#hamilton cast imagines

[hagbrigade]

Like 10 minutes before Biden dropped out i listened to a Hamilton song on purpose (it came up on shuffle and i didn’t skip 🤷🏿) for the first time in a while like maybe over a year and it has been stuck in my head ever since… it’s “non-stop” bythe way…

[catiuapavel]

Not to be a hater about the English dub of Tactics Ogre Reborn again [proceeds to be a hater] but when the credits for the voice actors roll and you see how there is no Japanese actor of the extended cast who holds a double role with the single exception of Lanselot and Prancet which comes off as a thought-through decision... whereas in the EN dub you see almost every actor holds at least two roles, if not more... you realize which of these versions had their cast picked with care and was well directed, and which was thrown in just to be able to say it was voiced in English when marketing it.

[pocketgalaxies]

"fearne's favorite musical?"

"into the woods?"

"that seems a little on the nose."

"*starts singing hamilton*"

[jungwnies]

TIKTOK TREND WITH YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : wiping off their kiss every time they kiss you

୨ৎ : genre : fluff, angsty only if you squint ୨ৎ : tws : light kissing, nothing heavy ୨ৎ : word count : 3379

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : so proud of charles getting podium, i am a happy girl 🥲 also i finally added george to the featuring >.<

ʚ・max verstappen

the living room was quiet, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light over the couch. you perched on the edge, setting your phone up on the coffee table, angling it perfectly toward where max would sit. the screen reflected your mischievous grin as you hit record.

the sound of the shower shutting off echoed down the hall, followed by max’s footsteps. he walked in, towel over his shoulder, hair damp and messy.

“what are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

you leaned back casually, fighting a smirk. “nothing. just waiting for you.”

max dropped onto the couch beside you, still toweling his damp hair. without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly. as soon as he pulled away, you casually wiped the spot, pretending to fix your hair.

his brows furrowed. “did you just wipe that off?”

you glanced at him, feigning confusion. “wipe what off?”

“my kiss,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“no, i was just fixing my hair,” you replied, your tone so casual it could’ve won an oscar.

he stared at you for a second but shrugged it off. leaning in again, he kissed your temple this time, holding it for a moment longer before pulling back. you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh as you wiped it away, pretending to scratch your face.

“okay, now you’re definitely wiping them off,” he said, his tone sharper.

“max, you’re imagining things,” you said, giving him an innocent look.

“i’m not imagining anything!” he shot back, leaning forward with a slight pout. “why are you doing this? did i do something wrong?”

“you’re overthinking it,” you said, brushing off his concern.

he frowned, leaning in for a third kiss, this time planting it on the corner of your mouth. when you wiped that one off too, his mouth dropped open. “seriously? are you mad at me or something? just say it if you are.”

“i’m not mad!” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“then why are you being weird?” he snapped, now visibly salty. “do you not want me to kiss you anymore? should i stop?”

you burst out laughing, grabbing your phone off the table and showing him the recording. “baby, it’s a tik-tok trend! i was messing with you!”

his jaw clenched as he realized, then he groaned dramatically, flopping back into the couch. “you’re actually the worst,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

“aww, don’t be mad,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

he huffed, shaking his head. “you're an asshole,” then, with a smirk, he kissed you again and wrapped his arm around you, "but i guess i love you anyways." keeping you locked in place.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the front door clicked open, and you glanced up from the couch to see lewis stepping inside, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. his face looked tired, but he still gave you a soft smile, the kind that made your heart melt every time.

“long day?” you asked, setting your book aside.

“you have no idea,” he said with a sigh, dropping the bag by the door. “flights, media, and a race weekend? i’m ready to collapse.”

“sounds like you need some love,” you teased, patting the seat beside you.

lewis chuckled, kicking off his sneakers before walking over. he plopped down, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“missed you,” he murmured.

you smiled but casually brushed your hand over the spot where he’d kissed, pretending to fix your hair. lewis’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything, instead leaning in to kiss your cheek. when you wiped that off too, his lips parted in disbelief.

“did you just… wipe my kiss off?” he asked, his tone soft but genuinely confused.

“no, i was just adjusting my sweater,” you replied, keeping your face straight.

he tilted his head, watching you carefully now. “right… okay.”

a few moments passed, and lewis leaned in again, this time kissing your jawline. before he could even pull back fully, you wiped it off with a quick swipe of your hand.

“alright, what’s going on?” he asked, sitting up straighter. his voice was still calm, but there was a hint of frustration now. “did i do something wrong?”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“babe, you’re wiping off my kisses!” he said, his brows knitting together. “if you’re mad, just say so.”

“i’m not mad,” you said, trying not to laugh at the utterly baffled look on his face.

lewis leaned back, crossing his arms. “so, what? you don’t like my kisses anymore? should i stop?”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and bursting into laughter. “i was recording the whole thing,” you admit, "it's a tik-tok trend, a hilarious one i must admit, you should've seen your reaction."

he stared at you for a moment, processing, before shaking his head with an exasperated laugh. “you’re unbelievable. you had me thinking i did something wrong!”

“you’re too sweet,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

he smirked, pulling you into his lap. “if this is your idea of fun, just wait. payback’s coming, and it’s gonna be good.”

ʚ・george russell

the room was dim, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp lighting the space as you slid into bed next to george. he was already lying on his side, scrolling through his phone, his hair still slightly damp from his shower. the sheets rustled as you snuggled under the covers, your head resting against the pillow.

“finally, you're here,” he said with a soft smile, turning off his phone and setting it on the nightstand. “i thought you’d be up all night organizing stuff again.”

“you know me too well,” you replied, adjusting the blanket and shifting closer to him.

george chuckled, brushing a lock of hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. as soon as he pulled back, you absentmindedly wiped your forehead, pretending to smooth out a strand of hair.

george stopped, his gaze fixed on you, a slight furrow in his brow. “did you just… wipe off my kiss?”

you blinked innocently, tilting your head. “what? no, i didn’t.”

he leaned back, clearly unconvinced, his lips twisting into a half-smirk. “really? that’s how we’re doing this now?”

“doing what?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face.

he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before brushing it off. “never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head, but he didn’t take his eyes off you as he repositioned himself to get more comfortable in bed.

a moment later, george leaned in again, this time kissing the top of your nose. before he could fully pull back, you reached up and wiped it away, pretending to rub your eyes.

he sat up slightly, blinking in disbelief. “are you serious? again?”

“serious about what?” you asked, turning toward him with a sweet smile.

he let out a slow exhale, clearly trying to process. “you’re wiping off my kisses like it’s nothing. are you trying to tell me something here?”

you shrugged, still maintaining the innocent act. “it’s not like that, george.”

his voice was a little quieter this time, a mix of confusion and playfulness. “okay, now i’m starting to wonder. do you actually not want my kisses or what?”

you quickly reached for your phone, clicking the screen and showing him the recording. “george, it's a tik-tok”

his eyes widened in realization, and he let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “seriously? you’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

“yep,” you said, grinning.

he raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “you're lucky you're cute."

ʚ・carlos sainz

the kitchen was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows as you sat at the counter, sipping your coffee. carlos was standing by the stove, flipping pancakes with the focus of a man on a mission, but his usual easygoing vibe was still present. he glanced over at you as he set the pan down, a lazy smile forming on his face.

“good morning, cariño,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, though there was a sparkle in his eyes. “how did you sleep?”

“like a log,” you said, taking a long sip of coffee. “thanks to you keeping me up late last night.”

he laughed, his eyes twinkling as he moved to grab the syrup. “so you admit it? i’m just too irresistible.”

you rolled your eyes, setting your mug down. “not quite. you’re more like a human heater, honestly.”

“ah, a heater with a great smile,” he added, leaning in to kiss your forehead. before he could pull away, you quickly wiped the spot, pretending to adjust your hair.

he froze, standing there for a second with a confused look on his face. “eh? did you just wipe off my kiss?”

you looked up at him innocently, trying to hide your smile. “what? no, I didn’t.”

“no? okay…” he said, his voice now filled with playful suspicion. he raised an eyebrow. “that’s… interesting.”

he took a step back, eyeing you carefully. “so, you don’t want me to kiss you anymore, is that it? too much affection?”

“what are you talking about?” you asked, feigning confusion. “i just didn’t want syrup on my face.”

carlos chuckled, but he leaned in again, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. before he could even fully pull away, you wiped it off again, this time more exaggerated.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back dramatically. “okay, okay, you’re messing with me now, right?”

“no, I’m not,” you said, trying to stifle your laugh. “seriously.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly starting to get annoyed. “are you doing this just to mess with me? i’m here, making pancakes, and you’re wiping off my kisses? do you want to break up or something?”

“what? no!” you exclaimed, trying not to crack a smile. “I swear, I’m not doing anything weird.”

he sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. “you’re making me feel like I’m doing something wrong. why are you wiping my kisses away?”

that was when you couldn’t hold it anymore. you grabbed your phone from the counter, showing him the recording of the whole thing. “carlos, it’s a prank!”

his eyes widened as he watched the footage, then he groaned, dramatically slouching against the counter. “you’re unbelievable. seriously, I’m making my famous fluffy pancakes and this is what I get?”

“you know you love me,” you said, laughing.

he shook his head, rolling his eyes. “fine, fine. but just wait, I’m going to get you back for this one.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, reaching for a pancake.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you were curled up on the couch, charles beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders as you both relaxed after a long day. the movie was on, but you weren’t really paying attention. instead, you were watching charles every now and then, his focused expression as he tried to get into the plot. a small, playful thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but act on it.

you nudged him lightly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but as soon as you pulled back, you wiped it off with exaggerated care, pretending to smooth a stray strand of hair.

charles paused, the film still playing in the background, but he was no longer paying attention to it. he turned to you, a brow raised and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “did you just wipe my kiss off?” he asked, voice a mix of amusement and genuine confusion.

you blinked, acting innocent. “what? no, i didn’t. you must be seeing things, babe.”

he leaned in closer, his smirk growing. “really? because i definitely saw that,” he said, his voice playfully suspicious. "you sure you’re not hiding something?"

“nope,” you replied quickly, your lips twitching with the effort to keep a straight face. “just... adjusting my hair. i have really messy hair, you know?”

“hmm,” he said, squinting at you. “well, i’ll just have to test that theory again, then.”

charles leaned in for another kiss, but this time, he took his time, making sure to press a little longer against your skin. as he pulled away, he looked at you with a smirk, waiting for your reaction.

without hesitation, you wiped your cheek again, this time a little more dramatically, as though he’d just kissed you with a mouthful of chocolate or something.

charles froze, his mouth parting as he tried to process what just happened. “okay, what the hell?” he laughed, his confusion turning into playful disbelief. “now you’re really wiping it off. i swear, if this is some kind of prank…”

“prank?” you asked, feigning innocence. “no, charles, no prank here. just making sure my skin stays clean.”

he let out a deep sigh, shifting so he was facing you fully, his expression a mixture of frustration and laughter. “you’ve got to be kidding me. you’re wiping off my kisses now? i’m feeling personally attacked, mon amour.”

you couldn’t hold back your grin any longer. “oh, charles,” you said, trying not to laugh, “it’s just a little tik-tok, okay? i swear, i love your kisses... just not on my face right now.”

he blinked at you, processing it for a second before it clicked. “wait a minute...” he said, his voice growing mock-serious. “you’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

you nodded, finally letting out a laugh as you grabbed your phone and showed him the video you’d been recording.

charles threw his head back, a laugh escaping as he groaned in exasperation. “you’re impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “here i was thinking i was doing something wrong, and you’re just messing with me for fun.”

“i’m sorry, babe,” you said, still laughing. “but look at that face you made every time i wiped it off! it was too good.”

he shook his head, trying to hide his grin. “i swear, i’m going to get you back for this. but, just so you know, i don’t think i’ll ever kiss you on the cheek again. i might have to kiss you on your hand next time—keep it classy.”

“that’s fine with me,” you teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek for real this time, savoring the moment. “as long as it’s real this time, i’ll take anything.”

charles wrapped his arm around you again, pressing his lips to the top of your head with a playful sigh. “you’re impossible.”

“i know,” you replied, grinning. “and you love it.”

ʚ・lando norris

you were getting ready to leave the room, heading for the door to grab something. lando, in the middle of streaming, noticed you getting up and paused his game.

“hey, where are you going?” he asked with a playful grin.

“just to grab my jacket,” you replied, already halfway to the door.

he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before you left, but as soon as his lips touched your skin, you wiped your cheek with your hand in one swift motion, acting like it was no big deal.

lando pulled back, his expression frozen for a moment. “wait... what?”

you turned to him with wide eyes, completely innocent. “what? i didn’t wipe anything off.”

“you definitely just wiped off my kiss,” he said, his voice laced with confusion.

you shrugged, still acting nonchalant. “nah, you’re imagining things.”

lando squinted at you, his head tilting in that way he does when he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “seriously? i gave you a kiss, and you wiped it off like... like i’ve got bad breath or something?”

“i didn’t wipe it off,” you said, barely holding in your grin. “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, no,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “i’m pretty sure you just wiped it off. i know i kissed you, and i know it’s gone now.”

you pretended to look at the floor, trying to look innocent. “you must be tired, love. maybe you imagined it?”

he paused for a moment, trying to make sense of it, but after a beat, he shrugged it off and went back to his game. you turned to leave again, and he kissed you once more on the cheek, this time giving you a teasing smile.

before you even gave him a chance to pull away, you wiped the kiss off again—this time with even more dramatic flair, rubbing your hand over your cheek like it was covered in dirt.

“okay, that’s it!” he said, pausing his game once again. “you’re messing with me. why are you wiping off my kisses? what’s going on?”

you couldn’t help it anymore and pulled out your phone to show him the tiktok trend. “you’ve been pranked.”

his eyes went wide for a second, before bursting into laughter. “oh my god, i can’t believe i fell for that!”

you smiled smugly. “what can i say? i’m just that good.”

“next time, i’m getting you back for this one,” he said, still laughing.

meanwhile, his twitch chat was going wild. "lando, how did you not realize this was the tiktok trend?" one viewer typed.

“i swear, i thought i was being tricked by my own girlfriend!” lando chuckled, shaking his head at the screen. "chat's right though, i should've known better."

ʚ・oscar piastri

you and oscar were lounging on the couch, the tv flickering quietly in the background, but neither of you were really watching it. the evening had that lazy, easy vibe where you didn’t need to talk much, just enjoying each other's presence.

oscar was scrolling through his phone, chuckling at something he’d seen. you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, but at the last second, he turned his head, and your lips landed right on his.

“wait, what was that?” he grinned, pulling back slightly. “since when did you get so affectionate all of a sudden?”

you shrugged, playing it cool. “what can i say, love? just felt like it.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “hmm, you sure you’re not up to something?”

you raised an eyebrow, acting casual. “nope, just a kiss. no hidden agenda.”

“right,” he said, clearly unconvinced, before leaning in for another kiss. but this time, just before his lips met yours, you quickly wiped your cheek with your hand, like you were brushing something off.

oscar froze, staring at you like you’d just sprouted another head. “wait, did you just—? did you just wipe off my kiss?”

you turned to him with wide eyes, trying to look innocent. “huh? no, i didn’t. you’re imagining things.”

“no, i saw it,” he said, sitting up a little straighter, a grin now playing on his face. “you literally wiped it off like i’ve got something on my face.”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “maybe you do. you never know.”

oscar stared at you for a moment, his grin slipping into mock offense. “so, now i’ve got bad kisses, huh?”

“no, no,” you said, trying not to laugh. “just… you know. maybe a little extra today.”

“extra?” he repeated, leaning in with a suspicious look on his face. “alright, this is definitely a prank. i can tell.”

you bit your lip, fighting the smile that was threatening to break out. “who, me? never.”

“don’t lie,” he said, crossing his arms. “this is 100% a prank. i'm being pranked, aren't i?”

before you could answer, oscar leaned in again, and this time, when he kissed you, he pulled away slowly, rubbing his cheek like he was wiping something off, complete with an exaggerated motion. “is that better?” he asked, grinning ear to ear. “did i nail it?”

you burst into laughter, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you caught me! it's the stupid tik-tok trend.”

oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “you can’t fool me. but, i’ll be getting you back for this one.”

“you can try." you teased.

“oh, we’ll see about that,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, this time making sure you didn’t wipe it off. “but this one stays, just so you know.”

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[creeperthescamp]

finally sat down and watched hamilton (special interest of my sister) after being very poo-pooey and edgy about it for a few years. it was enjoyable and well made but y'know. i think the poo-poo is still warranted

there's just something about watching thomas jefferson prancing around in a lovely coat and singing a fun little song about coming home from paris and very off-handedly saying something like 'read this for me, sally' and you suddenly remember that sally was (iirc) a slave he owned AND also raped several times that rly takes you out of it for the rest of the show

for a musical that is technically very inclusive and does a lot of cool things it's very funny to me how the whole thing is SO clearly made within the context of a new yorker in the mid 2010s when obama was still president to the point where it's not even a decade old and seems so dated in its framing of us history. 'immigrant' is such an. Interesting! way of talking about people who were colonisers and slavers. the miku binder post makes so much sense now

probs the most frustrating thing about hamilton tho is not rly the musical itself but trying to talk about it with my sister and dad (who love it) cos they feel such a need to defend it by trying to get me on 'gotchas' and technicalities like 'yea but they did mention slavery tho!'

.....not sure why im not allowed to have mixed feelings about something? tes games have been my special interest for years I'm so fucking good at having mixed feelings about popular media! anyway

[maxtermind]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol) ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart. 

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[mrsfancyferrari]

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

Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 20.8k

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.

The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.

You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.

The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.

“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”

“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”

As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.

“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”

You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.

Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.

“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”

“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.

“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.

Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”

The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”

She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”

You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”

As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.

“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"

You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"

"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.

"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"

David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."

You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.

As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.

Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.

To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.

Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."

Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."

You were taken aback. He knew your name?

The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."

Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."

You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.

"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."

He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."

Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."

You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."

He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."

Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."

As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."

Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."

You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."

Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."

He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.

As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.

"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.

The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.

Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.

"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.

The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.

You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.

As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.

The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.

Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.

"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.

"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.

With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .

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Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.

The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.

Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.

Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.

The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.

The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.

The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.

You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .

The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.

But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.

Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.

They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.

You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.

As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.

But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.

Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.

As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.

With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.

The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.

After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.

"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.

His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.

"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."

The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.

Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.

"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.

The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.

Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.

"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.

The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.

Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.

"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.

Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.

The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.

In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.

Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.

"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.

"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.

His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.

At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.

However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.

You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.

Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.

In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.

When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.

You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.

Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?

Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.

You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.

The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.

As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.

His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.

You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.

“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”

Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.

The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.

“Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”

He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”

Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.

You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”

“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.

He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.

You felt like you might burst from happiness.

Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.

He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.

You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.

You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.

As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.

You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.

“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”

With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.

You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.

As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.

You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.

Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.

After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.

Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.

You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.

But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.

David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."

The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.

With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.

It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.

Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.

The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.

You looked stunning—and vulnerable.

It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.

Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.

When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.

"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.

An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.

The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.

A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.

“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.

The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.

“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.

You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.

His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”

It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.

You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.

“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.

The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.

It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.

You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.

“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.

It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.

“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.

“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.

The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.

You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.

After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.

Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.

How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?

His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.

“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.

You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.

“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .

The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.

"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."

"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.

The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.

"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.

Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.

"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.

Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.

You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.

"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.

As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.

He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.

The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.

In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"

When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.

"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.

The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.

Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.

"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"

"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .

Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."

You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.

"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.

"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.

With that, there was no arguing.

When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.

And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.

"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.

"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.

As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.

A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.

"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."

You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."

His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.

"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."

Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.

The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.

As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.

His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.

You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.

After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.

“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.

“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”

He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.

You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”

His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”

“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”

“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”

With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.

As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.

You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.

You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.

My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.

“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.

He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.

To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”

What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.

The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.

“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.

The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .

As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.

Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.

Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.

Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.

Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.

You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.

You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.

Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.

Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.

You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.

You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.

The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.

A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.

To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.

“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.

With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.

You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.

The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.

With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.

The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.

As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.

The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.

But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.

The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.

As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.

You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.

You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.

The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.

Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.

They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.

Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.

You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.

"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.

You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.

Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.

In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.

You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.

In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.

With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.

But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.

Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.

As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.

You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."

The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.

You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.

Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .

You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.

While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.

It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.

As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.

“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.

Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.

In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.

But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.

“Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.

His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.

“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.

There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.

Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.

As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.

The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.

What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.

But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.

He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.

“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.

Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.

A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.

Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.

“Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.

“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.

As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.

As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.

You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.

And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.

As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.

You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.

The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.

As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.

The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.

“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.

“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”

You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”

“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.

“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.

“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”

“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”

Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”

“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”

You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”

He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”

As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”

“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”

As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.

"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.

The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"

"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.

You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .

The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.

As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.

You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.

The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.

You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.

After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.

You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.

But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.

It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.

The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.

Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.

We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.

“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.

You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.

The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.

The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.

Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.

Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.

Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.

You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.

“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.

Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.

My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.

Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.

You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.

Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.

The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.

Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.

Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.

As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.

“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.

“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.

Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.

The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.

“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.

Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.

“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.

My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.

The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.

“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.

You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.

“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.

As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”

His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.

There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.

As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.

“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.

Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.

Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.

“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.

His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”

The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.

“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”

“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.

“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.

You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.

“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.

“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.

You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.

You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”

“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.

You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.

"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.

"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.

"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"

You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.

The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.

As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.

You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.

As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"

A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.

"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.

The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.

Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.

The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.

But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.

"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.

"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.

"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.

You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"

Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.

And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.

As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”

You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.

As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”

“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”

You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.

“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.

His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”

“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.

“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.

Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.

You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”

After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”

Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.

In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.

"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.

Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.

As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.

“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.

Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.

He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”

Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.

You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”

“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”

As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.

“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.

Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”

As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”

Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.

"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.

Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.

Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.

“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.

You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.

“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.

There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.

“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.

But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.

“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.

You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.

“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.

“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.

You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.

“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.

“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.

You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.

The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.

Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.

“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.

As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.

The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.

The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.

When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .

“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.

The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.

But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.

“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.

Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.

“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”

The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.

The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.

“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.

Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."

Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.

Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.

Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.

“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.

"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.

Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.

“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.

Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”

You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.

You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.

As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.

But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.

Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.

Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.

Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.

Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.

The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.

“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.

Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.

Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.

As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.

“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.

As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.

And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.

Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.

Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.

“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.

As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”

With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.

“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”

You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.

By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.

Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.

A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.

He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.

The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.

“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.

Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.

“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”

Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.

You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.

The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.

You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.

Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.

“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”

The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.

You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.

Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You… What?” he stammered, processing your confession.

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”

Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.

The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.

"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.

"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.

“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.

"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.

“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.

The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.

He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.

You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”

With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.

His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.

You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.

“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”

It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.

"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.

A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.

And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."

You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.

“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.

The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.

You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.

As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.

The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.

Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.

He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.

Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.

It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.

"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.

His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,

“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.

You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.

You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.

His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

[adrienneleclerc]

Book Boyfriend Challenge

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: where Y/N has her fiancé reciting lines from her 3 book boyfriends.

Warning: 18+ lines used, spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: I’m also working on an alternative version where Y/N has no idea Charles has read her books and decides to recite the same lines to see how she reacts, let me know of you want that posted. This takes place in the same universe as The Drive Thru Test

Y/N has seen TikToks of couples doing this challenge so he has picked out three books, Throttled by Lauren Asher, Eleven Eleven by Micaela Smeltzer, and Camera Shy by Kay Cove.

“Charles, muñeco, Can you come here for a second?” Y/N called from their living room, the books lined up on the coffee table. Charles comes in from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mon ange?” Charles asked.

“I have another TikTok challenge for us to try.” Y/N said. Charles playfully rolled his eyes and sat besides her on the couch.

“What is the challenge, Mon ange?” Charles asked. Y/N smiled.

“Okay so I have 3 books here, they are my favorite book boyfriends, there’s Noah Slade, Finn Harvey, and Reid Astor Crawford, I personally love these books, but I want you to choose whatever lines from these 3 books and recite them.” Y/N asked. Charles picked up the Throttled book.

“You’ve read an F1 romance book?” Charles asked, flipping through the pages. “Is bandini supposed to be Ferrari? Have you read this thinking about me?” Charles kept asking questions.

“Okay so I’m not the only one who fan casts you as Noah Slade, I’ve seen people make TikToks casting you as Noah, Lewis Hamilton is Jax, Carlos Sainz is Santiago, I’ve seen very mixed opinions about Liam, sometimes is Sebastian Vettel, others it’s Max Verstappen…” Y/N was explaining but Charles cut her off.

“You actually like this Noah guy?!? He’s such an asshole in the beginning.” Charles said as he was reading the first few pages of the book. “I can’t believe people imagine me as Noah.” Charles mumbled. “I’m a nice guy!”

“Muñeco, just pick a line, I’ll let you read the book after we’re done.” Y/N said,

“Fine.” Charles said. It took Charles a few seconds to pick a perfect line. “Okay, I got it.” Charles cleared his throat. “I’m not like any of the guys you’ve been with before. I May not be your first fuck, but I might as well be.” Charles said and Y/N started giggling. “What’s so funny, ma Belle?”

“Nothing, it’s just you’re so cute, I can’t imagine you saying this. But I must admit, your accent makes it hot.” Y/N confessed, kissing Charles. They broke away and Charles said the other line he has chosen.

“You’re a naughty little thing.” Charles tried to say in a seductive matter and Y/N covered her face with her hands.

“Okay that was hot.” Y/N confessed and now it was Charles’s turn to giggle.

“Okay this line is so stupid. ‘But I fuck like an A-list porno.’ I don’t know what more shocking, that the author thought it was a good line, or that you actually like that, I see you blushing, Mon ange.” Charles said and Y/N just shook her head.

“I like the book! Also, lines like this work because it is fictional, if a real man tried to say this to me, I would laugh in their face. But again, I think your accent makes it acceptable.” Y/N said and Charles kissed her.

“Okay I’m keeping this book, I need to know what people imagine me act like.” Charles said, getting off the couch to place Throttled in their bedroom on his side of the dresser. He came back, sitting next to Y/N, and chose the next book, Eleven Eleven. He was skimming until… “HE JUST TURNED 21?!?” Charles asked yelling. “She’s 32, that feels illegal, Mon ange, come on.”

“If you forget about the age, the way he is considerate, sweet, yet kinda cocky is such a turn on for me.” Y/N said.

“Am I competing with your book boyfriends?” Charles asked,

“If you really had to ask…” Y/N muttered. Charles found the line he wanted to refute but first he wanted to have a heavy make out session so Y/N would have full effect of the line. He leaned in to kiss her, he slightly bites her lower lip to insert his tongue in her mouth, both tongues fighting for dominance, Y/N had her hands in his hair but Charles was the one to light pull on her hair, making her moan. They pulled away and Y/N was panting/breathing heavily. Charles had his hand on Y/N’s inner thigh, rubbing lightly.

“Don’t get shy on me now, not when my tongue has been all over this sweet pussy.” Charles said and Y/N just stared at him incredulously.

“I can’t believe you got me hot and bothered just to say that line.” Y/N pouted and Charles laughed. “But that line worked on me, can’t lie.” Charles then cupped Y/N’s face in his hands.

“No man is ever going to make you feel this good. Not the way I can.” Charles said, ending the sentence in a cute little smirk.

“I thought I was going to cringe at some of the lines, but so far so good. You’re doing great, mi vida.” Y/N said, giving Charles a quick peck before he picks up the last book. “I know a lot of people on GoodReads are not a fan but I really liked it, I related to Avery so much.” Y/N said with a pout and Charles faintly smiled while reading the first few pages.

“This Mason guy is an asshole.” Charles said.

“I know! Like who dumps someone in their birthday?” Y/N said. Charles nods in agreement and starts skimming a few pages.

“He’s a boudoir photographer?” Charles asked and Y/N nodded. “You wanna do a photo shoot like that for me?” Charles asked suggestively.

“Sure thing, muñeco, but you’re buying what you want me to wear for this photo shoot.” Y/N said and Charles kissed her temple, still skimming until he found the line.

“Okay, this is kinda long.” Charles cleared his throat and tried to make his voice sound a little deeper and raspy, and looks into Y/N’s eyes. “You’re not going to speak. I’m going to talk to you. I’m going to strip you down and point out all the things I love about your body. For 5 minutes, Lu are going to enjoy a man who you think fucks like a porn star, worshipping you.” Charles recited, not breaking eye contact. Y/N blushed and looked away.

“How the hell did Avery not melt at that. It is official, you can make all these book lines sexy as fuck.” Y/N said and Charles chuckled.

“Well I’m glad this is turning you one, Mon ange.” Charles said, he skimmed until he found another one. “I’m going to make you vocal during sex, I’m going to have you screaming when you come, trust me.” He recited.

“Mm, not as hot.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, I agree, you’re already vocal during sex.” Charles commented and Y/N swatted his shoulder. “What? You’re acting as if that’s not the truth.”

“Just pick the next line, muñeco.” Y/N said.

“I bet you’re so fucking wet for me right now my tongue could go swimming, sweet girl.” Charles said in a raspy voice and Y/N covered her face.

“You did not pick that.” Y/N said.

“But I did. Mon ange, do you real,y enjoy ready these smutty books?” Charles asked.

“Yes I do, I like a modern romance, the smut is a bonus. I find them entertaining though.” Y/N said.

“Mm, should I buy you more books like this then?” Charles asked, pulling Y/N onto his lap so she’s straddling him.

“If you want to, of course.” Y/N said. Charles smiled before kissing her.

“I’m going to read Throttled when I’m on the plane for my next race.” Charles said.

“Okay, let me know what you think.” Y/N said.

Liked by pierregasly and 3,562,924 others

charlesleclerc I discovered that Throttled by Lauren Asher is one of my fiancé’s favorite books so I’ve been reading it and I have a few questions. 1, if I’m Noah Slade despite actually being monegasque, does that mean Y/N is Maya even if she’s Latina and not a Spaniard 🤔? 2, I know I am flirty but I am definitely not as flirty, forward, and cocky as Noah. And 3, I’m a nice guys, a relationship guy, and a family guy, Noah was nothing like that in the beginning! Anyway, not finished yet but so far so good!

View all 10,352 comments

user29 OMG HE’S READING IT!!!!!

user31 Y/N is my favorite WAG and now I have another reason

yourusername muñeco, you were supposed to call me with your thoughts on the book,

charlesleclerc well I’m currently thinking we should recreate that scene in Milano, you want me to choose the restaurant.

yourusername 😳🫣

user35 LORD PERCEVAL!

pierregasly I think you broke the internet, mate

use56 PETITION TO CAST CHARLES AND Y/N AS NOAH AND MAYA FOR A THROTTLE MOVIE!

user23 yes!! They’re perfect

lewishamilton am i supposed to be this Jax guy?

carlossainz55 and me Santiago?

yourusername yes and yes, that’s what TikTok says 🤭

[vettelsvee]

THE "JOURNALIST" | Max Verstappen

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

max verstappen x journalist student!reader

summary: y/n is "scared" to interview max, and max is sick of journalists, especially newbies. however the sex appeal between them is more than obvious.

word count: 992

warnings: none of it really! just sexual tension between y/n and max. use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

You were in the broadcast booth ready to report the results of the latest Formula 1 qualifying session. With your notebook and microphone in hand, you were poised to inform the audience about the exciting session results.

"Welcome back to our live broadcast from Silverstone!" you exclaimed cheerfully as you looked into the camera. "I think we should start discussing the results of the qualifying session for tomorrow's Sunday race as soon as possible."

With great enthusiasm and ensuring you had your notes in hand to avoid any mistakes, you began to list the names of the drivers and their positions on the starting grid:

"In first position, with an impressive fast lap, we have Lewis Hamilton, who has once again demonstrated his incredible skills on the track. In second place we have Max Verstappen, who is hot on the heels of the British in the championship standings. And in third position, but no less important, we have Charles Leclerc, whose improvement this season has been phenomenal, something he is quite proud of, as his partner exclusively shared with us."

You continued to read out the names of the drivers and their respective positions. However, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to Max Verstappen, the Dutch driver who she found quite attractive and, at the same time, respected due to his evident disdain towards the media.

"And in the last position, we have our dear Checo Pérez, who is having a fantastic season with Red Bull Racing but, due to an engine failure, was eliminated in Q3. It will undoubtedly be very exciting to see how these men fight for the podium in tomorrow's race!"

You continued to describe the results and the performance the drivers had shown in the qualifying session, highlighting their achievements and the challenges they would face the following day.

When it came time to talk about Max Verstappen, your voice tone changed slightly:

"As for Verstappen, the prodigal son of this new era in the world of motorsport, he has once again demonstrated his incredible talent," you said with as much seriousness as she could muster, "although it was not enough to surpass Hamilton this time."

You tried to stay focused on your speech despite the glances Verstappen was casting from the paddock while responding to other journalists. Without a doubt, Verstappen commanded a lot of respect from you: the fact that he disregarded the work of his future colleagues in the profession caused your considerable disdain, and at times, he could be quite disrespectful. You didn't want to imagine how he would treat you, being just a newbie.

Although it must be noted that you found yourself quite attracted to him.

After finally finishing the live broadcast and interviewing several drivers, with whom she had felt quite comfortable despite her nerves, it was your turn to face Max Verstappen.

"Hello, Max," you greeted the Dutchman. "First of all, I want to congratulate you on your second position in the qualifying."

"It's not the one my team and I were looking for."

You tried to ignore his response, moving on to a different but related question:

"Even though your result isn't what you desired, how do you feel about being in that position?" despite your fear, you dared to continue with the question, "Do you think you'll be able to beat Lewis?"

"I'm here to win," Max replied flippantly, "not to settle for second place."

"I understand, Max," you said, changing the subject, "with the aim of overtaking Hamilton, could you tell us what strategies both you and Red Bull Racing have in mind?"

You didn't need to see the poker face Max had directed at you to know you had overstepped by asking about strategies.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

Without even looking at you or saying goodbye, he turned around seemingly intending to leave the scene.

But Max Verstappen wasn't one to let anyone get the better of him, not even a mere student who didn't know how she was going to earn her degree because, without a doubt, she didn't know how to do her job properly.

"And what about you," he addressed you directly, shocking you in that moment. "What strategy would you propose to me to win the race?"

You had endured situations of underestimation in other newsrooms where you had interned, with quite nasty comments that had made you feel pretty bad. However, the sarcasm from the blue-eyed driver only drew her more to him.

"Maybe he's an asshole," you thought to yourself, "but he's a pretty hot asshole."

"Well…" you began. "Maybe instead of doing good broadcasts or getting top marks, I'll fuck one of you and, besides, gain fame."

Verstappen let out a sardonic laugh as he approached you. There was no doubt that he had not only surprised, but also pleased by what you had said.

"Really?" Max answered, a little excited, "Who would you take right now?"

"You seem like a complete asshole," you told him, "but I have to admit that I find it extremely difficult to ignore you."

"Why's that? Do you like what you see?"

The tension between both of you was more than evident.

You knew you couldn't continue this conversation, at least not in front of journalists, team bosses, and other people.

"If you want to set aside our personal relationship," the driver whispered to you as he lightly brushed your arm, "and get to know me better, prepare a good strategy for tonight."

"Verstappen," you replied, looking him directly in the eyes. "If you win tomorrow's race, don't hesitate to invite me to the private party you're going to throw, and I'll give you a night to make you feel special."

"Alright, Miss I-don't-know-your-name. A victory for one night."

If Max felt motivated to come in first tomorrow to beat Hamilton, now he felt even more so knowing he could have a girl begging for him.

[amirasainz]

What about George x Carmen x Hamilton!reader. She shows them the beauty of Brasil, and they all enjoy their time together, being in love with each other. Can you please make her fluent in Portuguese?🇧🇷💚

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

Brasil, o quanto eu amo (Brasil, how much I love you)

The Brazilian sun poured golden light over the sands of Praia do Forte, casting a warm glow over the ocean waves. George stretched out on a beach towel, Carmen nestled beside him, and Yn lying on his other side. Carmen’s arm was securely wrapped around Yn’s waist, and George’s hand occasionally brushed over her shoulder, holding her close. They were a perfect picture of relaxation—yet just beneath that was a bubbling excitement, the thrill of experiencing something entirely new together.

"Can you believe this place?" George murmured, his blue eyes scanning the beach before settling on Yn. “You know, I thought Monaco was paradise, but Brazil might just have it beat.”

Yn laughed, the sound bright and infectious. "That’s what I’ve been telling you both! Brazil has its own kind of magic." She shifted, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on George's arm. “And this is only the beginning. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Carmen leaned in, pressing a kiss to Yn’s cheek. "Then we’re in for an unforgettable trip," she whispered, her fingers curling around Yn’s waist just a little tighter. "You always know the best places to take us."

Yn’s cheeks flushed under Carmen’s touch and George’s gaze. She felt her heart skip, warmth blooming in her chest. This vacation had already been wonderful, but getting to show George and Carmen her favorite places in Brazil—her home—was something else entirely.

“Alright, so what’s next on the itinerary, love?” George asked, grinning. “You’ve got us hooked.”

Yn smiled, pulling away just enough to look at them both, her eyes dancing with excitement. “How about a bit of adventure? There’s a hidden waterfall not too far from here that barely anyone knows about. The hike there is through the rainforest—sound good?”

“Absolutely,” Carmen replied eagerly. “Anything you want to show us, we’re game.”

“Then let’s go!” Yn jumped to her feet, holding out her hands for George and Carmen, helping them up as they laughed and gathered their things.

---

The rainforest was alive with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves, every step taking them deeper into the lush greenery. Yn led the way, effortlessly translating the occasional signs and pointing out the different plants and animals they encountered.

“Do you hear that?” Yn asked, pausing and tilting her head. Faintly, the sound of rushing water echoed through the trees. “We’re close.”

George slipped his hand into Yn’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Lead on, princess,” he said softly, brushing his lips over her knuckles.

Yn felt her heart flutter, glancing at Carmen, who had fallen in step on her other side, her hand resting on Yn’s waist as they walked. Carmen gave her a soft, knowing smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Yn’s lips.

They emerged from the trail to a breathtaking view. A secluded waterfall tumbled down into a crystal-clear pool surrounded by thick jungle. Sunlight streamed through the canopy above, casting dappled light over everything.

“It’s incredible,” Carmen breathed, her gaze sweeping over the scene before settling on Yn. “Thank you for bringing us here, Yn. I can’t imagine seeing this with anyone else.”

“Yeah,” George agreed, wrapping an arm around Yn’s shoulders. He bent down, brushing his lips against hers in a lingering kiss. “Thank you for sharing this with us. You really know how to make everything feel special.”

Yn smiled between them, feeling the weight of their words and their love all around her. “You’re both so easy to impress,” she teased, her voice soft. “But there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you two.”

Carmen leaned in, resting her forehead against Yn’s, her fingers tracing Yn’s jaw as she murmured, “Then let’s enjoy every moment of it together.”

---

As the afternoon wore on, the three of them lounged beside the pool beneath the waterfall, dipping their feet in the cool water and soaking up the sun. Yn showed them how to greet others in Portuguese, taught them phrases to navigate the markets, and laughed as George tried—and failed—to imitate her accent.

“Como vai, George?” Yn asked, grinning as she tested him on the simple Portuguese phrase for “how are you?”

George furrowed his brows in concentration, repeating, “Como vai?” as he attempted to match her tone.

Yn giggled. “You’re getting better! By the end of this trip, you’ll be speaking like a Brazilian.”

“Only because I have the best teacher,” he replied, leaning forward to brush his lips over hers.

Carmen clapped her hands together. “Alright, my turn!” She smiled at Yn, eager to impress her. “How do you say, ‘I’m falling more in love with you every day’?”

Yn’s heart melted at the request. She took a breath and repeated softly, “Estou me apaixonando mais por você a cada dia.”

Carmen whispered the phrase back, her voice low, and kissed Yn again, sealing her words with her touch. George watched them with a tender smile, his hand resting over Yn’s on the warm rock where they sat.

As they lingered by the waterfall, laughter and kisses flowing freely, Yn thought of how much Brazil had always meant to her—and how much it now meant to share it with the people she loved.

[ladydigianna]

shattered promises || lh44 x reader

|| pairings: lewis hamilton x reader, platonic f1 grid x reader

|| angst

|| from the author: read angst hcs of f1 so i had to write one please remember this is just fictional, a work of my imagination

-fic under the cut-

The family home buzzed with chatter and laughter, the scent of home-cooked meals filling the air as everyone gathered for yet another event—one of many you’d grown used to over the years. Normally, these events made you feel content, like you belonged to something stable, a network of love that kept you grounded. You found comfort in them, and in Lewis, who stood beside you. His hand rested at the small of your back as you mingled with relatives, the familiar warmth of his touch steadying you.

But tonight was different. There was an undercurrent of tension you couldn’t quite place, a gnawing discomfort that tugged at your chest the longer the evening stretched on. Every so often, you caught your sister casting glances at Lewis—glances that felt too intimate, too knowing. At first, you brushed it off. You trusted them both implicitly; after all, your sister was family, and Lewis was the love of your life. The man who whispered sweet promises of forever in your ear on quiet nights, the man who made you feel like you were his world.

But something was wrong. You could feel it in the way Lewis’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes whenever he looked at you, or in the way your sister seemed nervous, her laughter too forced when they interacted. The uneasy feeling festered as the night wore on, growing harder to ignore.

It all came to a head when you excused yourself from a conversation with some cousins, needing a moment to breathe and collect your racing thoughts. As you walked down the hallway, seeking a quiet corner of the house, you heard it. Muffled voices. The soft murmur of your sister’s voice, mixed with Lewis’s low, frantic tones.

You froze, heart hammering in your chest as you stood just outside the door. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but something kept you rooted to the spot. You couldn’t stop yourself.

“Lewis, we can’t do this,” your sister’s voice whispered urgently, panic clear in her tone. “It was a mistake.”

“I know, I know,” Lewis replied, his voice strained. “It was a one-time thing. We were drunk, we weren’t thinking… but we can’t let her find out.”

Her. You.

The words hit you like a sledgehammer, and the air seemed to vanish from your lungs. Your mind raced, a sickening realization dawning on you as the blood rushed in your ears. You felt your knees wobble, the floor beneath you seeming to fall away as the betrayal washed over you in suffocating waves.

You pushed the door open, your hands trembling. Their heads snapped toward you, faces drained of color as they registered your presence. Your sister’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Lewis stepped forward, panic and guilt written all over his face.

“Y/N…,” he began, his voice shaking. “Please, let me explain.”

Your throat burned as you tried to speak, but the words got stuck. Tears welled up in your eyes, hot and unstoppable, as you took in the sight of them together. Your sister—the person you had grown up with, confided in, trusted more than anyone else in the world. And Lewis, the man who had sworn he would never hurt you.

“How could you?” you finally choked out, voice breaking. “Both of you? My own sister, and you… Lewis, how could you do this to me?”

Your sister’s face crumpled as she stepped forward, reaching out, her voice trembling. “Y/N, it was a mistake, I swear. We were drunk, it didn’t mean anything. Please—”

“Stop,” you spat, taking a step back, your chest heaving with sobs you could no longer hold back. “Don’t say another word. Don’t try to justify it. You both knew what you were doing. Drunk or not, you knew.” You turned to Lewis, the hurt in your eyes piercing through the fog of shock that clouded your mind. “You promised me,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “You said I was your forever. Was that a lie too?”

Tears filled Lewis’s eyes as he reached out for you, desperation clawing at his every word. “No, it wasn’t. Please, Y/N, it was one mistake. One night. I was drunk—I wasn’t thinking. But I love you. I love you more than anything in this world.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. Your heart was shattered, and all you could think of was getting away. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them, couldn’t bear to hear any more lies. Without another word, you turned and bolted out of the house, ignoring their frantic calls as you fled into the night, tears blinding your vision.

The cool night air hit you like a slap to the face, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside you. You didn’t know where you were going; all you knew was that you needed to run, to escape the crushing weight of their betrayal. Your legs carried you down the street, feet pounding against the pavement as sobs wracked your body.

“Y/N!” Lewis’s voice rang out behind you, growing closer as he chased after you, his footsteps echoing against the empty street. “Please, don’t leave! Let me explain! I can’t live without you. I love you, please… don’t go.”

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. His words only fueled your pain, making it harder to breathe. “Stay away from me!” you screamed, your voice breaking as your tears blurred everything around you. You were so lost in your grief that you didn’t see the car speeding down the road, didn’t hear the blaring horn until it was too late.

The impact came with a sickening thud, and the world went dark.

Lewis watched in horror as your body crumpled to the ground, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. Time seemed to freeze as he stood there, paralyzed with shock.

“No… no, no, no,” he whispered, rushing to your side. His hands trembled as he gathered your limp body into his arms, blood seeping into the pavement beneath you. “Please, no. Please don’t do this. Y/N, wake up. Wake up, please,” he begged, tears streaming down his face as he cradled you. “I wasn’t able to make it right. Let me tell her I love her one last time. I know I never deserved her, but why take her away? Why now?”

His words echoed into the night, but there was no answer. Only the silence of the empty street and the cold, lifeless body of the woman he loved more than anything.

The day of your funeral was dreary, the sky gray and overcast, as if the world itself mourned your loss. The church was packed with family, friends, and the entire F1 grid, but the air was thick with anger and blame. Lewis stood at the back, his face pale and gaunt, hollowed out by grief. His eyes, red and swollen from sleepless nights and endless tears, scanned the crowd, but no one would meet his gaze.

As the service ended, the drivers gathered around your grave, their faces hard with fury. Fernando Alonso was the first to approach him, his hand clenched into a fist.

“This is your fault,” Fernando hissed, his voice low and venomous before his fist connected with Lewis’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. “You killed her.”

Lewis didn’t even fight back. The pain of the punch was nothing compared to the weight of his guilt. He barely reacted as the other drivers closed in, their faces a mix of rage and disgust. Max Verstappen, Sergio Pérez, Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc—they all looked at him as though he were the lowest form of life.

“Stay away from her grave,” Oscar Piastri snarled, shoving Lewis back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Lewis stood there, unable to move, unable to defend himself as the drivers took turns spitting their anger at him. He didn’t blame them. He deserved every word, every blow. He had failed you in the worst possible way.

Your friends, Lily Muni He, Alexandra Saint Mleux, Kika Gomes, Flavy Barla, and Kelly Piquet, stood off to the side, their eyes filled with contempt as they hurled insults at him and your sister.

“You’re disgusting,” Kika spat, her eyes blazing with hatred. “How could you do this to her? She loved you.”

“And you,” Lily said, glaring at your sister, her voice trembling with fury. “How could you betray her like that? You’re her sister!”

Your family wasn’t any more forgiving. Your mother, her face streaked with tears, approached Lewis as they lowered your coffin into the ground. She slapped him across the face, her sobs tearing through the quiet.

“Why are you here?” she screamed, her voice hoarse with grief. “Go away! You have no right to be here!”

Your father turned on your sister, his face twisted with rage. “How dare you show your face here?” he growled. “You are no child of mine.”

The weight of their anger and blame was suffocating, but Lewis couldn’t leave. He couldn’t tear himself away from your grave, from the last place he would ever see you. He had lost everything—his love, his future, his world.

In the end, he stood alone, surrounded by the wreckage of his choices. You were gone, and no amount of apologies or tears could bring you back. He had destroyed the one good thing in his life, and now he would have to live with that guilt for the rest of his days.

[stepintothelimelight]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ I FEEL ALRIGHT, I’M GONNA TAKE ON THE WORLD!

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° Light up the stars

got some pages to turn ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 3 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: In honor of Spitfire’s graduation…

(2018!f1grid x genz!fem!driver!reader)(SMAU and written)

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: Seb being an embarrassing grid mom, maybe one rude comment? VERY american reader in this one, but please feel free to imagine whatever, lolita (book) probably inaccurately mentioned, slightly blurry pictures, reader-centric

fc: Pinterest girls + topanga

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

graduation-gate ~ Monaco 2018

You’re content. 

For the first time since you joined F4, you’re content. You have rebuilt your relationship with you family (to an extent), you’re having a stellar Rookie season (best since Hamilton, who just so happens to be your teammate), your team is great, you’re racing next to your idols and your best friends (Charles is only a little jealous you’re on a top team), and you’re about to graduate high school, valedictorian and with about a million honors. 

However, right now, you’re halfway across the world from your school, in a presser that’s going at a ghastly slow pace, a day out from racing in the Monaco GP. You sit sandwiched between Seb and Kimi, on your left, and Nando and Lewis, on your right. All of them your idols. 

A few months ago, you would be totally freaking out and fidgeting because this is like, the big four. 

Well, the big three. Seb doesn’t really count.

Now, you lean your head back against the couch and sigh, just wanting the conversation to lull enough for the officers to call it good. When Lewis is asked an in-depth question about Qualifying, though, you know you’re in for a spiel.

You nudge Seb with your knee. He leans over to you, eyes still fixed on Lewis, but lending you an ear. 

“I’m graduating next Friday,” You whisper in his ear. “Can you make it?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I’ll see my schedule. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You shrug. 

“Forgot.”

“And you decided to ask me in the middle of a -“

“Anything you two would like to share?” The moderator asks good-naturedly. You and Seb throw out identical annoyed glares, then put on poker faces. 

“Yes,” Seb says. Oh boy. “Y/n just invited me to her graduation.” He sounds very proud. You flash a gratuitous smile at the team of reporters covering this particular star-studded presser. 

Lewis leans over.

“Am I not invited?”

“¿Y yo?” Nando asks softly. “¿Porque no lo mencionaste?”

Kimi makes a soft noise. 

“You are graduating.. university?”

“No,” You roll your eyes. “high school.”

He raises his eyebrows, surprised, once again, at how young you actually are.

“And you guys,” you cast a look at Lewis and Fernando, before narrowing your eyes at a smug Seb. “can come if you’d like. I wouldn’t want to make Seb think he’s special or something.”

They all ooohh at that. Seb clutches his chest. 

“Right to the heart, Spitfire!”

The presser comes to a close quickly after that, but it’s imprint echoes in every single corner of social media for the rest of raceweek.

People trying to poke their noses into your business ask you where you go to school, when you’re graduating, if Seb, Nando, Lewis and Kimi are actually going. You just shrug and try to keep a straight face. 

After all, the Iceman has been giving you lessons. 

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

twitter

Y/n, Seb and Kimi are in a presser together post-quali. She’s seated between them, as she qualified in pole, despite slightly slippery conditions.

“Y/n, this question’s for you,” Says a reporter. She leans forward, acknowledging the question. “We saw Lewis sitting with the team during the red flag, but we didn’t see you. Where were you spending the break?”

She smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of her neck, glancing over at Seb.

“I have an essay due tomorrow, so i was doing a final review on it.”

“What class?” That’s Seb. 

“it’s like a writing class? the whole point of the class is to write this specific research paper, which I have to write for my diploma.”

“How many words?” The interviewer asks. “And what’s your topic?”

Her face lights up. You can tell she absolutely loves to talk about this type of thing. 

“Mines about five thousand,” She says. “But it just has to be upwards of four. You can write about literally anything, so it’s pretty easy.”

“What’s your topic?” Kimi asks, not unkindly. 

She pulls a face. 

“Not a happy one. Fetishization of female innocence in literature and popular culture.” She seems to see the surprised faces the reporters are making and lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s not a fun topic, but I find it extremely interesting, and it somewhat applies to my life, too, so…”

She trails off. Seb picks up his mic.

“What do you mean by that?”

It’s genuine, curious. Not patronizing in the way that all the reporters ask her questions.

“I mean, there’s an expectation placed on women in the spotlight that we be.. innocent and good and pure, you know? And like, if you’re not, you’re a slut or a witch or something. And then we see this fetishization and fixation on innocence in things like movies and books. One of the books I’ve read for this essay is called Lolita?” She pauses. “It’s a very drastic depiction of hebephilia, and to me, it’s a bit satirical. While it’s about Freud and his theories, it also criticized ..”

And she talks and talks and talks. You can tell through the screen, her hand gestures, how she can’t seem to slow down, that she’s very invested. Seb has this look on his face, like he couldn’t be prouder, while Kimi listens, enraptured. Eventually, she rolls to a stop and puts both of her hands on her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she says into the mic. “I didn’t mean to talk that much.”

The interviewer assures her it’s fine, and they move on, and that’s when the video fades to black.

caption (1): [When asked how she’s going to spend time on the plane home] Y/n: I actually have a speech to write! (….) It’s the valedictorian speech. I honestly hate public speaking, my voice always shakes!

caption (1):

Reporter: congratulations on your National Merit scholarship!

Y/n: My what?

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

yourusername

yourusername: i feel alright, i’m gonna take in the world 🎓

ps. Seb, Nando, Lewis and Kimi thanks for the support 🫶 i caught u guys creeping 🧌

tagged: yourbestfriend1, yourbestfriend2, yourbestfriend3, fernandoaloofficial, lewishamilton, kimimatiasraikkonen, yourmominsta, yourschoolinsta

liked by yourbestfriend1, charles_leclerc and 378292 others 

view 6383 comments 

user1: academic queen!

yourbestfriend1: grad u ate

⮑ yourusername: our mantra

yourbestfriend2: gonna miss seeing u every 2 weeks 😞

⮑yourusername: i’m acc kinda sad ngl

user2: Honestly such a power move having 4 of the most famous F1 drivers show up at your graduation 

user3: She’s too young. Crazy to have racing at that age

⮑user4: ik

user5: all her friends headed off to college and she’s going to race in Canada next week 

lewishamilton: Beautiful speech, beautiful ceremony. Congratulations, Spitfire.

⮑ yourusername: awwww 🥰 thanks my fav teammate

⮑ charles_leclerc: wow. 

⮑ yourusername: fav f1 teammate @/charles_leclerc 🙄

landonorris: Congrats, mate! 

⮑yourusername: imagine not even getting a diploma 🤓

⮑ landonorris: I left to focus on racing!! 

⮑yourusername: 🤔this is awkward 

user6: beautiful, talented, educated. Name a better trio 🩵 congrats Spitfire! 

max33verstappen: You do look a bit like Dobby…

⮑ yourusername: Wrong ‘99. That’s @/landonorris

⮑user10: @/yourusername tagging him is actually brutal

⮑landonorris: @/yourusername: HEYYY!!!!

user7: did anyone see how many honors she graduated with? insane 😂 (but super impressive, y/n!)

⮑user8: yeah, and she got about five different diplomas 

user9: The fact that Seb, Lewis, Kimi and Fernando showed up after Graduation-gate

yourbestfriend3: I expect visitation in NYC

⮑ yourusername: don’t have to ask me twice 🌆

user11: Y/n slamming Lando in the comments 😭 girl lay off him you’re already living his dream you don’t need to crush his ego too😭

⮑user12: She’s acc seriously so mean to a lot of drivers

⮑user13: @/user12 it’s just her love language 🙄

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

✧ ⁺ ⁺ I’ve got a ticket

to the top of the sky ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Aaannnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: I’ve had the idea of ‘Graduation-gate’ in my head for a long time and kind of modeled this whole fic around it. Sorry if it seems rushed! School restarting is kicking my ass 🙁

A little background info

Charles and Spitfire were F3 teammates

Want to join the taglist? drop a comment below or message my inbox

🏷️ : @octavikravecell218 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @sugarrush-blush @scarletwidow3000 @umm-i-love-u

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and she won't be the only one - Lewis Hamilton

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

request : "Bedtime stories would be the favourite part of his night routine with his babies especially after he comes back home from a long period and I can just imagine him getting them all ready for bed, tucking them in, sitting on his favourite chair in their colourful bedroom and reading them one of their favourite books 🥺🥹" - anon

pairing: dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Anon, I don't know if that was a request or not, but I used as inspiration because yes to everything you said!!!! (if anyone hasn't seen Lewis's Cbeebies, go watch it ).

Anyway, it's dad! Lewis, he's got a hold on all of us apparently.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

A soft glow from the outdoor light made its way through the window of their daughter's princess-themed bedroom, casting long shadows across the toy cars strategically placed amongst the stuffed animals and fluffy pillows.

The Three-year-old, a restless ball of energy during the day, was now a picture of contentment snuggled under her favorite flower blanket.

Lewis starting the bedtime ritual as his voice dropped to a soothing murmur.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…"

Y/d/n's eyes, a perfect copy to Lewis’s except for the glint of mischief, widened with anticipation. She loved their bedtime stories, especially the ones Lewis told with his best voices and interpretations.

Tonight, however, something was different. The story wasn't about a dragon, the fairies or the warriors she had grew accustomed to. It was about a princess who longed for someone to share her adventures.

"But why, daddy?" she piped up, interrupting the narrative. "Why did the princess want someone else?"

Lewis smiled, his heart overflowing with the love for his daughter and the excitement for the news he was about to share. "She wanted someone to play with, someone to tell stories to, to share secrets and adventures with."

Her small brow furrowed in concentration. "Like Olaf to Anna?"

"More like Elsa to Anna, sweetheart," Y/n chimed in, her voice laced with a hint of nervousness. "Someone who'll always be there for you, no matter what."

Y/d/n's eyes sparkled with confusion. "A sibling?"

“Like a little brother or sister" Lewis confirmed, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"A brother or sister? Like uncle Nic and you, or Kaiden and Willow?" Her little brain working overtime to grasp the idea of a permanent playmate, someone who would be with her all the time.

Lewis chuckled, stroking her cheeks gently. "Yes, darling, just like us. Someone to build pillow forts with, someone to have silly dance parties with in your pajamas, someone to plot with."

"Can I have a little brother or sister for Christmas, then?" She squealed with delight, the possibility sinking in as she emphasized the I.

Y/n's breath hitched. This wasn't quite how she envisioned revealing the news, but her daughter’s enthusiasm was contagious. She exchanged a nervous glance with Lewis, who gave her a reassuring nod.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n reached out and placed a gentle hand on her stomach, a slight curve that had only recently become noticeable. "Sweetheart," she began, her voice soft yet firm, "You're going to get your very own sibling already, but a bit earlier than Christmas."

Y/d/n’s eyes widened even further. She stared at Y/n's stomach, then back at her face, trying to process the information. "Like, next week?"

Lewis joined the conversation, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No, not quite that soon, sweetheart. But in about five or six months, you'll have a little brother or sister to play with."

The three-year-old’s expression turned thoughtful. The idea of a sibling, someone who would be a constant companion, was exciting yes, but also a little bit scary. "Will it be a tiny baby like the ones in the picture books?" she inquired when she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, at first" Y/n explained, pulling out a book they had recently bought about pregnancy. "But then, the baby will grow bigger and bigger until it's finally ready to come out, just like you did."

She studied the book, her brow furrowed in concentration, pointing to a picture of a baby with tiny fingers and toes. "Will it be tiny like this?"

Y/n nodded, her heart swelling with love. "Even tinier, maybe the size of your daddy's hand."

Lewis held out his hand, his fingers spread wide. Y/d/n’s eyes opening up wide as she compared the size of her own hand to her father's. "That small? How will I play with it?"

Lewis wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "It may be small at first, but babies grow quick. Soon, it will be big enough to hold toys and maybe even crawl around while you run with them."

The conversation continued for a while longer, filled with her endless questions about the baby's size, what it would look like, and what games they could play together.

With each answer, Lewis and Y/n watched their daughter’s apprehension gradually melt away, replaced by a something akin to excitement. The fear of the unknown faded as they painted a picture of a tiny companion who would grow into a lifelong friend.

"So, the baby is like a little friend who lives inside you, Mommy, until it's big enough to come out?" she summarized, her eyes wide with wonder.

Y/n beamed. "Exactly, sweetheart. How do you feel about being a big sister?"

She puffed out her little chest, a sense of pride evident in her eyes. " I'll teach them how to race cars like Daddy and how to sing all the princess songs with me."

Lewis chuckled, picturing his little girl teaching a newborn the finer points of car racing. "Sounds like a plan. But first, we’d like for you to pick out a special stuffed animal for your new sibling, their very first. How about that?"

Y/d/n's face lit up. The prospect of picking a gift overshadowed any remaining worries. She scrambled off the bed, her bare feet padding softly across the floor as she raced to the overflowing toy chest in the corner of the room.

The house settled into a comfortable silence as Lewis and Y/n watched their daughter disappear into the world of fluffy friends. A warmth bloomed in their hearts as they envisioned their family growing, the laughter of two children echoing through their home.

"She's going to be a fantastic big sister" Lewis said, his voice filled with pride. “I know I was a bit hesitant, but you were right love, this is right timing for us.”

Y/n leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. "I hope so" she whispered, a hint of nervousness creeping back into her voice. Lewis squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We'll figure it out, love. Together. We always do."

He looked at the picture of Y/d/n picking out one of her own teddies, his heart brimming with love. The challenges ahead seemed insignificant compared to the joy of watching their family grow. This wasn't just about having another child.

As the little girl reappeared, clutching a stuffed Sally she had been gifted by a fan she climbed back onto her bed to give her dad the car “I guess they can have Sally, so my Guido has someone to play with too”

The gentle whoosh of the ar conditioning created a low drone as Y/n tiptoed into the bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, illuminating the scene before her like a snapshot.

Lewis, his back to the door, sat cross-legged on the bed, a picture of focused concentration. In his lap, nestled between his arms, was their daughter, her dark hair cascading over his forearm like a waterfall. His voice, a soothing murmur, weaved a tale of a brave princess and a fire-breathing dragon.

Y/n's heart ached with an unfamiliar pang. It wasn't the story, nor the picture of domestic bliss before her. It was the future it represented, an addition to a future she desperately craved and Lewis seemed hesitant about.

As Lewis kept reading the story, the little girl giggled, her tiny hand clutching the collar of his t-shirt. Y/n watched, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. The girl's boundless energy, her infectious laughter – they were the very things that made Y/n's desire for another child stronger.

The idea of filling their home with that same joyous spirit, of witnessing the bond blossom between siblings, had been a constant thought for a while.

But Lewis. Lewis, her rock, her partner in this whirlwind they called life, seemed to hesitate whenever the topic of expanding their family came up. They'd discussed it, of course, late-night whispers, celebrations and arguments had occurred. But every excited statement from Y/n was met with a string of concerns from Lewis.

They had always been a good team and when Y/d/n was born she had fitted right in. They had navigated the demanding world of Formula One with practiced ease, and Y/n's career was on an upswing, her meticulous planning and organization allowing them to be present for Lewis's races with the help of their families.

But another child would throw that intricate balance into chaos. They wouldn't be able to travel as much, the demands of a newborn and a toddler would stretch them to their limits.

Y/n understood and even shared some his apprehension, yet her heart rebelled.

A lump formed in her throat as the story ended, punctuated by her daughter's sleepy sigh. Lewis leaned down, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Night, night, princess," he whispered, his voice thick with love.

Y/n waited for him to rise before clearing her throat. Lewis looked up, his smile fading slightly at the sight of her downcast expression. "Hey. She fell asleep mid story, as usual" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lewis lowered Y/d/n into the bed, tucking the covers around her. He rose and met Y/n's gaze; his brow furrowed. The tension in the room was thick, a silent conversation brimming beneath the surface.

"Sounds just like her " she mumbled, forcing a smile. She walked away from the bedroom, stopping at the sofa on the tiny living room of their hotel room, Lewis followed stopping at a safe distance.

"It just hit me," Y/n began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing her like that, with you…"

She trailed off, unable to voice the words churning within her. Lewis sighed, running a hand in his arms. "We talked about this, love. It's a big decision."

"I know," she whispered, her eyes gazing his. "But the way she is, wouldn't it be amazing to…"

Her voice broke, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Lewis approached her, his hand reaching out to brush her cheek. The warmth of his touch soothing her mind even in the midst of her turmoil, a reminder of the love they shared.

"I see it, Y/n," he said, his voice low and full of empathy. "Every day. But we can’t look at it through rose-colored glasses. The sleepless nights, the constant demands, the impact on our careers, on Y/d/n…"

His words were a bucket of cold water on her simmering dreams. "Don’t you think it’d be worth it, Lewis? In the end?"

He looked at her, his eyes reflecting the same desired she felt, only with the concerns he couldn’t quite brush off. "I don't know, babe. Honestly, I don't know."

Their living room was electric with energy. Laughter and excited chatter filled the air as Lewis's family gathered for their usuals get-togethers. Y/d/n, the center of attention, clutched a small, brightly wrapped box in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Y/n watched from the sidelines, a nervous flutter in her stomach. Today was the day they planned to share the news of their new addition.

The past months had been a whirlwind of emotions, filled with late-night talks and cautious optimism. They had finally reached a decision, a fragile agreement that felt more like a question mark than a period. And the two lines on that test had cemented the changes, whether they were ready for it or not.

The three-year-old, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, skipped towards her grandmother. "Grandma, I have a present for you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with childish glee.

Carmen, Lewis's mom, beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "What's this, my sweet girl?" she asked, taking the box gently.

Inside the box lay a fluffy teddy bear sporting a tiny t-shirt with the words "I'm gonna be a big sister" on the front. Carmen gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she looked up at her granddaughter, astonishment etched on her face.

"Mom and Dad are giving me my very own sibling, Grandma!" she chimed in, her excitement palpable.

The room fell silent, all eyes turning towards Y/n and Lewis. A nervous smile stretched across Y/n's face as Lewis cleared his throat.

"Surprise?" Lewis confirmed, his voice holding a hint of trepidation. "We’re pregnant."

Everyone's surprise quickly melted into a warm smile. Tears welled up in his mother eyes as she embraced Y/n tightly. "Oh, this is wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so happy for you three."

Relief washed over Y/n. The acceptance in Carmen's eyes, the joy radiating from her voice, eased some of the anxiety that had been nagging her. The room erupted in congratulations as other family members chimed in, offering their best wishes.

Lewis and Y/n found themselves enveloped in a sea of good cheer. Hugs were exchanged, stories were reminisced, and plans for the future were excitedly discussed. Y/d/n, the star of the show, basked in the attention, proudly showing off her new "big sister" teddy bear.

As the afternoon wore on, however, a quiet moment emerged between Y/n and Lewis. They stood tucked away in a corner of the room, their hands intertwined.

"You seem nervous" Lewis said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Y/n bit her lip, torn between her elation and the lingering doubts. "I am" she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "What if it's too much? What if we can't handle it?"

Lewis placed his other hand on her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that traced its way down her face. "We will" he said with quiet conviction. "We'll figure it out, together. Like we always do."

He looked at her, his eyes reflecting her own apprehension, but also excitement. "We may not have all the answers, but I’ll tell you one thing - we're a team."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[albert-kafka-camus]

Tagged by @sopheadraws 👑👑👑

(I love music games so much!!!)

I would like to inform you all that my playlist is 66 hours long and I have a diverse palette so I am not responsible if The Cast Of My Little Pony Equestrian Girls 2 covers a Frank Ocean song or something

1. Johnnie Taylor’s cover of Vienna (by Billy Joel)

Okey this is insane this would be so good it would be different but still preserve the original feeling (I need this actually)

2.Hadestown Broadway Original Cast’s cover of Rehab (by Amy Winehouse)

ANOTHER MASTERPIECE like the fates would kill those ‘no, no, no’ s. Like this would be a fates heavy song with others chiming in and I would be obsessed thank you very much 🙏🙏

3. Rachel Zegler’s cover of Alejandro (by Lady Gaga)

I have never heard her sing a song badly but this song won’t go well with her voice. I think an acoustic version with harmonies would be good tho. (The more I imagine a soft acoustic version more I want it)

4. Billie Eilish’s cover of Hound Dog (by Big Mama Thornton)

no

5.Robert Cray, The Robert Cray Band’s cover of No More Rain (In This Cloud) (by Angie Stone)

I think it would be good but I feel like he would make small changes to the instrumentals don’t know what else to say about it

6. Lana Del Rey’s cover of Dance With You Tonight (by Laufey)

I think it would be different definitely darker/moodier but I love the original too much so I kinda think she wouldn’t do it justice especially if it was live cause I feel like the way she sings and the playfulness in her voice is very integral to the songs whole identity

7. Beyoncé’s cover of Forgiveness (by Rina Sawayama)

weirdly a huge YES from me I think she would lower the sound of the instrumentals and focus on her vocals which she would destroy (of course)“Sometimes I blame you sometimes I don’t” especially could be very lemonade

8. Hozier’s cover of Diamonds and Rust (by Joan Baez)

amazing. no notes. perfection. hozier covers are my mental health treatment

9. (again!!) Hozier’s cover of WAP (by Cardi B, Megan Thee Stalion)

I am conflicted…. slay?

10. (again!!?!!) Hozier’s cover of Nothing You Can Take Away From Me (Boot-Stomping version) (by Rachel Zegler, The Covey Band)

I interpret this as Hozier’s formal apology after the WAP incident (Handsome Squidwardian event for sure) He would do justice to this song, (very him) I would go insane if this was real

+11. (doing another one because hozier took 3 spots jdkdkdkdjsj😤✊) The Cast Of Hamilton’s cover of Dumb & Poetic (by Sabrina Carpenter)

I regret my choice to do another one and I don’t listen to Hamilton often so only thing I can think of is Lin Mal Miranda impressions on tik tok that are then used to make unserious gay ship edits so obviously.. 10/10 this is what the industry is lacking thank you for coming to my conference 🙏🙏📈📈👆👆😘😘

@simplysummers @angelhummel @freddieslater @bansheeheart @inlovewith-icecream

Also @ anyone who sees this and wants to ✨

[rip-quizilla]

Polyjamourous

Eddie x GN!Reader

Description: You get a job at the record store, where you terrorize Eddie with so many different genres of music that he gets whiplash, but your energy is adorable so he's instantly soft for you.

Tags: big grumpy/sunshine trope here, fluff, workplace relationship (kind of), outgoing!reader, Hannah putting her liked songs on shuffle and using them here shamelessly, no physical description of reader other than hinting that they have a glorious gyatt that Eddie can't help but stare at.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I didn't coin the term "polyjamourous"! I saw it in a TikTok by Viktor Fellbrink. Does it describe me perfectly though? Absolutely.

🎧🎧🎧

When Eddie had interviewed you for a job at the record store downtown, one of the first questions he’d asked was about your taste in music. Your response had caught him so off guard that he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m polyjamourous.” you’d said. 

Eddie had blinked a couple of times, a snorted laugh jumping from his throat. “Polyjamorous…” he’d repeated, an amused grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “That’s one I have not heard before.”

You had shrugged, smiling the same way you’d been smiling throughout the entire interview. “I listen to a little bit of everything, I like pretty much all music.” 

What Eddie had expected from that was mostly pop, maybe a classic rock hit here and there. Judging by the ripped jeans and Doc Martens you were wearing the day of your interview, he suspected there may have been an emo/alt rock phase in your history so maybe some Paramore or MCR. 

What he hadn’t been expecting was the fact that when you said you liked all music, you meant all music. 

A month into working with you, and he already dreaded the days that you’d signed your name on the list entitled “Aux Cord Dibs” that sat on a tattered clipboard under the counter. The first hour of your shuffled liked songs on Spotify, and Eddie already had whiplash. 

The songs that played (in order) were:

Satisfied- The Broadway Cast of Hamilton

Raise Hell- Brandi Carlile

The Offering- Sleep Token

Magical- Ed Sheeran

Dream a Little Dream of Me- Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Just to name a few.

Not only were you completely unashamed that the first song to pop up under your aux cord time was a fucking show tune, but you knew every word. You sang, rapped- acted- every word. 

Eddie was now absolutely sure that you had had an emo phase, because this meant you were also a theater kid (same as him, but he wasn’t about to admit that to you) and in Eddie’s experience, most theater kids were also emo kids in some way, shape, or form.

“How much coffee did you drink this morning?” he’d muttered once you’d finished your one-woman show whilst shelving new records. 

“No coffee, this is all natural.” You’d said that with a grin so wide, it was obvious to him that you knew how obnoxious that sounded and you were taking it in stride. 

“You’re just the Energizer bunny… naturally?” 

Somehow, you grinned wider. “Yes!”

You can imagine how terrified Eddie was when you pulled a Celcius out of your bag an hour later. What happens when you give an energy drink to a person with natural energy?

You get impromptu dance breaks. 

Eddie had been boxing up an online order when out of the corner of his eye, he saw your oversized sweatered form bouncing around between aisles to the beat of whatever K-Pop bullshit was currently assaulting his speakers. 

Wordlessly, his eyes drifted to the monitor displaying the security camera feed where he found a full view of your hopping, stepping, and jumping to the bouncy rhythm of a Korean song with random English words sprinkled in. The grainy feed from the camera even picked up the subtle motion of your lips moving, and Eddie’s lips couldn’t help but twist into an amused little smile when he realized that must mean you were even trying to lip sync to the words, and he might be wrong but he was pretty sure you didn’t speak Korean.

His shoulders shook, silently chuckling at your antics until the music slowed down in tempo. Your hips began to move in slow, pronounced circles, sending the rest of your body rolling with the momentum. Eddie knew you didn’t mean to turn him on with the way your hips were moving… but you had an ass that shook when you walked, much less when you were actually wiggling your hips around. It wasn’t a you problem that was making Eddie’s eyes bug out of his skull and glue themselves to the screen; it was definitely an Eddie problem.

He had to keep it professional; Eddie was a shift manager, and while he wasn’t technically your boss, that was a gray area delicate enough that he didn’t plan on rushing into anything risky. The last thing he should be doing was ogling you on the security camera like a fucking creep. So, he made a point to pay attention to literally anything else whenever you started dancing around the store like some sort of coked-up cheerleader.

After a few shifts with Eddie, you started to notice that he was pointedly ignoring your antics- which made forcing him to pay attention all the more entertaining. The job could be boring on slow days, so this was how you entertained yourself- annoying the shit out of Eddie Munson.

Eddie: “If I hear one more show tune, I’m commandeering the aux cord.”

You: Proceeds to belt all three parts of Sincerely Me from Dear Evan Hansen, complete with choreography.

Eddie: “Is there any metal on this playlist? Just one song? I need a breather…”

You: Introduces Eddie to Babymetal.

One day, you even forced Eddie to suffer through Lizzo. That was funny as all hell, if you’d ever seen it. 

“I feel like I’m walking through a Forever 21.” He’d grumbled as you cheekily shimmied your shoulders at him and mimed a toss of your hair for good measure. 

“First of all,” you laughed, “I’m impressed you know what Forever 21 is.”

“I have been to a mall, you know.”

“Second,” you continued, “You’re starting to come off as a bit of a music elitist.”

Eddie shook his head, shelving new records from the stack of crates on the floor. “It isn’t a crime to know what I like and don’t like, kid.”

You smirked, reaching wordlessly over to the media center behind the counter and turning up the music. It was empty in the store save for you and Eddie, so the change in volume wouldn’t hurt anyone. Lizzo’s Like a Girl rang out through the speakers, and you made a show of losing yourself to the beat just to spite the metalhead before you. 

Eddie sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if God himself could save him from this torment; he couldn’t stop the whisper of a smile from creeping into the corners of his lips. “What did I do to deserve this shit?” he groaned.

Your grin was blazing, infectious in the way you wore it with reckless abandon as you danced from shelf to shelf with one of the crates of records. When the crate was empty, each album carefully nestled in its appropriate place, you set the crate down on the floor right as the chorus started and your hips shook in time with the drop of the beat. 

Eddie had been looking out the corner of his eye the whole time, but averted his gaze immediately once you were shaking your ass in the air. Unbeknownst to you, he was doing everything in his power not to stare.

Bouncing as you perked back up, you flashed him a sadistic grin and shrugged. “You just make it so much fun to torture you, sorry.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “That was the emptiest apology I’ve ever heard.” To which you laughed and heartily agreed, launching your whole self into shaking all you had to the beat, even going so far as to plant your foot on the edge of the counter. 

You looked more silly than sexy, even Eddie could admit that, but it was your reckless abandon and giant fucking smile that made him break in that moment. You were shaking your ass- was that twerking? Eddie didn’t think it was twerking, but then again, he wasn’t an expert- and singing along to the music with so much energy that Eddie’s smile finally won his face over. He nodded his head to the beat, even shimmied his shoulders a little, and watched you make an adorable fool of yourself. 

That was when the door opened, sending a chime through the shop as a very confused Steve and Robin walked through the door just in time to see you shaking your ass in their direction. 

As far as you knew, these two were customers, so you swiftly tore your foot from the counter and started to apologize before Steve cut you off with a lopsided grin and a midair brush of his hand. 

“Please don’t apologize, because that might be the best first impression you could’ve made on me.” He confidently strode forward, already extending a hand which you happily accepted. Steve had a way of putting people at ease, Eddie had noticed, even if they had been the opposite of “at ease” before he’d entered the scene. 

He watched straight-faced as Steve struck up a conversation with you about being friends with Eddie and stopping by to say hello, then proceeded to introduce himself and ask you about yourself with the confidence and coolness that came so easily to people like Steve Harrington. Eddie chewed his lip and felt an unwelcome flare of jealousy in his stomach when you gave Steve the same smile that- up until now- you’d been giving him. 

 “So that’s the new hire you told us about?” Robin asked, voice low enough that only Eddie could hear.

He nodded, eyes trained on Steve as he said some joke that made you laugh. “Yeeeeeuup.” Eddie drew out the word, lacing passive aggression into every extra syllable. 

“I see.” Robin looked at Eddie, arching an eyebrow as she wordlessly assessed him, then slowly looked at you and smiled knowingly. “Well, if you’re gonna make a move, better beat Steve to it.”

Eddie sighed and shook his head, murmuring out the corner of his mouth “Stay. Out of it.”  before picking up his crate of records and moving to a different shelf. You were out of sight, but your and Steve’s voices still carried to where he worked. 

“...a little bit of everything.” Eddie heard you say, picking up on your conversation as he silently shelved new inventory. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Nothing in particular, I just jam to whatever’s on the radio.” Already inwardly cringing at how Steve must be shrugging or tossing his hair or some shit, Eddie eavesdropped inconspicuously. “Compared to a seasoned listener like yourself, I must sound like an idiot. You should make a playlist for me, so I can know what an expert would recommend.” 

“Expert?” you snorted, “Oh I’m hardly an expert. Half of what I listen to is garbage, but it’s fun garbage so I’m not ashamed. Eddie’s the expert.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if you knew he was nearby enough to hear you, but he wasn’t about to miss out on whatever you were about to say about him, so he remained silent and out of sight. 

Harrington scoffed. “Expert on metal, sure, but unless you’re into headbanging and screaming, I think he’d be pretty lost-”

“Not true.” you interjected. “He likes some classic rock, a bit of old school jazz- you know I played a song by Bob Dylan one day, and he started rattling off all these facts about the guy?” 

Eddie remembered that day. He’d almost told you that he knew all those facts because his mom had loved Bob Dylan, but he thought talking about his dead mom might be a little more personal than you were prepared to get with him so early into knowing him. 

“When Eddie hears music he thinks is good, it doesn’t matter what genre it is- he respects it whether it’s his taste or not.” Eddie had long since stopped shelving; he stood stock still, listening with wide eyes as you spoke with more admiration in your voice than Eddie had ever expected to belong to him. “I play a crazy wide range of music when I work with him, and every time a song I really love comes on it’s hard for me to not focus on how he’s reacting to it. It’s like every time, I’m in my head like- will he like this one?”

Steve was quiet for a moment before Eddie heard him reply, “Sounds like you’re hoping you’ll impress him.” 

Eddie felt his heart start beating a little faster. Were you?

You giggled a little, and for a moment Eddie’s heart fell when he thought you were laughing at the very insinuation that you might want to impress him.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” he heard  you say. “I haven’t known Eddie long, but I’ve always thought he’s an impressive person. It’s hard not to want to impress him back.”

Eddie couldn’t suppress his smile even if he’d wanted to. Sneaking around the shelves where you couldn’t see him, he turned a corner to continue his work as he hummed to himself.

After you’d locked the doors at 8, the two of you were closing down the shop alone as your playlist quietly painted the quiet evening air. You were walking through the store doing your final check while Eddie took inventory, and Eddie had been silently nodding his head to the beat of the music as you came into view of the checkout counter.

“What song is this?”

Your eyes widened, and the eagerness in your gaze made Eddie’s heart just about burst. 

“Uh, it’s Chicken by Your Neighbors.” you stuttered, “You like it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, softly, “it’s good.”

There was that blinding grin again, contagious in how it fed his until it doubled in size. “Yeah, it is.” 

A pause settled between the two of you, song lyrics potent in the evening’s silence. 

You ain’t got no time to wait

You don’t get what you don’t ask for

“Hey, uhh…” Eddie was quick to grab your attention, and you watched him wide-eyed and expectant. “...feel like getting pizza after this? Surfer Boy doesn’t close ‘til midnight, and I was gonna stop by to see my buddy Argyle after closing anyway, so-”

“Yes!” you agreed, a little more eagerly than you had originally intended to come across. You cleared your throat, “I mean, if it’s no trouble-”

“No trouble at all, it's just down the street, I’ll walk with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were both grinning like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care. You continued your closing duties, both of you nodding your heads to the beat of the music and enjoying the feelings that, though unspoken and undefined, were currently nestling comfortably into your chest and his. 

Taglist: (really just people I have been talking about this to, I hope you like it❤️) @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch

[awb3r]

Charlie Bushnell x Theather!reader Reader plays in the musical Hamilton

yn.ln

Liked by hamiltonmusical, dior.n.goodjohn and 265.174 others

yn.ln I still can't believe i've been given the honor of playing the role of Peggy and Maria. A big thank you to everyone for this amazing opportunity and the incredible show tonight!

tagged: hamiltonmusical

user1 You were amazing!

Dior.n.goodjohn So proud of you! ↳ yn.ln Thankyouu 💗 ↳ Dior.n.goodjohn 🤭🤭

user2 I litterally got chills at the last part of Maria, your voice is incredible! ↳ yn.ln Thankyou so much!

hamiltonmusical The honor is ours! Liked by yn.ln

user3 Imagine dior introducing her to the pjo cast😍 ↳ user4 I was just thinking about that when i read their comments! ↳ user3 Her and Charlie would be so cute togheter

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iamcharliebushnell

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iamcharliebushnell If you haven't watched the final episode of Percy Jackson yet, what are you doing here??

But in all seriousness, this show has been such an amazing experience for me and i'm immensely gratefull for all the people i've met along the way. See you in season 2💙

Tagged: percyseries, rickriordan

dior.n.goodjohn Luke slayed tbh

↳ walker.scobell 🤨

user1 i can fix him (no really i can)

leahsavajeffries Can't wait for next seasonn💙💙

user2 Luke in his reputation era Liked by dior.n.goodjohn

aryansimhadri 🐐🐐

dior.n.goodjohn @yn.ln This was the one i was talking about ↳ yn.ln 1. i'm going to kill you 2. He's cute🤭 ↳ iamcharliebushnell hi👋 ↳ yn.ln hey☺️

user3 ARE YOU GUYS SEEING WHAT I'M SEEING?? ↳ user4 She called him cute 🫠

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iamcharliebushnell

Seen by aryansimhadri and 352.137 others

walker.scobell simp

user1 OMG THEY MET?

user2 this is amazing

dior.n.goodjohn bro's whipped ↳ iamcharliebushnell 🫡

yn.ln

Seen by lin_manuel and 243.578 others

dior.n.goodjohn girl ur not slick🤨

user1 CHARLIE AT HER SHOW, AND NOW THIS POST?

leahsavajeffries you guys are too cute💗 ↳ yn.ln thankyou loveee

user2 mystery mann

iamcharliebushnell ❤️❤️

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Part 2?