#and he knows where lewy is and the pass is perfect

[norrizzandpia]

Hi love, how are you? Hope your doing good.

I have a request for you. Could you write something of Oscar x reader. That could be after his sprint win in Qatar and they have a very…agitated night? (You can write a smut or not as you prefer). The next day when they go to the paddock, the couple get weird looks from Lando and Charles (you can chance if you want I just thought of them too because they are such drama queens). When Oscar asks them what is wrong with them and they say that they heard everything from the night before since they were in the rooms on the sides of Oscar’s. And well, they would be very dramatic saying things likes “I thought you were a baby”, “a baby can’t make a baby”, “do you even know what sex is?” and mentioning how they were traumatised, and how loud they were. Other drivers that were passing by, maybe Lewis, heard and got just as shocked. After that Oscar started being teased by them all the time because of that incident.

I hope you like it, if don’t just ignore it. But thank you anyways <3

RARARARARARRA I LOVE THIS

We Heard You. (OP81)

Summary: One way to shock the drivers? Have sex with your girlfriend one room over.

Warnings: smut y’all, language, Lando and Charles being so scared its so funny, sexual conversations

Oscar and Y/n fell through the door, lips locking aggressively. He was adamant on stripping his girlfriend of her clothes quickly, his hands almost tearing off her pants accidentally when she involuntarily ground her hips against his.

She walked them further into the room, the couple falling onto the bed which caused a loud squeak. Their giggling ensued, loud and infectious as Oscar continued to gently remove the last of her clothes.

When her bra snapped open by Oscar’s familiarity with the material, he dazed upon her and said, “Perfect, pretty tits, baby.”

She moaned softly when he leaned up and took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the soft skin. He bit down, warranting a louder volume from his girlfriend that bounced around the walls of the room. Her hands tangled in his hair from her position on his lap, straddling him and beginning to slowly grind herself onto him. His jeans created a rough friction that teased spots of her core, initiating the same kind of groans that signaled how much she was enjoying herself.

“Fuck, Oscar.” She said when he grabbed her hips and pressed up against her.

He guided her movements, “Like that, baby? Get yourself off on my pants.”

She whimpered as he continued to play with her boobs, massaging one while he nipped and sucked on the other. Her head thrown back, Oscar flipped her over, stopping her impending orgasm.

He stared down at her, a mischievous grin on his face as his finger came down to rub her clit softly, “Think I’ll let you off that easy? You know how this works, love.”

Her pleading eyes and blubbering words had his pants tightening further, “Please, Oscar, please.”

He kissed down her stomach, meeting her eyes with his hungry ones, “Gonna have to be patient for me, pretty girl. Can you do that for me?”

Another whine emitted from her mouth when he kissed the bone of her hip, nodding begrudgingly in agreement of his request.

He let his hands trail down her legs, hiking them up to rest on his shoulders as he let his hot breath fan over the place where she needed him the most. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, even more so with the way she tugged harshly on his hair and the pleas for his attention.

He gave into her, like he always did, when he traced a line up her slit with his tongue. When he got to the top, he found her clit easily, like he always did, and sucked aggressively on it, the jolt of pleasure forcing a loud moan of his name out of Y/n’s mouth. He continued that specific ministration for a few minutes, collecting the wetness of her pussy and using it to tease her further.

“Oh, fuck, Osc!” She yelped when he let his tongue prod her entrance, lining its outside before slipping in.

His hand let go of his hold on her thigh, coming up to circle her clit whilst he continued to fuck her with his tongue. What really did her in was when he started moaning against her, letting the vibrations spur on the coil in her stomach.

She was persistent, riding his face eagerly while messing up the styled hair he had put together that morning. Y/n’s consistent whimpering signaled to Oscar that she was so incredibly close and if it wasn’t for his good mood after the sprint race win, he wouldn’t have let her finish. Nonetheless, he pushed harder, tongue going faster and finger using his saliva that had pooled around her clit to bring her over the edge.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, back arching as she yelled out his name, a moaning chant of the syllables.

He pulled back when she came down, his mouth glistening with the mixture of her cum and his spit. He smiled up at her as she mirrored the facial expression. When he came up to kiss her, his hands roaming her body, the body he was intoxicated by, she flipped them over again. He stared up at her, slightly confused by the dominance she was emitting as she got off him and slowly took off the last pieces of clothing he wore, his pants and boxers.

His dick sprung out, red and wet with pre-cum, when she said, “Let me take care of you, Osc. For the sprint race win today.”

She didn’t allow for argument, shutting him up when she closed her mouth over the tip and licked around. His head fell back with a loud groan, hands flying to pull her hair into a ponytail.

“Oh, yeah, baby, just like that.” He moaned as she pushed her head all the way down, his dick hitting the back of her throat as she gagged.

She continued to move up and down on him, changing the routine further in by continuously letting the tip hit her throat. It was when his hips moved off the bed that she looked up at him, silently asking if he wanted to take control. His frantic gaze on hers told her everything she needed to know and when her throat opened, he gripped her hair tighter.

He sat up, determined to catch his high, as he was relentless with his thrusts. His moans were the loudest they had ever been, Y/n remembering to tease him about it later when he wasn’t shoved down her throat. She was turned on immensely by the fact that, as he let his head fall down to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut and groans high pitched, she was the reason for his pleasure. The girl wanted to imprint the image in her brain for times when he wasn’t there to satisfy the urges she had.

“Fuck! Y/n! Yes, baby! Yes! Yes! Yes!” He yelled out, spilling into her as he opened his eyes immediately to watch her throat work to swallow everything he gave her. His ears rang and his vision went blurry under the sight, a picture so dirty he never wanted to forget it.

Y/n was still pursuant even after he looked spent, standing back up and sitting on him. He turned soft to hard again in seconds under the feeling of her. She pushed him back down to his prior laying down position, murmuring something about wanting him to relax.

He was completely with that idea when she sank down on him and his mind went haywire. All he could think about was the feeling of her wrapped around him, squeezing tightly. They were already overstimulated by the previous organisms that this one came quicker.

Her hips snapped to meet his when he joined in on the rhythm, fucking up into her greedily. He moaned out whatever came to his mind, however dangerous that might be.

“Mmm, yes, Y/n. Love the way you feel. This pussy’s mine, yeah?”

She nodded, eyes closed shut under his pulsating dick.

“Wanna hear you say it, love.” He said, hands gripping at whatever skin of hers he could find.

Her words were said between groans, proving hard to get out as her hands laid against his chest, “I’m yours, Osc. All yours.”

That was it for him, cum spilling into her aggressively as he let out a choked, prolonged moan. His own finish triggered her own, mimicking his sounds and volume with the way it felt.

She collapsed onto him, his hands coming to circle around her, as they breathed each other in.

She could hear Oscar’s smile when he cockily whispered, “Imagine what’ll happen when I win my first race.”

—

Oscar was incredibly confused as he lingered in the corner of the paddock’s cafe. Y/n had gone off to order them coffees, their sleeping schedules being shit after the night they had before. Being alone without her, while he hated it, was usually doable as he had many friends around the grounds. This time, he had tried to join in on a conversation with Lando and Charles, but they had moved away from him when he got close. His head tilted, confusion taking over which was something his girlfriend immediately noticed when she returned.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked down at her, sipping on the warm drink she had placed in his hands, “Lando and Charles won’t talk to me?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “Huh. Maybe try to talk to them again and ask what’s going on?”

She noticed the way he shuffled his feet, a telltale sign of his nerves. She smiled as she put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing softly, “Want me to come with you?”

A smile broke out onto his face as he nodded eagerly, “Yeah.”

So, the two wandered over. Thankfully, the two drivers were too into whatever they were talking about that they didn’t notice the couple’s approach. Weird looks are shot toward Oscar and Y/n by Charles and Lando, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the moment for reasons two of them didn’t know.

Oscar cleared his throat, “What’s wrong with you two?”

Charles looked down, cheeks tinting red as Lando spoke up, “Charles and I had the rooms on the other sides of yours.”

Y/n shook her head, “Okay, and?”

Charles met their eyes, “We heard everything you guys got up to last night. And I mean everything.”

Oscar’s mouth dropped open and Y/n’s grip on his hand tightened. The couple stood in shock, staring at the other drivers as they tried to regain their coherence.

“Everything?” Oscar tried. Surely, he thought, they didn’t hear everything.

Lando nodded, “Down to the fucking end when you made her tell you she was yours.”

Charles slapped his friend’s chest, scolding him for his bluntness.

Lando continued, however, looking at them in astonishment, “You’re supposed to be a baby! How do you even know what sex is?!”

His yelping had the guests of the paddock turning their heads, warranting a warning look from Oscar.

The boy shook his head, “Lando, you’re literally a year older than me and you’re not that pure either.”

Lando let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m still older! You’re a kid! Babies can’t make babies!”

Y/n choked on her coffee, “We aren’t trying to make babies, Bob.”

Charles chuckled, “Are you sure? You two didn’t use protection! Which, might I add, is a stupid move, dumbasses!”

Oscar groaned, moving to say something, but Lando interrupted him, “No, nuh uh, you’re not allowed to groan in front of me. I will never hear it the same.”

“Whatever,” Oscar started, “Y/n and I have been together for years. It’s safe to not use protection.”

Charles shook his head, mumbling to himself in French, “Still should.”

Fernando’s voice flooded the conversation, “Still should what?”

Oscar was about to shut down the entire interaction, but Lando was quick to spill it, “Y/n and Oscar were so fucking loud when they were having sex last night. And Charles and I had to endure it without saying anything because how the fuck do you interrupt two people having sex? But, anyways, we heard everything and learned that they don’t use protection! We are trying to teach them that protection, even if you’ve been together for a while, is a smart decision.”

Fernando’s eyes blew wide, staring at his grid kids. He definitely could’ve gone the rest of his life without having to hear about Oscar’s and Y/n’s sex life.

He let out an hesitant chuckle, “Well, they are right, kids. Protection is a good thing to use.”

Oscar just turned slowly to look at his girlfriend beside him, mouth agape at the events transpiring before them.

“I do not need your guy’s input on my sex life.” He gave, starting to smile at their antics.

Charles scoffed, “Clearly, you do! Promise me you’ll use protection next time.”

Y/n laughed loudly, shaking her head and downing the rest of her coffee, “Thank you for the advice.” She deadpanned, walking away from the group to find the rest of the girls, wanting to fill them in on what had gone down.

She left Oscar to the nosy wolves, not feeling bad about it one bit.

The last thing she heard before she was fully out of ear shot was Lando’s yelp, “I never needed to know what you sounded like when you got a blowjob, dumb bitch!”

#mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar pastry #op81 #ln4 #charles leclerc x reader #fernando alonso

[itaipava]

— candid photos f1 boys would take of you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

it’s on the dim bathroom light as you finish washing your face to get ready for bed; with his free hand he gently pulls a lock of your hair and tucks it behind your ear so you don’t get it wet. and the way the drops of water run down your face and you look so purely and delightfully you. and he stops brushing his teeth for a moment just to admire your reflection; you undo your bun, letting your hair fall down your back, and then you run the towel over your face to dry it, totally oblivious to his gaze on you. he goes back to brushing his teeth, but still with his eyes on you and his heart racing - and with those beautiful butterflies in his stomach he felt when he saw you for the first time. he says “wait a minute” and runs off to his room. you look at him curiously and with your eyebrows furrowed, but everything makes sense when he comes back with his camera in hand. he positions the camera in front of his face so that he’s barely visible, because his focus here is you. you smile at him in the mirror and that’s when he takes the photo; saying “wow” while looking at you.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

he loves taking photos of you and that’s no surprise to anyone: most of the photos on his phone and camera are of you in random moments and, if you asked him if he had a favorite, he’d say no because they’re all so so beautiful that he can’t choose one. until now. you were laughing at something he said and he quickly thought about taking the camera that was on his lap to take a photo of you, he was also laughing, so the photo came out a little shaky but it’s just perfect; your eyes are closed in the middle of laughing, your head thrown back and your hair is so beautiful... your smile is pure and it’s so contagious that it makes him smile fondly with heart eyes.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

it’s when you relax and unwind after a long day; you take off your jacket, when your shoulders start to slump and you throw your head back, letting out a slow, smooth exhale, closing your eyes as you let your body relax on the couch next to him; you slowly open your eyes and it’s when he suddenly says he thinks you’re very beautiful. he didn’t hear himself say those words because he was too busy admiring you, forgetting about the rest of the world, but his heart spoke louder and he couldn’t help it. you just smile, huffing out a small laugh, then run your fingertips over his jaw before pressing a light kiss to his lips, letting him know without words that you think the same of him. then you rest your head on the sofa again, your hair is messy and your hands are in your lap. you smile at him; eyes almost closed. he tells you to wait and takes out his phone and takes several photos; you smile more and shake your head, making him smile in love - and enchanted - by you.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

it’s when the two of you walk together at sunset; you look so ethereal and purely unique in the setting sun and he can’t stop looking at you. it feels like the brightness of the sun is not able to compete with the brightness of your beauty. the way you squint your eyes or look down, the way you close your eyes quickly when a gentle breeze passes you both. god, he’s so madly in love it hurts. he doesn’t know what to say, just admire you. but then an idea comes to his mind. he takes his hand out of yours and takes his phone, asking you to stay where you are. he moves away a little and starts taking photos of you; the sun makes your hair look more beautiful than it already are, your smile is contagious and your face lights up in pure, genuine grace. he smiles at the photos he took and, when he looks at you again, his eyes shine.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

you laugh at a silly joke he told about the drunk people you were watching on the beach: your hair blowing in the wind, the simple but beautiful glow of the sunset on your face. you try to fix your hair, still laughing, when you notice him taking photos of you on his phone. his smile is genuine and passionate and his eyes shine as bright as you do at that moment. “you’re so beautiful” you hear him say in a calm and sweet voice. you look at him, letting a gentle and embarrassed smile appear on your lips before he kisses you. later you are surprised by the photos he posted on his stories, a sequence of photos of you: a photo of you looking distractedly at people, fixing your hair and with a smile on your face, you looking at him, you with a shy smile and you very close to the camera. he loved these photos so much that he couldn't keep them to himself, he wanted the whole world to see your beauty.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he can’t help but fall in love with you a little more when he sees the way you look at the puppy lying on your lap. your gaze is pure and sweet as you gently stroke the ears of the peacefully sleeping puppy. you look at him with a wide smile and happy eyes; he, however, can’t resist and takes his phone out of his pocket, taking photos of you, looking at you with so much affection and love.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he’s trying so hard to look away only to peek right back at you, when your lips part in concentration as you lean forward towards the mirror and apply the product on your face. he can’t help but pull his phone out and snap a quick picture. and of course he would show you when you’re done, letting you know how pretty you look.

#formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 2 . Part 2 : For the World to See

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warning : Morally Grey Characters , Swearing

A/N : Buckle up , folks! This one’s smth else.

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Next >

Act 2. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

All are fair in love and war. An overused idiom, but one that you believed was necessary for the actions you were about to do. You knew that it was wrong to use Max to get back on Lewis. But you were not perfect, far from it.

Not when your vision had clouded red as you looked at the picture that flashed on your phone’s screen. It was a photo of Lewis kissing another girl in a bar. It hasn’t been a month since your split with Lewis and he had the fucking audacity to pull this shit.

What’s worse is that over in that same month, Lewis had been trying to reach out and kept saying that he was sorry and that he’d change. Gifts and flowers kept appearing and delivered to your new apartment with written notes from Lewis. For some time, you considered taking the British driver back.

You even became guilty for the fact that your relationship with Max was developing into something more.

Now, you were glad that you started talking to the Dutch Red Bull Driver. It didn’t hurt that you found Max extremely attractive and desirable.

You couldn’t help it , the Dutch driver was aggressive and a menace on track, but when the helmet went off — he was the sweetest and the most caring partner a girl could ask for. The Max you’ve gotten to know, even for a short period was the perfect distraction.

It all started after you left your apartment with Lewis you went straight to Milton Keynes to meet with Christian Horner , where you bumped into Max.

He was doing a routine check-up, just to ensure that he was perfectly ok after the crash at Silverstone.

You felt partly at fault for his crash and guilt had driven you to apologize even if it wasn’t your actual doing. Max had laughed it off and jokingly said that he’d forgive you if you went out for coffee with him. And to your surprise, you found yourself agreeing.

The coffee went great, and your conversation with Max was easy. His humor was dry, yet you find yourself laughing and enjoying your time with the Dutch Driver.

“I watched Christian Horner, waiting for you to come out of Mercedes and act like he didn’t expect you when you bumped into him” Max exaggerated.

“Mhmm… your team principal would turn stalker mode just to tell me that I did a good job “ You laughed as you rolled your eyes at the handsome driver.

“I swear, Y/N. Checo and I were passing by and Christian was crouched down behind a bush! “

Max bluffed. Making you double over laughing.

Your coffee with Max then turned to lunch and lunch turned into dinner. Then that turned into traveling to Monaco in his private jet to attend the party for the drivers and team principals.

The speed of the development of your relationship with Max was starting to scare you. You and Lewis just broke up , you didn’t want to take advantage of Max’s affection for you.

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your makeup was exquisite and your hair was perfectly done. The dress that Max bought for you fits like a glove. You looked perfect. But you couldn’t help but feel the pit in your stomach grow.

You knew that you would be facing Lewis and Toto at some point tonight and honestly you weren’t sure that you were ready just yet.

But You didn’t want them to see you as weak and helpless . If they could move on easily then you’ll play along. You’ll beat them at their own game.

With a final swipe of lipstick. You were ready

“Max?” You called out to the room

“Am in the living room” Max replied

You walked out of the bathroom and headed your way towards Max. Your Louboutin heels clicked with every step on the marble floor.

As you neared the Dutch Driver. His head turns towards you and his eyes widen as they travel your form, repeatedly.

Max made his way towards you. You were both silent. Max took your hand and he brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of your wrist — your eye contact never breaking.

“Gorgeous, you look absolutely beautiful” Max uttered spinning you slowly.

“Thank you. You look handsome Max” You said a bit breathless. Handsome was an understatement, Max looked like a Greek god. Not many times do people see him outside RedBull uniforms, but when they do, people gawk at the driver — you were no exception.

“I love you in black, have I told you that?” You said as you slid your hands up Max’s chest feeling every muscle on your path.

“Mhm, you have. Have you noticed that I’ve been wearing just that recently?” Max countered as he pulled you closer by the waist.

“ I have, and I never did thank you. And I’m sure that your fans thank you too.” You winked at the Red Bull driver, making him chuckle and roll his eyes

“The thirst traps are everywhere, don’t remind me” At that you couldn’t help but laugh as you had sent him some links.

“ Toughen up, you’ll be getting more when you’re World Champion”

“When, not If? you’re that confident in me?” Max grip strengthened without him noticing. You knew that he had issues believing in himself. And you knew who was the reason for that.

“Yes, When. Your potential is unlike any other Max! I believe that you will be breaking records and earning championships left and right one day. “ You truly believed what you said. You felt Max kiss your temple as he whispered “Thank you, Y/N.”

Max was never the speaking kind when it came to emotions. So his opening up even a little was an enormous step.

What did that mean for your blurry relationship? You didn’t know. But it was a step somewhere for sure.

“Now come on! We’re already late.” You tugged on Max’s hand towards the door of his suite.

***

Arriving at the venue, your nerves had finally set in and you were starting to feel a little anxious.

“Hey, are you alright? We can ditch the party if you don’t feel like it” Max whispered to you concerned.

You have never been used to being in fancy balls all glammed up, even in your time with Mercedes and Lewis being your boyfriend. Being that your relationship was kept a secret, you have never joined Lewis to the Galas and Balls.

But now, Max Verstappen was guiding you towards the entrance with pride — not shying away from the cameras and the people who greeted us. He was proud to show you off.

“No, no. Just a bit apprehensive seeing Toto, that’s all” you said back

“Oh! Are you nervous that when you see him you’ll shred him to pieces? Got it” Max tried to joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as you affectionately hit his chest lightly.

“Exactly that! You do get me, Max Emilian Verstappen” You joked back, feeling thankful for Max.

“But really, don’t be scared. I’m here and I promise to protect you. No matter what”

You gazed up at the Dutch driver with so much emotion.

“Thank you, Max” Now it was your turn to say thank you.

You and Max had led yourselves toward the drivers of Ferrari

“Max! You’re finally here!” Charles exclaimed not fully realizing that you were there. His eyes lingered on you as if he was trying to know who you were.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to realize. Max was amused, while Carlos had finally figured out who you were.

“Y/N??” The monegasque driver gasped

“Took you long enough, Charles” You smiled at the Ferrari driver, while Max and Carlos had their conversation.

You and Charles weren’t that close but you two were friends, because of Seb. While you and Seb were close to a certain degree — you had been there during his battle with Lewis and you just naturally formed a friendship around that.

“I haven’t been seeing you in Mercedes. Is everything all right?” Charles asked.

“The NDA stops me from saying anything. But all I can say is that I’m happy that I left” You explained to Charles with a dry chuckle.

And forever the gossiper, Charles could not help but ask

“So is it true? You’re moving to Red Bull?”

“Well ~ you need to find out for yourself eh?” You winked at the Monaco-born driver. You have grown thirsty so you went to get something to drink.

Max looked like he was in deep conversation still with Carlos, so you just went your way.

As you ventured your way towards the refreshments, you were stopped by heathen himself, The boss that tried to screw you over.

Toto fucking Wolff.

Your feeling of anxiety had turned to hatred and anger in an instant. Maybe Max was right with you ripping the Mercedes Principal to shreds.

“ It’s a surprise to see you here, Y/L. Did Red Bull send you an invitation? “ Toto said with hidden condescension.

You chuckled at the audacity. He was once again trying to belittle you.

“ I find that hard to believe, considering that you monitor my every step. Heard about Red Bull huh? Keeping tabs on me Wolff? Scared to lose? ” You mockingly tutted the principal.

“Why would I even do that? Mercedes is better without you! Good fucking riddance . We will win this Championship without you!“ Toto rebutted, the anger in his face was rising.

“Mhmm, sure. Now say that again , this time like you actually believe it” you said so patronizingly with the sweetest, tooth-rotting smile you could muster.

“FUCK YOU!” Bingo! Toto fucking Wolff had reached his limits. And for the first time, you enjoyed every last bit.

But you were nowhere near finished.

“Aww, thanks! Fuck you too. But please do tell me, Toto, just how much money did you lose when investors started pulling out when I left?” The sweet smile on your lips turned menacing

You were in the hell hole of Mercedes for 6 years, you knew their sore spots like it’s the back of your hand. And money was one of them.

“ You know Torger, one might ask, if you say your specialty is managing a business and you’re losing money now. Would that mean that your existence in Mercedes is fucking useless?” You asked with faux interest, a finger underneath your chin as a Cheshire grin spread across your face.

You could see the red rising in the Mercedes Principal’s Face and any minute now he would explode in rage.

“Oh! And also, how’s next year’s car going for you?” And you did just that. You broke Toto fucking Wolff in front of everyone.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! HOW DARE YOU? I SWEAR I’LL KI—“ Toto had started to close the distance between the two of you with his fist inbound.

But before he could land a blow at you, He was forcefully pulled at the collar and restrained with an arm twisted to his back.

And it was all done by Max Verstappen. He had been watching you the entire time and he believed that you could hold your own. He knew that you could fight your own battles. But even then Max knew when to step up and save you from getting hurt.

However, no matter how much Max tried to protect you, he was still one person. He could prevent Lewis Hamilton from dragging you somewhere where no one was to see.

“What the fuck Y/N?? What even was that?!” Lewis bombarded you with questions. His grip on your wrist proved to be painful by the second

“Fucking let go of me, Lewis!” You yanked your hand away from him.

“What are you even doing here with Verstappen?! Seriously Y/N?? Crashstappen? Out of everyone you chose the enemy? We just broke up and now you’re all over him?” Lewis said so venomously, and with so much disgust that would’ve probably hurt you if anger didn’t consume your system

“You’re the one to talk Lewis!! You’re the first one to fucking dip your dick into another girl! You don’t have the right to judge me! “

“So is this how it is, Y/N? YOU'RE CHOOSING HIM OVER ME?!” Lewis went hysterical and you were just the same and neither of you cared if anyone were to hear you.

“You know what Lewis?! Yes, I’m choosing Max over you! Because, unlike you, He makes do with his promises and he isn’t embarrassed to call me his!”

You stormed out on Lewis. Tears were rolling down your face — you were not sad no, you were angry and frustrated about everything about your past from Mercedes to Lewis Hamilton.

You found yourself inside the lady's room, walking back and forth. You looked at yourself in the mirror and mascara had run down your cheeks. You have tried to wipe it when you heard a voice from outside.

“Y/N? Are you ok in there? Can we talk? ” Max knocks from the other side of the bathroom door. His voice held concern and panic

You slowly opened the door, facing the Dutch driver who was clad in an expensive Italian suit, perfectly tailored for his form.

“Max … before anything happens. I need to tell you something about Lewis and me” You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Your sights on the shoes that you chose for him.

Your eyes shift upward, as you feel Max’s finger on your chin lifting your face up

“Y/N, I know. And I don’t care” Shock was evident in your face. You thought that your relationship with Lewis was undiscovered. But all this time Max knew

“M-max, I'm so sorry. I swear, I’m not using you as a rebound” You tried to explain yourself. You expected Max to be angry and you left.

But to your surprise, Max‘s hands found their way to your waist pulling you closer. And the words that left his mouth next left you speechless.

“ I don’t care Y/N. As long as I have you by my side, do whatever you want — I’m yours. Use me”

***

“You’ve sent the pictures of Hamilton to her number?”

“Yes , Sir. Verstappen. It’s accomplished.”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @minkyungseokie @d3kstar @kimialaia @cosmicwintr @younxii @ssrcsm @paigem00 @seokjinkismet @wcnorris @jayjay11122 @embersparklz @sam-is-lost @peterholland04 @luckyladycreator2 @lovemesomeescapism @yettobedetermined7 @nikfigueiredo @ironmaiden1313 @alliwantisadonut @uuoozzii @marshmummy @kemillyfreitas @yaesflorist @zoeyjadetice2010 @splaterparty0-0 @likedbygaslyy @myinternettlifeimagine @ilamara @pluviophilefangirl @starssfall @haydensith @adoreleeknw @leilanixx @dr4g0ngirl @forfeityourbugs @choisannyreads @justtprachisblog @felicityforyou

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #red bull racing #max verstappen #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv1 fic #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis x reader #lh44 imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 #team lh44 #mercedes formula one #formula 1 fanfic #mercedes amg f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[wolffwish]

Clandestine Meetings

REQUEST: “Hey!!! Could you possibly do a fic with Christian teasing Toto about a new relationship, maybe with an employee, then protective Toto caring for reader when she panics because she thinks everyone knows?!! Thank you!!! 💗💗💗💗”

Summary: Rumours start circulating around the paddock about the relationship between you and Toto, until he reaches breaking point and jumps at your defence.

Warnings: Toto x Assistant!reader, workplace drama, arguing between TPs. Soft/protective/caring Lewis Hamilton x reader. Mentions of past relationship/confrontation. Christian Horner 🫥.

A/N: Kinda thinking this could be a part one… with a very different sort of part two 😏 ps thought you’d all enjoy the bonus of Lewis being featured!

You and Toto had been seeing each other for around 3 months, sneaking around the paddock and keeping your relationship as quiet as you could— purely because you didn’t want anything or anyone to ruin it.

What you had was perfect, a professional work relationship that never got in the way of your personal one, and vice versa. You could feel yourself falling for him big time, but with people starting to question the way you look at each other and the timings of your supposed ‘meetings’, people started to talk.

The Head of the FIA had arranged a meeting regarding an ongoing PR crisis amongst the teams, with all the team principals slowly making their way into the FIA hub at the first race of the season in Bahrain.

As normal, you escorted Toto to the meeting to see him off. This wasn’t uncommon, as all the other TP’s also had their assistants with them, including Christian.

“I see you’ve bought your sheep with you?” you heard come from behind you. You turned around to see Christian smirking, with his assistant whacking him across the stomach as if to say ‘shut up’. Toto turned around with you, daggers for eyes as he looked down on Christian. His tall frame causing a shadow over him and his assistant, jaw clenching through anger and fist tightening around his paddock pass.

“Just ignore him…” you say, grabbing Toto’s wrist, urging him to continue walking. “He’s not worth the aggro.”

Christian chuckled. “Run along now, Toto. Don’t want to be getting into trouble, do yo…”

“What did you call her?” - Toto scowled, yanking his wrist out of your clasped hand and swallowing heard, making his throat swell. Eyes locked onto Christian’s, and if looks could kill…

“Oh dear. Guenther! Looks as though Toto got out the wrong side of her bed this morning.”

“Say one more word and I’ll make sure it’s your last.” Toto commanded, his face getting redder by the second.

“Toto come on…” you sighed, “please, let’s just go. The meeting is starting soon.”

“You go ahead…” he said, flicking his eyes from Christian to you. His face softening as he saw your panicking eyes. Confrontation is one of your biggest fears thanks to your last relationship, and he knew that. “Hey, don’t worry, ok? I’ll deal with it.”

You didn’t want to take your eyes off him, but neither could you stay and watch. You’d seen him get this angry before, but only once. That one time you’d opened up about your previous relationship and how you were treated was enough to make Toto see red and start a war.

You nodded, forced a half smile at him and walked away. Past Toto, past Christian and his assistant, and passed Lewis Hamilton— who was making his was to an engineering meeting. The further you were getting away from Toto, the more your heart was pounding at the thought of an argument starting over what you were trying to keep a secret.

You’d entered the Mercedes motorhome and felt Lewis grabbed you by the shoulder. “Hey, hey…” he said, his voice just a brush louder than a whisper. “Where’s that smile gone?”

As soon as you locked eyes with him, you lost it. Every emotion started running through you as you felt your past memories tarnish every fibre of your being. Lewis had no idea about you and Toto, nobody did. Atleast that’s what you thought.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay, don’t cry. Come on, whatever it is, we’ll fix it.” he says, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and gently caressing it. “What’s happened?”

Through tears and a shaky breath, you somehow, in one single breath, mastered the words “Christian.. he knows, I don’t know how but he knows about me and Toto and we tried to keep it a secret but it just I don’t know he just said something to Toto and oh god it’s going to ruin it and I can’t be—“

“Woah woah, slow down. Take a step back. Breathe. Let’s do it together. In… and out. In… and out.” You copy Lewis’ actions as he calms you. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere more private.” He ushered you up the stairs and into the room that he knew led to Toto’s office.

“I’m sorry Lewis,” you said through tears and a few sniffles. “You have a meeting you need to attend… go. I’ll be fine.” Your eyes looked around the room, trying to find a jacket as you’d gotten the cold shivers and shakes from being so worked up. You saw Toto’s jacket hanging on the coat stand, which made the tears start streaming again.

“Come here…” said Lewis, as he grabbed Toto’s jacket and popped it over your shoulders. “I’m sure he won’t mind, will he?” The corner of his mouth turning into a playful smirk and he softly pinched your cheek to try and make you laugh. “I can’t blame him…” he says, “You are beautiful… even all red faced and crying.”

You laugh and roll your eyes… “Ok, now you’re definitely lying.” As you wipe your tears away with Toto’s sleeve, you hear heavy footsteps up the stairs. The door swung open, and the room stood still as Toto stood in the doorway— one hand still on the handle as he entered.

“Has anybody seen— oh god, there you are. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Toto claimed, walking his way over to you. “It’s ok, shhh sh sh, you’re ok, come on, deep breaths Schatzi, like we’ve done before. Deep breaths.”

As Toto wrapped his arms around you, your head buried in his chest and his head wresting on your chin, you heard him whisper “thank you” to Lewis, who slowly shut the door behind him as he exited the room.

“Come on baby, I’m here now. It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

“Why does he hate me so much?” you say, still locked in Toto’s arms. “What happened in the meeting? Did you even talk to anyone? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to—“

“Hey, hey, no, we’re not doing that. We’re not getting worked up again, are we?” Toto shakes his head as he softly strokes your hair with his entire hand wresting on the back of your head. “We’re not worrying about anything else, ok? Plus… he won’t be saying anything else about you ever again. That’s a promise.”

You pulled away from his arms and looked up at him, still teary eyed and sniffling. “What did you say to him?” you said, frowning because you didn’t know what was going to come next.

“I just told him the truth… nobody picks on my girl, and if they do… I’m gonna come after them.”

Your face turned from sad to shocked in an instant. “Toto, you told them about us?! I thought we were keeping it a—“

“No no, I know. But it was going to come out eventually. Besides, I want everyone to know who I go home to every night.” He brings his hands up and places them on both your cheeks, and plants a soft kiss on your lips. “I want them to know how fucking lucky I am, baby.” He softly kisses you again, this time gently sliding his tongue in. “I want them to know that this…” he runs his hands down your neck and over your collar bones, “…is all… mine.” He kisses your neck, and you can feel yourself smiling again.

“Toto, you’re the only one that can make me go from sad to— whatever this feeling is— in a millisecond.” You tip your head back and close your eyes as he runs his lips down your neck and to your collar bone. “I know baby… I just want to make you feel better…” he says, his hands making his way down your buttoned up Mercedes shirt. “I better lock the door.”

#toto wolff #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #soft toto for once #soft toto wolff #toto wolff fluff #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 #toto wolff fanfic

[joelslegalwhre]

Hey!! was just looking to request a little something, if you don't want to/don't have the time I don't mind.

So, like a Max V x Reader where reader is Toto's daughter. Reader and Toto doesn't have a good relationship because she isn't very interested in the Mercedes team and after a petty fight he kicks her out of the house, max hears them fighting (they're in the paddock) and offers to host reader and as time goes, they start to build a relationship and then everyone finds out about it. Also if it could take place under the 2021 season. 🏎️🤍

*sips on dr pepper* Alright Toto my beloved, it‘s time to be a bitch

Thank u sm for the request anon! I made some small changes to the plot but nothing major xx

Paddock Pass pt.1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader, dad!toto wolff x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: After Toto takes your paddock pass, Max comes to your rescue. You didn‘t think that rescue would lead to something much bigger. (Pls trust me this is good, I just suck at summaries)

warnings: angst, fighting, bad dad-daughter dynamics, fluff, mutual pining turning into more, use of Y/N one time, not really proofread (anything else? Tell me if I missed something)

Masterlist || taglist || part one || part two || part three

There wasn't a year when you hadn't attended at least half of the grand prix. And this year was no different. 

Your job allowed you to work from everywhere you liked, so it was the perfect opportunity to follow your dads team around the world. 

The Mercedes Formula One team was something you’d consider family. 

You knew everyone by name, some of them knew you since you were only a few years old, attending your first races. 

But you never cared for the strategies, the way the cars worked, or anything in that field. 

You were here for the excitement of the races, the familiarity and the people. The drivers, the mechanics, the strategists or the people working for the media… they were close to your heart, and you couldn't imagine not being part of this world.

Even if you weren't the least bit interested in the details; you knew everything about the sport, you just didn't want to go into detail why the car would work better if you added this thing to whatever part of the car that your dad had explained to you so many times. 

But Toto Wolff would not understand that. And he made it very clear. 

In his eyes, you should be just as interested in all aspects of the sport. To be like him, you thought.

„You know what, Dad? Shocker, but not everyone shares your fucking interests and cares for them as much as you do!" 

You've never talked to him like that, but you've had enough. "I know I'm not the daughter you'd like to have," you continued, „I really don't care  about the aerodynamics of Lewis‘ car and how it's different to Valtteris'! I simply don't care!" 

You felt hot tears burning in your eyes, but you managed to blink them away. Barely, but he didn't have to see them. "They all know that," these damn tears wouldn't stop, you thought, "Everyone except for you, Dad.

The disappointment in your voice was clear as day, "Why do you even take me with you, when you don't just accept me as I am?" Your lips were pressed in a tight line, the tears still on the verge of falling. 

"You're right." Toto said in the coldest voice you might've ever heard from him, his accent thick, „I don't have to drag you with me anywhere, you're an adult after all. But I also don't have to give you access to the paddock, nor to the garage or anywhere else."

You clenched your teeth, hard. He just had to snap his fingers and your all access pass was worth nothing. You couldn't enter the paddock, couldn’t go anywhere else. And he knew, clear as day, that you couldn't just take a plane back home. You needed the money to pay your rent and couldn't just waste it on a plane ticket that was way too expensive. 

But you wouldn't give in this time, no, if he wanted to punish you for telling him the truth, fine. But he couldn't just humiliate you like he did right now. You grabbed the all access pass hanging from your neck and shoved it in his hand. "Take it then." you said, your voice matching his cold tone. 

Max was hearing every part of it. He'd noticed your voice just before he walked past the Mercedes facility, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard the tone of your words. The voice he had heard so many times, the kindness you always spoke with. All gone. And then Toto's. Just as horribly cold. The two of you were standing between the facilities, so he pretended to be on his phone answering someone, so he could wait in front of his own facility. 

"Take it then." he heard you say in a bitter tone, and just a moment later, you walked past him. He could tell that you were upset. Hell, everyone could've. The way you almost ran out of the paddock and tried to blink away the tears - of sadness, anger, or possibly both, he couldn't tell - it was obvious. Max waited another moment, and when he saw Toto returning to the Mercedes facility, he quickly followed you.

He had to quicken his pace, due to your fast steps. Some were curiously watching where he wanted to be so quickly, but he didn't notice them, just trying to catch up to you. "Hey," he called after you, "wait for me!" 

You didn't hear him, and even if you did, you wouldn't think he'd meant you. It was when he called out your name, that you finally turned around. 

"Thank you." he said, taking a deep breath. He stopped right at your side. "Ehm," you looked at him in utter confusion, still trying not to be obvious of your emotions. "Can I help you, Max?" 

You haven't seen him, when you walked past the Red Bull building, too focused on what to do now. 

„Uhm, yeah, I mean… Can we find a-„ he looked around, “a more private place to talk?” 

His gaze was filled with sincerity and softness. You needed a second to answer him. „Uhm, yes. Of course.“ you quietly said. 

“Great.” Max gently took your wrist and led you to a more secluded place between two facilities. The grip he had on your wrist turned into him sliding his hand in yours. It didn‘t surprise you how the skin where he had touched you tingled, the feeling of your hand in his a feeling you could never quite explain. It was childish, but ever since he started driving for Red Bull, you had a crush on him. You obviously never told your Dad or anyone else about it, hell would've broken loose if you did. 

“I was actually heading out of the paddock,“ you started, “I don't have a pass anymore.” 

His lack of confusion or surprise to that made you draw your brows together, and then he simply answered, „I know.” 

“So what are you-„ you started, but he interrupted you, “I know it's not the most gentlemen thing to do, but I heard all of the-“ he thought for a second, “discussion, between you and your Dad.” he ended. 

That actually made you smile a little, he tried his best to be as gentle as possible and you appreciated it. „It’s okay, Max. I guess everyone kind of heard us.” you sighed, „We had a fight, and he kicked me out.” a bitter smile formed on your lips. 

„Yeah, but he can't kick you out of the paddock.” Max's lips turned into a mischievous smile. “What do you mean?” He looked at your hand and his thumb caressed it for a second. „I'll give you one of mine.” 

„Max,“ you started a little shocked, but he quickly shook his head, „It's really no problem at all,“ he smiled, „It would be an honor to have you in the garage.“ he winked.

His knees almost buckled at the sight of you.

He had given you one of his spare Red Bull shirts. It was a little too big for you, but you had styled it perfectly, the new pass dangling from your neck with every step you took.

You looked absolutely beautiful. And you weren't walking past his garage like you usually would, because his garage was the one you'd watch the race in. It filled him with a sort of pride he couldn't explain. Never in a million years, had he dared to believe you'd be rooting for him and his team. Little did he know, you did since meeting him for the first time. 

"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile. Max was glad that you seemed to be in a much better mood than yesterday. „Hey.“ he grinned. „Is this-„ you gestured over your outfit and pass, „Is it really okay with the team?“ 

You were a little nervous how they'd react to you being in the garage. Nearly everyone knew you were Toto's daughter. And although you knew most of the other teams, including the people who worked for them, you felt quite nervous. „It is.“ His voice had no trace of uncertainty in it. And when he grabbed your hand for the second time since your encounter yesterday, your stomach did a little happy flip. 

„Alright, I have to go, but you can just go over there to watch the race,“ he pointed to your left, „But I guess it's no different to the Mercedes garage, so…“ he laughed. You smiled and chuckled, „It isn‘t, but thank you.“ He gave you a small nod, still smiling. „No Max, really. Thank you.“ Your voice became more serious, and you looked at him with utter gratitude. 

Just when he gave your hand a light squeeze, you noticed that you must've still been holding hands. „I already told you it's no problem, I'm glad you are here.“ You couldn‘t tell the look on his face, you just knew that he was standing so very close to you that only a few centimeters separated the two of you. His gaze wandered from your eyes to your lips. His hand that caressed yours as you still watched him with such intensity, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but at the same time just taking him in. „Y/N, I-„ he started whispering, so close to your own lips, just so very close. 

„Max! We need you over here!“

The voice made both you and Max look up, almost startled. He turned around to the mechanic, and nodded quickly before turning back to you. 

But the moment was gone. You took a step back, letting go of his hand in the process. You smiled at him, though nervously, „Good luck, champ.“. And with that you left him standing there, your heart still aching for so much more than a simple ‚good luck‘. 

I appreciate your comments and reblogs so much!

here’s my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip 🩷

#f1 x reader #angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #mercedes #mercedes f1 #redbull f1 #formula one #f1 #fluff #formula one x reader

[maximoff-pan]

ooh! how about a dick winter blurb where they talk about their future? just something short and sweet to get you dipping your toes into the BOB fandom...

this was so cute and fun to think about! and thank you; I’m dipping my toes in quite slowly but hopefully this is an okay (ish) start — if you’d like me to write a little more for the wonderful easy company boys, just let me know! feedback is always much appreciated 🥰

also I maybe have taken liberties making the reader canadian — sue me for indulging

pairing: dick winters x fem!(cwac)reader

word count: 500

note: this is a complete work of fiction and is based only on the fictional representation of the show band of brothers. No disrespect is meant towards any of the men of easy company or those who fought in ww2.

July, 1945: Zell Am See, Austria 

“Have you thought about what you might do after all of this?” 

The question causes your lip to quirk slightly in thought. You never dreamed there’d be an after. “I dunno.” Is your truthful response. “I always figured this war would be it for me.”

Dick’s eyes lock with yours in understanding. He knows the feeling well. 

“Lew has offered me a job at Nixon Nitration.” His voice carries gently across the water, his leg grazing yours, dangling from the wooden dock below you. It’s so quiet you can almost hear the dew drops hitting the surface as the early morning sun catches Dick’s hair. It creates a wonderful glow, like embers dancing through a fire.

He looks beautiful like this, you think. At peace in the bask of the Austrian sunlight. 

“That’s perfect.” You tell him. “I think that’ll be great for you.”

He swallows before speaking, “He said you could come with us.”

“Did he now?” You chuckle. “The ever presumptuous Lewis Nixon. But the offer does sound intriguing.” 

He smiles. “I was hoping you might say that.”

Your eyes lock once again, playful grins gracing both your faces. Reaching for his hand, you grasp it in your own, rubbing your thumb lightly across the skin. It’s rough from battle, but warm and comforting nonetheless. 

You angle yourself forward to face the water better, now purposefully side by side with the man next to you. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you feel him relax, posture sinking in content. 

“I was thinking—” He pauses briefly, momentarily collecting his thoughts.

“That’s never a good sign.” You tease him.

Dick doesn’t react to your jibe, simply taking it in stride as he usually does. “Humour me.” He decides upon.

“Alright, I suppose I can do that.” You say.

“Come with me to New Jersey.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I feel like we just had this conversation.”

Dick chuckles finally at your obliviousness. “No, I mean live with me. Buy a house, settle down, spend our lives together.” 

Your head lifts from his body, shifting once again, you raise your legs to sit cross-legged on the dock. Dick turns to face you, much the same. He looks hopeful. 

The words tumble breathlessly from your lips, “You mean together, together? Like—”

“Marriage.” He confirms. “A couple kids, a white picket fence – the whole American dream. If that’s what you’d want, of course.” 

Dick is usually able to read your expressions like a book he’s read an unfathomable amount of times, but right now, the pages are blank. He can’t seem to get a read on you. 

A few beats of silence pass agonizingly slowly, one, two, three, then – a smile breaks out onto your face. “You do know I’m Canadian right?”

He grins in return, but not wanting to push his luck, he asks,“Is that an ‘I’ll think about it?’”

“It’s a yes you idiot.”

It would always be a yes.

#dick winters x reader #dick winters x you #dick winters x y/n #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #richard winters x reader

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You {One-Shot}**

Title: Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You {One Shot} **

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Warning: Cursing, 18+ Mature Content, Fluff, NSFW, Smut

Words: 4.7

Synopsis: You are Lewis' date to the opening night of his LH44 Charity Gala. It is a night of performances and interviews, and you are in awe of your man. You find yourself mesmerized by him the entire night.

Note: This was inspired by the above picture and further sparked by a song, Lauryn Hill's version of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”. It fit so well. I won't lie the above picture even had me stop and state for a few minutes. Lol.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Pic Not My Own, Found on Pinterest***

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。

You had the perfect view from where you stood. You were across the ballroom surrounded by at least a dozen people all talking to you about something of importance to them, how wonderful the evening was going, how amazing you looked, or how spectacular the man of the hour was. Your man.

Tonight was the first-ever charity gala event for LH44 charity, and it was also the first official outing for you and Lewis as a couple. You'd tried to talk him out of it but he deemed tonight fitting to be your official announcement because it was also the charity's official opening night. Tonight would be an endeavor of love with performances, speeches, and spoken word all done by the youth from underserved communities in hopes of spreading diversity and improving representation where it counts. Lewis thought there would be no better night than tonight, a labor of love from both ends.

The more you thought about how he'd proposed the idea, your heart fluttered. You loved this man more and more every day and you knew soon you would be an absolute goner.

"Did you know he is the most charitable athlete?"

A gorgeous woman in rose gold whispered to her friends who nodded looking equally as impressed as those around her who'd heard. It was true. Once he was ranked in the top 5 of generous athletes but now he'd surpassed even that. Your heart expanded with the pride you felt. He served the praise and admiration he got.

The clamor of voices begging for a moment of his time and attention got louder and drew your attention. There he was standing in front of rows of reporters who were holding out mics and cameras to catch every word he said.

The man always held everyone captivated when he was around. Always. You watched him talk with his hands fastened behind his back and you nearly went weak in the knees. The orange he wore only brightened his face and the perfect lighting made him look ethereal--angelic even. You gawked at him marveling at his gorgeousness. Sometimes you couldn't believe there existed a man as pretty as he was. It was unfair really.

The butterflies in your gut took flight again for the umpteenth time tonight. It seemed only seconds passed between moments he took your breath away. Heaven help you, you could possibly already be a goner.

Just then, Lewis' eyes trailed around the room as he spoke and landed right on you. You released a soft gasp as you pressed your palm to your stomach. A slow smile spread his lips before he winked at you and that was it. From this moment forward this man would have an unfair hold and advantage over you.

You tried to tear your eyes away but couldn't so like a stalker you stood there staring at him. You didn't know how long you remained that way but the next thing you knew he was standing before you. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Mmm," he moaned, "Rose, Gardenia, vanilla, and brown sugar. Your scent has been following me all night, kitten. I've craved it," he whispered.

He'd craved your scent? You nearly scoffed. It was hovering on embarrassing how much you craved his. Lewis took your hand, laced his fingers with yours then smiled.

"Are you all right, kitten?"

You nodded, unable to think straight much less get words out. He smiled again then led you through the crowds toward the tables. Everyone you passed you both nodded your head and smiled. Once at the table, Lewis pulled out your chair and allowed you to sit before pushing it in. He then joined you, sidling a little closer than the predetermined location the chair had been.

You smelled his cologne, and it infiltrated your senses having an almost mind-numbing effect. Your thighs parted slightly just as your breathing picked up. In only half a second you felt like you'd run a 1000-meter sprint with the best of track and field.

"I can't get over how enthralling you look tonight. I thought we'd look like 2 Sesame Street characters in this orange, but you make me look good."

You snorted.

"Damn right I do. Orange just might be your new color, love," you flirted as you softly caressed his cheek.

Lewis's smile was adorable as he took in the compliment. When he turned to kiss your palm your belly flipped yet again making you take a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you all right?"

Swallowing back down your heart that had leaped into your throat, you nodded.

"I'm super proud of you is all."

Lewis leaned closer making a direct line for your lips, but a sweet tiny voice called for him.

"Mr. Hamilton?"

To his other side stood an adorable girl about 7 or 8 with a timid smile on her face. Lewis gave your hand an apologetic squeeze before he turned to her with the brightest smile.

"Well hello there pretty girl."

A small crowd gathered around to watch the interaction and every face looked even more enamored with him than before. You watched the girl give him a bouquet of flowers, yellow sunflowers surrounded by multi-colored wildflowers, and a photo album that was filled with pictures she'd drawn and painted, all of him.

Her mother let Lewis know that the girl was a huge fan of his and never missed a race no matter what and how inspiring he'd been to her. She went on to thank him for his charity work because he was the reason the girl, Azbeka, was able to study at a prestigious school.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears at how stinking cute all of this was. Lewis asked the girl if he could hug her then melted when she threw her arms around him. Collectively, the crowd let out an "aww" which made you melt. As you felt your ovaries painfully beg for the essence of him, you grabbed your glass of champagne and chugged it down hoping to douse the sudden onslaught of feels that made you crave a tiny replica of him to cradle in your arms.

There will be none of that, Y/N, you said to yourself in your head, determined not to let your body work against you. Not tonight. If you fell prey tonight of all nights you knew you'd end up the mother of Lewis Hamilton’s firstborn. Crossing your legs you held on tightly to what remained of your wits.

As the night progressed you listened to the heartfelt stories of those in attendance, watched musical performances, and even heard speeches from those who had been greatly benefited by Lewis' charity. The smile on Lewis' face never slipped. With every performance and every personalized account, he looked happier and happier, and the more he smiled the brighter he glowed.

You were so enraptured by him that no one else managed to get much of your attention. Several people joked about the way you stared at him which made you hide behind your hands from embarrassment. Every time someone brought it up, Lewis' large hand found its way to grip your thigh where the split of your dress fell open. Every time he did that your belly flipped.

Halfway through the night when you felt him squeeze you again, you knew that he knew his effect from the glint in his eyes. Lewis licked his lips then slyly bit his bottom lip.

"You're awfully quiet, kitten. Are you sure you're all right?"

You leaned to his ear then whispered, "You're just too good to be true. I can't take my eyes off of you. It feels like heaven when we touch. I can't wait to hold you. This thing that we found and that's finally ours--I just thank god I'm alive because I can't take my eyes off of you."

When your eyes met his you saw the thin veil of water welling in them, then he clenched his jaw right before his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Ehm."

He lifted your hand to his lips then peppered kisses across your knuckles. Across the way, someone called his name then beckoned him over. He raised a finger in the air indicating for the party to give him a moment then he leaned to you.

"I love you so much."

Your heart once again launched itself into your throat. You'd imagined when those words would come out of his mouth for the first time. You wondered if it would be when you were entangled in each other's arms, doing mundane things like cooking together or working out, or even when you were around friends and family. You hadn't imagined it would be when you were surrounded by hundreds of people with eyes and cameras on you for one of the most important nights for his foundation.

You pouted and fought the tears that wanted freedom. Lewis stared deeply into your eyes overcome with emotions that were plain to see on his face. As you were about to speak his name was called again. He cleared his throat then dabbed the corner of his eye.

"I have to go."

You nodded and watched him walk away. Every few steps he looked back at you as if he thought you'd slip out on him now that the words had been said. Did he think you didn't feel the same? The thought was almost unbelievable. He was Lewis Hamilton. Everyone loved him. Everyone. There was no shortage of people who tried to get in with him and get under him.

As he did yet another interview you watched as his eyes found yours every couple of sentences. Even from where you sat, you could see the love in his eyes, and you couldn't believe it. He loved you. He really loved you. This wasn't just sex, or companionship. This wasn't him trying to work you out of his system or no strings attached. It was something more, much more.

The longer you sat with his love confession the giddier you became. You wanted him to know how you felt too. However, at every opportunity he was called or whisked away by a cute kid or an eager interviewer making it impossible for you to tell him.

When the crowd of women that were around you broke apart you saw him laughing with a few of his friends that had come out to support him. That was when you slinked across the ballroom with your eyes on the prize--him. When you were right behind him you motioned for his friends to not tell him. Then you wrapped your arm around his midsection resting your palm on his abs. You resisted the urge to feel him up then grazed your lips against his ear. Lewis's body tensed but then relaxed after a few moments as if his body knew it was you.

"I love you,” you whispered.

Your voice came out breathy and low, it was easy to miss but when he spun around to look at you, you knew he'd heard you. He didn't speak, there was no need for words. He just stared into your eyes as if searching them for a lie, but you knew he wouldn't find one. You meant these words. You felt them with every fiber of your being.

Slowly Lewis smiled and then began to chuckle until it turned into an adorable giggle. Then the two of you stood there giggling together as if you were 3-year-olds who'd just shared the silliest secret.

After that, the rest of the event went by in a blur. You were officially on cloud 15, fuck 9. You felt like you'd drank all the champagne in the place. By the time you left and made it back to Lewis' your hand was tightly clasped within his making you giddy with feelings. There was something about when he held your hand that made you feel safe and taken care of.

When his lips found yours in the bathroom as you stepped into the path of one of the many shower heads, you moaned. Lewis wrapped his arms around you holding you against his body. The kiss was passionate and so damn sensual that you quickly got lost not caring that your hair was full-on wet. When he pressed your back to the expensive stone wall, he wasted no time lifting you against him.

"Do you know how many pictures there are of me just staring at you?"

Lewis snorted.

"Are there a lot?"

"Too many. It's so embarrassing."

Lewis peppered kisses down your neck as he rocked his hips rubbing himself against your already wet center.

"Can't believe you have room to feel anything besides this right now. I must not be doing my job right," he said as he took your nipple between his teeth.

You threw your head back and groaned out.

"Oh, Lewis."

Before he claimed your lips, "That's what I thought," fell from his.

The time for talking was done. His lips claimed you with expertise like they'd been crafted for this particular purpose. Raking your fingers down his back you scraped his flesh making him moan against your lips which of course reverberated right between your legs.

"Mmm!"

When Lewis cupped your breasts he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger using the slickness of the water to aid his glide.

"So fuckin' perfect," he mumbled.

Your eyes met and the fire you felt within was what you saw in his orbs. You couldn't wait anymore.

"Fuck me, Lewis."

He grinned then licked your nipple before he sucked in the peak. "You are definitely nowhere near needy enough for me to fuck you."

You tried to reach down between your bodies to fist his need, but he beat you by pressing the smooth hard mass right against your mound igniting a flame right in your clit.

"Fuck!”

"Good girls say please."

"Please," you panted as he circled his hips.

"How bad do you want my dick, kitten?"

You bit down on the spot where his neck and shoulder met making him grunt. His body jerked and for the briefest of moments, you felt the tip of his erection dip between your folds.

"Ha, yes!”

The pleasure was short-lived because Lewis pulled free then lowered you in the same breath. In seconds, you were face to face with the stone wall as Lewis pressed his hard cock against the swells of your ass sending your cheek pressing into the cool surface.

"Your ass is a thing of beauty."

To push him over the edge you wined your lower half then popped your hips sending each ass cheek shaking.

"Mm."

A heavy hand fell onto your ass spanking you once, twice then a third time. Lewis then gripped your hips as he rocked forward nudging his hard cock between your ass cheeks. It was a sight you had to see, so you glanced over your shoulder and watched him buck back and forth. Each thrust forward gave you a peek-a-book look at the swollen tip of his length and the mushroom tip held you captivated.

"Mm, you look so good between my ass baby."

In response, Lewis pushed down on his shaft allowing it to drop down onto your bottom with a heavy and wet-sounding "thwack".

"Whose ass was that?"

You smiled. "Yours baby. It's all yours."

With a sinister grin, he dropped down then spread your cheeks before burying his face between your legs.

"Oh fuck baby!”

His intention wasn't to tease you or to prepare you for him but to drive you absolutely bat shit crazy. As his tongue laved at your folds he sloppily slurped your flesh using the water that cascaded down your body to aid in producing the nastiest sounds that even a porno would be jealous of.

Your fingers scraped at the wall desperately trying to find something to hold on to as he ravished your pleasure trove. However, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep you from exploding so that was what you did. Exploded.

You came all over his mouth shaking as the wetness gushing out of you competed with the spray from the showerheads. Lewis moaned and slurped up every drop then stood looking like the Cheshire cat who had time for a drink. He was soaked and from the way he licked his lips, he looked like he was ready for more.

When he pressed himself against you again he cupped your breasts.

"You taste like champagne and mangos. Fuck I can't wait to bury myself so deep inside of you that you can't breathe or think."

Holy shit you thought envisioning just that. Just when you were about to take matters into your own hands you smelled his body wash just before Lewis began giving you a very special bath. He used the excuse of getting you clean as a front to feel you up and tease every single part of your body. By the time he was directing you under the showerhead, you were more than ready to return the favor.

While wrapped in a cocoon of his scent you slowly rubbed his body making sure to get every nook, slope, and sliver of skin. The milky suds clung to him and as they evaporated slid down the toned muscles that he'd worked so hard for. When you whirled around to do his back, your inner thoughts slipped out.

"For fuck's sake you're beautiful."

Lewis chuckled then pulled your arms around him so you were pressed against his back.

"Me?"

You trapped his ear lobe between your teeth then nibbled down making him moan. Slowly your hands dipped down his abs until you found the treasure at the end of the pleasure trail. Taking your time, you fisted him then stroked along his length, up and down, up and down.

When he dropped his head back a long groan echoed in the shower. "Fuuuck, Y/N!”

"Mmm, you like that? Like the way my hand holds you just right? Like how I know just what you need?"

Your hand sped thanks to those milky suds that had made their way down his body. In a matter of seconds, he was moaning, grunting, and mumbling your name until suddenly he spun you into the water.

As it cascaded down your bodies washing the soap from your flesh, Lewis' lips found yours, and his fingers found your clit.

"Mmm."

From his actions, you could tell he wasn't trying to tease you. He was trying to make you cum, and you knew you were but seconds from doing just that.

Your breathing became ragged and uneven, and your hips bucked against his fingers needing more than he was giving. That was when Lewis pinched your clit and your body shot upward. If it weren't for Lewis' hand holding the back of your neck keeping your face in front of his you would have physically shot through the ceiling and roof and then into the night sky.

"Aaah!"

"Holy fuck, you're so fucking beautiful when you cum, kitten. That's it!"

The next thing you knew you were in his arms then on your back across the softest sheets ever. You moaned and writhed as you rode the wave of your orgasm, indulging in the way your skin tingled. It all felt so unreal. This man took you over the edge unlike any other before. In your aroused haze you stared at him and tailed his wet body pressing him to memory. You didn't want to forget not even an inch of him. You wanted to be in the middle of a meeting when a sudden flash of this moment attacks you turning you into a smirking mess until you had to excuse yourself to video him to knock one out.

Your eyes locked on his engorged length and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. He was perfect. Long, thick, and completely intimidating. If you were faint of heart you would have flustered and looked away worrying how you'd ever take him. Luckily you weren't faint of heart. You knew how to take him now. You were a pro.

"See something you like?"

You grinned. "Nope. I see something I love on someone I love."

Those words were all it took for baby girl Lewis to appear. He smirked until he smiled then giggled. How adorable. As he laid on top of you, his knee nudged your thighs apart making room for himself to rest between them.

"Mmm."

A squeal left you as he nipped at your nipple, raking his teeth over the pebbled bud. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him right there. Lewis took the hint and intensified the pain he delivered with your pleasure.

"Fuck," you panted out wrapping your legs around his waist.

It may not have been what he intended but the strength of your thighs never lied and with it you sent him plunging deeply into your heat.

"Aah,” the two of you exclaimed in unison.

As the pleasure he felt intensified so did his bite around your nipple. Just when you were about to shout out from the pain Lewis pulled his hips back and slammed into you for the second time. Any pain you felt evaporated and morphed into indescribable pleasure. Clenching around him, you came as you bucked against him using his body to heighten your climax. His cock within nudged that hidden bundle of nerves you clenched tighter and tighter around him. The friction against your clit from your writhing brought you closer and closer to another galaxy.

"Uuuugh shit!"

A second orgasm washed over you and Lewis quickly pulled from your body and flung himself onto his back.

"For the love of....fuck!"

He lay there gripping the base of his cock as his head angled back. He looked as if he were being tortured but deliciously rather than unscrupulously. You smiled, then flung a leg over him before sinking down, down, down until every inch of him was snugly fit between your tight walls.

"Mmm," Lewis released watching where your bodies were joined.

"Are you trying to kill me, kitten?"

You rocked your hips making your body roll like a wave coming into the coast on the evening tides. Lewis' eyes roamed over your body quickly falling under its spell. You knew what he liked and often used that knowledge to make him do the thing he hated...cum quick.

Sensing your intention, Lewis groaned and gripped your hips stopping them. You smirked.

"I see my kitten wants to play."

You watched him lick his lips in the sinful way he always did and just like that you lost your train of thought. You sat there atop him just staring at him and again you were mesmerized by his beauty. All movement ceased and the only desire you had was to just watch him. Underneath you, Lewis nudged his hips up giving you a reminder you didn't need that you were completely filled and in the middle of something.

"This dick won't ride itself, kitten."

You snorted then groaned. This was getting ridiculous now.

"This is getting ridiculous now."

He smiled. "What? Can't keep your eyes off ya' man?"

"Shut up it's not funny."

Lewis sat up, clipped your chin between his pointer and thumb, and looked deeply into your eyes. With a luscious peck, he claimed your lips making you moan.

"It's cute. I love when you stare at me. I love when I look across a room and see you looking at me or searching the room for me. I do the same thing it's just you only notice it sometimes the other times you're doing your own thing and I am just awestruck because I got the baddest one. I am as obsessed with you as you are with me. Sometimes I think a little more so."

He brought his lips to your jaw then down to your neck. A moan escaped you as you got lost in his lips on your skin.

"Mmm, Lewis."

"Yes, kitten."

"I love you."

He brought his face back to yours and stared into your eyes.

"I love you too kitten. Promise you'll stay."

You crushed your lips to his then rocked against him making him moan against your lips. With every flick of your hips your body was rewarded with a new wave of pleasure and with each wave of pleasure you used it to make him say your name.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered as he dropped his head back bracing himself on his elbows.

In this position, you decided to give him the show he so deserved. You rocked and rolled your hips against him in circles then swirls then a chaotic pattern that kept him on his toes. Within minutes he was groaning and biting down on his lips as he watched every move you made.

When you began bouncing on him his eyes locked on where your bodies joined. You knew you were beyond waterfall wet but you didn't care, you didn't give one fuck that the room was filled with the sound of your wetness squelching from every movement you made. You didn't care that you moaned wildly and panted his name every time he met you halfway sending himself deeper than you thought possible. You didn't give one fuck that you knew tomorrow you'd be sore from the pounding you were giving yourself. All that you cared about was this moment with him and the depth of your feelings for one another finally coming together in the most primal and basic way. The levels of your love for one another were the purest of all.

"God you're gonna make me cum," Lewis declared.

You grabbed his face ensuring he kept his eyes on yours as you raced to meet him at the point of no return. When he flicked his hips upward that was it, the entire solar system exploded and all you saw was the stardust left behind.

"Lewis!”

"Y/N!"

Names spoken in unison led to colliding bodies. With you on top of him, Lewis wrapped his arms around you enveloping you in his warmth and scent branding you in this intimate way. While you loved making love with him you also loved this part just as much. His post-coital cuddles were world class.

"I am so far gone for you and you don't even realize it. You don’t realize how in awe I am of you. You know I like control and always have tight control over myself and emotions but I am always in over my head when it comes to controlling just what it is that you do to me. I am a complete simp for you Y/N. Complete. I can barely hide it and it’s become the joke of the paddock whenever you come around or you're brought up. You're not alone in this. You have me, all of me and I'll never take my eyes off of you."

You lifted your head and gazed into the deep wells of amber that were his eyes and melted. You wanted to say so much more to that but what else was there to say? Lewis' thumb flicked away a lone tear then he pulled you back to his chest so you could hear the source and force of his love for you. And that was what lulled you to sleep. The sound of his love racing for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#can't take my eyes off of you one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton imagines #sir lewis hamilton

[hischierdevils]

Forget Me | M.B.

note: I had a dream about barzy & nico getting in a fight on the ice and I thought Forget Me by Lewis Capaldi would be perfect for it

summary: you and mat have a toxic relationship and he gets upset when he sees you’ve moved on with nico

warnings: mat being a toxic douchebag, hockey fight

wc: 1.7K

Forget Series

You told your friends you want me dead

And said that I did everything wrong

And you're not wrong

Well I'll take all the vitriol

But not the thought of you moving on

Your relationship with Mat had ended the same way it began: messy. What started as a drunken one night stand had turned into hooking up and then feelings got involved. Mat was the first one to say I love you. Granted, he was inside you at the time but you were too lust filled to see the red flag.

Days after his confession, Mat told you he wanted to see you exclusively. The catch? The two of you had to remain a secret. With you working for the Devils and him being an Islander, he didn’t want to deal with the push back.

“So you don’t want me to go on dates or sleep with anyone else but I'm not allowed to tell people I have a boyfriend?” You were laying next to him in bed, where most of your conversations seemed to take place.

“Yes, I want you to say you have a boyfriend.” He told you as he ran his hand along your bare collarbone. “Just don’t say who it is if they ask.”

You rolled your eyes as you moved to lay on your back. “Everyone is going to ask, Mathew.”

“It’s none of their business.” He reached for you again, but you pushed his hand away.

“And will you be telling people you have a girlfriend?” You looked up at him, waiting for his response.

“It’s not forever.” He turned onto his side to face you. “We’ll go public eventually but it’s so new. I want to keep it just for us right now.” His answer placated you and you allowed him to pull you on top of him.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when you were staring at a picture of Mat in a bar in Texas with another woman in his lap, that you realized he never answered your question. He called, and insisted that nothing happened. She threw herself at him and the picture was taken before he could distance himself from the situation.

He said he loved you. You believed him.

Things were okay when you were both in the New York area, but soon the hockey season picked up. It seemed like one of you was always traveling with your respected organization. Your relationship had centered on the physical activities the two of you did together and without sex, the relationship broke down.

Mat had stopped texting as much as he used to. You stopped going out of your way to figure out what time zone he was in and when you could call. You were tired of avoiding your friends' questions about your mysterious boyfriend so you broke down and told them. Mat didn’t like that. He gave you the silent treatment until he was back in town. Back in your bed.

The final blow came when your birthday passed without so much as a text from him. He was in Ottawa and you were somewhere on the west coast. You had your phone in your hand all day, half present in every conversation. The Devils players had surprised you with a cake and posted a picture on instagram.

Mat liked it the next day. You had already blocked him. The relationship was over before the season finished.

'Cause I'm not ready

To find out you know how to forget me

I'd rather hear how much you regret me

And pray to God that you never met me

Than forget me

Five months later, Mat was scrolling on instagram when a post from the New Jersey Devils captain came across his feed. He was going to scroll past it, not knowing Nico personally, when he spotted a familiar hand in the photo.

The post was multiple pictures, Nico summarizing his summer before heading back to start the new season, and Mat frantically scrolled through them. The last picture caused him to hold his breath. You were smiling happily up at Nico as the two of you sat on a beach.

He stared at the picture longer than he should, wondering when the hell you moved on. Two months prior, your friends were still berating him for how badly he treated you. He regretted it and if he could go back in time he would have done things differently but you still had him blocked on everything so he couldn’t contact you. He knew that if you were still complaining to your friends that meant you were still thinking of him.

He thought he still had you.

Now he was staring at a picture of you looking at another man the way you used to look at him. Surely Nico had to be a rebound. You couldn’t have possibly moved on from him already. Mat stalked Nico’s entire instagram, including tagged photos, looking for a glimpse into your relationship. He didn’t find anything so he convinced himself it was nothing.

The season began, and the Islanders were playing the Devils in their last game before a trip to Florida. As soon as he hit the ice for warm ups, he was searching for you. It didn’t take him long to spot you over by the devils bench on the other side of the glass taking pictures.

He can’t help but smile. It’s been so long since he’s seen you and you’re practically glowing. His euphoria is short lived as he watches Nico skate over to you, placing one gloved hand against the glass. He hates the way your face lights up, the way you eagerly bring a hand up to Nico’s on the other side of the glass. He’s fuming as he watches Nico skate away from you with a grin on his face.

He’s reminded of all the things he could have had right after the national anthem when he catches your eye. It’s chaos as the teams get situated on the bench but you finally look up from your camera, sensing his eyes on you. He’s not sure what reaction he’s hoping for but pure indifference isn’t it. You look away from him as if you couldn’t care less that he was feet from you and blow a kiss to Nico who’s headed out for the face-off.

Oh I hate to know I made you cry

But love to know I cross your mind

Even after all it'd still wreck me

To find out you'd know how to forget me

Mat doesn’t find himself out on the ice with Nico until the second period. As they skate up to the circle, Mat grins. “So how do I taste?”

“What are you talking about?” Nico looks at him confused as the ref tries to get their attention.

Mat bites his lip. You had to have told him, right? Mat knew how hard it was for you after the break up. Your friends were constantly mentioning how miserable you were in an attempt to make him feel bad. Nico had to know that Mat was first in your heart.

The ref blows the whistle and Mat’s so distracted Nico wins the puck and skates right by him, passing the puck to his winger. Mat chases after him, trapping him in the corner as Nico tries to get the puck out.

“What the fuck man?” Nico doesn’t understand why Mat is being so physical as he shoves his face into the glass.

“Tell y/n she’s welcome in my bed anytime.” Mat says as he gets the puck and starts to skate away.

He's abruptly cross-checked from behind and goes flying to the ice. “What the fuck did you just say about my girlfriend?” Nico’s leaning over Mat, waiting for him to get up.

Mat grins as he gets to his feet, looking over in your direction before turning his attention back to Nico. “She’s pretty good at riding dick isn’t she?”

Realization dawns on Nico’s face as the refs start to skate over and break up the two of them. “You’re the ex that treated her like shit? Guess I should thank-” Mat’s gloves are off and he’s swinging before Nico can finish.

What pisses Mat off the most is that you never even told Nico his name. You’d moved on and forgotten him. Nico throws his gloves, gripping Mat’s jersey as he tries to defend himself. The refs break it up before one of them goes down, but they both skate away with a bloody lip.

Days ache and nights are gray

My heart is still your place babe

Guess I still feel the same

Know you can't stand my face

Some scars you can't erase babe

Once Mat is home after the game, he lays in bed and opens instagram. Nico has posted a picture of you wearing his jersey at the game tonight.

Thankful to all of the guys that came before me and didn’t know how to treat you right. I love having you in my corner.

Mat rolls his eyes at the caption but as he starts to scroll away, he notices your name in the comments. I love you so much <3

You unblocked him. Does that mean…

He’s calling you before he can tell himself it's a bad idea. He’s surprised when it rings instead of going straight to voicemail.

“Why are you calling me?” Is your greeting. His heart aches from hearing your voice.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out.

“For hitting my boyfriend or for treating me like shit?” Your voice is completely devoid of emotion.

The word boyfriend slices through him. “So it’s serious?”

“It’s not a secret, yeah.” You sigh. “Why do you care?”

“I miss you and I'm sorry. If you’d give me another chance I’d do it right.”

“I love him, Mat.” You really know how to cut a man down with just your words.

“Does he remind you of me?” Mat’s grasping desperately at anything that will keep you talking. He needs to know if you still think about him. “You traded one thirteen for another.”

“He’s nothing like you, thank god. I’ll never allow another man to treat me the way you did.” Your voice waivers for a moment and he hopes you’re reflecting on the good times you had together. “Don’t call me again.”

#mat Barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat Barzal fic #my writing

[lewisyellowhelmet]

our cave, collapsing

summary: lewis hamilton x reader (written as ofc, named but few distinguishable characteristics)

Matty and Lewis have been friends as long as they can remember. It will never be anything more. 

Friends to lovers. Takes place over 22 F1 season.

content: 18+!!! general m/f sex acts. drunk sex. angst. miscommunication. pls let me know if u want anything else flagged!

word count: 12k+

read everything else of mine here!

 “Fucks sake, Lewis,” Matty says through her teeth, stomping her feet on the Church steps to manifest some body heat, her shoulders hunched up against the half hearted attempt of the weather at a final late February snow. The minuscule clumps of ice are doing their best job at getting under the neck of her dress and sliding bitingly down her spine.  Lewis is ducking out of the car that’s just pulled up, the sharp tap of his shoes on the pavement and up the stairs. He takes Matty’s arm and pulls her through and into the Church in one smooth movement.

 “Sorry, sorry,” he’s saying into her ear as they hurry to slip unnoticed into a back pew, the organ starting up for the brides big entrance. The bridesmaids are already up at the altar with the groom, who is shifting nervously from foot to foot.

 “It’s fine if you’re going to be late, just tell me so I don’t miss the whole thing waiting for you,” Matty hisses, batting Lewis’ hands away as he tries to brush snow out of her hair. He’s trying not to laugh as the guests are indicated to rise just as Matty has sat down, hushed shuffling of the crowd, her cheeks flushed from her alarmingly obvious up and down movement. The bride emerges in the doorway behind them.

 “You have,” Lewis whispers, trying to touch Matty’s face. She pushes him off again, almost bumping into the woman beside her.

 “Stop,” she says, trying to look around him to watch the bride glide past, a death grip on her fathers arm.

 “There’s snow on your face,” Lewis explains, but she rubs it off her nose herself, the ice melting onto her fingertips.

  “Shut up, let me listen.”

The groom is trying not to cry, taking deep, wobbling breaths. Matty is on her tiptoes, trying to see over everyones heads. If Lewis had been on time, they could have gotten better seats, closer to the front, with the rest of their friends. Not stuck back here where everything is out of Matty’s eye-line. Lewis, of course, on the edge of the aisle, has a perfect view.

 “Here,” he says, as the ceremony begins and everyone starts to sit down, “Switch with me.”

-

The reception is only around the corner, and the guests file out of the Church promptly to take advantage of the cocktail hour while the newly married couple go off for photos. Matty has Lewis’ suit jacket over her shoulders as she braves the London weather again. She’s still sniffling from the vows, blinking hard to stop the tears ruining her make up.

 “You’re getting soft,” Lewis says, bumping hips with her, grabbing her elbow when she wobbles almost out into the street, unsteady in high heels.

 “I’m just in tune with my emotions. It’s called maturity.”

 “Match. U. Rity,” Lewis sounds out, shaking his head, “Never heard of it.”

A gust of wind whistles down the street, and Matty cringes into the side of his body, his arm solid around her shoulders.

 “It’s not even that cold, grow up,” he says, guiding them around the corner. She can see the familiar heads of their friends ahead of her, paused at the entrance of the old hotel to wait for them. Someone is waving.

 “You’re in a suit, you’re all covered up,” Matty reminds him, ducking out from his arm as they reach the door, waiters standing just inside with trays of champagne. She passes Lewis’ jacket over to him, takes the elegant glass handed to her and is whisked off to the bathroom with some of the girls for an emergency debrief about how long the groom took to say ‘I do’. Matty doesn’t see Lewis again until they sit down to eat, the chart placing them next to each other, just like all the weddings before.

-

It’s later, Matty’s shoes off, champagne gone to her head, when Lewis comes to sit beside her by the dance floor. His white shirt is unbuttoned at his throat, rolled up his forearms so she can see his tattoos. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin from dancing. Matty lets her body lean into his. He smells like happiness and vodka.

 “You having fun?” She asks, watching their friends attempt to do the Macarena and failing appallingly. Lewis has a beer in his hand, leaking condensation down his wrist. Matty has the sudden thought of licking the cold water off the thin, private skin there. She’s drunk. She pulls her body carefully off his to sit back in her own chair, and wills the thought away.

 “Yeah, s’nice to be with everyone,” Lewis says, nodding and lifting his beer in acknowledgement of someone who’s calling him onto the dance floor, but stays seated with Matty.

 “I know they’re really happy you could make it,” Matty says, taking his drink for her own mouthful before passing it back to him.

 “Good to be normal,” Lewis says, and Matty watches his throat move as he lifts the bottle to his mouth, his lips on the edge of glass where hers just were.

 “You’re normal,” she reminds him, and tells herself to look away. But doesn’t.

 “Why don’t you have a drink in your hand, Matty?” A friend says, and then there’s a groomsman throwing his arms around the two of them, heads knocking together, and she’s getting dragged back to the bar. Tequila shots. Lewis gives her the lime afterwards, sour and wet in her mouth.

                                                            <<>>

Once, when Matty was watching him win Monaco from his mother’s living room, Carmen had poured the tea and said, “I think you two are meant to be together, you know, Mathilda.”

 Matty had smiled at her romance, laughed, taken the mug and held it in both of her hands for the warmth. Outside, it was attempting to rain, an intermittent spattering of drops while Lewis was sprayed with champagne on the podium, sunshine on his face. Carmen’s husband was gone around the corner, in search of wine to celebrate. Last night, when Lewis was nervous (or just anticipating, as he said) Matty had stayed on the phone until he’d fallen asleep, listening to him breathe.

 “If we were meant to be, we would’ve been by now,” she’d said.  

                                                          <<>>

Lewis leaves for Bahrain not long after the wedding, flying against the sunset for the first race of the Formula One season. It doesn’t leave Matty so empty, now, when he goes. When she was younger, it felt like she was losing a limb, fumbling around an empty city, waiting endlessly for Lewis to come home for a week, twenty four hours, even less sometimes. When he called, years ago, to tell her about the place in Monaco he’d bought as a home base, she’d laughed and congratulated him, hung up, and then cried for an hour. Her attachment to him reminds her of those kids with the raggedy lump of blanket they’ve had since they were a baby, refusing to sleep without it, dragging it around until the threads unravel into something, finally, unmendable. She’d tried to untangle herself from him, seperate, hoping the distance wouldn’t feel so painful if they weren’t so codependent, but the next time Matty had seen him, he had her star sign tattooed on the back of his left thumb. So you’re always with me, Lewis had said, grinning, and she’d laughed, and then cried, holding his hand in hers. It seemed stupid, after that, to try and pretend they weren’t as close as they were. They grew up together, it only made sense to keep growing as adults.

-

Matty goes with her friends to a bar to watch the first race, crammed around the television and yelling too loudly for the time of day. When she goes to get the next round of pints, she thinks about the years of championships they screamed for, in this stupid bar in London, cheering for an old friend. Matty can’t remember a winning season starting with a car that looked as undriveable as this one. She starts drinking the first pint served so she doesn’t think about it too much, begins to understand what Lewis had tried to tell her after testing, his mouth tight.

-

On the tube home, after, Lewis calls. She gets off at the next station so she won’t lose the signal.

 “Are you drunk?” He asks, after they’ve gotten through the necessary congratulations.

 “Only a little,” Matty tells him, sat alone on a bench in the empty station, fluorescent light reflecting off the tiles. It’s giving her a headache. She tilts her head back, closes her eyes. She’s too hot in her coat now, underground.

 “I’m jealous,” Lewis says.

 “Why?”

 “Just funny being with you when you’re drunk. Wish you were here.”

 “You never invite me anymore,” Matty says.

 “That’s not true. You have a standing invite. I just know it’s hard for you, with work, and everything.”

 “Yeah,” she says, takes a deep breath. There’s another train coming, the hot air rushing through the tunnel.

 “You’re always welcome, you know that,” Lewis says. There are voices around him, a background theatre.

 “I gotta go,” he says, “Just wanted to say. Hi.”

 “Hi,” Matty says. Lewis laughs, short and bright.

 “Hi,” he says, and hangs up.

Matty lets the train go by without getting on.

                                                          <<>>

Matty goes to Italy for the Imola race. Lewis hasn’t had a podium since Bahrain, and the rest of the season stretches out long and ominous. But the weather is finally starting to warm, there’s been improvements done to the car, and there’s bright sunshine when she lands. The fast language and hills in the distance reminds Matty of one summer holiday, when she was seventeen, and her parents let her fly out for the week to stay with Lewis when he was racing in Italy. She spent most of her time drinking underage and lying on the beach, waiting for Lewis to be done with whatever car stuff he was doing, on the edge of winning some European third level championship. At night, they would walk around the city and eat Gelato, lie down in front of the big cathedral, looking up at the spires and the stars. In the dark, Lewis had held her hand, his fingers warm and sure.

-

When Matty gets to the hotel, she finds that Lewis has left the master bedroom of the suite for her. She lies on the bed for a long time, watching the breeze move the curtains, listening to the rapid Italian in the piazza below. She can just hear the cars doing free practice on the circuit, the repetitive drone. She must fall asleep, because Roscoe is abruptly licking her face and Matty can hear Lewis laughing, half-heartedly scolding his dog. When she gets her bleary eyes open, she finds Roscoe with his paws on the bed, panting and slobbering happily, held back now by Lewis who is dragging him off and back to all four legs on the floor.

 “Fuck off, Roscoe,” Matty says, wiping her mouth, thinking, for a blurred second, she’s at home, reaching for a clock that isn’t there. It’s just the lamp on the bedside table, her phone, out of charge.

 “You gotta teach him about consent,” Matty says, trying to get her body to move properly and sit up after being jolted out of her nap, “Can’t do that when someone’s sleeping.”

 “It’s his thing, he likes it when they’re asleep,” Lewis says, pretends to shake his head at Roscoe who just pants and looks stupid, very happy to be involved in the conversation.

 “Jesus, Roscoe, you perv,” Matty rebukes, watches Lewis take her phone to plug in to a charger on the other side of the bed.

 “You wanna get dinner?” He asks, and Matty notices the light outside, deep blue from the impending evening.

 “How was quali?”

 “There’s a place a few blocks away, does vegan stuff.”

 “Yeah, for sure,” Matty says, pretends not to notice how he avoids the question. Lets it go.

 “I’m gonna get changed, c’mon Roscoe,” Lewis says, the dog dutifully waddling after him. It’s only after they leave that Matty realises how dark the room has really gotten.

-

 “So. Car is a bit shit,” Matty says, twirling her fork in her carbonara. Lewis laughs, the sound bursting out of him.

 “Yeah, something like that,” he says, stabbing at his own pasta. There are people watching him, too obvious, turned over themselves to take a picture. With flash on, for fucks sake. Matty restrains herself from sticking her tongue out to ruin the photo.

 “That must be really hard after, y’know. Last year.”

She doesn’t look at him, shoves more pasta in her mouth so she isn’t tempted to speak again. It’s better if she leaves the silence, lets him think about what he wants to say, gives him the empty space to say it. Sometimes Matty thinks she knows his coping tactics better than her own.

 Lewis shrugs, “It’s fine.”

 “It’s fine,” she repeats, after swallowing, a sip of red wine. It’s rich and smooth in her mouth.

 “Yeah, Matty, it’s fine. It’ll get better.”

 “Of course it will get better. I’m talking about now. How are you now?”

 “I’m fine. You’re here. I’m good.”

 “Aw,” Matty beams at him, reaches like she’s going to pinch his cheek before he pushes her away, “You’re so cute.”

 “Stop,” Lewis says, rolls his eyes, “Have more wine, I’m not drinking anymore.”

-

The wine is too expensive to leave in the bottle. By the time they get back in the car to return to the hotel, Matty has to focus hard on her words. Imola slides past the windows, and the shadows crawl over Lewis’ body, taking him and then returning him to her vision. He’s laughing at her, teasing her for rubbing her eyes against dizziness. He takes her hand when she reaches out across the middle seat, tangling their fingers. He squeezes, three times. It’s an old habit, from their childhood. They had a whole spy language, a way to communicate without adults knowing. This is the only signal that remains. It means, I’m here, it means, I’m with you, it means, I love you. Matty’s head lolls on the leather seat and she grins at him, squeezes back, three times.

-

Lewis sits next to her on the bed as she takes her high heels off, the clasp small and fiddly. She can’t remember what they were talking about, but his voice is low and soothing so Matty lets him keep going. The balcony doors are open, the air warm and thick, voices floating up from the piazza. Her body feels slow and relaxed from the food, the wine, being here with him. Her closest friend. Her person.

 Matty turns her face into his chest, slumped into him. He smells clean and fresh, leftover cologne.

 “I miss you,” she says, her mouth moving damp over the fabric of his shirt. Lewis’ arms come around her, holding her there, strong and secure.

 “I’m right here,” he says, and she can feel him laughing, the vibrations of it. He rests his chin on her head.

 “I know,” Matty says, and stays there until she can’t breathe anymore, no air left in the close, dark space of his body. When she stands up in front of him, her face feels hot, feverish. Her drunk, sleepy brain decides she doesn’t want to be in her clothes anymore, the fabric itchy on her skin, suffocating. She wants to get in the shower, the water turned too hot, scour herself clean. She grabs the hem of her dress, starts to pull it up and over her body, struggling in the bunched fabric before she bursts free, the air a cool relief on her heated skin.

 “Matty,” Lewis says, his voice quiet, gaze on her face. She slowly realises what she’s just done, blinking at him, in her underwear and nothing else, her dress on the floor. She can’t do anything but just look at him, sat on the edge of the bed, looking back at her. His hands are curled into the sheets, white knuckled. Her heart feels huge, taking up space in her stomach, her throat. Lewis just looks, and looks, and looks.

 Down in the piazza, someone honks a horn, and yelling filters up, a different language, a jerk back into reality.

 “Sorry,” Matty says, laughs, because there’s nothing else to do, nothing else to say. Walks past him to the bathroom to turn the shower on. When she comes back out, the room is empty, just the imprint of him on the bed.

-

Lewis has ordered her coffee when she comes out onto the balcony in the morning, the sun fresh and bright on her skin. A headache throbs behind her eyes. Lewis is eating granola in work out clothes and Roscoe is licking his foot.

 “That’s gross,” Matty says, slumping into the chair opposite him.

 “You wouldn’t get it,” Lewis says. He’s smiling at her, his eyes crinkled up at the corners, pointed white teeth. She smiles back, instinctual. Roscoe has come to snuffle around her feet now, and she pulls them up to safety on her chair, knees bent.

 “Lew, last night. I’m sorry. I was drunk.”

She says it like she practiced in the bathroom this morning. Straight to the point. No need to make it a big deal. She doesn’t look up from Roscoe who is gazing pathetically up at her. He’s gearing up to bark.

 “Yeah, no. Of course,” Lewis says, putting his cereal bowl on the table, the ceramic ringing on the glass, “It’s chill.”

 “Cool,” Matty tells Roscoe, waits for him to make a boof sound, the wrinkled skin on his face wobbling before she reaches to scratch his ears. She likes it when he barks, something human about his impatience.

 “You ran already?” Matty asks.

 “Yeah, did you want to come? I would’ve waited.”

 “I decided I’m not gonna run in my thirties. As a little treat to myself.”

Lewis laughs, the sound sweet in the sunshine.

-

The race is fucked. It’s been a long time since Matty was at a race and watching him lose. It feels like she’s fallen into the wrong timeline, something awfully, horribly wrong about the whole thing. She wants to run up on the podium and shake everyone and scream, this isn’t how it’s meant to be, it’s not supposed to be like this.

 Lewis is quiet about it, shoulders tight with tension, but shakes everyones hand and says thank you. He’s late back to the hotel, and they watch bad television until he falls asleep in his socks, slumped into the side of her. The weight of him is heavy, reassuring, intimately familiar.

                                                          <<>>

It had been cold in Abu Dhabi during the night, in the desert, but the lights were bright. For that long moment, on the last lap, when it looked like he was going to win, break the record, everything felt perfect. Matty’s throat was raw from cheering, every muscle in her body held tight, tight, tight. It was all just as it should be, the silver of his Mercedes streaking through the dark. What she remembers, most of all, is the confusion of it. The cars going past him. Hearing the yelling around her, feel the shock waves. And not being able to do anything but just stand there, watching.

 “Do you want me to stay or go,” Matty had asked, into the dark of his drivers room. Angela had pushed her in, told her not to turn the lights on. Lewis must have been crying. He wouldn’t want anyone to see.

 She could feel him in the room, the shape of him, the presence of his body, but she couldn’t see him. Just stood there in the empty space, waiting.

 “Stay,” he’d said, a rasp from the blackness. The room was so small that there was no way to find the direction of the sound, it just echoed off the flimsy walls.

 “Okay,” she’d said, taking a step out into the emptiness. She felt sick, from the suffocating dark, from the way his voice sounded, from what had just happened. Matty felt out for furniture, something familiar to make the layout of the room come clear in her mind. She didn’t know which way she was facing.

 “Where are you?” She’d asked, blind with it. His hand had closed around her wrist. She couldn’t tell if it was him or her that was shaking. Matty let him guide her to the couch, stumbling so she sat half on top of him for a second before she could slide into the space between him and the wall. Not seeing, not speaking, just pressing her body into his in the dark, fumbling across skin and racing suit to hold his hand in both of hers. She could hear him breathing, fast and shallow. Matty didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. She squeezed his hand three times.

                                                          <<>>

Matty goes to Monaco early. They have lunch together on the coast, the restaurant terrace half over the ocean. The weather satellite says it’s going to rain on Sunday, but today is clear and bright. The ocean sparkles. Lewis has dark shadows on the delicate skin under his eyes, keeps yawning into his fist.

 “What’s going on?” She asks, when he drifts away from the conversation again, fiddling with his bracelet. He smiles, lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

 “Nothing, I’m good.”

The waitress comes to clear the plates, smiling and tan. She leaves the bill on Lewis’ side of the table. Lewis is rubbing his chest, his t-shirt crumbling under his big hand, looking out over the horizon.

 “Hey,” Matty reaches out, taps his wrist, “C’mon. It’s me. Talk to me. What’s happening?”

 “Nothing,” Lewis tells the spot somewhere over her shoulders, but after a second his eyes slide to hers, something hidden and unknowable in them. He smiles again, but it’s empty, his jaw tight. Matty swallows on a dry mouth. Her food is sitting heavy in her stomach. Too rich.

 “Is it last year? Abu Dhabi?” She asks. Lewis laughs, the sound sour, and shakes his head.

 “No. No, it’s not last year. It’s just. It’s stuff that’s been going on for ages. Don’t worry about it.”

 “What stuff?”

Lewis is looking back over the ocean, his side profile sharp. He feels very far away.

 “You can tell me anything,” Matty says, can hear the childlike whine in her voice, and hates it. The urgent need to know, to be the one who is let inside his mind when it’s so often impenetrable to everyone else.

 “It’s fine,” Lewis says, picks up his phone, sunglasses, keys from the table and stands up, “I’m dealing with it. You ready to go?”

 They drive home with the windows down and don’t talk.

-

The night before the race they swim in his building’s pool. It’s underground, with tiles set into the ceiling to look like stars, lights carefully placed so it feels like a hidden cove, silent but the sound of water. Matty floats, listening to Lewis swim laps. He gives her a fright when he grabs her around the waist, and her shriek rings off the walls. Her legs kick out against his belly, and she can feel the muscle of him, the restrained strength as he lets her swim away. He looks young, water on his eyelashes, his dumb goggles have left marks around his eyes.

 “Have you thought about retiring?” She asks, when the silence starts to echo. Lewis laughs, surprised, sinks down so the water covers his shoulders.

 “No,” he answers, frowning, “Not for a few years.”

 “How many?”

 “Why do you wanna know?”

Her shrug sounds loud, the water moving around the movement of her body. Under the surface, she takes his hand, their skin sliding together, her fingers pressing into the flesh of his palm.

  “What do you see? At the end,” Matty asks. The room is very quiet, a dark cave, just them, the water, the chlorine smell overpowering.

 “You,” Lewis says. Matty breathes in, and out. His hand pulls out of hers quickly, and the water surges as he moves to the ladder, pulls himself up and out. His black swim shorts cling to his thighs. In the shadows, still dripping water, his chest looks broad and strong, the muscle of his arms, the wide flat of his shoulders.

 “Lewis,” Matty starts to say, but then he’s jumping off the edge, hunching himself up into a ball to land with an obnoxious splash, half drowning her. When he surfaces, laughing, he finishes the job, shoving her under the water.

-

Some of their friends fly in for the race. The season is going to shit, so they may as well enjoy it while they can still pretend some miracle with the car is going to happen and Mercedes can make a last minute grab for the championship. While Lewis gets ready, Matty sits with them in some wanky cocktail bar and gets happily tipsy, watching the rain roll in. Even now, even still, she thinks he might win. When she was twenty one, her last year of university, he’d surprised her, flown in for half term. Found her in some grungy, dark house party, lit only by red fairy lights.

 “I’m going to F1,” he’d said, “McLaren. They told me on Thursday.”

 Matty had cried, big wet sobs that made her bend over at the middle. It might have been because she was drunk, but more likely because she loved him so much, wanted him to have it so bad, have everything he ever wanted. They’d danced in the strange red light. The beginning of everything, the end of something else.

 The race is delayed by hours, and there’s nothing to do but keep drinking like they’re in university again, bumping into each other and laughing and trying to figure out a way to get into the garage to annoy Lewis. Matty leans over the railing as the cars streak by and calls Alonso horrible names and cheers until her voice is a rasp, her clothes soaked through.

 By the time they’re at dinner, Lewis is exhausted and everyone’s hangovers are starting early. The rain pounds on the window of the restaurant. Matty can’t quite get warm again. Lewis gives her his jumper, the familiar smell of him, the heat of his body still in the wool.

 “When are you two finally gonna just call it and get married?” Someone says, leaning across the table, spilling a glass of water. Matty can hear Ang laughing from halfway down the table.

 “Sorry,” Ang says, when they look at her, “Just. Sorry.”

 “In another lifetime, maybe,” Matty says, rubs her face, a headache threatening.

 “Yeah,” Lewis says beside her, to no one in particular, “Another lifetime.”

                                                          <<>>

It happened once. Only once. At the end of a decade. Lewis had won his sixth championship a month before. They were in L.A., unreasonable heat for this time of year, some big party that spilled out onto a private beach. The house was all white stone, sharp edges. Lewis knew the host, someone with too much money investing in solar power. Everyone wanted to shake Lewis’ hand, give him a drink, ask what the fastest speed he’d ever gone around a corner was. Matty kept escaping into bathrooms with him to take shots and giggle and gulp water from the tap. Then they’d go out and dance and laugh and drink more. It felt timeless, a moment outside of the universe, just for them. He was the only person she knew at the party. She was the only one he wanted to talk too. At the countdown, Lewis had kissed her, nothing really, just the press of his mouth and then the taste of him laughing, turning away to point at the fireworks. Matty’s mouth burned. Of course, they’d kissed on New Years before. The same funny, messy kiss, tasting of champagne and hope. She’d known him so long, more a part of her than not. The aching familiarity of childhood friends into adult companions. Lewis knew her so well that he could be presented with her in a million pieces, patiently and carefully put her back together in the exact right way. A life lived longer together than apart.

 The bass pounded. Fireworks broke over the ocean, a thousand different colours. Lewis danced against her and Matty leant into him.

-

The edges of the dawn were staining the horizon pink when they went to the shoreline, bare feet. A new year, a new decade. Holding infinite promise.

 “Happy New Year,” Lewis had told her, hazy eyes, red mouth in a familiar grin. Matty kept getting caught up on the gap in his teeth, wanted to stick her fingers in his mouth to feel the sharp press of his canines. Lewis was looking at her, and not the sunrise. She felt very aware of her whole body, every nerve, exactly how she was standing in relation to him. The sand under her feet, the rush of each wave on her toes. Lewis looking at her eyes, her nose, her mouth. The splayed open expression on his face, nothing guarded, nothing hidden, just him.

 “Lewis,” she’d said, her voice cracking, rasping into a whisper. He was breathing quickly, shallow, the heavy warmth of his hands on her hips.

 “Don’t,” she’d said, even as she curled her fingertips into the cloth of his t-shirt. She could feel his heartbeat under her knuckles.

 “Why not?” He’d asked, and his voice sounded so wrecked, gut-punched. Desperate in a way she’d never known him to be.

 “It’ll ruin it,” Matty said, and didn’t want him to believe her, wanted him to know better than her. He felt suddenly older than her, even though it was just a few months, really. Very far away and intimately close, all at once. His big hands on her face, then, callouses, the heat of his skin on her cheeks.

 “We can just do it once,” Lewis said. They’d been here so many times, on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

 “Just once,” she’d said, and he’d breathed in deep, like he’d forgotten he needed oxygen until just then, his chest shuddering with it.  

-

Something about the alcohol, maybe, the city, the pre-dawn haze. Finding this new part of him she’d never had before. Lewis had this stupidly big suite at the top of some expensive hotel, and they’d stood an arms length apart in the elevator, catching each other looking and laughing. The sudden quiet of the hallways after all the noise of the party, following Lewis, watching his shoulders move, the slim line of his waist. Thinking about all the skin under his clothes.

 By the door, she felt suddenly nauseous with fear, feverish. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

 “Matty,” he’d said, the flash of the keycard, click of the lock, and then the spaceship whoosh of the door opening, the grey dark of the suite.

 “Yeah?” She’d said, so close she had to look up at him, her chin tilted.

 “I’m so,” Lewis had said, smiling so much he couldn’t speak, “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

It meant so much that she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t breathe through it. Matty walked through the door first, and felt him come in behind her, the door clicking shut. Then the silence of the room, the recycled air, the dark pre-dawn shapes of L.A. through the huge windows. Lewis’ hand at the small of her back, warm and heavy. She’d turned around, into the circle of his arms, and it felt like a circumnavigation of the whole world. His fingers on her jaw, his thumb under her chin. The dark edge of his lashes around soft, kind eyes. When he kissed her, it felt like the very first time, like she’d never done it with anyone else before. She wished it had been. That she’d saved everything for this, so it was just him that had ever touched her, the only one.

 “Oh,” she’d said into his mouth, couldn’t stand it, having him like this and not talking to him, sharing it with him.

 “‘Oh’ good or ‘Oh’ bad?” Lewis had asked, stood with her beside the bed, smoothing her hair out of her face. His mouth was swollen from kissing her.

 “Good,” she’d said, dragged him back in. Matty felt like she was stood at the very edge of the world, the warmth of his body, the nudge of his nose against hers. Lewis had helped her get out of her shirt, ran his hands down the sides of her like he was trying to soothe her. When she looked up again, dazed, he had this soft smile on his face, heavy eyes, laughed a bit.

 “Love you,” he’d said, as he walked her back to the bed, their knees knocking together, her hands tugging at his shirt. Matty remembers that, the most. The easy way he’d said it, the way he’d been saying it for years. It made her feel warm all over, like sliding into a bath.

 “Love you,” she’d whispered back, let him lie her down. He’d reached behind his head, yanked his shirt over his shoulders. Matty felt like a teenager, didn’t know what to do, what was supposed to happen next. The wide span of Lewis’ chest, the lion roaring. The morning light was hurting her eyes, brightening the room. She wanted it to stay dark and shadowy, so they could hide for a bit longer, stay like this. The bed felt huge, a planet of it’s own. Reaching out for him, the weight of his body on hers, the heat of him.

 “Lewis,” she’d said, her fingers in his hair, lifting him up from kissing down her neck, “Do you wanna have sex?”

 He’d laughed, and she could feel the rumble in his chest, the white flash of his teeth, eyes crinkling.

 “Yeah,” he’d said, “I wanna have sex with you. I mean. If you want, that.”

 Matty had the sensation of a book closing. The end of a chapter. The end of an era. Reaching out to grab the next novel, impatient to know the first words.

 “I want too,” she’d told him. Lewis nodded, and she could feel the hard press of him against her thigh. She’d never seen him naked before.

 “Okay,” he’d breathed, kissed her again, still murmuring against her, “Okay.”

-

His hands shook when he undressed her, and she had to shut her eyes, focus on her breath. Matty thought she might cry. She didn’t understand how she could feel all this, all at once.

 “Is it okay if I,” Lewis said, and he seemed almost shy, pink in his cheeks, breathing hard. Her hands flat on his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the way they lifted and fell with each breath.

 “Yeah,” she’d said, not knowing what he was asking, knowing she wanted it anyway, wanted whatever he wanted. The wet heat of his mouth on her breasts, down her belly, his big hands opening her legs. She could feel his breath on her, sure she was wet and shining already. She had to close her eyes when he put his mouth on her, his tongue strong and sure. Matty had heard herself cry out, instinctively pulling up one of her legs, almost kicking him in the process. Lewis had pressed her back down, his hand huge and spanning over the hinge of her hip, holding her there.

 “That’s not fair,” she’d said, already panting, “You’re not allowed to be good at it.”

Lewis had laughed, into her, and that was a whole new feeling, something else to tilt her world off it’s axis. Then he’d nosed up to her clit, pressed the pad of his thumb hard so it felt like an electric shock right through her. The tip of his tongue pushing inside her.

 “Oh my god,” she’d said, couldn’t help it, pushed up onto her elbows so she could see him. His eyes were open, but he was looking at her cunt, fucking gazing at it, like he was obsessed, watching how greedy she was as he slipped two fingers straight into her. His mouth was shiny and slick from her.

 “You’re so wet already,” Lewis said, and she’d felt herself flush.

 “Sorry.”

 “No, that’s not. I didn’t mean. It’s hot. It’s so hot, that you want it,” he said, stumbling over himself, adorable little crease in his forehead, thinking he’d hurt her feelings. He looked like he was going to get up, for a second, apologise properly, so she’d pushed his head back, stomach jolting at how easily he’d gone under her, how he let her move him where she wanted.

 “Please keep going,” she’d said, and he groaned into her. Matty wished she wasn’t so drunk. She wanted to be able to remember everything, every detail, forever. Be able to carry it with her always, this part of him.

 His fingers in her, curling, and then.

 “Fuck, there. There. Please,” she’d said, breathless, one hand curled into the sheets, the other tight in his hair. Lewis had doubled down, listening to her instructions, always competitive. It made her feel soft all over, the way he was so focused even in this. Matty felt suddenly, horribly jealous of everyone else who’d had him like this, seen this before she got to. The intensity of it made her feel sick. She turned her face from the window, towards the pillows, and away from the thought.

 The sound of his mouth on her was dirty and lovely. Something she wasn’t allowed to have but was getting away with anyway.

 “I’m,” she said, when she could feel it in her belly, twisting tighter and tighter, hot in her toes, her fingertips.

 “Yeah,” Lewis had said, his voice sex-low, lifting his eyes to her, “Give it to me, Matty, I want it.”

 Matty had the last thought of him never having said her name like that before, like he wanted her, like he was desperate, and then she was coming, a tidal wave all through her, his big hand holding her down onto the bed as she shuddered and panted.

 When she opened her eyes again Lewis was lying on the bed next to her, still in his jeans, unzipped, the tip of his cock just poking out of his underwear, swollen and leaking. Matty had the overwhelming thought of wanting it in her mouth, the back of her throat, choking her.

 “Is this really stupid,” she’d said, stupid from orgasm, reaching out for him anyway, touching his jaw, rubbing her fingers over his mouth. Lewis hadn’t answered, nipped at her fingertips until she’d giggled, lifted his hips off the bed so she could get him out of his pants, his underwear. Then she was the one sitting over him, looking down at his body. He didn’t seem at all self-conscious, laid out on the crumpled white sheets, one hand behind his head so his bicep looked massive, his other hand relaxed on his belly.

 “Comfy?” She’d asked, her hands sliding up his thighs, feeling the push of muscle. Matty almost wished he’d stop looking at her, all dark eyes, half lidded, just so she could actually focus. His cock jumped when her fingers slipped over the line of his hip, the angle there.

 “Stop laughing at me,” he’d whined, scrubbing his hands over his face so she couldn’t see how he was grinning.

 “I’m not,” Matty had protested, even as she was giggling, and then her hand was around him and he was making this amazing, small, wounded sound, his eyes practically rolling back into his head. She bent down low over him, nuzzled into the dark curling hair at the base of him, felt insane from it, the smell of him, the hot press of his cock against her cheek. Lewis was panting. She had the idle thought of how pretty his dick was, thick and long, how nice it looked in her hand. Licking under the head, sucking him into her mouth so she could taste the skin and salt. Lewis groaned, the sound low and rolling. He took the hand that was resting on his hip, tangled their fingers together. Matty wanted to kiss every part of him. She bobbed her head a few times, obsessed with it, the heavy, hot weight of his cock on her tongue, but then Lewis’ was pulling her off, her chin in his palm. He was flushed, chest heaving and shining with sweat.

 “You can’t -  I’m gonna come if you do that.”

 “That’s okay,” she said, moving her head back, but he was already dragging her up.

 “No, I wanna. I wanna fuck you, wanna feel you. Please.”

The sun had come up now, falling through the windows in one wide swathe across half of the bed. She could see all of him, taste him in her mouth. Lewis had to move her around, get her in the right spot, because now they where there she couldn’t stop looking at him, kissing him. The end felt very close. Everything in her was urging her to make the most of it, touch everywhere, remember everything, catalogue every sound.

 Up on her knees over him, her hands braced on his chest, watching him guide his cock into her, his tongue between his teeth as she sank down, knocked out by it. She felt so full that she couldn’t speak, just pant, overheated. Lewis held her there, his big hands around her hips, soothing over her skin. He was trembling.

 “Fuck,” she said, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

 “It’s okay?” He’d asked, reaching to touch her face, push her hair behind her ears.

 “Shut up, you know it’s good,” she’d said, and then she laughed, and he groaned, his hips jerking up into her.

 “Don’t do that,” Lewis said.

 “What, laugh?”

 “You got really tight.”

 “Oh, like this?” She was grinning, flexing around him, watching the air hiss out between his teeth as his jaw jumped.

 “Stop, I wanna last, I want it to be good for you,” he’d said, pulling her forward onto his chest, her hands braced beside his head. She could feel him shifting, getting the right angle.

 “It is good,” she’d said, kissed the swell of his bottom lip. He’d hummed, kissing her messy and lazy, then started fucking up into her, a measured roll of his body that made Matty see white. She’d shoved her face into his neck, clinging onto him, gasping into the crook of his shoulder. Lewis held her like it was nothing, a steady rhythm. She could feel him breathing, taste the sweat on his skin. When she sat up again to grind down, get the spot she liked, his pupils were blown, his mouth red and swollen.

 “I’m close,” she’d said, her voice thin, barely audible. She felt feverish, urgent in her movements. Lewis held himself carefully still, let her fuck herself onto him until she was coming again, her fingers so tight in his shoulders that her nails left angry, curved marks. Matty only had to rise up and down a few more times and then his mouth was going slack, his eyes shutting, his whole body going tight as he came, his hands opening and closing on her thighs. She watched the whole thing like a magic show, enraptured. It felt crazy, having him hot and wet inside her, dripping down her thighs when she rolled off, crumpled into the side of his body. Lewis was rubbing her hip, trying to catch his breath. When she sat up to go to the bathroom, he was looking out the window, watching the sky change as the sun rose.

 “Hey,” she said, and when she caught his eye he looked suddenly sad, like he was grieving something.

 “We’re chill, right? Still friends?” Matty said. Lewis’ expression didn’t change, even when he smiled.

 “Yeah, of course.”

The next time Matty saw him, he was with a girl, holding her hand. She smiled, got introduced, excused herself, and vomited, alone, in the bathroom. They never spoke about it.

                                                          <<>>

 “I don’t like him,” Lewis says, in London, peeling the label of his beer bottle. He’s glaring at it, like the beer company has done him an unforgivable cruelty. Matty thinks about the nameless pints they used to drink, before they knew what IPA stood for.

 “Well, that’s not really an opinion you can have,” she says.

 “Why not?”

She looks over at the bar, where the guy is ordering the next round of drinks. His blonde hair shines under the lights.

 “Because you don’t know him.”

 “But I know you,” Lewis says. His gaze has lifted from the offending beer bottle to hers. His expression is closed off, unreadable. He’s holding his jaw very carefully. Matty hates it when he gets like this, goes inside himself. Even in the shadowy corner of the pub, people have started noticing him. Over his shoulder, she can count three seperate people attempting to take a photo.

 “Maybe he knows me better.”

Lewis rolls his eyes, sits back in the chair, one leg angled towards the door. Baku fucked his back, and he has to sit with his hips open. The pain medication makes it hard for him to sleep. If he takes enough to dull the pain properly, he starts seeing things.

 He’s removed the label completely and delicately, not a trace of the sticker left on the glass. He’s tearing it into tinier and tinier bits, collecting the scraps on a coaster.

 “I doubt it,” Lewis says.

 “Look, just be nice, okay? He’s nervous,” Matty chides, eyeing the guy returning with three more beers, pint glasses this time. He grins when he catches her eye, and she smiles back. Last night, on the couch, lights off, television playing Bake Off reruns, he’d asked to be exclusive. She hadn’t said yes, or no. Kissed him, gone to bed with him.

 “Thanks, mate,” Lewis says, taking his beer, “Appreciate it.”

Matty smiles at him, too, pleased.

-

 “How’s whatsisname?” Lewis asks, in France.

 “Gone. Boring, in the end.”

 “Shame, I was just starting to like him,” Lewis says, mouth crooked up in a smile he’s not working too hard to hide, zipping up his race suit. He takes the helmet Matty passes over.

                                                          <<>>

When Matty gets to Monza, Lewis is in the middle of a streak of bad luck. It used to be winning streaks, podium streaks. He was invincible, something otherworldly. Now, when they have dinner after free practice, Lewis sits with his shoulders bowed over like he’s carrying the whole world on his back.

“Are you still seeing that therapist?” Matty asks, after Lewis has been scrolling on his phone and not looking at her for too long. There’s a woman at the bar, long dark hair, bright eyes, that is waiting for Lewis to look over at her.

 “Sometimes. It’s hard, with Zoom. Makes me feel weird,” Lewis says. He sighs, pocketing his phone and turning the leaves of his salad over with his fork. His mouth is tight, eyes low.

 “Therapy’s always hard. It’s supposed to be.”

 “Can we not?”

Matty blinks. She feels momentarily embarrassed, hot through her body, but then she’s angry, her shoulders rising.

 “I’m trying to help you.”

A waitress is approaching the table, a dark liquor on her tray that Matty knows neither of them have ordered. The girl at the bar is watching.

 “Well, you’re not,” Lewis says.

 “Old Fashioned for you, sir. From the woman at the bar,” the waitress says, smiling through the tension. Matty sits back in her chair, arms folded. Lewis’s gaze flickers over to the bar as the drink is placed down in front of him. The woman has played it well, not looking at him, talking with her friend, seemingly not at all bothered about whether he looks over or not.

 “Thank you,” Lewis says, takes it in his hand, the ice rattling. He doesn’t sip, just holds it.

 Matty traps her tongue between her teeth so she doesn’t yell. Or cry.

 “Everything’s under control,” Lewis says, once the waitress has walked away.

 “What’s under control? You won’t tell me what the issue is.”

Matty can hear the wobble in her voice, goes red with it. Her chest is heaving. She swallows over a sore throat.

 “It doesn’t even matter. It’s nothing. Jesus. Just, trust me,” Lewis says, puts the drink down. Stares at it. Then picks it up again, takes a long sip, his throat moving.

 “You clearly don’t trust me,” she hisses.

 “Hey, I’m so sorry to disturb you guys but my husband is a huge fan. He’s too embarrassed to come over and ask himself, but would it be okay if you took a quick picture with him?”

 Matty nearly jumps out of her own skin from the surprise behind her shoulder, kicking the leg of her chair in the process. A guy is hovering next to the table, eyes wide with anticipation. A few tables away, a man is hunched over, head in his hands, almost vibrating with embarrassment. Lewis’ pleasant, championship winner expression slides over his face, frustration melting away like it was never there.

 “Of course, mate,” he says, looking like there’s nothing else he would rather do. Matty ducks under the table to check where she collided with the chair leg. It’s bleeding, a line of red all down her shin.

-

Matty waits up in bed until after midnight for Lewis to come and knock on the door, sad eyed, apologising. He doesn’t come.

-

On the day of the race Matty walks up the hill to the castle, takes the tour with the rest of the tourists. In the old, stone hallways where the sunshine doesn’t reach, the air is cool and damp. There’s a family with three children who run ahead of the tour, calling to each other. It makes the building feel ancient, inhabited by people centuries ago with their own laughing kids. At the end of the tour they walk out onto the parapet, the wind whipping through Matty’s hair, on her skin. She can see all of Monza, out over the hills, carpets of green grass and forests and thin blue lines of rivers. Even up here above the city, she can still hear the circuit, the roar of the cars, rev of engines. Half the tour is in Ferrari shirts. Even the tour guide is wearing a red cap.

 When she closes her eyes, face titled up to the sky, she thinks about the king bed in L.A. The bright sunshine on the sheets. The brush of Lewis’ hands on her skin. The heat of his body. The sound of him laughing and laughing. When he came, he stopped breathing, like his brain couldn’t focus on anything else.

-

They fly back to London together. Matty gets on the plane before him, and she half expects Lewis to keep walking down the aisle, but he collapses into the seat beside her. The engines roar to life. Matty doesn’t take her headphones off, keeps looking out the window. Sitting this close, she can feel the warmth of him, the smell of his post-race shower. Clean and soapy.

 He touches her wrist gently, a finger soothing along the knob of bone. Then his whole hand sliding into hers, three squeezes. There’s so much in Matty’s chest she has to close her eyes, throat tight. She squeezes back.

                                                          <<>>

Before Lewis goes to America for the double header, they go to some expensive beer garden, pretending it’s still summer. Lewis has to show a membership card at the front desk, and they have to hand their phones over before they can go through. Matty feels horribly underdressed, straight from work.

 “You didn’t say it was going to be like this,” she says, following him through to their table. Lewis frowns.

 “Like what?”

 “Fancy.”

 “Oh,” he says, looks around, like he’s seeing it for the first time, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Matty watches him order a lemon lime and bitters and feels some horrible aching thing in her chest. He feels very far away. Hidden from her. She can’t think of anything to talk about after she’s chosen her beer and the waiter has moved away.

 “How’s work?” Lewis asks.

 “Fine,” she says, taking her hair out of it’s clip just to put it back up again.

 “Fine,” Lewis repeats, “any other descriptive words?”

 “Busy. Interesting. Stressful.”

Lewis pretends to count the words off on his fingers. Matty watches his rings shine in the candlelight. It’s throwing strange shadows on his face, making his eyelashes look longer, his cheeks gaunt.

 “Lewis,” Matty says, feels somewhere outside herself. Her mouth feels dry, her stomach empty, “Are we good?”

  For a moment, there’s an expression on his face she’s never seen before, something sad and scary, but then he’s smiling, reaching across to grab her hand. His eyes are familiar again, warm and laughing.

 “Matty, of course. Of course. We’re good. I’m sorry if I haven’t. If I haven’t been a great friend this year, there’s just been a lot going on,” he says, his thumb moving over the back of her knuckles.

 A wind goes through the garden, rustling bushes. Matty hunches her shoulders up, crosses one leg over the other.

 “You want my coat?” Lewis asks. She shakes her head. The waiter is coming back with Lewis’ soft drink and her beer. Matty is pretty sure she can see David Beckham inside.

 “I don’t want to lose you,” Matty says, her hands around the cold glass, shocking her back into her body.

 “You won’t,” Lewis says. Matty nods, and takes a sip of beer. It burns in her chest.

                                                          <<>>

He calls, once, when he’s away. Very late at night his time. Matty answers at her work desk. It’s raining, the windows of the building grey and water splattered.

 “Hello?” She says, pushing away from the desk, her chair squeaking.

 “Hey,” he says, “I. Sorry. I wanted to talk to you.”

 “I’m at work.”

 “Shoot. Sorry. I must have done the math wrong.”

 “Hang on. Just. I’ll call you back, okay?”

 “Okay,” he says, and Matty hangs up. She makes herself sit and finish the interrupted email before she stands up, goes to hide in the stairwell. Lewis answers before the phone can even ring through once.

 “Hey, I’m really sorry. I thought it wasn’t so much of a difference, that it was before you got to work,” he says, immediately, like he’s been doing nothing but wait to apologise. Matty imagines him lying in bed in the dark, perfecting his sentence.

 “No, it’s like. 9.30. What time is it for you?”

 “Um. 3.30.”

 “Lewis.”

 “I know. I can’t sleep.”

 “What about that melatonin Ang gave you?”

 “It makes me feel weird in the morning. Like I’m sleep walking.”

Matty hums. It’s cold, the concrete of the stairs. She sits down on one of the steps, the phone cradled against her ear.

 “What did you wanna talk about?” She asks.

 “Oh. Nothing. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

 “I can’t talk for long, that’s all. I want to get out of work early today, it’s Prisha’s bachelorette tonight.”

 “Gonna get wasted?”

 “Of course.”

 “Drunk call me?”

 “You won’t answer,” Matty tells him.

 “I always answer.”

Matty doesn’t argue with him, when they both know he’s lying. Sometimes, his assistant will answer after she’s called a few times in a row, have to explain to Matty that Lewis is in an interview, or on the track, or indisposed for some other reason.

 A few floors down, the fire door whines open, and she can hear heavy footsteps.

 “I have to go,” she tells him.

 “Okay,” he says, “Love you.”

 “Love you. Try and sleep.”

                                                          <<>>

In between Mexico and Brazil, Lewis flies into Corfu for Prisha’s wedding. As a bridesmaid, Matty has already been there a few days, drinking wine and swimming and lying in the sun. She goes to pick him up from the airport, windows down, sliding into the waiting zone to find him standing patiently on the curb, hat pulled low, already smiling at her. He has a garment bag over one arm, and a backpack. He’ll only be here for twenty four hours, less. The wedding is tonight.

 “This music is shit,” he says, as he climbs into the passenger seat. Matty puts the indicator on.

 “Walk to the hotel then.”

-

Matty doesn’t see him before the wedding, busy with Prisha. When she walks down the aisle, the sun setting over the ocean, sand between her toes, she spots him, sat with the boys a few rows back from the front. He’s wearing a linen shirt, the cloth warm against his skin, his hair tied off his face. She grins. Lewis winks at her.

-

He has shots of Ouzo waiting when Matty finally returns from bridal party photos. The night is warm and the dance floor is lit by strings of fairy lights. Even up by the hotel she can hear the waves, a constant.

 “Thank you,” she says, sagging into him. Her whole body hurts from the chaos of the day. Lewis kisses the side of her head, his beard scuffing over her temple. They take the shot together, gasping and cringing. For once, Lewis doesn’t have qualifying or media or a race the next day.

 “Wanna dance?” She says. Lewis grins.

 “Absolutely.”

-

At some point, Matty finds herself with her head on Lewis’ shoulder, dancing aimlessly in a circle. The stars are bright out here, so far from London and pollution and smog. Her whole body feels heavy and slow from the Ouzo. Lewis smells like the coconut of his sunscreen. His hands are warm on her hips, his jaw against her temple. The song is winding and about love. Her bridesmaids dress is filthy around the hem, her feet bare.

 “Love you,” she says into his chest, “You’re my best friend.”

  For a heartbeat, his body goes suddenly still and tense against her. She feels the breath stutter in his chest. When she looks up, his face is clear and smooth. But he’s not smiling.

 “I’m gonna get another drink,” Lewis says, starting to unwind himself. Matty has the thought of clinging, refusing to let go, like an upset child.

 “Say it back,” she says, laughs around it. Lewis’ jaw is tight. Her thoughts are blurred and stumbling over themselves, no sense to them. She can’t figure out what she said wrong.

 “Love you, too,” he says, but he’s not looking at her, already walking away.

 Matty only stands alone for a moment before someone comes along to sweep her up into a new dance, but it feels like a lifetime.

-

The bride and groom have made their exit when Matty finds Lewis.

 “You wanna go swimming?”

  She feels twenty again, having him grin at her, already excited for the next adventure. The next rush of adrenaline. Ready to jump off the cliff.

 In the moonlight on the waters edge. Matty looks out over the rippling ocean as she takes her dress off, leaves it in a crumple of fabric with her underwear as she wades in. She doesn’t let herself turn around until she’s up to her shoulders, and by the time she faces the shore Lewis is already up to his hips, easily cutting through the water to her.

 “It’s fucking cold,” he says, shining eyes, big smile, the gap in his teeth. She shrieks when he dives under, splashing her in the process, feels him swim between her legs and pop up on the other side of her. For a moment, she can’t speak. His hair slick to his head, the wide planes of his shoulders. Haloed by a big Mediterranean moon, low in the night sky.

 It’s so quiet. Just the slow movement of the waves, the sound of their breathing. Out here, the party is just a low hum in the background.

 “I hope there’s no sharks,” she says, just to be sure her voice still works.

 “There aren’t, I checked.”

 “Stingrays?”

Lewis groans, “Don’t say that.”

 “What if you step on one?”

 “Matty, stop.”

 “Or maybe a jellyfish, one of those really bad ones. I’ll have to pee on you.”

 “If you don’t shut up I’ll drown you.”

 “You wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.”

Lewis goes very quiet, just looks at her, this soft, gentle smile on his face that makes her whole body ache.

 Under the water, Matty sculls her arms and touches Lewis’ hip. Bare skin.

 “Sorry,” she whispers.

 “It’s okay,” he breathes.

They’re standing so close together, the ocean almost flat, like it’s holding it’s tide just for them. Matty thinks about all that span of his body, hidden in the ocean, the lines of tattoos, the ridges of muscle. He looks so beautiful, dark skin in the moonlight, the shine of his eyes. He’s just wearing a simple gold chain, flat to his collarbone. There’s an initial on it. She reaches out, her fingers dripping as she turns it over. M.

 “Oh,” she says, and has a curious urge to cry. She can’t take her hand off his chest. Under it, his heartbeat thuds.

 “I was going to show you,” Lewis says, and she can feel the rumble of his voice, “I had it made a while ago.”

 “Can I have one? An L?”

Lewis takes a slow, deep breath. She can feel it on her face, the movement of air. The necklace shines in the moonlight. Matty curls her toes into the ocean bed, wet sand. If she stepped forward, their bodies would press together.

 “Of course.”

She wants to find his hand and squeeze it, three times. She should walk back out of the water and onto safe ground. Go back up to the party, soaking wet. She wants to kiss him. Lewis isn’t saying anything, just letting her rest her hand over his clavicle, breathing slow and carefully, watching her. She lets the ocean carry her closer, the pull of the tide.

 “You’re drunk,” Lewis says, his voice a rasp.

 “I’m not,” she tells him, “Are you?”

He shakes his head, the movement almost brushing their mouths together.

 “No.”

Matty reaches out of the water with her other hand, searching for his face. It disturbs the surface, a ripple. The sound seems so loud. He doesn’t flinch when she touches his cheek, lets her do it. His eyes are wide and dark.

 When she kisses him, he sighs, like everything is rushing out of him, uncontainable. Makes this quiet, soft sound that breaks her heart. His mouth is dry and warm, head tilting into hers. Under the water, Lewis’s hands reach for her body, pulling her across the final space to him. It feels like she’s in a moment outside of time, here in the ocean with him, under the big moon, Lewis kissing her like she’s something precious, beloved by him.

 Matty has a half-thought that this is meant to feel strange, foreign, doing this with him. Last time, she was so drunk she didn’t have to understand what was happening, could just lean into it. But this time, her mind is clear, and she can feel everywhere Lewis is touching her, his big hand on her back, his mouth on hers. The scrape of his teeth on her bottom lip, tugging just enough to make her whine.

 It doesn’t feel strange. It doesn’t feel weird. It feels like the first right choice she’s ever made. It feels like coming home. The waves lap repetitively onto the sand and Matty gives in. She remembers last time, under the strange L.A. dawn, how everything felt so unreal. How he’d looked at her after, like he was mourning something. How nothing has felt quite right since. She feels cold everywhere expect where he’s touching her.

 “Hey, stop for a second,” she says, and hates herself for it. This horrible, angry loathing. When Lewis pulls away enough for her to see him, he has hurting eyes.

 “We shouldn’t do this,” Matty says. Lewis just breathes. He’s going back inside himself, somewhere she can’t follow. She watches his face close over.

 “Okay,” he says, so quiet she almost doesn’t hear it. Her hands have made fists without her realising it. Matty wants to say something else, to take it back, to kiss him again. But then Lewis is moving past her, walking out of the sea. It releases him from it’s watery black hold without any fight. Matty sinks low so the waves lap at her chin and watches him get dressed, the fabric sticking to his wet body, and walk back up to the party. When she starts to cry, the salt of her tears just slip away unnoticed into the ocean.

                                                          <<>>

Lewis goes to Brazil. Matty goes home. She sleeps in her childhood bedroom, the uncomfortable single bed. There’s an old F2 poster of Lewis on the wall. When they were little, they’d have sleepovers, both in sleeping bags on the floor, lie awake talking for hours. His first season of F1, during the summer break, Lewis had come home for a few days. They’d got drunk at the pub, fallen asleep crammed together in this tiny bed, the mattress creaking every time one of them shifted. Matty had woken in the middle of the night, his head on her shoulder, feeling him breathe. She thought then, maybe, it would happen soon. They’d take the leap. When she saw him at Christmas, he brought Nicole. It was just one of those things. Matty hadn’t even cried about it. She was worried once she started, she wouldn’t stop.

 On Sunday, she goes for a walk with her Mum, stamping through the fields, cows watching idly.

 “How’s Lewis?” Her Mum asks.

 “Fine,” Matty says, shoves her hands into her pockets. It’s getting cold now, winter’s coming. The end of the season. The end of the year.

 “Must have been a tough season for him,” her Mum says.

Matty wishes, suddenly, she could completely erase Lewis from her life, so no one would ever ask her about him, would ever know what happened, what she carried around with her every day. The betrayal of the thought makes her ache.

 “Yeah, I think so.”

 “Mathilda,” her Mum says, knowing intrinsically, like mothers do, that something is wrong. They’ve stopped walking, standing under a tree.

 “What?”

 “Has something happened? You aren’t arguing, are you?”

 “No, it’s fine. We’re fine,” Matty says, kicks at the grass. She feels like a moody teenager, taking everything too personally.

 “Then why didn’t you go to Brazil with him?”

 “I didn’t feel like it.”

 “It makes me sad, you know, someone like him, not having a partner. He must be lonely,” her Mum says, saying it like she’s just thought of it, but watching Matty carefully for her reaction. Matty shrugs.

 “I always thought you two would end up falling in love and getting married,” her Mum says, starting to walk again, her voice carrying back on the wind. There’s a break in the forest ahead, another field. Matty follows her, and makes it out to the sunshine before she starts to cry, hot on her cheeks. She has to sit down on a fallen tree, put her head between her knees. Her Mum rubs her back and makes soothing sounds. Matty desperately, horribly, wishes she was Lewis.

                                                          <<>>

Matty calls Lewis after Abu Dhabi, but he does’t answer. Not even his assistant does, even after Matty calls five times in a row. When she wakes up the next morning, he’s texted her. Three emojis of holding hands. Nothing else. Matty has to lie very still with her eyes closed for awhile, box breathing, counting fives slowly. She remembers his face after L.A., grieving. Did he know then? That it was the end of something? Creating a wound that could never be healed? Maybe it was all borrowed time, since then. Maybe Lewis knew what she didn’t, that it would end up feeling like this for her, so obvious to everyone, how horribly in love she was, how he didn’t feel the same. He was just trying to keep the friendship steady, a secure ship in the hurricane of his life, something to rely on. But she’d made it so complicated, thrown everything overboard. Now Lewis couldn’t even bring himself to speak to her. He was probably trying to think of a way to tell her it was all a mistake, L.A., Corfu, that she needed to stop being so clingy, stop holding on.

 Matty has to very carefully uncurl her fingers from the sheets, bring her shoulders down from around her ears. Her chest hurts. To her credit, she only cries a little bit in the shower.

                                                          <<>>

He doesn’t call all week. Or the next.

                                                          <<>>

Before Lewis and his family go to the mountains for Christmas, take him away to hide and heal him, they have a long standing tradition with Matty’s family, an early Christmas. It’s not much more than takeaway pizza and swapping presents, but it’s always marked in the calendar.

 Matty does everything she can to get out of it. Claims illness, fakes a work emergency, lingers in the office so she almost misses the train. She stands on the station, watching everyone board, ready to watch it chug away without her, when her phone buzzes. It’s a from Lewis, a photo of him sat at the coffee table with their nieces and nephews, a game of Cluedo spread out. He’s wearing a Santa hat.

where r u?

in london still

are u not coming? i really wanted to see u

Matty feels her heartbeat in her throat. She gets on the train.

-

It’s snowing, when she lets herself into the house. His Mum’s, new and big, nothing like the one she used to go to after school with him. She can hear everyone in the lounge, laughing, children shouting. Three of them race up the staircase, calling hello to her. Matty drops her bag and coat, grabs a beer from the kitchen before she goes into the lounge. Lewis is sitting on the couch with a toddler on his lap, talking to her Dad. Matty can’t let herself look for too long.

 “Mathilda!” Someone says, and then everyone is turning to her, standing up to give her a hug, take the presents she’s holding under her arm. Lewis can’t get up with the kid falling asleep on him, but grins, moves up the couch a bit so there’s room for her. Matty goes to sit beside him, feels like none of her limbs are her own, not sure where to put them.

 “You came,” he says, his voice low and just for her.

 “Yep,” she says, smiles quick and looks away. She can feel her Mum watching them.

 “There’s snow in your hair,” Lewis says, and she ducks her head without thinking, so he can pick it out, his fingers gentle. Matty thinks about his fingers on her skin, skittering over her, into her. She stands up off the couch too quickly, says something about being hungry and escapes into the kitchen, flushed red.

-

She’s hiding in the pantry, staring at his Mum’s bottle of vodka and wondering if she should just get horribly drunk, when he finds her.

 “Are you crying?” Lewis says, turning the light on.

 “No,” she lies, wiping her cheeks. She picks up a box of flour and pretends to read the label.

 “What do you need the flour for?”

 “I don’t,” she says, puts it back. She feels sick. Hot and cold all over. Wants him to go away. Wants him to come closer.

 “Can you turn the light off,” Matty says. Lewis doesn’t ask why, just flicks the switch. He shuts the door as well, enclosing them in the darkness. It feels like Abu Dhabi again, sensing the presence of him, not knowing how to get to him.

 “Why are you crying?” He asks, his voice low and quiet. The dark presses against Matty’s eyes until she has to close them.

 “I’m sad.”

 “Why?”

 “Just. Stuff.”

 “What stuff?” Lewis asks.

 “Stuff I can’t tell you,” she says, and laughs wetly. Her chest feels all full and clogged, every word an effort.

 “You can tell me anything, you know that,” he says.

 “You wouldn’t tell me, remember? In Italy?”

 “That was. You couldn’t help me with that.”

 “Well, you can’t help me with this,” Matty says.

She hears him sigh. Imagines his chest rising and falling, rubbing his face, frustrated.

 “Why didn’t you call me back?” She asks, turning to where she thinks he is. 

 “What?”

 “Since Abu Dhabi, the last race, you haven’t called me.”

 “I’ve been dealing with some stuff. It’s complicated,” he says.

 “See? You’re keeping things from me. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

 “I’m not keeping things from you on purpose.”

 “We shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have done that in L.A., at Prisha’s wedding. It ruined everything. We never had secrets before that.”

 Lewis is very, very quiet. Matty can hear herself breathing, rough in her ears. She wraps her arms around herself. She feels hollowed out, scraped clean. Her heartbeat reverberates inside an empty ribcage.

 “Matty, I have to tell you something,” Lewis says, his voice hoarse. Matty wants to cry. This is it. He’s going to say, Matty, I know you’re in love with me, but I don’t feel the same way. I was trying to protect you. Trying to make it easier for her, like always. That’s so like him. She tastes bile. She wants to crouch down, bend over herself, hide away.

 “Fuck,” she says, reaches out blindly to brace herself on a shelf, “Okay. Do it quick.”

 “What?”

 “Just do it quick. Say it. Tell me it’s not the same for you and get it done.”

The silence echoes in her ears. Matty wants to cry so much it’s hurting her head.

 “Matty, what? What’s not the same?”

 “Oh fuck off, like you don’t know.”

Matty’s stomach hurts. Her chest hurts. She wants to grab everything off his Mum’s carefully arranged shelves and throw them at him.

 “Matty,” Lewis says, and her name sounds so precious in his mouth, so lovely. No one says it like he does. No one ever will.

 She jumps when she feels his hands on her arms, turning her around to him. She can feel his chest against hers, his breath on her face. The peppermint of candy canes. She can imagine his face, it’s clean lines, the scruff of his beard, sweet nose, warm eyes.

 “What do you mean not the same?” He says, and Matty hears it for the first time. Hope. Restrained hope. But hope. Her body forgets how to breathe.

 “You go first,” she says. She feels him laugh against her. Lewis the risk taker, the adrenaline junkie, testing the ground first to make sure it’s safe before she has a go. His voice is shaking in the darkness.

 “I love you,” Lewis says, “More than I should. That’s what. That’s what I’ve been dealing with, that I couldn’t tell you. I’m in love with you.”

 Matty feels the world move. Clicking into a clearer picture. Her hands are curled tight into his shirt, the fabric crumpled in her palms.

 “Oh,” she says, and then kisses him, so fast their teeth clack together, and then he’s tilting his face and they’re kissing properly, his mouth warm and soft. Familiar. He’s trembling. She thinks about how brave he is. To go first. To always go first, to protect her.

 “Do you?” He’s saying, holding her face in his big hands, his forehead pressed to hers, “Do you feel the same or?”

 “Of course,” she says, laughing now, stumbling on his feet, “Lewis, of course. I love you, too. Always, I think.”

 He kisses her again, and she can feel something wet on her face. She’s not sure who’s crying. Even with her body pressed up between him and the shelves she wants to get impossibly closer, crawl into him, get inside his chest. In the dark, Lewis finds her right hand with his, wraps their fingers together. He squeezes three times, his tongue behind her teeth. Matty squeezes back.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #f1 smut #*

[vinvantae]

can you do a story with lewis where him and the protagonist are separated as a couple but co-parenting their daughter together? i keep thinking how an amazing dad lewis would be and how protective he would be with his little girl! <3

ps. i would love to see something like they’re still both in love with each other, people around them see how amazing the protagonist is supporting him through the races, as a mom and how perfect he’s as a dad but both of them don’t admit their love.

Yes of course I can, thank you for the suggestion!

*******************************************************

You didn’t come to race weekends very often now that you and Lewis had separated but since Silverstone had coincided with your week off work, he insisted you bring Maisie to the race. He wanted her as involved in his world as he could, but it was his world that destroyed your relationship so he knew you were cautious.

But as you stepped into the paddock, the small girl in your arms clad in a Mercedes shirt with his number emblazoned on it, all of those worries he had melted away.

“There’s my girl!” He grinned, scooping her up and spinning her around - a giggle erupting from her lips. Despite all their time apart, Maisie would always be a Daddy’s girl, she was obsessed with him and everything he did.

“Hi Lew.” You smiled softly.

He sat Maisie on his hip and lent in to press a kiss a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Hi y/n. I’m glad you’re here. I know you don’t like F1 but-“

“She’s your daughter too, and this is important to you so…” you shrugged. “And you wanted to be here, didn’t you, little miss?”

“Yeah! Wanted to see you face for real, daddy!” She grinned, her smile practically a mirror image to her father’s. “Gonna be coooool!”

The driver held her close as he led you both towards the Mercedes garage, cradling to back of her head so her face was nestled in his neck - eager to keep some of her privacy from the media that was lurking around. He knew that it wouldn’t be entirely possible but he would try his best to protect his little girl as much as best he could.

He made sure to swing via Toto and George so they could say hi before giving her a small tour of the garage. She hung on to every word he said, her little eyes sparkling.

“And this, is Daddy’s car!” He said. “Wanna sit?”

Maisie gasped softly. “Are you serious?!”

You leant against the wall with a fond smile as he lowered her carefully into the cockpit, her eyes twinkling with intrigue as he showed her all of the buttons on his wheel and what they did. As much as you claimed to hate the sport, it was never the actual driving itself that you hated - the races were thrilling and you’d enjoyed it since you were a little girl, it was Lewis’ dedication to it that drove you away. You knew getting into a relationship with a driver was risky and before Maisie it was okay, but when she started to go weeks, months at a time without seeing her father it became too much to handle and you blamed Lewis and his career for that.

You’d never stopped loving him.

When he glanced up from her to look at you, your heart still fluttered at his smile. It was easier to pretend you didn’t need him anymore than admit that you missed him more than anything. That you’d take back the fighting and what felt like years apart if it meant that he would be back in your arms again.

He still text and called you all the time, mostly to check on her, you thought, but he was worried about you being even more alone than before. You’d separated but the word divorce still hadn’t passed either of your lips and both of you hoped it never would.

“Want to go get some food? I think it’s about to rain, we could take the cart.” Lewis smiled, snapping you out of your trace - Maisie back in his arms.

“Yeah, could go for a bite to eat.” You hummed, brushing one of your daughters braids behind her ears.

She’d insisted on having her hair the same as her Daddy’s when he came round with it in his famous braids and with her curls as unruly as his, it made it far easier to manage. You’d pulled it back into two little bunches to keep it out of her face but left two loose at the front because it was cute.

“She looks so cute.” The driver said, pulling his hood up.

“Your little clone, she is.” Maisie grinned at this. “Not an ounce of mummy in you is there, you little cabbage?”

“She’s got your big heart.” Lewis whispered, eyes meeting yours.

Your cheeks flushed softly as the three of you climbed into the cart, Lewis placed Maisie on his lap - looking back over his shoulder at you.

“You good?” He hummed, gently squeezing your shoulder.

“…I am actually. You know I always loved the sport, Lew.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, refusing to break eye contact - studying the golden flecks in his eyes. “…I just…”

“LEWIS!”

The driver turned away from you to save at someone walking behind the cart. You were almost glad to be interrupted, not really knowing where that sentence was really going. It probably wouldn’t be fair to him to spring your feelings on him during a race weekend, right? You chose instead to watch Lewis point out all of the sights to Maisie as you drove back towards hospitality - he was so cute with her.

“You’re such a good Dad, Lewis.” You said.

“And you’re a good mum.” He smiled back, cautiously pressing a kiss to your cheek. “…can we go to lunch after the race, just you and me?”

You smiled cautiously and nodded. “I’d like that. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

You could’ve sworn Lewis blushed as he turned away a little, scooping Maisie up in his arms. “I’ve missed you as well.”

The weekend seemed to fly by, and on Monday morning when you woke up wrapped up in his arms - you knew that your journey towards healing together had just begun.

*****************************************************

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #ricciardo x reader #f1 #formula one #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader

[racingliners]

hiiiiiiii, 11 + sewis :D

hi!!!!!!! this was literally the first thing that popped into my head so I just ran with it, I hope you like it! 💚

sewis + "This must be a mistake" - send me a prompt!

Lewis returned to his apartment building just before eleven. He’d intentionally slept in, deciding to do his early morning jog at mid-morning instead. Monaco weather was more temperate in October so he would get away with it without suffering too much, unlike in the summer where he would have to make a stop to dip in the sea to cool off.

He smiled at the concierge on duty and was halfway over to the lift when the concierge called out to Lewis, stopping him in his tracks.

“Pardon me Monsieur Hamilton, these came for you while you were out.” The concierge delicately lifted a bouquet of flowers from under his desk. It wasn’t ostentatiously massive, but it wasn’t small either, whoever sent it clearly went to some kind of trouble.

“For me, are you sure?” Lewis even pointed at himself just to make sure there wasn’t another Lewis Hamilton in the building that was due a bouquet of flowers.

“Oui, I know the florist in Nice they came from.”

“Alright then,” Lewis went over to the desk, as he accepted the flowers he asked if there was anything else, and the concierge just shook his head. “Thanks, have a good day.”

“And you!” Lewis strolled over to the lift with the flowers nestled in the crook of his elbow and he pressed the polished gold button for his floor. Thankfully for his sake no one else stepped in along the way up or was in the corridor when Lewis exited the lift and walked the few short paces to his door.

The apartment was empty thanks to Angela offering to take Roscoe and Coco for a walk round the marina, so Lewis bolted the safety chain and went into the kitchen to look for a vase. It took him five cupboards to find one, clear glass shaped in a perfect cylinder that he half-filled with cold water from the kitchen sink.

He assumed the flowers were from Mercedes, a small token of their congratulations on his sixth championship win. And it made sense for them to get a florist in Nice to deliver flowers to Lewis as opposed to him getting them at the factory leaving Lewis to worry about the logistics of getting a bouquet through the French-Monaco border.

The flowers had been wrapped in brown paper as opposed to plastic and was tied together with a small red bow. Lewis didn’t know much about flowers but he recognised the blush pink peonies and light purple dahlias as he gently put the bouquet in the vase, small white and blue flowers filled out the rest of the bouquet alongside some greenery. It was too beautiful to be left in the kitchen, so Lewis carried the vase through to the living room and set it down on the coffee table, and he picked the white card off the plastic clip to read it.

Congratulations on your sixth world title

Call me when you get these

Seb x

Lewis almost dropped the small white card and fell backwards onto the sofa, but somehow he both stayed upright and kept a hold of the small white card.

“This has to be a mistake.” He muttered to himself as he examined the writing more closely. He read it another three or four times, each time feeling more convinced that the handwriting could only have been Sebastian’s.

So why did he sign the card off with a kiss?

Lewis frantically looked around for his phone, only for it to still be in his pocket. He quickly found Seb in his contacts and pressed the green dial button, pressing his phone firmly against his ear.

With each passing ring Lewis’ heart started to beat faster and faster, to the point he was worried it would fly out of his chest and land somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.

The flowers didn’t make any sense. Seb had sought out Lewis in the paddock in Austin to say congratulations with a bright smile and a hug as warm as the midday sun, so why did he feel a need to send them? Lewis had unknowingly started pacing by the time Seb picked up.

“Lewis!” It didn’t feel right, but Lewis could swear that Sebastian sounded nervous. “Hi.”

“Hey man,” Lewis tried his best to sound like nothing in the world was bothering him, even though he was still clinging into the small card for dear life. “Listen um, this might sound a bit weird but…” He paused to briefly glance over at the flowers. Whoever they were from, they were beautiful. “Did you…” Lewis could feel beads of sweat start to form on the back of his neck, he’d never felt so ridiculous in all his life. “Did you have flowers sent to my apartment?” The words flew out of his mouth so fast it almost didn’t sound like a proper sentence.

“Yes, I did.” Yet somehow Seb managed to make sense of them. “If you hate them I can go back to the florist and ask for something different.” Lewis could hear the forced smile in Sebastian’s voice, he hated it.

“They’re gorgeous Seb.” He said softly, as his legs finally gave way and he sat down on the edge of the sofa. “You wrote on the card to call you when I got them, so…”

Where did you begin when the man you had fought so hard for the championship twelve months ago had sent flowers for another championship win a year later.

“I’m in Nice.” Seb said quietly, like it was a secret meant just for them both.

“Why?” None of the past ten minutes made any sense to Lewis whatsoever.

“Because I couldn’t just turn up unannounced with flowers without explaining myself.”

“Why would you have to explain yourself?” Lewis’ brow was furrowed so tightly it was starting to hurt. He heard Sebastian take a deep breath on the other end of the line.

“I talked myself into telling you slowly, first the flowers, then the phone call, then…” He paused for so long Lewis was briefly terrified that Seb had hung up, and that Lewis would either have to wait until Brazil to speak to Sebastian or corner him in Switzerland to find out what on Earth was going on.

“Then what? Seb?”

“I…” Sebastian’s voice cracked completely in two. “I love you, Lewis.”

With the concentration Lewis needed to keep a hold of his phone, the card that had came with the flowers slowly fluttered to the ground. He watched it delicately land, and felt sad when the side with Seb’s handwriting was now face down away from view.

“You don’t need to say anything, you don’t even have to talk to me again if that’s what you want. I just…” Seb let out a long shaky breath. “I just wanted to let you know.”

Lewis’s back fell against the sofa, forcing a small puff of air from his lungs.

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

“Like…” Suddenly almost every word in the English language had evaporated from Lewis’ head. What did you say, when the guy you’d spent years racing against suddenly said they were in love with you?

“Like I want to do everything in the world with you, and more.” Seb’s voice wasn’t just dripping with sincerity, but something even deeper.

As Lewis sat dumfounded on the sofa, he didn’t think about the practicalities of what this meant, or that he should have started packing by now. He wondered, for the first time, what it would be like to kiss Seb.

And he realised very quickly that he really wanted to find out.

“Get over here then.”

On the other end of the line, he heard a relieved sigh and Sebastian’s trademark grin in his voice.

“I’ll be twenty minutes.”

#asks #hungriestheidi #goose tag #my writing #sewis

[itsgxsly]

FROM HATE TO LOVE

Summary: As the only female driver on the grid, you have a lot to prove when your home race weekend arrives in Brazil. But your main obstacle to proving your worth comes in the form of a Ferrari driver who is not going to make it easy for you.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1543

You knew that your future was to belong to F1 from the moment you got into a kart with your friends celebrating a birthday. It had cost your parents effort and many sacrifices to be able to finance what was necessary for you to run, that's why you made an effort like no one else to reach the top to give them back everything they had given for you. And your moment came when, by winning the F2 championship at the age of 17, the Williams team wanted to have the first woman in F1 in their team. You were now 23 years old, and although you would always be grateful to Williams for giving you the opportunity, you did not hesitate to leave them when two years after your debut, the Mercedes team offered you the seat of a Lewis Hamilton who had announced his retirement. Even after time had passed, you were still the talk of the press and social media from time to time, many people still reluctant for a woman to compete in a category considered from men. That's why this weekend, when your home race took place in Brazil, you had to fight tooth and nail again to prove that you were there as deservingly as any of the other 19 drivers.

But nothing was as easy as it seemed, and although you were going to give everything to take victory in your country, there was an annoying obstacle ready to ruin your plan. Charles Leclerc.

The Ferrari driver and you had been feuding since the same year in which you debuted at the same time in F1. While it seemed like the two 2018 rookies might have gotten along for all their similarities, you and Charles couldn't even be in each other's presence without going at each other's throats. You didn't know why you hated each other so much, considering that you had never really hated Charles, but when the boy made it clear that he hated you and did his best for you to know it, it was reason enough to hate him too. You had to admit that it hurt a bit at first, as you had had a bit of a crush on him while racing in F2, but that feeling was quickly overshadowed by the constant scorn and taunting between the two of you.

Today was Sunday, race day and you felt a burning in your throat, you had to swallow several times to avoid the urge to vomit from nervousness. You had been p1 in the first two practices on Friday and p2 during the third. On Saturday you had been p2, just seconds from pole due to a slide of your car that left you just behind Leclerc on the grid. You couldn't screw everything up now having your perfect opportunity, you had to make yourself and your people proud. If it went wrong you could risk your seat and agree with those who said you didn't deserve to be where you were.

In the distance, from his place in the hospitality of Ferrari, Charles watched you as you paced back and forth in front of the Mercedes garage. The day before he had felt a little bad taking away a pole that would have been yours if it hadn't been for a silly mistake. Today, even if he hated you, or so he always told himself, he knew in advance what it was like not to want to disappoint your people in your home race, he himself had already experienced some disappointment in Monaco other years. Charles wondered to himself sometimes why he hated you. He didn't remember what you had done exactly, you just caused him too many emotions at once, and he preferred to project them in hatred instead of maybe thinking that it could be exactly the opposite emotion. But today he didn't want to dwell on that. He got up from the chair where he had been sitting resting before the race and walked over to you, who were now sitting on a wall near your garage. You were so lost in yourself that you jumped in fright when Charles touched your shoulder. You turned to him, an exhausted face appearing on you automatically.

“Listen, Leclerc, today is not the day, okay? You can laugh at me some other time, but do me a favor and leave me alone today. I'm not in the mood to put up with anyone, least of all you” your voice sounded tired and almost exhausted. Charles was even confused, normally accustomed to your arrogant self who defended yourself tooth and nail. It was clear that the pressure was taking its toll on you.

"I didn’t come to laugh at you" And it was true. He didn't know very well what had brought him closer to you, but it was definitely not to bother you.

"Oh no? So what are you doing here?"

“I just wanted to tell you good luck today, no matter what happens, you should be proud of what you've done this weekend. Even if you're going to finish second, behind me clearly.” Charles felt proud of himself when he saw the slight smile on your face.

"That's not going to happen, Leclerc. I'm thinking of overtaking you in the first corner. You're not going to beat me today.” The conversation had lifted your spirits a bit, that characteristic challenge coming back to you slowly.

Both of you were surprised to say the least that you were having a decent conversation without any fights.

"If you say it. Good luck with it, y/n” though mocking, his words rang true indeed.

"Good luck to you too, Charles" did not go unnoticed among you who had called each other by your names. Normally you only called each other by insults or by your last names. It tasted good to be able to talk so calmly between the two of them.

Before you knew it, you were up in the car about to have the lights go out and the race begin. The last light of the traffic light went out and the 20 cars ran under the sight of all of Sao Paulo. You didn't know how or when, but between laps you had overtaken Charles, taking the lead in the race.

“y/n, it's p1, it's p1 for you. Congratulations, girl, the prize goes home with you” you didn't even breathe when you heard your engineer's words. You had won, you had won in your country, in front of your people. You got out of the car as fast as you parked it in the right place and ran to celebrate with your team, tears rolling down your face for everything that happened. Some of the guys on the grid congratulated you as you walked up to the podium, all excited to see you win the race. Once on the podium, you listened with tears and your hand on your chest to your national anthem, the sight of your team and your fans watching you made you get excited again. From one moment to another the anthem ended, and you saw yourself completely doused in champagne, you turned to see the guilty, the sight of a smiling Charles made you smile too, happy to share the podium with the Monegasque, Max had also congratulated you, having been in third place. You doused Charles with the champagne, the two of you locked in a war until he set the bottle aside, coming over to hug you, lifting you off the ground making you squeal with excitement and laugh. When he put you back on the ground, you were both so close you could almost make out the bright colors of his eyes. You did not know which of the two it was or if it was due to the euphoria of the moment, but out of nowhere you found yourself in a tender kiss with the Monegasque driver, with the shouts and whistles of the people in the background when they saw the two drivers who supposedly hated each other, kissing so passionately on the podium in Brazil. You parted to breathe, and the realization of what you had just done fell upon you. You two had kissed in front of the whole world, all over Brazil, and with thousands of cameras recording. You didn't know how to say anything, so you ended up laughing, with Charles following you shortly after, you still hadn't completely separated, so Charles didn't have to shout much to talk to you.

"When we get out of here we're going to have to talk about this, ange" he still sounded suffocated by everything.

“Yes, I think we have a lot to explain” you agreed.

“Okay, but for now, let's enjoy your podium. You deserve it, champion” his words made you smile again as you remembered that you had won.

"Maybe you should kiss me again as a reward for beat you over, don't you think?" You didn't know where that cheeky you came from, but from Charles's smile, he liked it.

"It will be a pleasure, baby" and with that he kissed you passionately again, the shouts of celebration resounding again behind your back.

#formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles #leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc #brazilian reader #brazil gp 2022 #f1 2022

[umgeorge]

george russell is interviewed after fp2, saudi arabia - march 7, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

George: "Good to be back in Jeddah. Such a high speed circuit; that's really enjoyable. Little bit of a scrappy session. I don't think we probably had the car in the perfect window. I think the laptimes were good in the low fuel, high fuel pace.Not too sure where we're at, really, but it's so close again. The Astons have been a bit of a surprise, but great to see they're up there. But no, we've got work to do overnight and see what we can achieve tomorrow." [time jump] George: "It's always difficult in Jeddah. You can't have it all, because it's one of the best circuits to drive, so exhilerating, but you can't see, [laughs] so it's defnitely challenging. The FIA, at the start of this year, introduced something on our steering wheel to show us the car in front and the car behind and the gaps, which has been a really big improvement, but thing is, if you've got two cars behind on a slow lap, you might have a car traveling at 200 miles an hour ten seconds behind and he passes through. I think that's kind of what happened with Lewis and Sargeant. He had one car behind, it'll say that direct driver who's behind, but you don't know who is three or four cars behind that's on a push lap. But no, definitely a real improvement, in terms of the safety, in that regard."

#george russell #f1 #formula 1 #saudi arabian gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #saudi arabia #saudi arabia 2024 #saudi arabia 2024 thursday #with lewis #logan sargeant

[spngi]

take you home - Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x reader

summary: in which after a relationship of years you and lewis break up, but the distance is not so easy to deal with

warnings: English isn’t my first language, sorry for any grammatical errors

I wasn't sure where the end began, where the perfect fit began to fail, but maybe something between the focus of lewis increasing in a period of great tension between the races, and not that he didn't love me, but the lack of being with him, with the love of his life and then the irritability that came with the anxiety and the growing loneliness that I felt made the best thing for the two to be to separate.

Not that it was really a good thing for us to finish something of five years but maybe that way we would avoid greater wear and tear.

Lewis went on with his life, he was in the middle of a season it was obvious that he needed to concentrate. And in the first months I managed to take it and pretend that nothing was wrong, I focused on work the same way as the driver but going back to an empty apartment every night, tasteless and generic without the smell of home killed me every night.

Because with lewis everything was different, it was not to live a fairy tale, but to be with him and just lie in his arms and his warmth was a small moment of peace that we began to value in our day. Everything reminded me of him, it was the smell of his perfume that was passing down the street, his favorite drink or his favorite tea. It was difficult to live in a post Lewis Hamilton world, in which you lived everything with him, had everything from him and now you live only with your existence in your memory.

It was better to work on the workholic routine at the bar, he was my baby, I raised him from scratch when there was nothing, in an area of London where you can combine the incredible view of the city with a more open and cozy space. The idea seemed to be crazy at first and I would be spending the little and only money I had but then my dream became a big business that expanded more and more.

We met for the first time at the Marina, he was running and something happened and we stumbled but nothing much happened, it was not a date of fate because he simply apologized as the kind man he was and made sure that we were fine to go. But maybe fate worked a little more later because then I started to see him everywhere and finally after 5 surprises when he met around he came to talk to me, he found me, in my place, in my bar.

I can't remember how it happened, life with Lewis was fast, loving him was fast like the cars he drives, and so we were dating and loving each other and not being able to imagine the limit of all that passion and devotion that existed in us. I remember the small details, the quiet mornings, of sleeping in the cabin of the plane, or of our first night in the new house with many boxes scattered and roscoe looking for his toys, I remember spending the weekends that I could not accompany him to his mother's house cheering for him.I miss this, the small details of our lives, everything we have built.

I would like to know if he still think about me, or if he remember all the 1825 days we live together, or if he think about what could have been of us.

I managed to reach a six-month milestone, six months without calling or looking for or letting myself cry for anyone who asked how I was, but it was also six months drinking until crying, and crying until I slept just to repeat everything again.

It was a summer vacation, it meant that the driver would probably be traveling with family or friends, that's why I was surprised to see him cross the space, spinz behind him laughing at some joke. Maybe he didn't expect to see me there or just didn't care, but I couldn't help but paralyze in his presence, in his way of walking and how I used to be there in his arms. Seeing lewis makes the 37 unsent messages burn in the back pocket.

I take care of serving some beers at the bar trying not to face the steps of the two men or think about what I could say to one of them in particular other than I love you or I miss you. It is when I finish talking to a group of women at one of the most reclusive tables that I see them, sitting at our table, the one that was close enough to the music machine so that we could exchange if something strange was chosen by someone and also hidden enough from the looks of others. Lewis sits there listening to the melodies of bill withers playing while tasting some of his drink, as if he were at home, as if that place had never ceased to be our place. I get hurt maybe, or even angry that he has so little respect for our memories, our past.

I find my way back to the bar counter, I talk a little with some couples who are there, and then try to go back to the papers I needed to read.

- Hi, huh.. - I hear that voice calling me, the man in front of me dull with one of his hands scratching his neck.

- Hi

- I... well, I heard that you are opening a new place and I wanted to congratulate you... I mean you know you really deserve all this... - Hamilton speaks a little nervously his hands in the pocket of his cargo pants and his chocolate eyes looking at me fixed.

- Huh.. thank you! you didn't need it! - I smile at him, it's automatic and nostalgic. - are you okay?

- Yes, yes... - he smiles, that radiant smile that paralyzed me every time. - I missed your Negroni.

Of course, it was not possible that of all the possible personalities he could have acquired he returned to his playboy era.

- Of course... - I murmur low wanting to throw the liquid from your glass on your beautiful face. - is it okay?

- It's not yours. - there was sadness there, maybe that's why I went towards the drinks to prepare your drink or for the simple fact that I couldn't deny him anything.

He just keeps there, looking at me while I do the damn negroni, while I remember how many times we were in that position, at the bar creating drinks for lewis to try and then steal passionate kisses. I give him the glass and see his face as he takes the first sip, lets out a sigh of happiness and then thanks as if maybe a piece of himself was being fitted.

- Can we talk?

- I don't think Daniel would be very happy to be abandoned.

- He can handle it.

I sign for him, picking up an Ale before going out with him next to me to a more reserved table, it's strange to be with him after everything we've lived, to pretend that I don't just want to greet him with a hug and then talk about everything.

- I went out with a woman... - he cuts the silence, his eyes in the glass in front of him and his restless hands playing on a napkin.

- That's not fair, lewis... - I murmur without being able to fix my gaze anywhere, it's not fair, it's not fair for him to come here just to tell me that, hitting me a little more. I take a long sip of beer, trying to maybe dilute that lump stuck in my throat. - You can't just come here and tell me that.

- I know... - he hurries to agree- I felt like I was cheating on you, even though I knew we're not together anymore, but I was cheating on your memory.

- Your memories chase me everywhere... - I confess with trembling breath.

- I never entered our house again, you were there in every corner, I couldn't stop thinking about you... I still can't stop! - I feel your hand pulling mine gently calming my fingers, in a minimal caress testing the waters.

- You can't start this to just leave, Lewis. - I declare with a watery voice. - I missed you in all these six months, I did everything to let you go because I knew that at some point our story didn't work out...

- Y/n, you can send me away, you can refuse to listen to what I came to talk to you but if you want to listen, believe me I won't leave. - Your hand crosses the table now, your tattooed fingers caress my face, our eyes crossing with the same spark as always.

- Do you still love me? - I finally ask.

- I've never stopped loving you, I hope you know that, I've loved you all these years, all this time apart, I can't imagine loving someone other than you!

- I... I love you so much... - I stutter with trembling breath. - my biggest fear was to have lost you forever...

- We're going to make it work out, my dear... - the driver joins the chair next to mine pulling me in his arms, surrounding me in his safe space and getting me drunk with his smell.

He holds my hand, pushes away the ring that covered the small tattoo on the ring finger that was a memory of him tattooed on me.

- When we got this tattoo, you said you chose this drawing because your heart could always find a way to me, and you always proved it. It's my turn to prove it because I chose to get this tattoo with you. - he turns our hands now pointing to the same wind rose on his ring finger matching mine. - I came here to take you home, with me!

#lh #lh44 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #imaginef1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton x you #fluff

[outatmako]

26. "How long were you standing there?"

Ohhh this one was so much fun. Way in the future fic! Clewis but also the OG four friendships. Pure fluff. Send me drabble prompts! (list A) (list B)

The café was bustling when Cleo stepped inside, looking for her friends. Rikki had asked her and Emma to meet at the café for an afternoon swim, but quickly looking around the place, she had yet to spot them. But she did see Zane behind the counter.

“Do you know where the girls are?” she asked him.

He barely glanced up from the drink he was preparing. “Mermaid Club is in Rikki’s office.”

“Thanks.” She wound her way back towards Rikki’s office, but stopped short of the door when she heard a familiar voice.

“You think she’ll like it?” Lewis was asking, in that high, pitchy way of his that told her he was nervous about something.

“It’s beautiful, Lewis,” came Emma’s calm and reassuring response. “She’ll love it.”

“Yeah,” Rikki agreed. “Besides, she’s crazy about you. You could give her a ring pop and she’d say yes.”

Cleo’s heart skipped several beats, as the realization of exactly what she was overhearing sank in. Lewis bought a ring. Lewis was planning on proposing. She wasn’t surprised exactly—it was obvious for a while now that marriage was the next step for them. Still though, she wasn’t expecting to hear this today.

“I just want it to be special for her,” Lewis was saying, when Cleo regained her senses. “After everything we’ve been through, she deserves that.”

Cleo smiled to herself. He really didn’t need to go all out, but it was so sweet, and so like him, to want to. She was willing to bet he’d even gone and talked to her dad about it. She giggled to herself at the thought of that conversation.

“Cleo?”

“Uh.” She had apparently giggled louder than she thought.

Lewis scrambled to his feet, already going red in the face. "How long were you standing there?"

“Er, a bit,” she admitted. “Sorry.”

His face fell. “It’s—I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Hey.” She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I didn’t see anything. And I still don’t know what you're planning.”

He pursed his lips. “I guess.”

“And just so you know,” she moved in close. “Rikki’s right. No matter what you do, I’m going to say yes.”

He gave her a small smile, his hands coming up to rest on her waist. “Yeah, I know.” He closed the small distance between them, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. She let herself melt into him, hoping he could feel some fragment of her emotions. She loved him so much.

“Ugh, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

They broke apart, and Lewis turned his head toward the girls with a grin. “Jealous because Zane hasn’t popped the question yet?”

Rikki scoffed. “Like I would wait for him to do it.”

Emma cut Lewis’s response off at the pass. “Come on, girls. Aren’t we meant to be swimming?”

“Lewis is the one who showed up here uninvited!” Rikki insisted.

“Maybe he should come with us,” Cleo suggested, arms still around him. “What do you say? We’re just heading out to Mako.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can meet you out there.”

She grinned and gave him another quick kiss. “Perfect.”

#H2O: Just Add Water #H2O Just Add Water #clewis #zikki #(implied) #Cleo Sertori #Lewis McCartney #Rikki Chadwick #Zane Bennett #Emma Gilbert #otp: you mean everything to me #otp: something that makes you happy #my writing #h2o drabbles

[clearlyclairesblog]

So I thought I'll write some random domestic scenes from time to time when I am on the bus from uni. Enjoy!

Lestappen life bites: Pancakes

Max has a wide smile spread on his face as he gets the eggs from the fridge and walks to the counter where Charles has already put the flour into a bowl.

They were cooking pancakes because apparently Max has a list of things he's never done as a kid and when Charles found out he decided they would fulfill it together.

It had been his idea, so he is the one in charge.

"Alright, Max" Charles says as he puts on his chef hat, because of course he owns one. "Leave the eggs to me. You can start pouring the milk as I crack the eggs open".

"Don't I get a hat, too?" Max asks as he carefully measures the milk he's adding to the flour.

Charles looks at him offended. "Of course not, chérie. You're only the assistant." he smirks, taking out the whisk from the drawer. "Hand me the bowl, please?"

"Do you want me to do it for you, scha- erm, chef?"

Charles thinks about it for a few seconds, but the image of Max splattering the batter all over the kitchen scares him so he quickly shakes his head. "Non, I'll show you this time."

Max rolls his eyes. How hard could that be? Does Charles really think he's not capable of anything? First the eggs, now this. Alright, he burned the milk that one time, but it was months ago. He can use a whisk, right?

"No"

"What?"

"I'll do it. I am the assistant, no? Assistants mix the eggs."

Charles hands him the whisk and closes his eyes because he doesn't really want to see. When a few seconds have passed he opens them again, only to find Max carefully mixing the batter, almost more scared than Charles himself.

Charles is about to compliment him when he realizes Max has taken too much confidence in the gesture and is steadily speeding up, like he would do on a race track.

"Max, slow down, you're done"

But Max is almost hypnotized, gaze firm on the bowl.

"Max!" Charles tries once again.

"Max, you did amazingly amour, but we need to actually cook the pancakes now"

Nothing, Max is still focused on the bowl.

The way he's moving his hand is weird to Charles, not the usual way one would use the whisk for sure. He's going straight instead than doing circles, then left, then righ- oh my god he's doing freaking race-sim

And it's in this very moment that Charles does something he should have never done. He touches Max's arm. Max snaps out of his bubble, panics and in a fraction of a seconds loses control of the whisk.

The batter is splattered all over the kitchen, on his clothes, his face, Charles' face.

"I- sorry?"

Charles glares at him, but it doesn't have it in him to be angry at Max, not when he looks so adorable.

"I wanted to prove you I know basic cooking skills but I guess I don't"

"You were actually going well until you thought you were doing lap times in Silverstone."

"How do you know it was Silverstone?"

"I can recognize the way you take Copse even when it is with a whisk. I told you to leave more space on the inside."

Max looks like he's about to reply but he doesn't in the end, after all Charles passed Lewis there and he collided with him. "There's still some batter in here, by the way. Sorry again."

"It's fine, we'll clean it up. Let's see- oh, I don't think this will be enough for pancakes." Charles comments.

"Unless," he says suddenly as he takes the bowl from Max's hands. "Look at this beauty"

Max looks at him as he's pouring the little batter that was left on the stove. No way.

"Stove..Vale..and Club! Here we go, a perfect Silverstone pancake coming. We have enough for another couple circuits. Which one would you like?"

"Do Monza for you, I know you love it. And Monaco maybe? That's where we got together after all."

A few minutes later, they're sitting at the table eating their gp-themed pancakes, not caring about the devastation left behind in the kitchen.

"Oh my god, these are amazing." Max says happily, and to Charles he looks exactly like any kid making them for the first time.

"So, what's next on the list of thing you never did as a kid?"

"Swimming naked?" Max says, and Charles almost suffocates.

"You could have mentioned that this morning, we wouldn't have major cleaning to do now."

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #f1 2023 #fanfiction #fanfic #formula 1 #lestappen life bites