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In America
A Lexicon of Fashion
Andrew Bolton and Amanda Garfinkel with Jessica Regan and Stephanie Kramer  Photographs by Amma-Marie Kellen
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 2022, 257 pages, Hardcover,  24.77 x 31.12 cm, ISBN 978-1588397348
euro 53,00
email if you want to buy [email protected]
A new glossary of American fashion explores the expressive qualities of works by pioneering designers, who established the nationâs style, and the up-and-coming designers shaping its future.
In America: A Lexicon of Fashion presents a modern vocabulary of American dress that emphasizes emotions while not discounting the simple, practical, and egalitarian character that has traditionally separated American ready-to-wear from European haute couture. Stunning new photography showcases over 100 garments from the 1940s to the present that offer a timely new perspective on the diverse and multifaceted nature of American fashion.
The catalogue features works that display qualities such as belonging, comfort, desire, exuberance, fellowship, joy, nostalgia, optimism, reverence, spontaneity, strength, and sweetness by well-known designers and emerging creatives, including:
Gilbert #Adrian, Geoffrey Beene, Thom Browne, Bonnie Cashin, Willy Chavarria, Olivia Cheng, Telfar Clemens, #OscardelaRenta, Colm Dillane, #Perry Ellis,    Tremaine Emory, #TomFord, #RudiGernreich, #Halston, Elizabeth Hawes, #CarolinaHerrera, Conner Ives, #CharlesJames, Kerby Jean-Raymond, #DonnaKaran, #CalvinKlein, Michael Kors, #RalphLauren, Vera Maxwell, #ClaireMcCardell,Norman Norell ,Heron Preston, Christopher John Rogers, Raul SolĂs, Hillary Taymour, #DianevonFurstenberg, Vera Wang
orders to: Â Â [email protected]
twitter: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â @fashionbooksmi
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03/02/22
#In America#Lexicon of fashion#fashion Exhibition Catalogue#Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 2022#american fashion#fashion books#fashionbooksmilano
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some more met gala designs of mine
Whenever I think of positive things from America my mind goes to our conservation of national parks, this dress is a direct inspiration of The Oxbow.
This one is for *gag* Karl Lagerfelds gala, I noticed he used a lot of scoop necks and tiered skirts so I leaned into the Chanel wedding dress look along with a hat, gloves, and pearls. Karl hated pink so I used pink
And now we have gilded glamour, I was inspired by the massive masquerade balls thrown at the time. I have a pigeon breast corset, a narrow skirt, and the peacock overskirt inspired by bustles.
#met gala#in America: a lexicon of fashion#the gilded age#gilded glamour#karl lagerfeld#chanel#the oxbow#thomas cole
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In America: An Anthology of Fashion
Temporary exhibit at the MET in NYC, in 2022.
#the metropolitan museum of art#american fashion#frank lloyd wright#frank Lloyd wright house#vintage#in America: a lexicon of fashion#art#history#fashion#this was the coolest thing ever#in the#American interiors#wing#2022#anna wintour#In America: an Anthology of Fashion#the costume institute#mine
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Copperstacks FASHION! feat. some guys from @100nebulas and @caffeinova. Ramble under the cut!
Common Materials for use in clothing are goat wool, byssus (Mussel silk, p common here), barkcloth, burlap, Fish Leather, Whale/Fish bone, Algal cloth, and furs. Brass, Bronze, Tin and Copper are the most common metals in the area, with most mechanical things being made of Brass or Bronze. Iron and steel are pretty uncommon. Gold is associated with the Church of Pyra, so it's value is a bit artificially inflated. Materials like Cotton, Insect Silks, Linen, velvet, and non-fish leather are more expensive due to being imported, and are more common in rich people fashions.
NOW onto the actual fashions here-
Eclipsed/Furis subculture originates from Eclipsed (werefolk) fashion and culture in Braima, with clothing often made of comfortable, flexible materials and designed to accommodate full or partial shifts into animal form without the need to change, and without the risk of damaging the cloth. They're usually made with goats wool, softened leathers, and "furcloth", a textile made by eclipsed from shed/shaved fur! Furis clothing is usually Asymmetrical, with a "silvery" main fabric and much brighter accessories and accents. Claw, fang, and horn caps/rings are all pretty common too! Non-eclipsed partaking in the fashion are typically dubbed "Furis" or, well. Furries! It's pretty widely embraced, with fake tails, fangs, and claws p much just as available as the jewelry designed for eclipsed! When prints/Symbols are involved, You'll find a lot depicting the two moons, Fangs, or paw prints/animal tracks! For some folks, faux-bite mark designs or embroidery are also involved, though some think its a bit in poor taste.
Divend/Dockends! The names are both slang for Dive hands and Dock Hands! Divehands is the nickname for folks who work in the tide pools, especially farming silk mussels. Dock hands is just the general term for those who work at the docks, usually loading or unloading stuff from boats. People who like the aesthetic for non-work reasons are effectively like. Lighthouse aesthetic enjoyers? y'know the type. usually they're marked by Oilskin boots and raincoats, Fish leather waterproofed through whale oil. The coats are usually Blue/Green, usually bright when first made, and darkening with age. Pants are usually canvas or similarly thick and durable, and tops are usually either like, button-ups, or in colder weather, wool sweaters. Wool hats and gloves are also common.
Spirifers! They're goth. Spirifers are Braima's goths. Literally the whole intent with spirifer fashion is to look like a Ghost. Clothing is usually wispy or has some kind of "flow" to it, with a faint iridescence and Monochromatic clothing (usually white-gray-black) broken up by bright red accents. There's a variant of spirifers that's a bit spikier, with a tendency to Darker colors and Blue/Purple accents rather than Red, that borrows some points from Scrap aesthetic. Alexi's "villain fit" is partially where it originated, though there'd always been a bit of an underground scene in the "aesthetics of those dubbed villains", made a bit more prominent when Alexi had his "Magical girl anime antagonist" moment. (Image for reference)
Then there's the "Corps", Pronounced "Corpse" and short for Corporate, Corps fashion is typical business wear, Dress shirts, black pants, suits and ties, etc. With... an edge. For those "in the know", Corps fashion is actually more than just business casual- It's a signifier that you support, or are a member of, the Mafia. Black or red tops for those who get their hands dirty, white for those too high rank to do so. Jewelry that seems a bit out of place- piercings, symbol heavy rings, etc. Clip on ties, tie alternatives or a lack of a tie altogether to avoid strangulation, holsters hidden on garters or under sleeves, iron toed shoes, tattoos- All signifiers that someone is a Bit More than just a businessman. Tarnished copper that's been waxed/lacquered in order to preserve the green tones is also Very common among Corps jewelry.
Scraps are punks. they're punks who sometimes build their own computers and bikes out of industrial scrap. A lot of scrap fashion originates with Pirates! Anti-government sentiment.Pants made from sailcloth, steel toed leather boots, Woven cord belts, Poet shirts with the sleeves off and leather vests, usually wearing whatever contraptions they've built themselves on their belt or arm. Many of them carry swords/Knives hidden in some way on their person- This is illegal, they don't care.
There's like, a subgroup of Scraps who specifically are against the church of Pyra, and they incorporate a lot more Shark imagery, Sharp teeth, Electricity, Rainbow Neon and brass scale-mail in a nod to Uxsoi, a god of like, storms and madness. Where scraps are punk, these guys are like... EDM/Rave aesthetics paired with like, Satanists? Still punk, but a very different flavor! more occult.
DIY tshirts and stuff is big in scrap culture overall.
honestly though its for most folks, its basically just modern day fits, tshirts, pants, dress shirts, etc etc. The fashion subcultures are just a bit different.
#put it on the atomic freezer#art#copper city#copperstacks#worldbuilding#fashion#ralsei#sabi#lumine#greed fmab#vox#lexicon#i think thats everyone!
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#fashion#In America: A Lexicon of Fashion#dress#design#details#inspiration#style#fashion collection#flowers#art
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prev tags exactly. buy a ratty second hand jacket from goodwill and some five buck iron on patches on etsy smh
Not the "people before profit" patch jacket being $449, fast fashion is fucking beyond satire at this point
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Wild Imagination
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
Authorâs note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! đŤś
Word count: 20.8k
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.
âWow, you look incredible!â exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. âThat dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!â
âThank you!â you replied, a smile spreading across your face. âI wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is âIn America: A Lexicon of Fashion,â so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.â
Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. âYou definitely nailed it. I canât wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. Theyâre going to love your look!â
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.
âRemember to ask them about their outfits!â Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. âFashion is the heart of this event.â
âAbsolutely,â you replied, your mind racing with questions. âI want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.â
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 didnât make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.
âJust remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,â your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. âIâm counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.â
âSure thing, David,â you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.
âGood! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viralâeven if it means flirting a little,â 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 crowdâNaomi Elaine Campbell.
Summoning your courage, you approached her. âHi Mrs. Campbell! Iâm here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?â
The model turned, her smile brightening the room. âOf course! I love your work. What do you want to know?â
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.
âBy the way,â you said, leaning in slightly, âIâve heard youâre quite the dancer. Any chance weâll see you on the dance floor tonight?â
She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. âOnly if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.â
You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. âChallenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.â
As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered Davidâs advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.
âHey, youâre really good at this!â a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. âYouâve 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 didnât know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.
Then, out of the crowd, you spotted himâSir 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. "Iâm flattered, really. I didnât expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."
He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "Iâve 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. Iâve 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. Itâs important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, Iâd love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives youâre involved in."
You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.
"Well, Iâm currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. Itâs a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."
He listened intently, his interest evident. "Itâs all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."
Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "Thatâs fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. Iâve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. Itâs a challenge, but itâs necessary."
You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! Itâs 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. "Iâd 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! Iâd 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, Iâve always believed that passion is contagious. When youâre passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."
You couldnât help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. Itâs 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. "Itâs 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, Davidâs 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. "Iâm 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 letâs make sure this isnât our last conversation. Iâd 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. "Iâll 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 forâa 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. . . .
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 couldnât 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 couldnât help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
âWhat if I see him?â you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.
But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. âWhat if he doesnât remember me?â 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 immediatelyâa 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 yearâs 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 presentâa stark reminder of the interviewâs 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, itâs hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banterâdare you say, itâs 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 canât 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.
Youâre 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.
âI was really enjoying just⌠this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Donât you think they could have waited a bit longer?â
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 yearâs memorable encounter.
The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.
âLewisâŚâ 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. âBefore they whisk me away, I have something for you.â
He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. âIt has my phone number on it. Iâll need to send you the tickets for the race.â
Your heart raced. âTickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?â
âOf course. I wouldnât want you to miss it. But⌠I might need a bit of company if youâre up for it,â he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.
You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. âLewis, I would love that. Iâve been wanting to see you at the races.â
âGood. Then itâs a date,â he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.
He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. âJust donât tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.â
You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. âYour secretâs safe with me! Just promise you wonât forget to text me.â
âI could never forget someone like you,â 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.
âSo, looks like weâll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!â
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 mindâa 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 itâthe 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 timeâa 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, donât 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 roomâthe 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 stunningâand 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.
âY/N, you donât have to be so formal, thereâs no cameras here,â 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. âSo, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?â 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. âI think I might still be in shock,â you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.
âIt was as surreal as I imagined, except I didnât expect to meet someone like you.â
The connection felt raw and realâtwo 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.
âSo, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?â 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 couldnât help but huff a soft laugh, âLewis, you really werenât joking about you being there.â
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.
âOf course not, I really want you to be there for me.â 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 â 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.
âI donât know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isnât good enough to take a tripâŚâ 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 momentâs notice and bask in the thrill of Englandâs racing scene.
âIs that it? If thatâs your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,â 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.
âLewisâŚâ 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.
âY/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and Iâll do the rest,â he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.
You couldnât 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, âIs there a catch?â 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. âI donât think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,â 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.
âOkay, I accept your offer, Lewis,â 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.
âGreat! Iâll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,â 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. . . .
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 canât 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 imageâhow 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 weâd 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 couldnât 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 couldnât 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 donât have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. Youâve just had a long flight, and I donât want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.
"Nonsense! Youâre 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 himâhe 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 didnât 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 wouldnât dream of missing this. Besides, itâs 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. "Thereâs so much to see, and Iâm 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 deeperâsomething 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. âWelcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,â 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.
âOh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,â you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.
âYou didnât have to go this far for the hotel,â you muttered, still taking it all in.
Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. âI wanted to, and itâs really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didnât want you worrying about anything while youâre here.â
He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. âAlso, here is your paddock pass,â he said, handing it over with a flourish.
You took the pass and looked at it in awe. âWow, I canât believe Iâll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!â You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. âThank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.â
His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. âJust doing my part. Youâre going to have a great week; I promise. Iâll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?â
âTen sounds perfect!â you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. âBut Lewis, I really canât thank you enough for this. Youâve gone above and beyond.â
âItâs nothing,â he said, his voice earnest. âBesides, itâs my job to make sure youâre comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?â
âHonestly, I think Iâm good. Iâll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. Itâs been quite a journey,â you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.
âAlright then, I wonât keep you,â Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. âJust remember, Iâm just a text away if you need anything.â
He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. âAnd I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!â
You laughed, shaking your head. âNo worries, I wonât keep you waiting, I promise!â
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 couldnât help but smile at how perfect everything seemedâand 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 himâLewis, 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.
âWhy do I still get so nervous watching you?â 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. âAlways in a rush, arenât you, Lewis?â
What you didnât realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend toâyou.
The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.
âText me when you land and I'll pick you up,â 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. . .
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 mindâhis 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 featuresâa 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, âIs it too much? Should I change?â
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.
âNo! I mean no, you look amazing,â he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. âI was just stunned by your beauty.â 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 faceâa 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 Lewisâs 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 anticipationânot 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 sceneâthe myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tiresâthere 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. âWhat is it?â 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.
âHow does it look?â you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.
âPerfect,â he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yoursâwarm, unwavering. You couldnât help but blush at his compliment.
âSupporting me does suit you,â 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 hadnât 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. . . .
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 volumesâa 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.
âYou did good,â 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 momentsâwhile overshadowed by the pressure of the raceâwere 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.
âSorry,â 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.
âDonât apologize; you needed that,â 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.
âNow, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,â you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driverâs 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. âIâll be back in a second, stay here,â 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 storiedâhis wife, perhaps?
A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; âI wish,â 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. âIâm back! Are you good to go?â Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attireâa 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.
âYep, letâs go!â 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.
âWhere do we start?â he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.
âThe London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,â 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 friendâevery 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 couldnât 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 admirationânot 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 beforeânot 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 stomachâmy 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. âOh my gosh, it's so high!â you gasped, glancing down briefly. âWhy did I agree to this?â
âMight be a little late for that realization.â Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.
He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. âJust look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.â
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.
âOkay, it is pretty amazing,â you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.
âSee? Nothing to be scared of.â He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. âHey, letâs talk about your projectâthe one that reduces carbon footprint.â
You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. âOh yeah! So, Iâve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!â you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. âThey absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...â
âReally? 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.â Lewisâs interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.
âIt 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!â you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.
âI love that youâre so passionate about this,â Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. âIt 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.â
âExactly! 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.â
Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. âWow,â you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. âItâs... breathtaking.â
âSee? You did it!â Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. âYou made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.â
You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. âYou were right, Lewis. Iâm so glad we did this.â I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. âThanks for holding my hand through this.â
He laughed lightly, âAlways. I think Iâll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.â
As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. âIf I scream, just remind me that I wonât fall.â
âI got you,â he replied, still holding your hand firmly. âWeâll conquer this fear together.â
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. . . .
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 electricityâtoday 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 rĂŠsistance was the signed hatâa 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, âHow do I look?â The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.
âBreathtaking,â he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.
You couldnât help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. âThank you, Lewis,â 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.
âIâm just describing what Iâm seeing,â 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 tongueâa 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 couldnât 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.
âSo, the qualifyingâwhat do you think is going to happen?â 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. âI just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. Thatâs all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,â 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. âHello, itâs wonderful to see you!â 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, Anthonyâs playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.
âIâve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,â 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.
âSorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,â 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. âAll good things, I hope?â 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.
âOf course! Your son is a true gentleman,â you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.
Anthonyâs eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.
âIâve heard. I also heard that he likes you,â 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. âNo, I think thatâs just a rumorââ 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.
âY/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,â 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.
âItâs complicated,â 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.
âYou donât have to worry,â he continued, âLewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.â
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.
âThank you, that means a lot to me,â you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.
There was something reassuring about Anthonyâs 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 â 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.
âI just want to make sure heâs happy,â 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.
âCongratulations,â you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.
âThanks,â Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depthsâan urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.
His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, âHave you spoken to my father yet?â
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.
âYeah,â you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.
âY/N,â his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, âI think I know when my son likes a woman.â
âReally?â Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldnât 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.
âWhat was it about?â 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.
âItâs a secret,â 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.
âWell, itâs a secret Iâd like to know,â he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. âCan you at least give me a hint?â
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.
âAlright,â you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, âIâll give you a clue: it involves you.â
âReally Y/N?â 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. Heâs just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.
"Donât 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 driverâs side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "Weâre 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, Iâve 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 spaceâdog 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! Heâs 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 specialâan 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. âSince itâs already getting dark, I think itâd be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.â
You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. âAre you sure? I donât want to impose.â
âNot at all. Besides,â he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. âRoscoe clearly doesnât want you to leave yet. Heâs taken quite a liking to you.â
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. âI suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?â 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 didnât take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.
âAre you sure you donât need help?â you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. âHeâs quite the little beast!â
â Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,â Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. âThe food will be ready soon.â
You couldnât help but admire the sightâthe 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.
âHey, Lewis?â You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.
âYeah?â He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.
âDo you⌠do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?â The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.
His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. âOnly with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. Heâs quite the judge of character, you know.â
âOh really?â You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.
âAbsolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, youâre his favorite human now,â 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. âSee? Heâs demanding your attention!â Lewis teased.
You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. âAlright, Roscoe, whatâs your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if Iâm going to beat you.â You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.
âYouâre getting pretty good at that,â Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. âI think Roscoe might have finally met his match!â
After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. âI never thought Iâd be wrestling with a dog tonight.â
Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. âAnd yet, here we are. Iâd say itâs a good night.â
You couldnât help but nod in agreement. âYeah, it really is.â
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 hadnât 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.
âWow, this smells amazing! What did you make?â you asked, looking at the colorful spread.
Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. âI decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.â His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.
You shook your head in disbelief, âYouâre the best, Lewis. I canât believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!â 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. âAre you jealous, Roscoe?â you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.
âHey, I think heâs trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,â Lewis chimed in, grinning. âBut donât worry, youâll get your share of spoiling too right now.â
Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, âAnd for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. Itâs chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.â The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldnât help but smile.
âSeriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now youâre just trying to win my heart,â you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.
You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. âAnd what about you, buddy? Donât think youâre getting any chocolate. Itâs all for us humans!â
âJust wait until I tell him âoffâ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. Heâs persistent,â Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. âBut Iâll keep him busy with his favorite toy until weâre done.â
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.
âEverything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,â you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.
Lewis looked up, his expression softening. âI feel the same way. Itâs nice to have someone to share these moments with.â
As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. âAlright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now itâs our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?â
Roscoeâs ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. âSorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But Iâll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.â
"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 dogâs joyful antics.
âHey, Roscoe, catch!â 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. âGood boy!â you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewisâ body close to yours.
âYou've really got a way with dogs,â 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 â you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.
âThanks,â you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. âBut itâs really him that has all the charm.â 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.
âHe doesnât like you like that; itâs all for his reputation.â The thought made your stomach twist.
You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. âUm, I think I shouldâŚâ you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldnât make you sound foolish.
âWait,â Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldnât let it sway your thoughts.
âWhere are you going?â There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.
âI just⌠I need to go. Itâs getting really late,â 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.
âItâs dark out, though. At least let me take you home. Itâs too dangerous to walk alone at night,â he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.
âOkay,â you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.
You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. âSee you later, buddy.â 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. âThanks for the ride, Lewis,â you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didnât want to let him in.
âAre you sure youâre okay?â he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. âYou seem⌠distant.â
âIâm fine,â you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, âReally.â you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.
âOkay⌠well, goodnight,â he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
âGoodnight,â 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 Lewisâ 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 Roscoeâs 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. . .
âDid I ruin everything, Roscoe?â 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.
âWhat if she never looks at me the same way again?â 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.
âI should have been more patient,â Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoeâs fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. âBut she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.â
The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.
The memory of youâyour laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sunâdanced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.
âYou love her too, right?â he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.
Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewisâs 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 sharedâthe 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 ownerâs heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.
âWhat do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and thatâs that,â he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.
"If only it could be so simple for us,â 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 hisâthe 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. âLetâs not give up,â he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoeâs fur one last time.
âTomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. Iâll tell her how much she means to me.â The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companionâs eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.
Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. âYeah, weâll make this right.â
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 itâmissing him already felt unbearable.
You didnât 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 wasâa 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. âIs it too much?â you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.
âNot at all,â he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. âYou look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.â 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. âSo, do you think I can beat Max today?â he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.
âOf course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldnât bet against you for a second,â you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.
âThatâs what I like to hear,â 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 ecstaticâteam members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.
âUnbelievable, wasnât it? He nailed that last lap!â one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.
As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewisâs dad beaming with pride as he approached you. âCome here!â he said, pulling you into a warm hug. âYouâve been a huge support for him. Thank you!â
With a genuine smile, you pulled away. âItâs all Lewis! He did it all today.â 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.
âExcuse me, coming through!â Bono, Lewisâs race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. âHere, Iâve got you. Letâs get you to your driver.â
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 Lewisâs 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, Lewisâs 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.
âI canât believe it! You did it!â you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.
âI know! I really canât!â 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.
âIâm so proud of you, Lewis,â 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. âThank you! That means the world to me,â he said, locking his gaze with yours.
âHey, can you meet me in my driverâs room later? I want to talk to you about something.â
Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. âOf course.â
Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. âI need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I canât wait to see you later!â
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' driverâs 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.
âHey Y/N,â 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.
âLewis,â you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. âI need to tell you something.â
âWhat is it?â he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. âWell, Iâm sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I canât do anything about it.â
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. âYou⌠What?â he stammered, processing your confession.
âYeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,â you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. âI tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but itâs not. And I didnât want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.â
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.
âIâve always felt some sort of connection between us,â he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. âBut I didnât know you felt this way.â
âI didnât either for the longest time, Lewis.â You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. âBut every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at meâit just made me realize how I felt.â
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 âI love you tooâ 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.
âLewis, you canât just joke about that,â 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.
âYou may be serious, but that doesnât change the fact that youâve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,â 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.
âI 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.â
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.
âDonât try and lie, Lewis,â you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. âYou donât love me.â
It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasnât 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.
âAs you wish,â 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, thereâs 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 canât 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.
Itâs 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,
âMaybe I am, but only because I donât want to overwhelm you⌠yet.â 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. âThat kiss wasn't enough?â 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.
âLewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,â 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 inâa reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the doorâbut you could feel Lewisâs breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, âLet them wait a moment longer. Iâm not done with you yet.â
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#f1 fic#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x black oc#team lh44#lh44#lh44 x reader#lh44 imagine#lh44 fic#mercedes f1#sir lewis hamilton#lh44 x you#lh44 x y/n#x black reader#x black oc#f1 x black!reader#black reader#black beauty#black women#x black fem reader
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'ensemble by prabal gurung, s/s 2020' in in america: a lexicon of fashion - andrew bolton + amanda garfinkel (2022)
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Imaan Hammam wearing OSCAR DE LA RENTA â 2022 Met Gala: âIn America: A Lexicon of Fashionâ
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Imaan Hammam at The 2021 Met Gala Celebrating In America: A Lexicon Of Fashion
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more bf!sukuna hcs, but heâs insufferable and stuck in my head. this is part 4âŚ
warning: some NSFW, slight intox, minors DNI
NEVER lets you drive. heâs so misogynistic. âfemales are bad driversâ ass bitch. "you're gonna wrap us around a tree."
claims to despise when you baby him e.g. forehead kisses, scratching his back to put him to sleep, even fucking cuddling. donât believe that shit for a second but pretend to and stop until he starts acting grateful.
way too confrontational to be taken out in public. just pretend you donât know him when heâs pulling a gun on someone who stepped on his shoes.
youâd be broke if you bailed him out of jail every fucking time. at least let him marinate there all night before folding or call his dad to do it instead.
so messy. it's unintentional, but sukuna just leaves a trail of disorder in his wake. throw pillows on the floor, shoes in the walkway, and always leaving the lights on despite complaining about the utility bill.
throw him outside to do yardwork or something. he loves that shit. putting in a couple fruit trees, maybe stepping stones. by the end of the summer you have a tiered garden with slate retaining walls and an automatic irrigation system.
why does he have a green thumb? he's in a secret competition with the neighbors for prettiest lawn. and yet, you manage to kill the little succulent garden he planted for you.
a minimalist (derogatory). sukuna is always trying to throw your trinkets and knickknacks away when you're not paying attention.
he loves getting a little fashion show after you buy new clothes. it's one of the few cute things he'll admit to enjoying. it doesn't matter if the outfit is skimpy or modest, hearts are popping out of his eyes like in a fucking cartoon.
doesn't apologize under any circumstances. the word 'sorry,' isn't in his lexicon. however, he will leave his card on the counter before heading to work and pick up flowers on the way home and make reservations at your favorite restaurant. don't expect to hear a real apology though.
super duper tender-headed. you can't even detangle it without him whining. might cry if you try to do braids, twists, any kinda style. fucking pussy
irritating asf. actually hate him, idk why iâm writing this. i'd probably poison him and collect the life insurance.
UMM nsfw
calling sukuna something corny and dominant in bed (sir/daddy/king/etc.) out of the blue would make him nut. and he isnât even embarrassed about it at all.
incapable of pulling off a quickie. i think this is more endearing than aggravating. he can't hit it right in just ten minutes. he'll ask for more time. and a little more. then it's been an hour and you're likely running late for something.
thinks you're hottest bent over (i'm not even projecting rn bc my ass is flat). don't worry, he thinks your face is cute, missionary is great too. but if you wore one of those pillow case ass house dresses with no panties he'd go crazy. i hate to air him out like this, but it's true. i gotta link this shit so you know what i'm talking about. makes him feral. maybe i am projecting bc i luv those dresses.
but anyway, he'd fall for the 'bend and snap' so bad (legally blonde reference). these are basically crack, sorry
occasionally forgets that foreplay is a thing and tries to go straight from light frenching to stickin it.
i feel like sukunaâs sunday nights are spent getting really high and kissing on you for hours. he just gets the munchies dude. leaving dewy spots of saliva on all your exposed skin. once heâs tasted that, your clothes is peeled off so he can drool on the rest of you. he doesnât even realize how much of a tease he is. his mouth suctioned to your inner thigh⌠maybe i should just write this as its own thingy
p sure i said this already, but heâs a biter. gnaws on you like a mf chew toy. itâs an oral fixation thing, if you donât like it buy him lots of lollipops and tic tacs.
ok i have to stop before i gross myself out. tyty for reading <3<3<3 have a wonderful day.
masterlist if you wanna read the rest
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Okay, these are ADORABLE. I'd probably use a lot of similar ones for these guys, with a couple differences:
General/all: Honey/hun, darling, love, dear, liebe
Azul: Gorgeous/handsome, (my) treasure
Trey: Sweet pea, (my) duckie
Jade: Beloved, my (precious) jewel, (my) morel
Rook: Also various French terms, especially mon (beau) chasseur, ma (belle) proie? (idk if he'd like it, but I think it'd be nice to have balance), (mon) cher, mon amour, and mon cĹur
Jamil: Beloved, (my) prince, gorgeous
new silly little gushing reblog game bc i havent done once in a minute!! what pet name would make your fictional lovelies absolutely melt?
#i use more vintage terms than modern; the urge to call trey toots; azul doll face; and all the french names for rook are STRONG#G O D S#<- yes yes yes yes SAME#I use a lot of old-fashioned pet names#I also just use... so many terms of endearment#for platonic; romantic; and familial relationships#some are strictly one or another (ex. ''babes'' is platonic and ''beloved'' is romantic) but most are interchangable in my lexicon#I also totally agree with your names for Floyd - especially goober :D#twst#krenenbaker's reblogs#doveâ§
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Lore Compilations (+ this blog's tagging/filter list at the end)
A WIP of a pinned post table of contents to tidy up the blog while I empty my fixations onto it plus a lore accuracy disclaimer (so I don't have to keep typing one), because why not. I like tables of content.
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Disclaimer regarding lore accuracy: If you combine 50 years, 5 editions, 10+ settings, god knows how many novels, and then all the writers who all retcon and contradict each other's work then what you get is a clusterfuck. The lore I show here is compiled from all five editions of the game. You will likely see stuff out there that contradicts some things I say, or stuff I didn't mention/know. That's the lore for you. If you were the Dungeon Master making your own story, your job would be to pick and chose and build your own take on the setting out of it. I, personally, heavily favour older lore. Larian absolutely did this with Baldurs Gate 3 - frankly, I don't think they even know half this lore even exists, and Bioware took some liberties in the original games too. Wizards of the Coast themselves trample D&D into the ground all the time! All D&D is near enough fanfiction built on fanfiction. Therefore, if you find any information useful you may take it, leave it or tweak it to your desire for your own story, because it's D&D lore, and that's how it works.
Disclaimer regarding Larian's canon (and Bioware, and Obsidian): The setting shown in BG3 does not really match up to the setting as presented in sourcebooks (and sometimes novels, previous games, and 'word of god). I'm always talking about the latter and reframing the story and characters within the latter.
Disclaimer regarding asking me for my opinions on how [x] works in canon: I can make an educated guess based on the sourcebooks, but there are many gaps in many places and however educated the guess, unless it comes from a sourcebook, novel, or writer, it's just my own headcanon.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS [WIP] (I make no promises as to the speed or order at which any of this is produced - and some of these need updating)
Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms
[Some of this is getting revamped at some point] History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2] | Languages | Living in FaerĂťn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures
Baldurs Gate: The City #1 | Demographics | Law & Legal System | Aministration & Government | ???
Human Names | Clothes and Fashion | Music | Dating, Sex, Marriage etc [part 1] [part 2] |
Religion How religion works in the Realms, the different pantheons in the world and then individual posts dedicated to the gods as individuals, how and why to worship them and how their churches function
Religion | Priesthoods and Temples | Deities
Death and the Afterlife Dying | Judgement | Afterlives
Deities in BG3 Shar | SelĂťne | Bhaal | Mystra | Jergal | Bane | Bane #2 | Bane #3 | Myrkul | Lathander | Kelemvor | Tyr | Helm | Ilmater | Mielikki | Oghma | Tempus | Silvanus | Talos | Corellon | Moradin | Yondalla | Garl Glittergold | Eilistraee | Lolth | Laduguer | Gruumsh | Bahamut | Tiamat | Amodeus |
The rest of the FaerĂťnian Pantheon Gods of Magic & Knowledge | Nature Deities | Cyric | The Elemental Lords | Good Deities | Evil Deities | Neutral Deities |
Arcane Magic
Public Perception | Types of Mages | The Weave | Specialisations | Obscure types of magic | Elven High Magic | ???
Vampires Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy & Powers | Weaknesses & Cures | Psychology
Elves The Complete Book of Elves once said âThe elves of Toril do not follow the standards of most other worlds,â which yeah, pretty much. The Playerâs Handbook is not necessarily going to be accurate when talking about the TelâQuessir.
Physiology and quirks | Names & Clans and Houses || Pan-Cultural things: Social life | Time and Age Categories | Homes | Language | Art | Entertainment | Technology || Elven 'Subraces' still a wip || Philosophy and Religion & Pantheons || Half-elves | [WIP]
Drow Culture | Other Drow Cultures
Planars & Planetouched Tieflings | Githyanki | Bhaalspawn | Devils
Dwarves Overview | Culture | Specific Cultures | Magic | Religion | History
Orcs
Hin - That's "halfling", if you're over 3'4" Overview | Names | Culture | Homelands | Religion
Gnomes Culture | Names | Homelands | History | Religion
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Tagging system:
Various lore things that don't go in the larger compilations are tagged lore stuff. Things that aren't lore will get tagged babbling.
For sensitive material, such as if I feel like poking at the various delightful topics presented in the game:
I'll use edgelord hours as the generic "reader discretion advised"
The tag villainous nonsense means Dead Dove Do Not Eat.
the family circle is an extra warning for discussing the themes and subtexts such as those present with Bhaal's cult and the Bhaalspawn: including reproductive horror and sexual abuse, including the incest.
When babbling about my ideas for a World of Darkness AU specifically Vampire the tag is wod shenanigans.
If I feel like posting anything I scribbled ("art"), the tag will be the scribbles
When I'm making posts and being negative or complaining about video games and trivial stuff, it will be filed as: griping.
Whenever I find or consider something new about the Dead Three and/or want to rant and scream insults at Bane again, my tag is the idiot three
When I babble about my characters, I tag it OCs, and the ocs are also tagged by name. So far I've only mentioned Vel
If I don't want to put my babbling about certain characters into the tags, I'll just put the / in front. /astarion, /orin, /gortash, /durge, etc
When I want to babble about stuff happening in my game as I play it, they're tagged playthrough shenanigans. The original games are bg2 playthrough shenanigans.
When I start talking about my oc's romance with Astarion I'll tag it petty murder boyfriends
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smth a bit silly about iwtv fans arguing over lestat's gender using like his 18th century parisian stage costuming as evidence LOL like tbf it's a gothic not a period piece per se and certainly at tje time there were men who expressed more or less femininity including onstage but also it's just like. a bit sillayyy 2 be like assuming that Wearing Makeup And Heels must mean the same thing genderwise in all contexts liek it is just a bit đ¤¨đ¤¨đ¤¨ and anne rice was not really interested in historical accuracy but choosing 18th century for a melodramatic vampire was a good move IMO it tracks with certain archetypes of masculinity that were au courant At the time and wouldn't necessarily scan the same way Now. like there was not a contradiction between being a Patriarch and being Sensitive aesthetique fussy fashionable etc these were masculine attributes in ways that 21st century usa television doesn't really allow for. even him being blond, the distinction between blond and brunet in french literature of the period is âźď¸pronouncedâźď¸ in terms of what it tells you about a character's gender performance, social role, general comportment. the whole tjing feels a bit like idk, a reading exercise where the lexicon has gone misplaced
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#fashion#In America: A Lexicon of Fashion#dress#details#inspiration#style#design#art#fashion collection#style inspo
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Sir Lewis Hamilton's Met Gala outfits over the years
2015: âChina: Through the Looking Glassâ
Outfit by Topman
2016: âManus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technologyâ
Suit by Dolce & Gabanna
2017: âRei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Betweenâ
Tuxedo by Dolce & Gabbana Alta Sartoria
2018: âHeavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imaginationâ
Outfit by Tommy Hilfiger
2019: âCamp: Notes on Fashionâ
Suit by Tommy Hilfiger
2021: âIn America: A Lexicon of Fashionâ
Outfit by Kenneth NicholsonÂ
#lewis hamilton#sir lewis hamilton#formula 1#f1#formula one#lewis#hamilton#met gala#met gala 2015#met gala 2016#met gala 2017#met gala 2018#met gala 2019#met gala 2021#lh44
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