait or hesitate, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the crowds, he helps you up the stairs like the gentleman he is. The place he takes you to is empty, the lighting is good and the music is faint. Lewis lets go of your hand and takes out his phone.
"Okay, Mr. photographer, where do you want me?" You tease him and move your arms shyly.
"Right here." Lewis moves you to where he wants and you pose, Lewis hypes you up. "You look great love, a little to the right, yes, now move your shoulder to the front, right there, wow, this one looks amazing, look at you posing."
For the next 15 minutes Lewis takes all sorts of photos, the last ones being a close up of your upper body and face. You don't look at the lens for those you look at him, and maybe that's why they're his favourite. You stand even closer to the older man as you look at the photos he took.
"Look at you go, if you even want to switch careers, photography will do you good." You smile and then look up at him, he's already looking at you and for the hundredth time today, your heart starts beating faster. He's so close to you, you can smell his cologne. Is he? Is he moving closer? Or is it just your mind playing tricks on you? You lick your lips and his eyes move from yours down to follow the movement.
You're already wearing heels, so you couldn't tip toe to close the distance, but you didn't have to, because Lewis leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as a shiver went down your spine. Lewis's lips moved against yours once, twice, thrice before he pulled back all too suddenly. The warmths that overwhelmed you is suddenly gone. Lewis’s hands are gone and he takes a step back, your eyes flutter open and all you see is regret. The insecurity is hitting you hard.
”W-w…”
”I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean to- I just- I’m sorry.” Lewis found himself unable to find the words, he has liked you for a long time, but here he is after kissing you suddenly doubting himself.
”No, no it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.” You say and look to the side, your hands wrapped around your middle, you swallow.
”No, I have to, I didn’t ask and I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you and I just did.” Lewis says and you realise why he stopped, why he looked so regretful. He thought you didn’t like it, that he forced you, he thought you didn't like it. “I’m your boss, and I may have pressured you into it and I never wanted to do something like this, I completely understand if- why? Why are you smiling?”
”Oh Lewis Hamilton, the man you are.” Lewis is now left confused, you step closer to him, and Lewis stands still with his hands down by his sides, as you place your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles under your fingertips. “If you only knew how much you affect me, I just thought it was one-sided, that you see me as a child or something.”
”Believe me baby girl, I see you as the woman you are.” Lewis’s voice drops a few octaves that have you shivering. His hand makes the small of your back home, he pulls you closer so you’re flush against him, a gasp leaves your lips, and his hand moves down to the top of your butt.
”Lewis.” You breathe out, your eyes fluttering.
”Sweetheart.” Those fucking pet names will be the death of you, this time you pull him by the back of his neck down to meet your lips. The soft moanes leaving your lips leave him wanting for more.
You don't know how long you stood there for but by the time you were done with the little make out session you both had to fix your lipstick. The lavish bathroom you both stand in front of the mirror, trying to wipe the lipstick. Exchanging smiles and giggles through the mirror, pumping hips and kisses.
”Lewis stop, we can’t kiss, I have lipstick on.” You say giggling halfheartedly pushing him away.
”Once I got a taste I couldn’t resist.” You blush and tell him to stop once more, before you both leave the bathroom. Going back to the event downstairs you both act as if nothing appended, and somehow you sell it.
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Safe to say, you’re stuck to each other’s side. Lewis flies you everywhere and your relationship turns from professional to romantic slowly in front of the others, but to you two, after that night in New York you were dating.
You dreaded the time the media will find out, you know there’s two ways it will go, either they will go after Lewis or they will go after you. And you think they’ll go after you. Your appearance in the paddock was nothing new, but your appearance at dinners with other drivers and wags was new. No one said anything or commented, you got on super well with the wags. You did share your fears with Kika and Alex, they gave you as much advice as they could and told you what to expect. It’s always hard when a driver hard launches or even is just rumoured to be with someone.
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You and Lewis didn’t get the chance to hard launch or soft launch, or do any of that sorts. A paparazzi somehow found you while you were on vacation and snapped a lot of pictures of the two of you in intimate positions. Kissing, cuddling, hands all over each other, there was no way of getting out of that one.
So during the next race Lewis walked into the paddock with your hand in his, the fans weren’t 100% who you were when the photos were leaked, but the moment you walked in all your social media was out for everyone to see. The things you were both scared of the most, happened. The fans weren’t happy with the age gap, you were both adults but it seemed like everyone knew why you were dating but you too. And that Lewis is just too nice to know that you’re with him for money. The almost 40 year old didn’t know any better. Like a lot of wags you received a lot of hate, and Lewis hadn’t confirmed a relationship in years, so you were an awaited wag.
You both expected all of this, what you didn’t expect is for every driver that interacted with Lewis to have their social media flooded with messages and comments of people telling them to tell Lewis that you were using him, and that the age gap is disgusting.
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Lando was streaming once and he was talking about Mercedes or something when the chat took that turn.
”Come on chat, don’t be mean.” Lando said after he noticed all those comments. “You don’t know y/n and Lewis, they’re perfectly happy and there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s all just care about ourselves.”
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Lily and Alex were live on Instagram for one reason or the other and they also got a ton of comments, especially since Lilly was seen hanging out with you a Friday of a race weekend.
“Believe me guys, y/n, is the nicest person ever, she’s so understanding and sweet.” Lilly said to the viewers, after seeing where the comments turned to.
”We’ve actually gone out with them a few times, and they look happy and in love.” Alex added.
”I haven’t been around LEwis much, but I feel like he looks… happier and more content?” Lily said and looked at her boyfriend.
”Yeah, I think George said as well, he looks happy and that this relationship is doing them both a lot of good.” Alex said and Lily nodded with him. “It’s good when you get into a relationship and you become better and happier.”
”Yeah.”
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Things like that kept happening, and there were some videos of you and Lewis posted online just being lost in each other while dancing, having dinner or even just walking. The way you’d give each other all the attention when you’re talking is something admirable.
All those things online, affected you, you hated how negative your space online became, how much it became on Lewis’s accounts, and on the other drivers’ accounts as well. What it didn’t affect is your relationship with Lewis.
Lewis wasn’t happy, of course he wasn’t. You’re his girlfriend and his ‘fans’ are attacking you online, he can see how your smile never reached your eyes when you said you were okay. It affected you to some degree.
So he just hugged you tighter, told you he loved you more, and tried everything to keep you away from all that talk.
“What are you doing?” You mumble as you wake up from your slumber, you went back to the hotel after FP2, feeling tired, and Lewis having to stay back for a long meeting. It was almost midnight when he made it back to the room and found you sleeping in the middle of the bed. Lewis stripped to his boxers and slipped beside you. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, this roused you from your sleep.
”Just want to hold you.” He said softly and kissed your cheek, you smiled and cracked your eyes open just a little, you turned around so you’re facing him. You cuddle more into him, nuzzling your face in his neck, as he laid on his back.
”How was the meeting?” You asked barely coherent, and Lewis knows you’ll ask again in the morning, that everything that will come out of your mouth right now is just your subconscious and that you will remember nothing.
”It was good, there’s going to be a few changes to the car tomorrow.” Lewis told you rubbing your back.
”Do we like it?” You ask, knowing that your stance on things is his stance on things, when it comes to driving and cars.
”Yeah, but we’ll see tomorrow.”
”Hmm, that’s good.” You fall silent and Lewis thinks you fell asleep before you say a barely audible. “I love you.”
”I love you too, baby girl.”
It took time, but the public came to accept the fact you’re here to stay and you’re not just using him for a week or two, for clout or anything of that sort. IT got better. But it never went away, and you don’t think it will. You don’t plan on breaking up with Lewis any time soon and you don’t think he will. And that’s all that mattered, you’re both happy and content with what you have.
Maintaglist:
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog
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