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heliads · 7 months

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Let Me in Your Life (and I Swear I'll Never Leave It)

As one of Lewis Hamilton's oldest friends, you're sure he'll be nothing but happy for you when you're finally offered a Formula One contract. Lewis, however, remembers what competition like that can do to a friendship, and his reaction isn't what you expect.

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You don’t know it’s over until you see him.

That shouldn’t have been enough. It wouldn’t have been enough for anyone else. They would have seen his smile and thought that he was genuinely happy for you when you told him that all of your wildest dreams were finally coming true. So much of you wanted to believe him when he told you that he couldn’t be more proud that you almost convinced yourself of it.

Almost. Unfortunately, the part of you that has known Lewis Hamilton since you were a kid also knows his tells, and you watched the way his fingers twisted in front of him until you couldn’t take it any longer. Until you knew what he wouldn’t say to you on a perfectly good night like this, which is that Lewis was not pleased that you were finally entering Formula One, and no amount of wanting will fix that.

It cuts to the bone. This had been a lovely evening. You only get so many chances to spend time with Lewis outside of the media circus of a Formula One or Two paddock, so you really wanted to make this one count. You had even kept your good news to yourself just in case he wasn’t as thrilled about it as you were, feeling the secret burn against you all through the dinner at the nice restaurant whose menu you double, triple, and quadruple-checked to ensure that there were good vegan options. You withheld the news through wine, through pleasant laughter, even through the check, but you couldn’t keep it back afterwards.

The restaurant was nice enough. Lewis always looked good in expensive places. He fit in quite well in any scenario, but his smile was practiced and he never missed a social cue so long as he could help it. That’s what years of constant scrutiny does to you, you suppose; never again will the two of you be thirteen years old and utterly ignorant of the difference between salad and dessert forks. You miss the boy who could mess up around you. You haven’t seen him in a while, even ignoring both of your hectic travel schedules.

Lewis tends to get antsy after a heavy meal, the product of too much time spent around Mercedes-grade nutritionists and personal trainers, so the two of you went on a walk outside after leaving the restaurant. The air was crisp and cool, and dark enough that you could walk freely without being recognized. You had looked up at the stars overhead and made a wish that nothing would hurt you tonight.

Maybe you whispered the wish aloud as you said it, or maybe Lewis has always been able to read your mind and ruined the magic that way, because it wasn’t even half an hour before that desperate plea to the heavens was shattered along with your peace of mind.

You couldn’t keep it in any longer. All your life, you’ve wanted to make it to the Formula One circuit. Lewis has known this just about as long as you. You met him while karting, and you’ve been best friends ever since. You used to race everywhere– on the track, down the hall, whoever could make it to the door of their hotel room wins bragging rights for the next night at least– but over time, Lewis was able to make it up the Formula One ladder faster than you, and then you weren’t racing together any more but watching each other race in different circuits.

You did your best not to let it sting. Lewis has faced far more than his fair share of roadblocks. Maybe he always wanted it a little more than you, then, because no matter how hard you tried to follow in his path, your feet keep dragging in his dust. It took forever to get to F3, and you never thought you’d ever see the day when you made it to F2.

Now you’re just one good finish away from winning the Formula Two driver’s championship, and better still, you’re about to sign a contract with a Formula One team. After all this time, it’s finally yours. You’re still in talks about the nuances of the legal binding, but it’s basically in the bag.

Your family is aware, but you knew you needed to tell Lewis as well, even before the signing, because he’s basically your other half. You had always assumed that he would take it well, that he’d be just as thrilled for you as Nico was for Lewis when he first signed. When you bring up the subject, though, you can tell from the delicate shuttering of Lewis’ face that you were, for the first time in a long time, completely wrong about him.

The two of you are walking down a moonlit bridge when you finally say it. “I was meeting with an F1 team yesterday,” you tell him, “I think they’re going to sign me. We’ve been going over the contract for a while now and it’s basically all ironed out. The only thing left is to actually shake on it.”

You pause, waiting for the hearty congratulations he doled out when you made it to F3, then F2, but for F1, you’re only greeted with silence. You look at him, heart in your throat, but when you finally bring yourself to meet his eyes, you’re only greeted with– disappointment.

When the silence gets painful, Lewis coughs and looks away. “That’s– that’s great, Y/N. Really.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Really?”

Lewis has the grace to look ashamed. “I know I might not sound– it’s a fantastic accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am,” you say slowly, “but are you proud of me? Because you certainly don’t look it right now. And it’s not just an accomplishment, Lew, this has been my dream for years. You know that.”

“I do,” Lewis answers you, but his voice is distant and he hasn’t looked you in the eyes since you first brought up the news.

It makes your blood run cold in your veins. In all the scenarios you’d imagined of how he’d react, you pictured his jaw dropping with surprise, his face immediately lighting up, him immediately texting his brother and the rest of his family the news. You never expected that he would actually be unhappy about it.

“Then why are you acting like this?” You gesture at him. “At least fake a smile, Lewis, I know you can.”

He looks at you at last, and you wince at the genuine hurt blinking back at you. “Don’t do it, Y/N,” he says suddenly.

You feel as if the breath has been stolen out of your lungs. “What?”

“Don’t do it,” he repeats, “Go to Indycar or Le Mans or Race of Champions. Do something crazy, something fun. Hell, try them all. Don’t let this be the end-all, be-all of your racing aspirations.”

There’s no way you’re hearing him properly. “You think I shouldn’t join Formula One? After all this time practically killing myself to get in, you want me to just walk away?” You shake your head slowly. “You had better have a good reason for this, because you’re my oldest friend and I know that friends wouldn’t do this to each other. You could have just said you were happy for me.”

Lewis’ gaze turns pleading. “You don’t know what it’s like in there. We go for each other’s throats all the time. I can’t let it destroy us.”

The night is silent. You watch the water lapping at the shores below as if in a dream. All is dark. Even the stars seem burned out overhead. Nothing good has happened here. Nothing worth the light of the moon above.

He says, “I don’t want to lose you. Not like everybody else.”

You say, “If you don’t let me do this, you will have lost me before I even start.”

You give him one last chance to change his mind. When he stays silent, you turn on your heel and leave. The sound of your shoes clicking against the cobblestones is maddeningly loud, drowning out all but the tumultuous beat of your heart. He doesn’t try to stop you. He does not do anything at all.

You call a taxi. The ride is quiet. You have half a mind to direct the driver to a club or something instead so you don’t have to live with that engulfing silence any longer, but instead you just have him drive you to your door and leave you there. You barely make it inside before breaking down in loud sobs that wrack your entire body. He should have told you how much he wanted you there. He should have told you how much he wanted you.

You wait until your tears dry, then call up the team principal of the F1 team and tell him you’re interested in signing the contract as soon as possible. They’re glad to hear it, and pleased enough that they don’t hear the wobble of your voice on the other end.

The rest of the season passes without a hitch. You win the F2 championship and are able to announce your contract not soon afterwards. All of the F1 drivers who cross your path make sure to congratulate you, and every one of their declarations of praise only hurts twice as much when you remember the one man who hasn’t said a word to you yet.

Winter break is eventful, even more than you were expecting. There are a hundred forms to sign and a thousand videos to film, countless mechanics to meet and endless trainings to complete. You’re given enough team kits to clothe a small nation. You officially meet your teammate on your first tour of the team facilities, and he is perfectly civil to you, even kind. He isn’t Lewis, though, and that’s enough for you to be disappointed.

At last, you reach the week before testing starts for the new season. You’re in a hotel room booked under your new team. It’s strange being here now after wanting this for so long. For years, you’ve dreamed of what it would be like to finally be here, and now you’re flopped on your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if it’ll look different when you’ve raced in a Formula One car for the first time.

Truth be told, it’s terrifying. You thought you would know what to do by now, having repeated this process in the previous two series, but everything feels different now that you’re at the top. No one expects championships from a rookie in her first season, but you can’t help but feel that eyes are on you.

A knock on your door, and you’re immediately grateful to whoever it is for interrupting your relentless panicked musing on the infinite ways that tomorrow could go wrong. You pad over the door and open it without checking, expecting to be greeted by your teammate or your trainer or any one of the staff of your new team.

Instead, you swing open the door to find Lewis staring at you, hands in his pockets. You immediately jerk to a stop, so surprised that you even forget usual pleasantries like saying hello or asking how he’s been.

Lewis forgets too. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like centuries but could just be a few moments until he coughs, looks briefly at his feet and then back at you, and says, “I remember that you always overthink things the night before a big change. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

You nod a little too quickly. “I’m fine. Just, yeah, overthinking.”

A ghost of a smile flickers over Lewis’ lips, then disappears just as quickly. “Thought so. Do you mind if I come in? There’s actually a lot I need to say.”

An ugly, cruel part of your brain immediately whispers oh, now you have a lot to say? But you manage to shut it up before you say it and wordlessly gesture for him to enter the hotel room. You check the hallway before shutting the door, but no one’s there, no cameras. This isn’t a trap. It’s just a friend visiting a friend, something he used to do all the time before he decided that he would not be able to live with himself if he didn’t stop you from trying to reach your biggest dream.

When you head back inside, Lewis is leaning against the windows, idly peering outside. “You have a good view,” he notes.

You fold your arms across your chest. “You’re not here to discuss the perks of my hotel room.”

“No, I’m not,” Lewis agrees. “I’m here to apologize.”

This takes you by surprise. “You are?”

He nods. “I shouldn’t have tried to stop you. God knows I would have hated it if you had said something like that to me before I joined McLaren.”

Your brow furrows. “Then why did you say it to me?”

Lewis lets out a quiet, horror-struck sigh. “Because I meant part of it. I am terrified of losing you, Y/N. I know how competition can get in between friends. You know how well I know that. Nico’s already– we’re different now, and I can’t take it if I lose you, too.”

He breaks off, lost in thought, and you feel a pang in your heart as if struck by a blade. You and Nico were friends separate from the great doing and undoing of Lewis and Nico, but that was sort of inevitable. It feels as if every kid who was good at karting in your area eventually became friends, but all that did was give you a front row ticket to the so-called Silver War. What a terrible thing, to know someone like a brother and then only be able to speak to them through corporate meetups and scheduled interviews. What a horrific end to something that had once been, well, everything.

Your hands tense at your sides. “I’m not Nico.”

“I know that,” he says, almost frustrated, “I know. Trust me, I know. I have always known you. I know that we’ll be able to make it through anything, but I’m afraid of risking it. I knew at some point you’d get called up here, you’re too fast for them to ignore you, but I was hoping to have at least a little more time.”

You tilt your head to the side, frowning. “I thought you guessed already. Isn’t that why we scheduled that dinner?”

“No,” Lewis murmurs, “I scheduled that dinner because I wanted to tell you that I loved you.”

The ground has been pulled out beneath your feet. No, not just the ground– the very earth itself, every star in the sky and every heavenly body in the cosmos. You are abruptly removed from everything you have ever believed, because you know Lewis better than anyone and so you would have known if he loved you, you would have figured it out a long time ago. There is no way you wouldn’t have been able to tell. No way he could take you by surprise like this.

“No,” you whisper.

“Yes,” Lewis says simply. “I was going to do it after keeping it a secret for so long. And then you told me that we were going to be competitors, and I thought it was all going to be over. And I panicked and told you to leave, and you hated me, and it turns out I didn’t even need us crashing into each other on track to kill our friendship. I did that all by myself.”

“It isn’t dead,” you tell him fiercely. “Not in the slightest.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you. “We fought. We never do that.”

“That’s unrealistic,” you point out. “Everyone fights. Even married couples.”

“We’re not married, and you don’t even love me back,” Lewis argues.

You arch a brow. “How do you know that?”

“I would know,” he says without a trace of suspicion.

God, he’s just as stubborn as you. Just as set in his own ways. Maybe that’s why it has always been the two of you, even after everything. Maybe that’s why you always chose him in every friend group, in every issue, in every race. No one understands you like Lewis, and no one ever will. No one will stand by your side no matter what, no one will say what you need to hear because no one knows exactly how you work like Lewis does.

Still, you can surprise him from time to time. He certainly doesn’t expect it when you cross the room in a few brisk strides, when you reach across the chasm of one fight and one great misunderstanding to kiss him. It takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing and what this means, and then his hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, because Lewis will never give up an advantage when it is offered to him and right now Lewis wants this more than anything. He wants you, more than anything.

“You’re never going to let me hear the end of it when you finish ahead of me in a race, are you?” He asks in a half-mumble against your lips.

You smile, and you can feel his returning grin when he kisses you again. “Absolutely not. You never let me off that easily when we were kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” Lewis points out.

“No,” you say slowly, “We’re not, are we?”

It is not a bad thing. In fact, looking at all the years you have, all the races together, all the plane tickets you’ll book side by side, all the hotel rooms you’ll share, you think you like this new era of your life quite a bit better than anything. Lewis would have to agree, if the shine in his eyes means anything at all. Both of you will never be the same, but you will never be like this again, either. We are all different, all the time, but the one thing that will never change is how you do it: together, always together.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

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4k celebration

congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.

i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴

we made up.

LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration

in which you can never just bite your tongue

eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3

songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink

2.6k words

you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.

after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.

maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?

it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.

you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.

“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.

“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.

it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.

“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.

“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.

“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.

there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.

turns out, you have to apologise.

you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.

so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.

but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.

“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.

“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.

“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.

“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.

“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.

the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.

you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.

“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.

“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.

your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.

“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.

“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.

“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.

truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.

as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.

“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.

“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.

“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.

“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.

“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.

an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.

“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.

his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.

once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.

“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.

“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.

“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.

“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”

“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.

he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.

“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.

lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.

“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.

“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.

“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”

with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.

“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.

sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.

“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.

“learned your lesson?”

“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.

you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.

still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.

“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.

“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.

you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.

“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.

you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.

“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.

“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.

he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.

“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”

you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.

“‘m so close.” you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.

“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.

those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.

“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.

you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.

you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.

two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.

when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.

“we made up.”

oof

taglist

@mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen

if you wanna be added or removed lemme know! :D

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csainzoperator · 1 month

Text

merc specials ☆

summary: bf texts with lewis and george aka the merc boys

warnings: fem pronouns, nicknames (baby, love, darling, babe), banter, suggestive, slight nsfw, typos, mentions of alcohol and drinking,

lewis hamilton

george russell

an: i had so much fun making these, hope u have fun reading 🫶🏼🫶🏼

tags: @e-nonsense @thearchieves

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starlightdelrey · 14 days

Text

the view between villages

platonic ! f1 grid x reader

summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.

cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,

song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan

(not based on any particular race)

today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.

"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."

the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.

she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.

"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.

"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.

"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.

---

"lights out.... and away we go!"

the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.

she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.

"i keep locking up."

her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.

"copy."

finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.

"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."

"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.

---

the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.

somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.

the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"

"yeah... turn up the volume?"

the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.

"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.

"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.

"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."

she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.

across the world, houses go silent.

---

"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."

the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.

"y/n, are you okay?"

silence.

"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."

no response.

the commentators continue.

"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."

---

his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.

"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.

"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.

"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"

"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."

"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"

"no word yet. sorry, logan."

"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."

"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"

"sure."

he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.

there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.

he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.

---

inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.

her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.

in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.

"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.

she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.

she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.

she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.

the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.

---

inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.

---

"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."

verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.

"what's happened?"

"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.

"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"

"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."

he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.

"tell me if you find anything out."

"copy."

as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.

"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.

he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.

he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.

---

a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.

"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.

and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.

and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.

she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.

---

the commentators are no longer focused on the race.

"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"

---

charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.

he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.

this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.

the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.

"we've got an update on y/n."

he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."

"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.

---

muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.

the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.

people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.

she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.

she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.

y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.

---

"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."

the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.

"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"

---

"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.

"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."

"how do you feel about her new nickname?"

"nickname?"

"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."

lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."

"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.

---

a few months later:

over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.

she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.

"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.

roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.

"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."

lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."

y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.

he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."

"fuck off."

--- le fin ---

#formula one #f1 #formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #f1 angst #formula one angst #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #logan sargeant x reader #max versappen x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one oneshot #starlightdelrey

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charlesslut16 · 3 months

Text

-be one of your mistakes-

summary : you thought you were just a mistake but Lewis thought otherwise

PAIRING : lewis hamilton x fem!reader

WARNINGS : curse words

note : I AM SO SORRY THAT I HAVE NOT POSTED FOR SO LONG!!

december masterlist ; masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''Don't'' You said, holding a hand before you to stop Lewis from moving. ''Don't come any closer.'' The tears in your eyes were collecting, but not falling. For him, you would not ever let another tear fall down.

''Why, my love? What is wrong?'' he asked, hurt visibly seen in his eyes. You took a deep breath and finally began to confess what's been on your mind for a while now. It had been tormenting you in secret.

“Because I am not ready to be just another of your fucking mistakes.” Your voice cracked and broke and you hated it. You hated how much it hurt you and how weak you looked compared to him.

Lewis looked at you with so much emotion, that you had to turn my face away from him. Not ready to see the pain in his eyes. The yes that made you feel so much.

“Why?” he whispered, almost sounding like a question to himself, as if this was some kind of puzzle that he could not understand or solve. “Would you ever think you'd be one of my mistakes?”

You looked at him again. Trying to figure out if it’s a serious question and not another of his cruel jokes. “Did I make you feel like a mistake, my love?” his voice was hoarse, and the pain in it made the heart squeeze in awe.

“God.” he rasped, “did I ever make you feel worthless?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, you didn’t. I’m scared.“

“And you don’t think I am?” he asked, his voice stronger now. “Can’t you see? You are the most important person in my life. I can’t fucking live without you, yn!“

Your heart was beating a marathon by now.

“You are my oxygen. My reason to just BE. You are my fucking person, yn! The woman that I have always dreamed of being together with. You are the moon to my sun.”

“So HOW could you ever fucking say, that you are just another of my mistakes?he asked in horror. Scared of the possibility he’d made you feel like that. Like a

fucking mistake.

You had to think of your next words carefully. Fearing you could say something that could make him feel more guilty than he already was. You could not see him hurting more than he already was.

“Because you never.” You made a small gesture with your hand. “Tried something. With me. I mean.“

He studied me. Careful to catch every word, every whisper that left your warm and plump lips.

“It felt a little like.” You shrugged, “you find me unattractive.” He blinked. Then blinked again. Almost like he couldn’t believe you just said that.

*My love,“ he began, then cleared his throat, “you are the most beautiful woman to me.” he took a step forward, “When I first met you, I wasn’t believing my own eyes. Because I didn’t think it was possible to look,” he pointed a hand to prove his point.

Lewis took another step in your direction. Only inches, separate you both now. It was as if you were magnets that were constantly trying to attract you both, to make you one.

“Like the most gorgeous human being on earth.” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

You couldn't explain what effect his words had on you. But they felt magical. Almost like a dream come true. Your dream that you had wished and dreamed for like forever.

You closed the gap between your lips to make this dream even more perfect. And you so hoped that when you stepped away from each other this would be just a dream, and you wake up in your bed, but hopefully, it would develop into something beautiful.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fluff #formula one #masterlist #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lh44

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forfucksakesniall · 11 months

Text

"Whispered Hearts"

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton has a secret girlfriend. During the Monaco Grand Prix, their relationship is revealed to the public, but they remain strong and support each other.

Word count: 1553

Trigger warning/Content advisory: Media scrutiny, privacy invasion, public attention, and intense emotions including anxiety and stress. Reader discretion is advised.

Masterlist

As Lewis arrives with effortless charm, the cameras flash constantly, capturing his every move. Fans eagerly call out his name, seeking his autograph on their merch. With a grateful smile, he acknowledges their unwavering support, waving to the crowd.

Lewis Hamilton, the perpetual bachelor, guards a closely kept secret from prying media eyes. Behind closed doors, passionate and secret romance blossoms between Lewis and (Y/N), spanning over three beautiful years.

On the yacht en route to the grand prix, Lewis takes a phone call, his face lit up with anticipation. Curiosity ripples through observers, wondering about the person on the other end. If only they knew who filled those precious moments with him, their curiosity would soar.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

Hours earlier…

Awakened by shuffling and muffled voices, you groggily open your eyes. Lewis moves about the room, preparing for today's practice. Admiring him from behind, you appreciate his early rising and his need to fix everything early in the morning. This is what you get for dating a control freak.

The sound of the duvet shifting catches his attention, and he turns toward you, wide-eyed, realizing he has disturbed you. With a gentle expression, he approaches, settling beside you on the bed.

"Good morning, baby," he whispers, planting a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand cradling your cheek. "Did I wake you?"

"Its fine babe" you softly respond. His brows furrow, searching for a way to make it up to you, reading his thoughts like an open book. He knows how much you love your sleep and feels guilty for waking you.

"It was time to wake up anyway," you assure him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. A smile graces his face, easing the tension.

"Since I've disturbed your beauty sleep, princess," he playfully teases, "I'll make you some breakfast."

"Good to know," you playfully tease back, anticipation twinkling in your eyes.

It's still early, and you cherish the time together before he leaves for the race. After breakfast, you find yourselves snuggled up on the couch, bodies entwined, surrounded by fluffy pillows. Wearing cozy pajamas, you wish this moment could last forever.

You discuss your plans for the day, and you reassure him of your unwavering support, letting him know you'll be watching him every step of the way.

"You can go outside and enjoy your day instead of being cooped up here," he suggests, a hint of worry on his face.

Cradling his face in your hands, you alleviate his concerns. "I want to be here with you, and besides, the streets will be busy anyway."

He pauses, contemplating his next words. "What if… What if you came to the race?"

You look at him, surprise and intrigue shining in your eyes.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

Lewis on the phone

"Hey baby, I'm here now."

"Hey, I just arrived too. The staff guided me into the paddock without attracting any attention."

"That's good. Um, are you feeling alright? I hope the cameras doesn't make you too uncomfortable. They are everywhere and—"

"I'll be fine, Lewis. Stop worrying, okay? Focus on the race, alright?"

"Yeah… okay. I love you. I'll see you later."

"Love you too, babe. See you."

Entering the Mercedes paddock, many unfamiliar faces greet you, surprised by their recognition to you. They address you by name, offering your favorite drink, even asking ypu things only you and Lewis knows. As if they already knew who you were.

Guiding you to Lewis's driver's room, you settle onto the couch, waiting for his arrival. It feels as if you been there so many time despite it being your first. But the truth, this is where Lewis FaceTimes you whenever he has a spare moment, talking to you before each race.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, revealing someone you've only seen on TV and heard about in Lewis's stories.

"Hey Lewis, I wanted to ask you about our ping pong rematch—" George's eyes widen in surprise, realizing he isn't speaking to Lewis but to Lewis's best-kept secret.

"Oh, um… you must be (Y/N)?"

Before you can respond, Lewis intervenes, placing a reassuring hand on George's shoulder.

"Let's discuss that later, George," he says, attempting to close the door.

George still manages to squeeze his way in.

"Wait a minute, you're always talking about her, and now she's here, and you're suddenly all shy," George cheekily remarks.

"Oh, so you talk about me at work, Lewis?" you playfully tease, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Now is not the time for that," Lewis deflects, trying to change the subject, but you and George exchange giggles.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you," George says, pats back at Lewis's shoulder before leaving.

As Lewis closes and locks the door, safeguarding his secret, he apologizes for George's silliness.

"I'm sorry about him. He tends to talk nonsense when he's excited," he defends himself.

You can't help but giggle, knowing that George's words hold some truth, but you don't press the matter further.

Lewis takes a seat beside you, his hand reaching for yours, gently rubbing the back of it. Tension fills the air.

Drawing closer to him, you speak softly, "Hey, stop worrying about us. We'll be just fine." You lean in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, deepening your connection.

He draws back slightly, cradling your face in his hands. "If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just let me know, and I'll arrange for someone to bring you back home," he assures, his words sincere.

The mention of "home" sends a warm wave of comfort and belonging through you, reminding you of the depth of your connection and the time you've spent together.

"I promise, and I know I'll be alright," you whisper, offering your reassurance in return.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

As Lewis heads out of the paddock, drawing attention to himself and creating a diversion, you seize the opportunity to slip away unnoticed toward the garage, seeking a better vantage point to watch him race.

Lost in your thoughts, you're approached by a girl, approximately your age, her Mercedes merch indicating she's a fan.

"Hi! Hello?" She greets you enthusiastically.

"I saw you coming out of the paddock. I'm curious, what kind of pass do you have?" Her questioning catches you off guard, and you find yourself unable to make up a lie in response.

Before you can answer, her friends join her, and Lewis's gaze shifts toward the commotion, realizing that you're being surrounded by a growing crowd of fans. Although you remain calm, Lewis's protective instincts kicks in.

As Lewis walks back towards you, attracting the attention of cameras and journalists, confusion spreads among them. They wonder why he's suddenly heading in the opposite direction, away from the garage, and they start following him.

Approaching the group, Lewis cheerfully greets them as he always does, diverting their attention from you. He positions himself slowly in front of you, blocking the view of the girls who are now asking for his autograph on their merch.

With a gentle push of his elbow, he signals you to step back and head to the garage. However, as you try to leave the crowd, the cameras and journalists have already made their way to you, envading on your personal space.

Lewis quickly realizes his mistake and looks to the security personnel for assistance. They swiftly intervene, pushing back the crowd to create a pathway for both of you. Guiding you with a reassuring hand on your back, Lewis leads you forward, your gaze fixed on the ground to avoid any unwanted attention.

"Shit," you overhear him mutter, his anxiety mounting once again. This was certainly not the outcome you had hoped for.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ * ✧ ✦ ✧ * ✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ :

The news spreads rapidly, like wildfire.

"Lewis Hamilton Spotted with Mystery Woman in Monaco Grand Prix."

"Lewis Hamilton's Secret Love: Who is his Monaco Grand Prix Girlfriend?"

"Lewis Hamilton's Monaco Grand Prix Surprise: Introducing his Secret Girlfriend."

Gossip sites churn out articles, each one vying for attention. Pictures capture the moment as both of you escape the crowd and head toward the garage.

Lewis is preparing for practice when he notices you are dazed and confused, absorbed in what you've read online. The information about you—your occupation, hometown, and mutual connections—seems to have spread with lightning speed. Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that Lewis is kneeling in front of you until he takes your hand.

"I know this isn't how we wanted it, and... I.. I shouldn't have asked you to come," he rambles.

"At least we don't have to hide anymore," you reassure him, sensing his anxiety. "We'll figure it out after the race, okay?"

He continues to gaze at you, seeking reassurance that you're truly okay. Standing up, he leans down to plant a tender kiss on the top of your head.

"Be safe. I love you," you tell him, your voice filled with affection.

"I love you too, baby," he responds, his words carrying a heartfelt warmth.

He walks towards the car and drives away. After a few seconds, you finally gather the strength to rise from your seat and contemplate the situation.

You come to a realization that it shouldn't sadden you that they discovered your secret. It was inevitable, something you and Lewis would eventually have to face.

With newfound determination, you stand tall and position yourself near the monitors, eagerly watching Lewis's performance. A member of the garage team hands you a pair of headphones, allowing you to hear Lewis's communications.

"Go get them babe," you whisper to yourself, offering words of encouragement to your beloved.

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stuckinmylittlebubble · 7 months

Text

I work out while they work on their sleep (LH x reader)

Inspired by this video -

It was Sunday, finally not a race Sunday which meant Lewis at home with you. As you stretch out in bed that morning you realise you’re alone, no Lewis or Roscoe next to you.

Checking the time, it’s 7.15am. Trust Lewis to be up and about at this hour on a weekend, when he’s not even working. You pull on a sweater, it’s a little chilly now that you’re not under the comfort of the duvet, going in search of Lewis.

You hear the music coming from the balcony before you see them. Lewis working on the weights with Roscoe right next to him, as if he’s ensuring Lewis gets a proper workout. It’s more likely he’s waiting for some belly rubs.

You grab the book which you left on the coffee table last night, wishing a good morning to Lewis as you head towards the sofa at the corner of the balcony.

“You couldn’t sleep in for just one day?” you question him as you pull the blanket on the sofa over you. It really was a cold morning.

“Why are you awake so early?” Lewis chuckles, glancing at you on the sofa.

Before you can reply, he continues “Come workout with me,” he motions with his head towards the extra weights off on the side.

You roll your eyes at him, “You wish, I’ll let my mind do some exercise by reading this book,” you indicate to the book at hand, opening up to where you left your bookmark in.

Roscoe bounds over to you, seeking warmth and comfort at your feet on the sofa.

“Roscoe, get back here,” Lewis chides, getting no reply from the dog.

“Looks like I’m his favourite,” you smile cheekily at Lewis, only getting an eye roll in response from him.

Listening to Lewis’ playlist, you make yourself comfortable against the cushions on the sofa, reading about a secret agent trying to save the world.

You suddenly feel a peck on your cheek, a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stir awake, taking in your surroundings.

“You fell asleep,” Lewis says, his eyes crinkling watching you sit up on the sofa a little dazed.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Time for breakfast, come on sleepy head,” he says as he helps you off the sofa and guides you towards a stool at the kitchen breakfast bar, where Lewis has already prepared your favourite pancakes for breakfast.

Opening Instagram later that day, you see a notification that you’re tagged in a post by Lewis. Wondering what it could be, you click into it and scowl at the caption.

There's a video of Lewis working out and in the foreground, you and Roscoe fast asleep on the couch with the caption "I work out while they work on their sleep".

“Mr Hamilton, you better watch out,” you mumble to yourself as you scroll through your phone for humiliating photos of the seven-time world champion.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #oneshot #f1

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hamiltonaf · 6 months

Note

hey pretty, hope u okay! if it's possible, could u write something for lewis? they have been best friends since 15 after meeting in karts (the reader is a Ferrari driver) lewis has been in love w her since the day they match, but never say something bc he is afraid of losting her. the reader got out of her last relationship and they became close again and one night they just get together and end up confessing their love to both of them. this can be a social media or not, what u prefer, thank u 🤍 (and sorry about the english, it's not my first language)

Icebreaker | Lewis Hamilton

{SOCIAL MEDIA AU}

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x BFF ! Reader

Warnings: None just major fluff

A/N: Hello my loves ! My first SMAU, I hope I did it justice. Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. Requests are open .xo

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc and 638 293 others

yourusername Summer break dump

View all 9,857 comments

user1 Forget about being a wag, I wanna be a HAB !!!!

user2 That boyfriend of hers has nooooo idea how lucky he is..

teamlh SIRRR we see you in the likes

user3 The fact that he liked this 1 min after posting… post notifications are ONNNN

user4 We NEED Lewis & Y/N content ASAPPPP

user5 Charles is 100% reading these comments

yourusername added to their story

yourusername deleted their story

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, fencer, 13thwitness and 992 739 others

lewishamilton For old times sake 😉 yourusername

View all 38 616 comments

teamlh OH MY DAYS

user5 THEY WENT KARTING TOGETHER

user6 I’m not okay.

teamyourname besties reunited awwwww

yourusername I think you forgot to mention the part where I won 😌

lewishamilton Okay fine 😪

user7 I’m CRYING ^^ go QUEEENNNNN !!!! I love her sm 🥹🩷

yourusername

Liked by charlesleclerc, lewishmailton, fencer and 1 091 512 others

yourusername Best weekend yet 🤍 Finally faced my fears 🥹😭

View all 92 738 comments

lewishamilton So proud of you ❤️

yourusername All thanks to you 🥰

user1 Are they flirting on main ? 👀

lewhamilton He took her skydiving 😭😭😭 I’m not crying

lhamiltoncrew So are we just going to ignore the sneaky last pic that Y/N posted ??????? 🥹 SO CUTE

fansofyourname Its been a while since we saw Y/N this happy 🥹 Lew is so good for her

user2 Her ex really fumbled 🤪

user3 I’m so glad he didn’t, otherwise when was this ship gonna sail ? 👀

user4 Oh it’s DEFINITELY sailing honey 😏

lewishamilton and yourusername

Liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc, georgerussell and 1 892 738 others

lewishamilton Champagne showers 😜

View all 45 749 comments

yourusername Thanks for that, I can’t hear now. Merc strategy 🧐 FIA needs to look into this

lewishamilton Forgive me 🥺❤️

yourusername Hmm…I’ll think about it 🤔

lewishamilton I’m sitting right next to you 🙃

user1 These 2 ^^^ I’m DEAD 💀

yournamehamilton THEY ARE DATING 100%

charlesleclerc Thanks for cropping me out 🙂

yourusername 😇😇😇

georgerussell Congrats yourusername 😌

yourusername and lewishamilton

Liked by lewishamilton, 13thwitness, fencer, charlesleclerc and 2 029 938 others

yourusername Mi amore 🤍

View all 69 838 comments

lewishamilton ❤️❤️❤️

fanofyourusername OH MY GOD 😱

lewhamilton Talk about hard launch 🤩

user1 Who wrote their love story 😭😭😭

ferarrifangirl From rivals since they were teens to lovers 😩 Y/N stays WINNING

charlesleclerc Called it 😌

yourusername Ariana, what are you doing here 🫣

user2 They were meant for each other all along 🥹

LH44crew It’s beyond me how Y/N never noticed the way he used to look at her 😭😭😭

hamiltonyourname Find yourself a man that looks at you like Sir Lewis Hamilton 😩

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matchaskiiess · 1 year

Text

SAY IT BACK, LH44

in which you keep seeing people prank their lovers by not saying ‘I love you back’ and you wanted to try it out on your lover.

warnings: mild swearing, happiness can also be a trigger to some people, so there’s happiness, also love and laughing if that’s triggering for you.

AN — hope you enjoy :)

WHITE FERRARI (f1) NAVIGATION (main info centre)

────────────────────────────

“shit baby, I gotta go, I am late for a meeting!” you heard lewis shouting as he ran around the apartment looking for things he needed.

“ok, have fun.” you shouted back, keeping your eyes fixated on the film as you held your phone slightly under the blanket so that the camera could still see lewis.

“bye love you.” he shouted, as he walked towards the front door.

“ok bye.” you responded, keeping your eyes on the film.

“I love you.” he heard lewis say again, stopping at the door waiting for your response as he held a confused expression.

“yeah, I heard the first time, now go before your really late.” you told him, waving a hand at him as you finally looking at him.

“say it back.” he spoke, closing the door and walking towards his girlfriend of three years.

“say what back.” you asked, acting oblivious to the obvious.

(that is a horrific line 💀 - author)

“baby, I love you.” lewis spoke again, getting closer to your face trying to withhold a smile while you tried to stop yourself from folding at his stare.

“yeah, you too.” you said, finally thinking of something to say as you slightly pushed him out of the way to look at the film again.

“ok, what’s going on?” he asked, taking the remote and turning off the tv.

“excuse me, I was watching that.”

“you can continue to watch it when you say you love me back.” he explained to you hiding the remote behind his back.

you were silent. you obviously didn’t want to give up, but you also didn’t want him to be late for his meeting. and you knew that he wasn’t going to leave without hearing the three words.

“I love you.”

“THERE WE GO!” he shouted happily, bending down to give you a kiss whilst placing the remote down.

“it was a prank.” he told him quietly, giggling slightly to yourself.

“I know. I saw the camera and you have never not said I love you back to me.” he explained, a cocky smile on his face as he gives you one last kiss before walking to the door once again.

“I love you.” you told him with a smile on your face.

“just makes my day, love you too my love.” he responded happily, shutting the door with a wide smile making you almost burst out into laughter.

────────────────────────────

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leclercvsx · 6 months

Text

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

Movie date | CL¹⁶

summary: charles takes y/n on a movie date when he’s back from one of his races, only he picks her up quite late and they kiss the movie which results in them having to find another thing to do.

Y/n had spent most of the day freshening up and getting ready for her little date with Charles. It had been a while since he had taken her on a proper date, due to leaving for his races. Sometimes Y/n wonders what it would be like if he wasn’t a racer.

Charles had said that he would pick her up at 7pm as the movie starts at 7:30pm, it was now 7:10. Y/n huffed as she texted Charles for the 5th time.

A few minutes later she heard a knock at her door as she quickly jumped up from the comfort of her sofa and walked towards the door, opening it revealing a very sorry-looking Charles. He stood there holding a small bouquet of her favourite flowers and some of her favourite chocolates.

“I’m so sorry i’m late, love. The traffic was horrendous” he apologised, leaning in to give her a small kiss on the cheek as he handed her the bouquet and chocolates. Y/n smiled softly as she shook her head a little.

“For a moment there i thought you stood me up” she joked, taking the bouquet and chocolates into the kitchen. She placed the chocolates on the kitchen counter and placed the bouquet in a vase filled with water.

He chuckles, closing the door behind him and walking over to her and placing his hands on her hips as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m really really sorry, my love. The movie would’ve started by now so i don’t know what we can do.”

“Well we can watch something on netflix or something, i know it’s not what we planned but i’m sure we can find something to watch” she shrugs, her hands playing with the back of his hair as he nods slowly.

Y/n goes into her bedroom to change into some more comfy clothes and grabs some clothes that Charles had left the last time he spent the night. Once they had both changed, she sat on the sofa as Charles sat next to her with a bowl of popcorn.

She covered them both with a fluffy blanket she had on the back of her sofa. Charles wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him as she lay her head on his chest and pulls her legs up on the sofa.

Charles flips through a few movies before they both agree on one. The movie starts playing as the pair of them enjoy each others company and watch the film, Charles occasionally placing a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth.

Half way through the film, Y/n could hear some quiet snores coming from the side of her. She turns her head to see Charles’ head tilted back with his mouth open a little as he snores quietly. She smiles to herself, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek as she covers him with the blanket and lays her head back on his chest.

A few minutes later she soundly fell asleep next to him, the tv playing in the background.

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heliads · 1 year

Text

It Gets Better

You are new to Mercedes. It's nice, then, to have Lewis Hamilton looking out for you. If you eventually want him with you more often than you should, well, that's nobody's business but your own.

masterlist

The lights are on. Crowds surge. Of all the people here wearing a Mercedes logo emblazoned on their chest, you think you’re the least likely candidate by far. The fans seem far more confident in their silver and black than you, but then again, they’re not the ones facing constant scrutiny by Sky Sports and the rest of the world alike.

It came as a surprise when Mercedes announced their second driver last year. You weren’t a newcomer to Formula One, having driven for a smaller team for the past year, but no one expected you of all people to have the sudden jump up to Mercedes. It’s certainly earned you a fair amount of criticism. The worst part is that you’re not entirely sure they’re wrong to question you.

After all, Mercedes has a legacy. Every detail of your new job down to your racing partner feels out of your league, but if Toto Wolff saw something in you, you trust the man enough to believe him. You’ve always had a dream of driving for a team even half as famous as Mercedes, so obviously this isn’t a punishment, but it does tend to rattle your nerves even more than usual.

The media sharks must smell blood in the water, because you’ve hardly taken a few steps into the paddock before reporters are brandishing microphones in your direction and screaming questions with every other breath. Cameras pick up your every movement, taking your startled response as proof that you’re not cut out for this.

You’re used to a strong media presence, of course; being a female driver in Formula One came with its share of aggressive commentators, but this is different. It was easier to brush you off when you weren’t in the limelight that much, but Mercedes is, well, Mercedes. It’s no surprise that they’d want to check your strengths before the weekend begins.

This is the first race of the season, your first shot to prove that you actually do deserve to carry the Mercedes banner with every lap. You do your best to answer the questions flung at you with a smile, but it’s starting to wear at the edges before you’ve even managed to make it to the Mercedes center on the paddock.

The reporters, sensing weakness, circle even closer. One steps in front of you, blocking off your forward motion in favor of getting an answer. “Most viewers seem doubtful of your ability to keep up with your teammate, Lewis Hamilton. Do you think you’ll be able to match him, or will you fall behind as expected?”

His blunt tone startles you, as does the lack of personal space due to the reporters jostling for a good shot of you. Before you can try and think of a suitable answer, however, someone pushes through the throngs of media to stand at your side.

Of all the saviors in the world, you have to say that you weren’t expecting the very same teammate that Sky Sports was grilling you about mere moments ago. Lewis looks just as cool as ever, his expression carefully controlled as he looks back at the reporters with faint amusement.

“As her teammate, I can say that everyone at Mercedes has the utmost faith in Y/N’s abilities. I would suggest that the rest of you get on board with that idea as well. I’d hate for you to fall behind in your reporting.”

You suppress a smile. The reporter was clearly expecting a different answer, and has to take a second or two to think of a followup question.

“What is it about Y/N that makes you think that? After all, this is her first race with the team. No one has seen her race in this car yet.”

Lewis lifts a shoulder. “No, but she’s been driving pretty well ever since she rose up to Formula One. We all believe in her, and that should be more than enough for you.”

Lewis starts to walk away and, not wanting to be left alone with the media, you follow him.

“Thanks,” you whisper once you’re out of earshot of the cameras.

Lewis dismisses this with a wave of hand. “Don’t worry about it. They’ve always been a pain, I wouldn’t let them take up too much of your mind.”

You nod slowly. “I’ll do my best.”

The two of you have reached the door of the Mercedes center by now, but you linger by the door.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” Lewis adds, “we do believe in you. You’re here for a reason. Might as well prove it, right?”

Someone calls his name inside, and Lewis disappears with a farewell wave. After a few moments, you do the same. The chill of the air conditioning billows around you, a relief compared to the morning heat outside. Lewis is already long gone, but you glance down the corridor after him anyway.

You didn’t think you’d be able to count on him this soon, but you can’t say that you mind it. You’ve met Lewis a few times over pre-season testing, but nothing too personal. Usually, the two of you show up to your strategy sessions, go over business, but never talk as actual friends. If today’s any sign of how things could go, you think you wouldn’t mind moving past that. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Lewis thinks the same way.

As it turns out, Lewis was right to believe in you. The practice sessions and qualifying rounds aren’t much to speak of; they aren’t bad, to be sure, but nothing incredibly special. You’re ready to show the world what you’re made of, though, and when the lights go out, you take off with a phenomenal start that has even the gruffest commentators stunned.

You finish high up in the points, always a good thing, and when you climb out of your car when the race ends, Lewis is there to greet you with a grin.

“See?” He shouts to you over the roar of the crowd, “What did I say?”

Your response is a laugh. Lewis slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a quick hug before the two of you jog off to celebrate with your team. All in all, not the worst start to your season. No, not bad at all.

The next few races go the exact same way. You stay in the points, and then you’re on the podium again and again. Fifth and fourth place are left behind, replaced by third, even second. You get to know the cooldown room like the back of your hand, and those creeping feelings of self-doubt become more and more foreign to you.

That doesn’t mean your drive to improve has lessened. If anything, it’s become even stronger. You know how hard it is to win a race at this level of motorsport; most of the time, it takes drivers years to claim their first victory, if they ever make it to that point at all. What you’re doing right now is incredible, what with all your spots on the podium, but you want more. You want that race win, and you’re going to do whatever it takes to get it.

The only thing you can do is get better, and get better as fast as you can. You spend more and more time in the gym, working out until your entire body aches. You stay late after strategy sessions to make sure you understand everything, you grow to know your race engineers like your own family. Anything to make that difference, to make it to a place when you can finally take your first win.

It’s not getting to the point where the extra work is taking a toll on you, but you know people are watching you cautiously, waiting for you to break. You ignore them; let’s see how they talk when all this struggle makes a difference. You spend more and more time in the simulator, trying to shave off seconds.

Tonight is another one of those late sessions. You’ve been going over circuit after circuit, lap after lap, anything to make the high speeds feel more under your control. You complete yet another round and get ready for the next when someone taps your shoulder.

When you look up, you’re surprised to see your race partner standing by your side. He gestures to his watch, then glances around at the Mercedes staff lingering in the simulation room. Lewis is as polite as ever, but you get his message nonetheless. It’s time to clear out.

Now that he’s drawn your attention to it, you realize that the hour has grown far later than you expected. “Sorry, guys,” you call out, “I’m done for the night, I swear.”

You hear a few chuckles, and head out after saying your goodbyes to the rest of your team. You make sure to thank them profusely; one consequence of you trying to work more hours is that some have to stay late too, which isn’t what you wanted.

Out of the training room and in the empty hallways, you feel the weight of all those hours building up. You drag a tired hand over your face, flashing a grateful look Lewis’ way.

“Thanks for the reminder to check out,” you say, “I thought it was much earlier.”

Lewis’ expression is thoughtful. “Trying to work hard isn’t a problem, I just want to make sure you’re not working too hard. You’re a good driver, Y/N. Right now, one of the biggest threats to your career is burnout.”

You shake your head. “No, the biggest issue is if I can’t win a race. Mercedes is only going to want me around so long, I need to prove that I deserve to be here.”

Lewis frowns, then pulls you aside, forcing both of you to stop walking so you have to focus on him. “That’s not true in the slightest,” he counters, “you’ve already proven enough, trust me. No one expected half as many podiums as you’ve already managed to get. Everyone here thinks the world of you.”

He smiles somewhat self-consciously as he says it, and you get the feeling that Lewis isn’t just talking about general team members when he mentions Mercedes’ belief in you.

You sigh. “I know, but getting this race win is important. It’ll be the sign I need to finally relax.”

Lewis chuckles. “I don’t think you could ever truly relax, but yeah, I get it. Just lay off a little, alright? I don’t want you exhausting yourself. You already have the ability to win, Y/N. You just need the right chance to show everyone else that.”

You nod. “I’ll try.”

“I know you will,” Lewis says, and for some reason that’s enough to convince you to lay down the last of your stress. You walk out of that building feeling far more peaceful than you have in a while.

Your next chance comes sooner than expected. Race weekends always seem to fly by, and before you know it, you’re halfway through the season. You walk into the paddock for another race, and this time, you get the feeling that this is it, this is your time. Maybe Lewis was right. Maybe this is where you make that difference.

You get to see your teammate on camera before the race, as both of you are grouped together for pre-race press conferences. You keep up your appearance of control, taught to you by months of fielding questions, and you do your best not to let anything faze you.

Of course, that’s easier said than done, but you’d say that you’re doing a pretty good job of it this time. Perhaps that’s because you have someone you trust sitting by your side, a quiet reminder that you can get through anything.

Towards the end of the press conference, Lewis gets a question about you. This isn’t uncommon; most journalists like to ask the two of you about each other, hoping to pick up on some sort of tension that they can spin into a story about another year with Mercedes drivers despising each other. They’re usually let down by the fact that you and Lewis don’t hate each other, not in the slightest.

“Lewis,” the reporter calls out, “in the beginning of the year, you said that everyone at Mercedes approved of your new teammate. Do you think that’s still true, and do you believe the rumors that Y/N will be switching over to a new team for the upcoming season?”

Lewis doesn’t have to turn to you to answer. Both of you have laughed over the team switch rumors many times before. They’re all ridiculous. As if you would leave Mercedes after fighting so hard to get here. As if you would leave this team. As if you could find a single place where you could belong even half as much.

“I still stand by Y/N, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lewis says pleasantly, “and no, I don’t think the rumors are true.”

Lewis reaches for his water bottle, ready for another question, but the reporter isn’t willing to give up quite so early.

“Why?” The reporter presses, “do you know something to win her over in your eyes that we don’t?”

This time Lewis does look at you. He leans over, stretching his arm around your shoulders in as clear a display of camaraderie as you’ve ever seen.

“I know that she’s my partner,” Lewis replies simply, “and that is all I need to believe in her.”

You think you might drown in the depths of your mind were it not for Lewis’ grip on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. He has always been your anchor, time and time again, even against the force of his own charm. You want to find the scared woman you’d been at the beginning of the season and tell her that everything is going to be alright. He’s convinced you of it at last.

That conference certainly sets off a round or two of whispering, but neither you nor Lewis let it affect you during the race. Qualifying finds you at P3, certainly not half bad at all. You have a brief moment to chat with your teammate in between the buzz of Mercedes backstage, and both of you congratulate each other on good quali results.

“This is your chance,” Lewis calls to you as he leaves.

You raise a hand in both farewell and strong acknowledgement. You can feel it thrumming in your bones as you head to your car the day of the race, the howling of it in your blood as you settle into your seat. Lights are off, and you are going to win this race. This is it.

Formula One is a tricky sport. Guarantees are impossible; at any moment, a parts failure or crash could turn a winning streak into a DNF. Still, you somehow know from the moment you start off that this is going to be your first victory. Through the hairpin turns, you feel it. Passing Charles and gaining P2, you taste it. Succeeding in a difficult overtake against Max to claim P1, it is within your grasp.

You blink your eyes and you’re across that line, your race engineer screaming across your radio that you’ve done it. Y/N L/N, you are a Formula One race winner. The feeling is like nothing else. You’ve won races before in your history of motorsport, obviously, but this is something altogether different. This is what it feels like to finally come out on top. It is absolutely marvelous.

Your team is just as thrilled as you. Running over to them, you feel yourself lifted in the air by dozens of hands, your hearing shot to bits by the screams of hundreds of people. You’re yelling too, you think. You aren’t aware of it until now, when your breathing is finally back to normal.

You glance around for Lewis but can’t make him out in the swarming crowds. You ask a nearby engineer what happened to him during the race, and discover that Lewis managed to fight it out for a final P2 result. Toto is thrilled, a Mercedes 1-2 finish.

“He was following you the whole time,” the engineer shouts, “said something over the radio about you being his guide. He was right behind you with every overtake.”

You spin in a slow circle, and at last you see him. Lewis is leaning against the door to the garage, separated from the crowds so he can get a better view. His gaze meets yours across the tumult, and despite the thunderous shouting from the spectators and your own team, you swear you can only hear the pounding of your heart in your ears.

You murmur something about heading to the cooldown room, then leave without another word. You can feel people reaching out to you, trying to say something, but you don’t stop, not for a second. Soon enough, you’re away from the crowds, ducking down a hallway, trying to find him.

Footsteps sound behind you. You turn and Lewis is there, grin as bright as the sun. He’s laughing, shouting something about how he knew this was going to happen. The two of you meet in the middle of the hall, and that is where you make your first mistake of the day.

Looking back on it, you don’t know what either of you expected. Thanks to the 1-2 finish, both of you were high on adrenaline and joy like nothing else, feeling so unbeatable that you could do anything, and so you did. Lewis reached for you, pulling you close just like he always did, but instead of embracing him back, you kissed him.

It was not supposed to happen. It did. In the end, it was just as inevitable as your first race win. You and Lewis were spiraling towards that point from the moment you met. The only change you could have made was not if the kiss would happen, but when.

All of this runs through your head in about half a heartbeat. Just as quickly as you kiss him, you break away. The exhilaration leaves you in a rush, replaced by a cold, creeping dread that you might have ruined everything with the only person to truly care about you outside of a car.

You turn and leave before you have to look at Lewis’ face and register the disappointment that must be there. Your steps are quick, hastening when you hear him calling after you. You hurry into your driver’s room, your mind a mess.

Lewis follows you in. You still can’t bear to look at him, and direct your words towards the stretch of wall in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady, “I shouldn’t have done it. Can we just pretend that nothing happened? Please?”

“I don’t want that,” Lewis responds.

You pivot slowly. His face is calm, his hand on the door, sliding it shut with a click.

“I don’t want that,” he repeats, “because I don’t want to go back to what we were doing before. I want you, Y/N. Only you.”

There’s a look in his eyes, one you’ve seen before. It’s the same sort of expression he wears when he wins a race, a championship, every challenge set before him. It occurs to you now that Lewis Hamilton is the sort of man who fights for what he wants and gets it. If what he wants is you, then no amount of pretending will keep the two of you as mere friends. He knows you feel the same way.

This time, the kiss is slower. Neither of you have any reason to run. You had thought that nothing could beat that feeling of winning in Formula One for the first time, but this, this might even top that victory.

Even after it ends, the two of you stay there, hands pressed against chests and backs, breathing in and out in unison. You wonder how long you would have lingered there still were it not for one of the engineers knocking on your door, startling you half out of your skin and announcing that it’s time for you to head to the podium.

You laugh at the irritated look on Lewis’ face, then shout back to your engineer that you’ll be there in a moment.

“Later,” you whisper back to Lewis, and even though he still looks annoyed at the interruption, he manages to stow it long enough to lead you back to the door. Celebrations await. The good part has only just begun.

f1 tag list: empty for now!

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 lewis #f1 lewis imagines #f1 lewis x reader #f1 lewis oneshot

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daisybianca · 8 months

Text

pairing: lewis hamilton x femalereader

summary: lewis gives you secretly his number. you're hesitant to call him at first, but when you do, things get a little much more interesting.

warning: mentions of sexual activities, cursing words

(a/n): this is part one. Here's part two and part three.

YOU WERE STANDING in the loud crowd of people. Each one of them holding out a shirt, a picture, or a shirt to sign, including you.

You held out a white hat with a Mercedes emblem on it, hoping Lewis would notice it.

When he finally reached you, he looked at you for a few seconds and smiled.

What the...?!

He signed the hat and moved into the next person.

And when you turned around ready to leave, you looked down at your hat, seeing a phone number written on it.

Fuck.

"My best friend is a total idiot," your best friend shouted from the balcony of your apartment.

"Stop calling me an idiot!" You climbed out of bed. "Or at least try to be discreet with your very generous opinions about me and get your ass inside! I've got some deliciously hot neighbors who don't particularly need to know everything about me."

"Have you even been listening to me this whole time that I've been lecturing you about matters of life and death?" She sighed dramatically.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "A random guy giving me his number isn't a matter of life a death, if you ask me."

"Did you just call Lewis Hamilton a random guy? My husband of nine years?"

"Oh, stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl," You brought your fingers to your temple and massaged the flesh there as if the movement could erase the brutal headache. "Besides, you dragged me to that race. Maybe it's your chance to hook up with your crush-since-for-ever!"

Your best friend's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting, filthy woman?"

"You shoukd call him. I'll give you his number right away." You strolled to find your back, but a habd found your wrist, stopping you.

"You're a mad woman. That's a fact."

You fake smiled. "Stop complimenting me that much. I don't think red suits on my cheeks."

"I swear, you're insane. The only reason I'm still by your side is because until 11th grade, you had my back when I sneaked out for parties, hooking up with whoever had a penis and a 6 pack."

You turned to face your best friend, hands in your hips and lips tightly shut together.

"You're seriously going to turn down this offer?" She asked.

"I wouldn't exactly call it an offer."

Your best friend rolled her eyes. "Yes. I'd call it stupidity, actually!" She waved her hands dramatically in the air. "THE Lewis Hamilton flirted with you, and you didn't even notice. Then he gave you secretly his number, and you're freaking going to ignore it?!"

"And what am I supposed to do about it? He's just a normal guy. Don't make him look like he's some God himself."

"First of all, yeah. Lewis is a God himself. He's mouth-watering hot, almost an 8 times champion, has a very cute dog, an 8 pack to stare at all day long, and much, much money," your best friend explained. "You should definitely call him. At least try to figure out why he gave you his number." She added in a calmer tone.

You exhaled and grabbed the white hat curled up under the sheets of your king sized bed. Gazing at the number, you then bit your lips. "Fine," you gave in. "But I'll call him tomorrow so that I don't seem much desperate, okay?"

"He was the one to make a very, very bold first move, and now you're afraid of embarrassment?!" She growled. "Come on! We only live once. Live some adventure, have some great sex, and experience a true love! I haven't seen you going head over heels for someone except that John guy in college."

"It hasn't been a long time since college," you said, contemplating whether you should count the years or not. You choose the second one. "I'll call him tonight. But don't think I'm doing it because I'm actually interested! I'm doing it exclusively for you." You explained, playing with the hem of your summer blue dress. "He probably is an attention freak who only dates supermodels."

"Baby, I assure you," your best friend came and sat next to you, her hand wrapping around you and caressing your cheek. "Supermodels would kill to look like you."

A smile appeared on your lips, and you gazed at your best friend. She always had a special eay about cheering you up and getting you out of your moody and grumpy vibe.

"Tonight." You said.

This has many potential to go wrong, you thought.

You didn't like wrong. You like safe and steady. But what if your best friend was actually right? (For the very first time of your 20 years old friendship.)

"Tonight." She repeated and smirked.

You turned your head and analyzed the hat with the calligraphic black numbers on it.

This couldn't get any more embarrassing.

***

You let out a long, deep, and shaky breath, then dialed the number.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Three beebs later, a male voice answered the call. "Hello?" The tone was familiar and harsh, but you couldn't be entirely sure that it was him.

"Hey," your voice came out steady, much to your surprise.

"Who is it?" The man replied and now you were sure it was him.

The British accent.

"Um, I noticed a number written on my hat that you signed and--"

"You're the girl from the race?" He interrupted you very much, complicated thoughts that would sooner turn into much more complicated words.

"Yes," you replied hesitantly. "Maybe one of them, at least. In case you gave your number to a few more girls for fun."

A laughter sounded. It was bried but somehow contagious. "I assure you, love, I don't usually spread my number across my fans' hats and shirts."

Your senses kicked in, and the temperature rised in your body.

Love.

"So, why was I the chosen one?" You asked.

"Oh," Lewis growled. "Maybe I could answer that question face to face." He said and then added a few moments later, "Join me for dinner tonight, will you, love?"

You laughed. "Isn't it kind of early for us to meet?"

"I'm not going to kidnap you, I promise." You could basixally hear him smile on the other line. "You can bring a friend of your for more safety." He suggested.

"So that it could be two of us to be kidnapped, right?"

There was a moment of silence. "Not sure about that." He spoke a few seconds later. "I only want you to be honest."

You smiled.

Is he flirting with me?

Of course he's flirting with you, you idiot!

"Are you asking me out on a date?" You asked.

"Yes." He replied instantly. "I couldn't wait another torturing hour, anticipating a call or a text from you."

"Okay. I'm in then."

"What about tonight at 9 pm?" He asked.

It was about 7, so you guessed there was plenty of time to get ready.

"Yes, that'd be great." You smiled.

"Perfect. May I pick you up myself at nine?"

"I'm surely capable of driving my own car, don't you think?" You laughed.

"Maybe," he said. "But why actually do it if I can drive for you? I'll come pick you up myself, I promise."

"No cops, no kidnappers?" You joked.

"I promise."

Lewis Hamilton would drive for you...?

"Okay, then." You spoke. "See you tonight, Lewis. I'll text you the address."

You went to end the call, but he stopped you before tapping the red button. "Wait, wait--"

"Hmm?"

"What's your name, love?"

Your heart roared in your chest and your cheeks reddened.

You adored that nickname.

"Actually, this was the first thing that I would mention to a guy, but love sounds much better, don't you think?"

Lewis laughed. "Tell me your name, and I promise I'll use love every single time instead of it."

"Okay," you said. "I'm (y/n)."

A moment of silence occurred again. "Prettier than love, honestly."

"Maybe, but not when you're the one to say it." You smiled. "You know, that British accent can actually kill."

"Hmm," his voice sounded from the other line. "Weird thing. That is exactly what I could tell about your eyes, as well."

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silvervioletvalentine · 3 months

Text

‘I know I've got a big ego, I really don't know why it's such a big deal, though!’

Pairing : Lewis Hamilton X FemOC Candy!

Summary- in which she’s a spoilt , Primadonna girl and Lewis will do anything to get her to be his girl.

Candy didn’t know when this whole thing had started, what it was about her that had him so hooked and so obsessed with the idea of getting her to become his girl , to let him be her man.

She had done everything she could to deter him , she turned up to a high class bitchiness level that she had never even reached before . More cunty and more cruel than her friends could believe , getting great amusement out of putting one of the hottest , arrogant men down a few pegs every time she seen his pretty face .

But sometimes he got beneath her skin and wormed his over the top affections , his poetic words and endless promises of the a luxurious life he could give her.

Candy was certain that he would give her his kidney If she so much as hinted at wanting it, his promise of never ending supply of love and gifts never did fade .

Even when she thought that maybe , just maybe he had finally grown sick of chasing after her like a dog after his favourite ball.

It had been quite for the last three weeks , far more quite than she had grown accustomed to over the last year of knowing Lewis.

It unsettled her , a weird ache settling between her chest as she contemplated the fact that maybe he really had grown bored with her silly games , of her constant mean rejections and petty excuses to deny his affections time and time again.

And candy thought that she would be fine with this , that it wouldn’t bother her when things came to a still end like they always did with men’s attention waned on her after time had passed .

But instead of the indifference that she expected to feel , she just felt like a hole had been run right through her .

A frown settling over her pretty face the last few weeks when she realised that Lewis really wasn’t reaching out anymore . He usually never went a couple days or more without some type of communication .

It bad her rattled and she didn’t like it at all.

So she picked up her phone and dialled his number before she could find the reason in her brain telling her not to .

She was almost surprised when after only a couple of rings , he actually picked up. But she was too annoyed and too keyed up to even think of why he sounded so amused when he sang a pleased hello.

She cut straight through him without even wasting a single breath .

“Have you been in a terrible accident ? Have you lost your legs? Your voice? Have you sudden developed amnesia and forgotten who I am?” She bit out at him , offended by his lack of attention these past three weeks.

Despite the way that the last time she had seen him, she had told him to shove his designer gifts for her where the sun didn’t shine and to leave her the fuck alone.

To be fair , she had been on her period . Pissed off from the constant pain and moody from her suffering . And secondly , she hasn’t expected him to actually leave her the fuck alone.

This wasn’t how their game went at all. He should have been here with some pretty , sparkly things while telling her how much he had missed her.

What the hell was he playing at , ignoring her like this?

“Missed me sweetheart? I thought you didn’t want to see me? Changed your mind again?” He teased her , a giddy tone in his phone at the thought of her missing him so much.

It had been torture for him not to be Constantly on her ass and around her like he usually was , but he had just wanted to see what would happen if he really did follow through with her demands to fuck right off.

Half expecting Her to never reach out again, he was pleasantly surprised to hear her furious voice shouting at him again. It made his body relax and a smug grin settle on his face .

Candy let out a infuriated noise “no I didn’t! I was actually - I was actually just calling to let you know that I’ve moved on! adiós to you!” She shrilled.

Picking up her fluffy cat and hugging him to her chest with her free arm for comfort , the same rag doll that Lewis had gotten her for simply looking pretty this summer.

Lewis let out a chuckle , knowing her like his favourite well read book.

“Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guys name? Anyone I know?” He played along. Putting his phone on speaker as he drove along the familiar road to her home .

Candy scowled to herself , angrily pacing her room at how amused he sounded . Her eyes traced the framed pictures on her wall, landing on one from her favourite band .

She blinked .

“No you don’t know him. His name is - his name is axl. The hottest man I’ve ever seen, we’re in love.” She blurted out wanting to make him as upset as he had made her these last few weeks of ignoring her .

Lewis was clearly grinning , she could hear his smug , beautiful grin through the damn phone .

“Cool name . Well If you’re happy…” he trailed off .

Candy was officially enraged “you don’t care?!” She almost screamed angrily. Tears filling her eyes .

His voice was careful as he replied smugly “do you want me to care sweetheart?”

She paused , sniffled then huffed loudly . “No. I don’t care if you don’t care!”

Lewis grinned to himself “okay cool. So just to be clear , you’ve moved on with some guy named Axl and you don’t care that I don’t care?” He teased.

Candy put down her poor cat and threw herself down onto the couch with a scowl on her face , wrapped herself in a blanket and tried not to cry.

“Correct.” Was all she hiccuped “well then- I’m glad we’ve cleared this up asshole. Thanks for not caring!” She made sure to get the last word in before she angrily hung up the phone .

Then she screamed into her pillow .

Only Abruptly pausing her long scream halfway when a loud knock echoed on her door.

She quickly straightened up and threw on Lewis’s hoodie that he had left last time he was here annoying her . Stomping to the door with the sourness of someone who felt like she has been dumped even though she wasn’t even in a relationship to start with.

What was her life?

She threw open the door ready to grab whatever parcel was being delivered , then froze as she came face to face with a grinning Lewis at her door.

Dressed in a beautiful dark red tracksuit set , skin glowing and hair braided back perfectly . Candy suddenly felt self conscious as she became acutely aware of her messy bed hair and mascara rimmed eyes , dressed in nothing but pj shorts and his hoodie .

“Hey baby.” He simply said after a few seconds of her gaping at him with wide eyes. Then he casually shuffled past her body, his band grazing her hip gently as he stepped into her apartment like it was his own.

It took her a few moments to gather her bearings before she was slamming the door shut and turning to him with a mean glower on her face . Heart racing in her chest at his sudden arrival.

“What are you doing here?!” She exclaimed shocked , and annoyingly relieved that he was finally there with her .

She kicked his foot , hard. Angry with him.

Lewis just smiled , leaned forward to gently run his fingers through her hair affectionately.

“Came to see you and your new boyfriend Axl.” His eyes darted to her picture of Axl rose on her wall as he said it.

Candy swallowed leaning into his touch for a moment before coming to her senses and batting his hand away.

“You just missed him.” She lied.

Lewis chuckled , amused ? knowing that she was lying and knowing that she knew that he knew that she was lying too.

“How convenient.” Was all he replied before taking a seat at the end of her couch, sitting on the arm of it . He looked up at her with his smile softening into something more warm and lovely .

“I’ve missed you. You look as beautiful as ever.” He told her softly , taking a hold of the hem of her shorts to tug her closer between his legs .

She let him. Cheeks flushing lightly as she gazed into his warm eyes , feeling her body turned to mush.

“Really?” She wondered then looked around him with a slight frown “where’s my gift?��

Lewis let out a loud laugh at how spoilt she was, though he supposed it was partly his fault. He never did arrive without a gift for his sweetheart after all.

“Don’t I get a hug first? I know you missed me.” He teased her, trailing his hand up to her waist and gently rubbing her soft skin beneath his hoodie .

She let her arms rest over his broad shoulders , pouting down at him.

“You said you didn’t care that I moved on.” She mumbled annoyed with him still.

He chuckled , hugging her to him . Resting his chin on her stomach as he peered up at her beneath his dark lashes .

“What? Moved on with Axl rose your imaginary boyfriend? Don’t be silly baby. You know I’m the only one for you.” He told her softly , smiling up at her with affection written all over his beautiful face.

Candy frowned down at him , playing with the diamond stud in his ear .

“I don’t like you.” She reminded him just out of habit by now.

Instead of getting upset , he just giggled at her stubbornness to Admit what he already knew. “Then why were you upset that I didn’t care?”

“I wasn’t upset and I don’t care that you don’t care Lewis. I just think it was mean to abandon me like that for three weeks . I thought you were dead.” She dramatically snapped .

She had watched him at his races . She knew that he was perfectly fine. Which only upset her more because then what other excuse did he have for ignoring her like that then?

Death was the only reasonable excuse to do that!

He rose a brow at her , lifting her hoody to look at the sparkly diamond H belly stud that she had on. The same one he had given her last time he saw her.

He bent down his head and gently kissed it, smirking to himself as he felt her whole body shiver against his lips.

“Don’t like me ignoring you? Now you know how I feel. Isn’t nice is it?” He mumbled against another soft kiss on her belly . Only pulling away when she slapped his forehead not so gently .

He looked up to see her glaring down at him, furious.

“I do not ignore you like that!” She denied.

He rolled his eyes “you told me to go fuck myself the last time I was here. Then refused to pick up my calls the rest of the week.” He reminded her.

She just scoffed “I was upset! I was bleeding from my vagina Lewis! Not everything is about you! I wasn’t in the mood for your games!” She argued.

He paused, then tilted his head with a slight frown. “You could have just told me that. I would have gotten you a heating pad and some chocolate. You didn’t have to be so mean baby.” He said.

She just sniffled at him , gently rubbing at the back of his neck with her fingers absentmindedly. “I’m not mean.”

The look he gave her was full of disbelief “no? Then why aren’t you my girl then?” His question had her stumped.

She spluttered for answer , blinking rapidly . “Well- cause I’m not impressed.” She answered him shortly.

He barked out a laugh “no?” He grinned looking up at her with eyes full of amusement .

“The jewellery and the clothes weren’t enough? The cat , the paid of loans and your car? Still not impressive enough?” He listed off all of the things he had gotten her this past year . Growing more amused by the second as he watched her stubbornly shake her head at him.

“Nope.” She muttered arrogantly .

“Then what would it take for you to be my girl?” He wanted to know.

She searched her mind for something “a mansion like yours. With a king size bed. And - and your Ferrari.” She said the most ridiculous thing she could think of. Something he couldn’t give her.

His eyes searched her face for a long moment before simply humming . “Will you stay at mine tonight with me? Roscoe misses you.” He said already getting to his feet .

He grabbed her phone and keys from the table , not even waiting for an answer before heading to her door. Knowing she would follow him.

She did .

“What will we do? I don’t want to bored all night.” She huffed as she followed him out.

Letting him lock her door, absentmindedly grabbing his hand as he lead her down her apartment stairs . Missing the way he smiled down at her , shaking his head fondly .

They were almost to the car when he finally responded , making her skin flush red and knees weaken as he bluntly told her

“I’m going to fuck you so hard till you know no other name than mine . Then I’m going to eat you out for however long it takes for you to realise that there’s no one better for you than me baby.” He kissed the side of her head before pushing her down into the passenger seat casually .

Candy just blinked up at him in shock , face red and belly fluttering . “Oh. Okay.” She weakly spluttered in response .

Lewis just smirked and flicked her chin lightly before closing the door shut, jogging around to the drivers side quickly .

And Lewis never broke his promises. And by the time the stars were twinkling bright , his name was all she could scream .

When candy woke up the next morning , it was to the sound of Lewis ‘awwing’ loudly at something .

She grumbled to herself as she pushed herself out of his bed , blushing at the fact that she was wearing nothing but his shirt .

Lewis having put It on her while she exhaustedly let him look after her and tuck her into his chest , kissing her head gently as she drifted off to sleep.

Yawning loudly , she stomped her way down the fancy stairs of his home . Grumpy from being woken up .

“What the hell are you awwing at you weirdo?” She called out to Lewis the moment she caught sight of him in the hallway.

He looked over at her with a bright smile on his face , beckoning her over for a hug. She immediately fell into his chest , still tired as she lazily hugged him back.

“Roscoe loves kitties . It’s so cute.” Lewis casually told her , stroking her hair away from her face as she tried to wake up properly.

“Huh?” She let out confusedly wondering why he looked so smug and amused . Then she turned her head and froze as she saw roscoe cuddled up with mr snuggles , her cat .

She blinked at her cat in Lewis’s home , with his dog. Wondering if she was still dreaming .

Then She glanced over to the front room and saw her Tiffany lamps and her cushions on his couch , glancing down at the carpet to see her heart shaped rug there too.

She gasped loudly in shock “what the fuck?!” She immediately turned back to Lewis with wide eyes, gaping at him.

“Why are my things In your house? Why is my kitty here? What the fuck?!” She shouted in absolute disbelief .

Lewis just smiled at her serenely , clearing pleased with himself . He leaned down to stroke her cat when he walked over to him purring , leaving Candy to just blink at him in disbelief .

“You said that the only way you would be with me is if you had a mansion with a king side bed and well…” he pointedly looked around his mansion and the king sized bed she had gotten out of . Grinning proudly at her as he did so.

“What’s mine is now yours baby. And also…” he dug his hand into his hoodie pocket and pulled out some keys .

He opened up her placed and gently placed them in her hand. “There’s my keys to my Ferrari that you wanted as well.” He said.

Candy felt like she was going to pass out .

Gaping at this insane man that was more than happy to give her everything he had. She felt her heart swell in her chest, briefly looking down at the Ferrari keys in her hand and all her things in his home .

She spluttered “but-what? I can’t just live with you! That’s insane!” Her hands were trembling

around the keys at his casual devotion to giving her whatever the hell she wanted .

Lewis just shrugged casually , walking over to her slowly like she was a spooked animal. And maybe she was , she sure felt like a deer in headlights then.

What the fuck was her life?

“Why not? I’m in love with you and I’m pretty sure you’re in love with me. I want you by my side , always. And what better way than living with you?” He simply explained like it was that easy. And maybe for him it was .

Candy just looked at him like he had grown a third head.

“That’s pretty arrogant to assume that I love you Lewis!” She snapped at him stubbornly . Blushing red. “What if I hated your guts? This would be real awkward for you!”

Lewis just laughed at her attitude “oh yeah? So the ‘please Lewis! Fuck me harder Lewis! Just like that baby! all that was because you hated me was it?” He smugly copied her high pitched voice screaming last night .

Making her quickly slap his bicep with a embarrassed gasp, face feeling like it was on fire.

“Lewis!” She shrieked while he just giggled harder

“shut up! I do not sound like that! How dare you?!”

Lewis rolled his eyes at her fondly “how dare me? How dare you! Why are you being so god damn stubborn? Why can’t you just admit that you love me? We could be married by now if you just stopped being so mean!” He exclaimed right back at her in exasperation.

But never angry, no, not with her. He loved her

Too damn much after all.

“I’m not mean! Fuck you!” She yelled back.

“You already did and will again after you just admit that I’m right!”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you? Mr always right!” She sarcastically shouted back.

Lewis snorted a laugh “so you don’t want me then? Don’t want to live with me and drive my Ferrari?” He challenged her.

She paused , then fidgeted with the diamond tennis bracelet that Lewis had gotten for her , on her wrist .

“I didn’t - I didn’t say that-“

He grinned smugly “admit it then. Go on.” He gave her a nudge , utterly beaming by now .

Candy huffed like a child and rolled her eyes at him . “I just - are you serious?” She eyed him like he was playing some nasty , elaborate joke on her . Waiting for him to shout ‘gotchu girl!’.

Lewis squinted his eyes at her in disbelief “are you serious?” He returned the question to her in slight annoyance at her doubting him after everything .

“I’m obviously very serious baby , my god! Your cat is in my house and I just have you my Ferrari! What a weird, expensive joke that would be!” He exclaimed.

What a strange woman he was in love with he thought , so suspicious of him , Jesus!

Candy sniffed , clutched her diamond necklace on her neck (another gift from him) and slowly nodded her head.

“right . Well..” she uncomfortably cleared her throat , not one for being sappy or emotional over a man but damn , her heart was about to burst right now.

“Thanks babe.” She settled on lamely instead.

Lewis looked at her grimacing face then burst out into hysterical giggles . “You’re so welcome sweetheart. Come ‘ere” he tugged her over to him by her folded arm, grinning into her hair as he hugged her tightly to his chest .

His stubborn , spoilt girl.

Candy hugged him back without any hesitation, squeezing his waist tight . Sighing in content , she planted a gentle kiss on his chest .

“Lew?” She spoke up after another minute of just standing there cuddling in the front room while their pets stared at them like they were watching a entertaining show .

His smile was evident in his voice “yeah baby?”

She sighed in defeat , too happy to care about her pride anymore . “You’re so right by the way.” She admitted to him quietly .

He hummed smugly “yeah?”

She nodded with a huff “yeah.” She pulled away slightly to look into his eyes , he was so fucking beautiful it made her want to cry.

All mine. She almost growled , kissing his mouth just because she could . Lewis sighed against her lips happily

“Say it baby. Come on..” he whispered against her mouth , lips curling into a grin when she just sighed again.

“I love you. So much. And I missed you so don’t do that shit to me again. I’m not one to be ignored.” She told him sternly , pointing a nail into his chest.

He giggled and kissed her again “noted. Do not ignore my girl again.” He murmured then “and I love you too. You stubborn, mean girl.”

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have your Mercedes too? Just for Wednesdays?”

A pause , then “why Wednesday’s?” He asked amused.

She shrugged as she let him pull her down onto the couch to continue making out , side eyeing her blanket on his couch.

When the hell did he even do all this? She wondered? Still In disbelief that he had all her things moved into his home (their home now?) while she was asleep.

Was a sneaky little guy.

“Just to shake things up a little.” She replied simply.

Lewis didn’t even hesitate to agree.

Maybe she’d buy him a vegan waffle for dinner to repay him, she thought with a grin as she accepted his Mercedes car keys too.

She needed some new keychains , she thought mindlessly . Imagining the looks on her friends face when she rolled up in his Ferrari for their weekend brunches .

If this was a game , she had totally won. She thought to herself contently as she felt Lewis trail kisses down her neck.

A new mansion, two new cars and Lewis fucking hamilton as her man.

Oh yeah, she had totally won in life .

#lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #lewis hamilton oneshot

234 notes · View notes

dpr-stay · 9 months

Text

Cupid | LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, reader is a press officer, don't think gender is stated specifically, implied sexual content, second chance romance, she is not edited, zhou guanyu does not crash, and there are swears.

WC: ~7.7k (kill me now)

I literally hate this, im so sorry. I haven't edited it because it's late but I hope it's not bad. I'll edit it tomorrow. also how is it so longgg, it was supposed to be 5k at best. (why have i written two fics about exes having dinner?)

Being Valtteri Bottas’ PR Agent was a wild ride. From being hired by him in his early days at Williams, to his successful years at Mercedes, and now at Alfa Romeo, you’d gotten to know the man through all stages of his career. You’d been there to field off questions about his declining performance at Mercedes and had been the first one to slam open the door and start yelling at him after the ‘cheated-on-his-wife’ rumours started floating around.

However, the paycheck was good and, when he wasn’t causing you to spend many nights in meetings about his public image, you didn’t mind the guy, happy to have to follow him around the world for most of the year.

The whole Formula One thing was also a bonus, you having been hooked on the sport after your Dad introduced it to you at an early age. You’d spent countless hours watching your dad watch the car’s speed by on his tv set, finally deciding to pay attention to the race after a few years. And boy, did you love it.

You’d spent many an early birthday present forcing your parents to take you to the Grand Prix nearest to you, saving up for months to be able to afford the tickets and the travel. Something about the sport just intrigued pre-teen you, nothing to do with Michael Schumacher at all.

So, when the chance to be a F1 driver’s personal PR agent had landed on your advertisement agency’s desk, the place you had worked in the early days of your career, you had snatched it up quickly. The work started well before the start of the 2013 season, you having to meet the man himself and quickly getting adjusted to the many people you’d need to know to network for the guy.

You’d also met Maldonado’s PR agent, one from the Williams team, who quickly brought up the ideas of doing interviews and press releases between the two drivers. You were swept into the world of the sport, beginning to get into the swing of things.

Years passed, as did teammates, and Valtteri got signed to Mercedes alongside Lewis Hamilton. You didn’t know if your employment would carry over to Mercedes, but a team shirt and a letter letting you know about when Valtteri’s responsibilities started being mailed to your house confirmed it pretty quickly.

The atmosphere at Mercedes was more professional, though the team still treated each other as family. You’d often see engineers leaving together, going to go get drunk and celebrate Lewis’ common wins and Valtteri’s less common, but still happening, wins.

You’d often spend hours at a time bargaining for spots for Valtteri in interviews and in PR related spots, and it worked. He was a well-known man, your job was practically done. The bosses were (finally) appeased, Valtteri was happy, and you could finally relax after years straight of stressing about social media and whatever the hell a vine was and if that was still relevant.

And then you’d gone and got yourself trapped in an elevator with Lewis Hamilton.

Being a Mercedes employee, though only temporary, you’d met Lewis often during interviews and team meetings. However, you never really know a person until you spend five hours sitting opposite each other in a broken-down elevator, only being able to see each other by the light of your phone's flashlight, waiting for some sort of help as there was no signal.

Your conversation had started off hesitantly, you incredibly intimidated by the several-time world champion and him having a fleeting idea of who you were. The conversation had eventually fizzled out till the lift jolted, and a creaking sound echoed into the cavern of the contraption.

Your telling groan that you couldn’t hold back elicited a concerned “You alright?” from Lewis and then you eventually had to tell the professional F1 driver, who raced cars at over 200km/h every other weekend, about your fear of small spaces.

He hadn’t judged you for it, something which you thought was rather nice, and had even tried to adjust for you, moving to the very other side of the small box. Granted, your feet still touched, but you thought the sentiment was nice.

He was more down to earth than you expected, you knew he wasn’t a prick but you weren’t expecting him to be… kind. Soon enough, after a few more questions about why you were afraid of small spaces and other questions, you both had spiraled into boundless conversation.

You had talked about things you’d never talked about with someone, let alone a practical stranger, his soothing accent making it easier to open up to him. Things like the future and where it would take you, uncertainties about both your careers, even relationships, the type of conversations you only have trapped in a suspended metal box in the dark.

Lewis was a fantastic person to talk to. He’d listen when he needed to and returned your conversation with equal energy, as though he actually wanted to be part of the conversation. For some reason he had decided to trust you and had talked freely to you, showing you a side that you doubted many people had seen.

Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t see your face or maybe you just gave off a trustworthy vibe. You didn’t know. All you knew was that, all of a sudden, you were one of Lewis Hamilton’s most trusted confidants.

Even after someone had finally realised you were missing and exactly where you were, calling more firemen than necessary to bust open the lift though you supposed that’s what you were supposed to do when a ‘Sir’ was trapped in an elevator, Lewis had asked for your phone number and had continued to text you.

You’d met up a few times over the season, quickly becoming incredibly close friends who told each other everything. You’d had to deal with a few teases from Valtteri, who’d shut up when you reminded him who controlled the public’s opinion of him.

During the off-season Lewis had invited you to come to his house for dinner. You’d went, it was lovely, and then you’d unknowingly experienced the moment of truth in your weird friendship/developing relationship.

You’d been sitting at Lewis’s dinner table, eagerly chatting to the man about your family, leaning in closer and closer until the both of you were nearly leaning over the table. He’d cooked for you, an act you found incredibly sweet for the multi-millionaire who probably had ten private chefs on speed-dial, and you’d spent the evening wining and dining.

You had both finished your main courses, talking about everything and anything when a loud bang had come from the upstairs of the man’s house. He glossed right over it, ignoring the loud sound. You had been about to comment on it but, at his nonchalance, you deigned not to.

The conversation had continued, you both moving from his table to the couch he owned, which probably cost more than your salary earned you, when another loud sound, which sounded suspiciously like a bark, reverberated through his open-plan house.

He sighed loudly at your questioning look, deciding that he couldn’t ignore it this time. He opened his mouth to speak but, before he could utter a syllable, the tapping of claws sounded against the stairs located, conveniently, in view of his living room.

You looked up and there stood one of the largest Bulldogs you had ever seen. It was almost majestic, the way that he stood there on the steps, panting as though he’d just run a race. His brown coat was shining in the twilight glow, his muzzle a white colour in comparison to the rest of his body.

He took a few steps down the stairs, tripping on one before regaining his posture. You could only watch in wonder, mouth agape, as the beautiful beast padded down the steps and took a turn, approaching you head on.

The dog was a thing of beauty, his droopy face conveying no discernable emotion except from being tired. He slowly made his way to the couch, you doing nothing but watching as he trotted along the hardwood floors. You didn’t catch Lewis staring at you warily as you were only focused on the thing that younger you would’ve fought a clan of savage chipmunks in order to have.

The dog eventually made his way in front of you, plopping his behind down on the carpet and staring up at you questioningly. You didn’t know what emotion your face was conveying, you only knew it was very silent.

You cautiously reached a hand down to rub between his ears. After a second of your rubbing he made a gruff ‘woof’ sound and you couldn’t help it, an entranced whine releasing from your throat. Collapsing onto the floor beside the dog, you forgot about Lewis, focusing completely on the magnificent specimen of a dog.

Roscoe, as you’d soon come to know via a fond Lewis, took to you as soon as you took to him. Within a minute the dog was letting you handle him as much as you’d like, rolling over on his back to let you get his stomach and vigorously licking your arm as you pet him. Praises spilled from your lips abound, making sure to let the bulldog know just how much of a good boy he was.

At a cough you turned from your spot on the floor to face Lewis, the radiant grin he had on his face making you feel as though you’d passed a test of sorts. Roscoe also turned to look at Lewis before turning back to you and huffing.

He moved forward, stepping on your legs, trying to sit on you, before falling off the slope onto the carpet. You then picked him up and cuddled him, trying to keep eye-contact with Lewis as you did so. Lewis’ eyes had turned into half moons as he watched you love on his dog, his smile consuming his face.

“I’m glad he likes you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he didn’t.” He admitted, placing his drink on a wooden table that stood beside the couch. He then slowly slid from the couch onto the floor beside you, leaning his body down till he was face-to-face with Roscoe and gave the dog a kiss.

“He’s got good taste.” You commented and Lewis released a laugh, glancing up at you.

“Me or the dog?” He asked after a second and you paused, overdramatically placing a finger on your chin and tilting your head as though you were thinking. You then shrugged and he laughed again, you not missing the incredibly familiar twinkle in his eye as he looked at you.

After that, you’d found that Lewis was a lot more eager to meet at his house. Roscoe, accompanied by the sheepish man, was bowling you over nearly every time the door was opened to you. Lewis had also made the trip to your house, though you doubted he’d seen a house as small as yours within the last ten years. He seemed to like it though, settling in quickly and even staying there when you were at work. The off-season had continued like that, casually building your relationship between his training and your many meetings with Alfa Romeo, trying to settle the discussions about your contract after Valtteri’s move.

You’d finally gotten somewhere just before the season started after having to plead to not be replaced by an inside hire, Valtteri backing you up and stating he wouldn’t race without you. Alfa Romeo had accepted and then you finally had the contract you’d wanted.

You’d left the meeting, Valtteri in tow, before turning around and hugging the man for having your back before you both said goodbye and made your way home and to the gym respectively.

The uber ride you’d hired was peaceful, the man staring straight ahead as you looked out the window, your small apartment building coming into your view. You smiled as you saw it, thinking of the Lewis you’d left in bed that morning, having to pull yourself out before him to go to your meeting.

The climb up the steps (the elevator didn’t work which Lewis hadn’t complained about when you’d explained it in embarrassment) had seemed to take forever no matter how fast you climbed. When you’d finally made it to your floor, you had to practically drag yourself across the hallway to your door, unlocking it with force after the lock had gotten stuck.

Immediately you could tell something was off, the place seemed colder than that morning and it didn;t have to do with the fact the thermostat had broken a few months ago. All the lights were off and there was no noise coming from within, a telltale sign that Lewis was somewhere within whether he was listening to music or talking to someone.

That was ok, though, he might’ve been at a meeting like the one you’d had, though you doubted there would be less than 7 zero’s on his contract. But that’s the difference between a big team and Alfa Romeo, you work with what you get.

You looked to the side table, placing your keys in the bowl, noticing the absence of Lewis’ keys. But that made sense if he was at a training session or a meeting, so you continued into the apartment, losing components of your outerwear as you went.

You’d lost your scarf and blazer as you’d made your way to your bedroom, prepared to change from your business outfit into one of Lewis’ many shirts when you opened your closet. A quick rummage and you couldn’t find any. Weird.

You checked again before moving to another part of your closet and noting the lack of his hoodies or jumpers, which was even weirder as you’d stolen a few of them last week. You turned and moved to your dresser, an old antique wooden piece you’d picked up from an op-shop a few years ago after seeing it and falling in love.

You’d opened your drawer specifically for pajamas and found everything you’d acquired through your time of living independently but Lewis’ shirts. Moving to the many drawers Lewis used specifically when he’d stay over, a small inkling of panic settled in your stomach however you ignored it and opened the drawer.

Nothing. There was nothing left in the drawer. You quickly opened all his other drawers, almost pulling them out of the dresser with the force you were applying. All of them were empty. This caused the inkling to grow to an uneasy pool. Maybe he’d taken them to wash them at his place?

You stepped back from the dressers, incredibly confused and vehemently denying the growing panic in you. You walked, not ran, into your bathroom. The lonely toothbrush sitting on the counter sent a strange feeling, almost like adrenaline, rushing through you. Opening the cupboards under the counter you noted the loss of his extra face wipes and the moisturizers he insisted on using.

You ran to your kitchen, not seeing anything off, before slamming into the back of the couch in your open plan apartment in your haste to get into the living room. The action caused pain to ring through your shins but you barely registered it, the missing cd’s that normally sat on the table your tv was balancing on that he had insisted were better than Spotify the only thing you were focused on.

A quick look down the hallway to the door of your apartment only furthered your dread, noticing details you hadn’t seen before. The missing stack of shoes that he normally toed-off at the door and the missing extra wallet he left on the side table in case someone broke in almost confirmed your fears.

But what really set in the fact that he’d packed up and left was the missing leash that normally hung from a hook you’d installed specifically on the back of your front door. The inscribed ‘Roscoe’ on the hook seemed almost mocking from your place on the couch, but you couldn’t really acknowledge it, the tears filling your eyes blurring your vision.

You stood up from the couch and stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the open drawers shut, not hearing the splintering of the vintage wood. You picked up your phone from your bed that you’d tossed earlier in your haste to become relaxed, and opened your messages.

He hadn’t sent anything to you explaining his leaving and when you went to send a text (‘??? Where are you’) the message that you’d been blocked popped up at the bottom of the screen. You could only stare at the screen for a second, the implications of what he’d done sending emotional shockwaves through you.

You barked out a sardonic laugh, your hand flopping from its position in front of you to be held uselessly at your side, your phone slipping from your grasp onto the floor. The world went still for a moment before you lifted a hand to cover your vision, the tears slipping from your eyes wetting your hand.

You sat alone on your bed that had, not even 24 hours ago, contained what you had thought was your future. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry at this point, the grief for something that was evidently never meant to be controlling your thoughts. A long deep sigh left you before it was interrupted by a sob. And then another sob.

You ended up falling asleep alone that night, still dressed in the smart pants and white shirt you’d worn to your meeting. Your only lullaby was your sobbing, not the sound of his gentle humming, something which you kept reminding yourself of.

Valtteri had commented that you’d seemed sad the next time he’d seen you but neither of you had addressed it past that, him knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He especially knew to shut up after the intense glare you had fixed him.

The season had started again and, while you were prepared for your duties as a PR agent, Valtteri’s full calendar being proof enough for that, you weren’t sure you were prepared to see Lewis again. Especially after the news that he was already seeing someone else had come out a week before the first race.

You’d returned Valtteri’s knowing glance with as much strength as you could muster and promptly ignored his further pitying look, choosing to feel sorry for yourself at home that night. You’d also ignored his attempts to try to get you to talk to Tiffany, you liked the woman but you didn’t think you should burden her with your ridiculous, because that’s what it was looking back, delusions that you could’ve been something more than just a summer fling to Lewis Hamilton.

You’d successfully managed to avoid Lewis the whole first couple of races, eventually beginning to see fleeting glances of him throughout the paddock. Seeing him for the first time with his partner had hurt but, looking at her, you couldn’t exactly blame him.

She was gorgeous and, after you’d done a bit of searching, was exactly his previous type. She was wealthy and had a respectable job, someone worthy of being with him. You’d made sure to avoid him after that.

You kept on at work though, determined to be the best goddamn PR Agent Alfa Romeo had ever seen. And you were succeeding. Valtteri was getting brand deals and after more positive press around him and his dedication to the sport regardless of his company, you were finally able to relax.

And by relaxing, you meant getting wasted at a bar. In fairness, last time you’d relaxed you’d ended up more broken hearted than you’d ever been, so releasing some steam at a bar had seemed an appropriate route.

And it was, being able to drink away your sorrows and spill your guts out to a bartender in a small rundown pub in the middle of Canada was the perfect way to unwind. You hadn’t told the whole story of course, you resented the guy for what he did to you but you didn’t want to tarnish his reputation, but it was nice to tell it to some random person who probably didn’t even understand the way you were switching between Swedish, English, and Finnish.

You’d woken up the next morning with a heavy weight off your shoulders and a nice Canadian man in your hotel bed, sending him off with a promise to call before promptly adding his phone number to your phone. Valtteri could tell something had changed when you’d walked into his driver’s room the next day, prepared to tell him about his schedule. You greeted his questioning look with a smirk and he shook his head, a disbelieving look on his face.

You’d found that you hadn’t thought about Lewis the whole day, when you’d settled into your hotel bed the night after the race. A warm feeling had spread through you at that, the knowledge that the man no longer consumed your thoughts making you feel good inside.

The next race weekend you were ready to go, the British GP making you pumped. You weren’t so pumped when Valtteri DNF’ed and were mentally preparing answers for the Finn as the race continued, briefing him on every response you could think of in relation to the gearbox issue. Zhou Guanyu did well in his race though, so the garage was quite excited for him, even though Valtteri hadn’t finished.

When the interviews had rolled around after all of the celebrations, you were following Valtteri on the walk to his first interview, eventually stopping to the side of him as a mic was held in front of him and the cameras had started rolling.

Typical questions such as if he was happy for his teammate and if he was happy with the car were asked, some weirder questions such as if he thought the car’s not-working had to do with some obscure political issue before eventually the interview was wrapped up and the Finn moved on to his next interview, you following him.

You could see other drivers beginning to arrive in the area, being interviewed before you quickly looked away, not wanting to see if he was close. You’d managed to avoid him thus far today, how hard could a few more hours be?

You’d thought that before you heard the faint but tell-tale bark of Roscoe and you had to force yourself not to turn around and run to the dog. Lewis had mentioned bringing the dog to his home race at some point while you were together, so you weren’t exactly surprised at Roscoe’s presence.

Valtteri’s interview was continuing in the background of your mind as you thought over the nights you’d spent cuddled with Roscoe and Lewis. Did you miss him or Lewis more? Did Lewis even miss you?

Valtteri nudged you in the side, his eyes wide and you snapped back to reality, staring at the interviewer.

“Pardon?” You asked, politely trying to make it seem as though you just hadn’t heard them and were paying attention.

“I just asked if Valtteri preferred Mercedes or Alfa Romeo.” The interviewer filled in and you turned to Valtteri, a questioning look on your face. Surely he could handle that question? He vehemently shook his head. Alrighty then.

You brought out both your hands in front of you, prepared to gesture out an answer for Valtteri to say. But before you could a large force had pounded into your back, knocking you to the floor and landing on top of you. The weight was heavy but it was warm and… was it licking you? “Roscoe! Oh my god, I am so sorry!” A voice came from behind you.

Oh no.

While you had been mentally preparing an answer for Valtteri, Lewis had been walking around the media area, Roscoe in tow on a leash. The dog had been restless ever since he’d entered the pen, Lewis echoing that sentiment as he saw a brief glimpse of you. He wanted nothing more than to run to you but he couldn’t with media responsibilities weighing him down.

Eventually the interviewer’s fill of Roscoe was full and he was able to do a little bit of wandering around the area. Lewis had handed the leash of the now-agitated Roscoe to Angela as he went to go answer some more questions, the press incredibly curious about the dynamics of the car.

Angela, bless her soul, had tried her best to wrangle the dog, but his continuous pulling and barking was beginning to annoy some of the media. Seeing this, Angela had decided to just let the dog pull her away, Roscoe almost dragging her as he went.

He had pulled her almost completely across the room before he got too violent and managed to rip the leash from her hands, leaving Angela stumbling in the dust as he began to run. Lewis had watched this happen, and continued to watch in horror as Roscoe ran up behind you.

One gigantic leap and you were pushed to the floor, the big bulldog nuzzling into your neck. The world seemed to almost go quiet before Angela ran over, trying to grab the collar of the rabid dog, asking if you were ok.

Lewis had started to move over, dismissing the reporter who he was talking to as he made his way to his dog and his ex-lover. He saw you roll over on the floor, a small sad smile on your face as the dog began slobbering over you. A few more steps and he was in front of you, scolding Roscoe and apologising as he effortlessly grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him back.

You tried not to look in his eyes, knowing all your effort of trying to get over him would be null if you saw his face. You ignored the hand he extended, instead smoothing down your clothes as you sat on the floor, only pulling yourself up when he awkwardly lowered his hand, framing it as if you just didn’t see.

He knew though, he’d developed the unfortunate skill of reading you.

You didn’t look at him as you assured him you were fine and that he should continue with his interviews, only sparing a glance at Angela who looked at you with a regretful hint in her eyes. You didn’t want to think about that more than you had to, waving them off to more interviews.

You turned around before you could see Lewis leave, thankfully not seeing the longing he had displayed over his face as he turned away, back to his interviews.

Would you have been able to hold it together if you’d seen the look he’d shot you? No. Were you when you watched it back after the weekend? Also no.

You turned back to Valtteri, cracking a quick joke, before he got back to his interviews. You spent the rest of that day picking gravel out of your palms, trying to forget about the whole interaction. You wouldn’t let this break your progress, the handsome Canadian man in your contacts getting a ring that night as you tried to distract yourself.

After a few days of you cursing Roscoe for trying to see you while also feeling as though you should arrange some sort of custody agreement so you could see the beautiful beast, a notification had popped up on your phone. It was a recommended tweet, a news article about how Lewis had apparently split from his “new fling”.

That sent you spiraling, questioning why on earth the algorithm had thought to show you this and wondering what you’d done wrong in your past life in order for this to be what was happening to you.

You’d only become more confused a day later, when Angela had sent you an email, saying that Lewis would like to meet up and apologise because of the media backlash. The thing was you’d seen no media backlash, people just finding the dog's enthusiasm funny.

If there was any sort of trouble, you’d have seen it, it was your job after all, so you were left sitting on your couch, pondering what was the point of the meeting she was trying to set up.

You’d aired the email for a few days, wondering what you should do. You wanted to say yes, to talk to Lewis again and ask him what had happened, but you didn’t want to get hurt again. And you knew you’d be hurt when you saw him doing perfectly fine without you.

The fact that Angela was waiting for you to respond didn’t cross your mind till you received a text from an unknown number, politely asking you to respond. The older woman had waited till she knew you’d read the text, about five minutes, before sending a more desperate text. That had your eyebrows raising unwillingly, confused about why she had sent three “please”’s in one paragraph.

Regardless you fell victim to knowing how hard it was to try and manage a driver's personal and professional commitments and said yes. Only because you felt bad for Angela was what you kept telling yourself.

Eventually the day had come and you were dreading it, lying on your couch until the last second possible. The thought of canceling had popped through your head multiple times but it was too late now. The only way you could back out is if an emergency happened or you died on the way to the private restaurant Angela had insisted on booking, saying that even though the meeting was supposed to be platonic, it shouldn’t be aired to the public.

A deep sigh left you as you pulled yourself up and walked to your bedroom, dressing yourself in business clothes. You wanted to put effort in, but knowing that you’d definitely be embarrassed if you showed up glammed out and he showed up in a shirt and jeans, you decided against it. It was a business dinner anyway, simply to smooth over a wrong that had been committed against you.

But it wasn’t a wrong, it was Roscoe pushing you over, which could hardly be considered a wrong and was more the dog testing the things he could get away with.

The real wrong was what Lewis had done to you. You hoped that you could get through the ordeal without talking about it, showing up and then posting a picture to Lewis’s instagram or something about how it was all good to appease the critics.

Except there were no critics, it was just Lewis wanting to have dinner with you. Or maybe it was just Angela trying to meddle. Maybe he was going to try to apologise for him ghosting you? You didn’t know if you would accept it.

You might’ve been able to accept it if he’d been honest from the start, telling you that he wouldn’t want you past the end of the break so you could quickly shut down the relationship before it started and move on with your life.

A thought that’d you always try to flush from your mind sprung to the front of it as you wondered. Maybe you were being too harsh. You’d never explicitly expressed what you were, maybe you had just been overthinking it the whole time you were together. Or rather, not together.

But that would’ve been unfair to you anyways, you reassured yourself. Him letting you get a taste of his future before exempting you from it was a cruel thing to do to anyone.

A ring from your phone let you know that you should’ve been out the door at this point. You quickly cursed before grabbing your essentials and running to your entryway, pulling your shoes on, before grabbing your keys from the side table.

After locking your door, you ran down the stairs to your apartment building and hailed a taxi. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad, so you were able to arrive at the restaurant on time, quickly hurrying inside and getting led to your table.

You never had to worry about being late though, as Lewis wasn’t there when you got to the private booth. It was fine, he came from the other side of town so he’d probably only be a few minutes late.

It was about twenty minutes later you’d sighed and decided to ring Angela. Ironically, she didn’t pick up. You couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that left your throat, shaking your head at the sad reality of your situation.

Ghosted by two members of Mercedes. Maybe it was a good idea for Valtteri to move when he had, otherwise they may have just stopped picking up the phone. You gave him ten more minutes before trying Angela again. The same response.

At this point you were sick of being made the fool of. Perhaps it was your fault for believing your dispute could be resolved, your fault for believing you were worth showing up for. You stood up with a pressure at the back of your eyes and began the walk from the private booth all the way at the back of the swanky restaurant to the exit.

Before you got even five meters from your table, the door to the restaurant slammed open. Everyone turned to stare at the heavily breathing world champion as he took a second to recoup himself. He didn’t let himself look at anyone in the restaurant as he straightened his suit and turned to the host, who looked a little shell shocked. A quick exchange later and the host stepped back from the little podium he was stood behind.

You quickly scampered back to your seat, making it just in time and plastering an unimpressed look over your face. Looking back up, you could see Lewis scanning all the patrons of the premises before his eyes paused and locked onto you.

The simple action of making eye-contact, a luxury which you had refused yourself during your bump with Roscoe, sent a lick of emotion down your spine. You couldn’t exactly read his face, you didn’t know what he was choosing to display or doing unwittingly after being played by him for months, but you believed he was relieved.

When he arrived at the table he waved off the host with a small ‘thanks’ before sitting down in the seat opposite to you. It was silent for a few seconds, you both continuing eye contact. You were trying to find anything you could recognise in his eyes while he was just looking at you, at your face.

“I’m sorry for being so late.” He spoke finally, a slight tilt growing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t respond and the awkwardness won him over after a few more seconds, something that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He coughed.

“The lift wouldn’t work, I’d left my keys, then no one would pull over. I tried to call you but my phone died, so I just ran trying to get here.” He said and averted his eyes, a mannerism you’d recognised as a nervous tick the couple of times you’d seen it. You didn’t know how to reply so you let your emotions take hold.

“Your call wouldn’t have gone through.” You said blankly and he looked back to you, before chuckling awkwardly. You didn’t find it funny.

“You would’ve had to unblock me first.” You needlessly elaborated, getting some sadistic enjoyment out of the way the man squirmed. He continued his awkward laughing, you joining in to laugh sardonically.

You didn’t know where this feeling, of needing him to a sliver of the uncomfortableness he’d caused you, had come from. The feeling you got from his discomfort wasn’t pleasure though, it felt empty as though it was pointless in the long run. You supposed it was, he wouldn’t remember you in a few years and your small petty actions wouldn’t even matter when he married the princess of some country.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention from your musings to his face.

“I wanted to apologise.” He stated bluntly and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no shit. He caught your expression and winced.

“I should’ve had Roscoe on a tighter leash and not have given him to Angela. It was my fault-” You tuned him out as he continued, shaking your head in disbelief. Yeah sure, it was why the meeting had been arranged, but you’d genuinely thought he might’ve talked about the elephant in the room at some point. Maybe you were judging harshly though. Maybe after a few minutes he’d start talking about the model he’d piped the other day or the Albanian billionaire who wanted to be his sugar mommy.

You’d forgotten that he could read you like a book and had stopped when he realised you were no longer paying attention. He reached over the table to wave a hand in front of your eyes, an action that was very rude, and you reacted accordingly. You turned to face him, affronted, and he smiled at your expression before his face turned serious and he breathed a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about what had happened.” He said finally, staring down at the table, and you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your buttons. You started to talk, the words leaving your mouth before you could properly think about them, hurt blurring your thoughts.

“Of course I would love to recount the time I came home and I found my place ransacked.” You said, the fakeness of your enthusiasm leaking into your words causing him to flinch.

“I’d love to talk about the messages I sent you before I realised I’d been blocked. Sure, let’s talk about how, not even two weeks after telling me you thought we’d have a future together, you’d completely left me, without a word of discussion.” You finally let out, almost strangling your throat closed so as to not let more of the hurt out. This was a work-related dinner after all and you didn’t want to draw more attention than Lewis already had.

His face had fallen, an incredibly unfamiliar look coating his face and you tried to stop yourself before you spoke, trying to tame the biting uncertainties in your head.

“Was it because I’d moved companies?” You questioned and he looked up. “Should I not have followed Valtteri?” Your question floated in the air and he shook his head, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“Then why?” You asked after a second and he paused, not responding. You, tired of his silence, thought about all the reasons you’d gone over in your head, and settled on the one that made the most sense to you. Looking back, it was probably the most unrealistic, but it made sense to the angry and sad mindset you had.

“Was it because I couldn’t afford everything?” His head snapped up, shock colouring his features. “I could’ve moved to a new apartment if it bothered you, having to stay over at my place. I knew you didn’t do a lot of things that break because I couldn’t pay, but you could’ve told me if you wanted to. I do have a savings account I could’ve dipped into.” You said quietly, looking down at the table, all the fight having been sapped from your body.

You were tired. You didn’t know what the time difference was between you and Canada, but you were sure that you could set an alarm and wake up to spill your guts to the stranger, it was better than telling anyone you knew.

Lewis called your name but you didn’t look up from the table, hoping to not see any form of confirmation in his eyes. He reached a hand over the table, this time to not be rude but to lift your chin up and look in your eyes. He contemplated for a second before speaking softly.

“I thought it was what you wanted.” He said and you reared back, completely shocked before he continued.

“You kept going to meetings with Alfa Romeo and I thought it was your subtle way of telling me to fuck off. You know, that you had more important things to worry about than a driver from your old company. We’d never talked about what we were and I just thought…” He paused for a second here, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at the wall before looking back into your eyes.

“I thought I could bite the bullet, leave before you could tell me to go. And it worked in the end, you’ve been doing exceptionally well. I haven’t seen a bad story about Valtteri in months.” He said and withdrew his hand as he leaned back against the chair behind him. You processed his words for a moment before he cleared his throat, drawing you back to look at him.

“I would never, by the way.” He disclosed quietly and you tilted your head. He continued. “I don’t mind if you have the money or not, for that break your apartment was the best place for me.”

The use of the present tense threw you off for a second, leaving you to rearrange yourself in your seat and clear your throat as you thought of a response. You couldn’t, opening your mouth but no words coming out. He’d stunned you into silence. You finally found your voice after steeling yourself for a second. “W-what about umm… what was her name?” You asked, a stutter permeating your words. He just sighed, letting his head fall slack to stare at the table.

“It was a mistake.” He said quietly, and guilt for the poor girl rushed through you. “I thought that after I’d let you go I should at least try to find something as a replacement.” He looked up at you.

“I couldn’t though, no one could match to you. But I couldn’t leave her without a reason.”

He leaned further back in his seat, his voice terse as he spoke. “She gave me plenty of reason after I caught her in bed with her ex.” You winced at the tone of his voice and gave him a second to collect his thoughts. Even if he was trying to break it off, it’s never a good feeling to be cheated on.

You spoke up after a second, trying to clear the silence between you and deciding he should know about your fling after you’d ended if this dinner was going to way you thought it was.

“I met a man in Canada.” You said hesitantly and you saw his shoulders drop.

“Oh.” He said quietly, before shaking himself out as if he was a cat and plastering a smile on his face. Lewis made eye-contact and asked you a question.

“What’s his name?” Fake-enthusiasm permeated his question, as though he was trying to hide his disappointment.

You didn’t want to address that, though you knew you had to. Could you take him back? You didn’t know for sure if he would leave you again, which scared you. The whole idea of taking him back scared you, though the thought of more time with him that wasn’t spent trying to avoid looking his way made you hopeful. You tried not to feel that way, knowing that you shouldn’t base your happiness on the man.

But he had apologised and explained his reasoning. As much as you wanted to curse him out for not talking with you, it did make sense. Feelings of inadequacy were present in every person, no matter how remarkable they were.

Look at you, already being hypocritical over your own words. You’d said you didn’t know if you’d take him back, but now you were already planning it. Was that pathetic? You didn’t like to think it was, but maybe you were wrong, ignoring your dignity in favour of the man.

God, if only the world was more simple and less complicated. If only you hadn’t gotten locked in an elevator, if only Roscoe hadn’t been as adorable as he was, if only you’d said no to this dinner. If only you’d just talked about your feelings from the start instead, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Too late now though, you supposed, snapping back to the present and leveling eye-contact with Lewis. You contemplated your words, knowing they’d probably either be the start or the end of your time with him.

“I don’t remember.” You said finally, staring at Lewis’ face as a smile that he tried to contain spread over it.

“You don’t remember his name?” He asked, almost trying to confirm his words and you shook your head. He couldn’t control his smile, trying to mask it behind a cough. You only started to grin in response, looking into his eyes as they slowly turned back into half-moons.

A cleared-throat startled you both out of your bubble and you turned to the waiter, who looked as if he had just watched a soap opera play out in front of him. He awkwardly held out menus to the both of you and you quickly accepted them, apologising for making him stand awkwardly for so long.

When he’d left you both had looked at each other and exchanged smiles. The dinner had continued and it was as lovely as Lewis himself. That is to say, very lovely.

After paying and making the walk to Lewis’ house, you both stumbled into Lewis’ abode, not able to keep your hands off of each other. However a large obstacle had stopped you from taking it further, namely the heavy weight of the british bulldog that decided to settle himself on top of you the second you’d walked through the door.

You could barely hear Lewis’s laughter over the sound of Roscoe licking the side of your face, you muffling your own laughter into the carpet.

When you’d next seen Valtteri, he’d only taken one glance at your neck before shooting you a smirk, the knowing glance he had on his face making you roll your eyes as you pushed him to his interviews.

i got stuck halfway through but i just wanted it overrrr. Hopefully it's not too bad, let me know in the comments.

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charlesslut16 · 10 months

Text

-do not disobey-

summary : you didn't come home when Lewis told you, so he punishes you.

PAIRING : lewis hamilton x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+. smut, NSFW, daddy kink, dom!lewis, a bit toxish lewis, rough sex, orgasm denial, spanking, p in v, curse words, dirty talk, aftercare, unprotected sex (be safe!).

masterlist

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You were sitting in your apartment with some of your friends drinking some wine, eating some chips and talking about some funny things. You were telling jokes and talking about which boy in the movie was the best looking.

"Did you know that Lewis Hamilton has a girlfriend now? He published it on insta."

Your friend looked at you with sad filled eyes, as she had a huge crush on him. When she saw Lewis, on the TV, on her phone or in the paddock she was squealing and jumping.

"No... I didn't" you said, shaking your head. Your friends looked at you with complete disbelief.

"No way you didn't hear about it, you are following him. I mean, how can you not know, it's everywhere!" Your friend explained, and you rolled your eyes at them.

"Calm down" The words slipped from a familiar voice. You turned around to see a person, trundling towards you. It was Lewis.

"Y/n. Come here..."

Your boyfriend, Lewis, demanded, and you followed his order straight away. As your friends, and especially your friend who had a crush on Lewis, saw him, their jaws dropped.

"That's... That's Lewis Hamilton..." You looked back at them and shrugged your shoulders.

"Good girl..."

Lewis surprisingly lifted you up from the ground, placed you over his broad shoulder, walked out of your apartment, leaving your friends alone, and closed the door behind you both.

As a reaction, you started to punch your boyfriend multiple times to make him put you down on the floor again. You hated it when Lewis putted you over his shoulder.

"Lewis, what the actually fuck!?"

You snapped at him. He chuckled at your answer and putted you down, so you were standing in front of him, he pushed you against his Mercedes and held your waist tightly.

"You didn't do as I said. I told you that I wanted you home by 6. It's 9" He spoke, and his face switched to a smirk while he looked you up and down. You checked the time on Lewis watch and gulped.

"Shit-Baby, I am so-"

He shook his head, grabbed your wrists, pulled you against him tightly and opened the car door, so you could sit in the car. He let you go, you sat down in the car seat, while Lewis closed the door and went to his door to start driving.

The car ride was for the most part filled with silence. You tried to talk to him and tell him how sorry you were, but he didn't react to that, so you just stopped trying and leaned against the window to calm down.

After some time, you saw Lewis house come into view. You looked at Lewis and as he didn't look at you, you just gave up. Lewis stopped the car in front of his house, stept out of the car and walked to your side to let you out too.

You walked onto the front steps and waited for Lewis to unlock the door. Lewis jogged to the door, opened the door and let you in. After you were both in the house, you tried to apologize one more time.

"Do you really think a sorry will cut that, darling?"

You looked at your boyfriend, who approached you again. With a puzzled look on your face, you looked into his dark brown eyes to see him deeply looking at you. In his eyes was Lust.

"I'm going to show you what happens when you disobey my orders." Lewis whispered into your eyes, sucking on your ear shell and wandering down to your collarbone and kissing it. Your eyes lit up as you glanced at him and asked.

"What are you going to do?"

"You will see, my love"

Lewis replied, as he took you into his bedroom, which was upstairs. Roscoe following you but being quickly shouted out of the living room behind the door, that Lewis closed just seconds ago. He took you over his shoulder and walked up the stairs.

"Let's see how long you can last without screaming my name."

Your boyfriend placed you down, you looked at him and just as you wanted to say thank you, he interrupted you mid-sentence.

"Strip."

"Why should I do that?" You exclaimed, but Lewis grabbed your chin, tilting you to face him, as you were very rude to him. You should respect him. Not only that, but you need to respect him.

"Do as you are told, darling."

You looked at him, glanced down at yourself and did as you were told, removing every layer of clothing you had on you. You stared at the floor while doing so.

"You are being such a good girl for daddy, baby."

Lewis praised, walked over to you, placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Kneel." Your boyfriend demanded, and you looked at him, slightly hesitated before you got down on your knees and looked up to see Lewis staring at you, with a lustful smirk.

"Now let daddy reward you."

Lewis inched closer to you, tilting your head more up to face him.

"I'm going to wipe that innocent look on your face off." He said with a sly grin appearing across his face.

"What's your colour, baby?"

"Green."

Lewis nodded proudly at your answer and took your hand, helped you up from your kneeling position. Then your boyfriend commanded and you did as he said.

"Get over there, and you bend over the desk, Y/n."

As you got there, your boyfriend approached you, lifted your skirt up and rested it on your back. You remained silent as you felt a sharp, quick pain hit across the ass.

"Colour?"

"Green." You replied, and Lewis nodded as an answer.

"Count with me, beautiful."

"Okay..."

Your breathing was heavy, and your legs were shaking. You were struggling to keep steady, and your ass was on fire. Lewis got hard at the sight of you in front of him.

"Fuck..." You groaned.

"You're such a good girl for me, y/n."

Lewis praised, and you kept your face flat on the desk. He trailed his fingertip from the top of your spine, to the bottom. Then he sat down on his desk chair, tugged your hair back, making you rise from the position you were in

You struggled to stand straight as your boyfriend patted down at his lap. You looked at him with a puzzled expression, not understanding what he wanted to do.

"Don't question. Just do it." The dominant voice made you tremble.

"Sit." Lewis demanded, and you obeyed quickly, not wanting the punishment to stretch.

"My good girl."

Lewis unbuckled his belt, slipped it out from the Jeans holder, took hold of your wrists as he tied them together behind your back. He slipped his jeans down slowly, lifted you up and pulled you closer to him.

"Ride it like the good slut that you are."

And you did exactly as he told you. You went and sat on his big cock and tried to fit it all in, but you couldn't. Normally, Lewis thrusted into you because if he didn't, it would take ages for you to fit it all in. Just like now.

But after some time, you had down it and jumped on his cock up and down. Moans and groans were escaping both of your mouths. Lewis then trusted in to you to mess up your rhythm.

You groaned, frustrated but started again until you were only seconds away from your orgasm. Lewis noticed and pulled himself out of you, so that you couldn't come.

You lit out a frustrated scream and looked at him with a put on your face. But he ignored it and sat you down on his lap and thrusted into you again. Lewis edged you all night long until you were now laying on his bed panting. You had gotten two orgasms out of this long session.

You were soaking wet...dripping down your inner thighs.

"Daddy... please... Let me have a break." You begged him, trying to compose yourself.

"You will not get a break until I'm done with you, baby"

"Yes, daddy..."

You were laying on your back, trying to calm yourself down, until Lewis climbed over your body, kissing it up and down. He stopped at your sensitive, overstimulated pussy and gave it a kiss, which made you moan.

He then came up until you were face to face, gave you a kiss and then lined up his cock with your pussy and thrusted into you. Not only that, but he was giving you all that he had to give.

Minutes later, Lewis was on the verge of cumming. He looked at your face to make sure that you were as alright as you could be and saw that you were also shortly before cumming, so he thrusted some more until you came with ha loud moan, and he came shortly after you.

He pulled his cock out of you, laid next to you panting and pulled you into his chest, so he could cuddle you. Not only that, but he praised you for how good you were doing for him. After some time, he pulled him out of the hug and went into the bathroom to clean you both up. Lewis came up and cleaned you up and laid on the bed.

"I hope that this will remind you to not disobey me again."

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