Daddy's Girl Lh X Reader

daddy's girl ♡ lh x reader

summary: in which your daughter is a daddy's girl through and through!

yn.hamilton

liked by mercedesamgf1, cullen_angela, lewishamilton and 328.009 others

yn.hamilton babygirl said she wants to match with daddy today so who am I to say no? 💖 (lewis was not allowed to put her on his board :) and you never will honey)

view all 3.281 comments

ha44ilton it's the passive aggressive note to lewis in the caption for me 😭😭

mercedesamgf1 do we have another fashion icon on our hands? 😉

liked by yn.hamilton

mercedes44 she's growing so fast omg

lewishamilton yellow was always more her colour 💫

yn.hamilton matches her sunshine personality, doesn't it? 💞

mercmaids THEY'RE WEARING MATCHING FITS???? PLS THATS THE CUTEST SHIT I'VE SEEN IN MONTHS

goatmilton the lil bucket hat and sunglasses... i will never recover

yn.hamilton when i tell you i MELTED

comments on this post have been limited

lewishamilton

liked by susie_wolff, nicholas.hamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 593.291 others

lewishamilton eternally grateful for all the time I get to spend with my two girls before the beginning of another exciting season 🙏🏾 here's to many more vacations with my little family

📸 @.yn.hamilton

view all 23.291 comments

yn.hamilton your caption 😭 i love you both so much, lewis

liked by lewishamilton

ha44ilton that caption bro BRO

susie_wolff enjoy it!

mercedesamgf1 and the award of cutest insta post of this year goes to lewis 'the goat' hamilton!

mercmaids admin is gonna die if they go a day without calling lewis the goat and u know what? me too

mercedes44 the vibes are so cozy and ugh when is it my turn @ god!!!!

goatmilton nike needs to get that baby a sponsorship asap, I'm no longer asking

liked by nike

yn.hamilton added to their story

yn.hamilton added to their story

yn.hamilton

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, cullen_angela and 182.292 others

yn.hamilton lewis fell asleep next to roscoe on the couch yesterday because ms. sunshine wouldn't go to bed until after he read her two stories 🤕 daddy's girl through and through!

view all 2.291 comments

mercedesamgf1 so that's why he was tired during the debrief 😉

yn.hamilton he'll be better rested next time, promise!

roscoelovescoco I's loves falling asleeps next to daddys

goatmilton the vibes are immaculate fr this family is so dear to me

mercmaids LOOK AT THEEEEEM

4463merc roscoe and lewis sleeping like that is so ❣💓💕

susie_wolff toto and lewis can bond over this!

liked by yn.hamilton

comments on this post have been limited

yn.hamilton

liked by f1, lewishamilton, nicholas.hamilton and 492.291 others

yn.hamilton wifey duties 💫💞

view all 5.281 comments

ha44ilton absolutely OBSESSED with her repping Lewis from head to toe

mercmaids she's giving all of us if we were married to lewis lbr

goatmilton YOU'RE SO REAL Y/N

f1 amazing support!

mercedesamgf1 always happy to have you decked out in his number 👊🏽🔥

sbinotto imagine all you are is the wife of someone 💀 I'd rather die

yndefender go back to stanning ur clown team lmaooo

lewishamilton my biggest fan ❤

yn.hamilton always babe 👊🏽

4405 naur it's the fist bump for me 🤣

comments on this post have been limited

lewishamilton

liked by yn.hamilton, mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63 and 392.292 others

lewishamilton today might have only been enough for a third place, but I'm still grateful for all the hard work the team has put into the car this weekend. a win will be in our future but right now I'm happy to see all the time I get to spend with my princess as the biggest win of them all.

thank you to everyone that cheered for us this weekend! your support means the world 🙏🏾

📸 yn.hamilton

view all 10.292 comments

mercedesamgf1 incredible performance on track today! we'll get them next week 👊🏼

georgerussell63 we'll get that w soon, mate!

liked by lewishamilton

goatmilton you were SO close this weekend

mercmaids bro BRO how do u expect us to be normal after that caption 😭😭😭

cullen_angela onto the next one 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

susie_wolff cherish all the time you get with her while she's still so young!

yn.hamilton every day I get to experience you with her is a gift and I can't wait for the sun to rise on another one of those days my love 💕

liked by lewishamilton

ha44ilton I'm melting fr fr stop it!!!!

PSA: This was my dream last night, I am both aroused and disgusted with myself. I am a whore for any iteration of Sir Lewis Hamilton.

✨ for @lewisinlace ✨

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS KINDA TABOO, IF YOU’RE NOT FEELING STEPBROTHER LEWIS, PLEASE SCROLL PAST. I’M SORRY FOR THIS (NOT REALLY!)

Summary: Lewis has had enough of you, he teaches you a valuable lesson. Don’t piss off your new stepbrother.

You had been told to be on your best behaviour, Silverstone was a big deal to your newly joint families. The home race of your 7 time World Champion ‘big brother’, even Roscoe had joined you for the weekend. And you were, or you believed you were, Lewis didn’t share the same opinion. He wouldn’t listen to your reassurances as he practically dragged you to his driver’s room, Lando had come on to you.

“You can’t behave yourself for one fucking weekend. Always such a brat.”

“Lewis, let go you prick, I wasn’t doing anything! Lando was just being friendly!”

The McLaren driver had approached you and tried his best to flirt, Lewis had seen you giggling at the younger man and a jealous mist descended over him. A possessive need burning in his chest.

“You just can’t help it, can you? Embarrassing yourself, throwing yourself at any driver that waves at you!”

He’d tried to work through the weird feelings he had in regards to you. He tried to stop the sordid thoughts that arose when you were around, you tried too. The pull in your lower tummy every time he worked out near you often had you running to hide in your room. Your fingers and toys not enough to satiate the growing hunger for your stepbrother.

“God, why are you being such an arsehole! Maybe I wanna fuck Norris!”

That was a wrong move, a large ringed hand had you pinned to the wall in response. The tight grip on your throat spreading a warmth through you. His inky black eyes were predatory, his tone a condescending taunt.

“You wanna be fucked huh? You that desperate for a cock baby? I’ll give you one.”

You were manoeuvred on to your knees in front of the leather sofa, Lewis’s thighs spread to accommodate your body. His cock stood from his fireproofs, tip leaking against your bottom lip. A hand pulled at your hair, mouth stuffed full as you let out a whimper.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it. Swallow me down sweetheart.”

His pace was brutal, tears streaming down your cheeks as he hit the back of your throat over and over. His carnal grunts reaching your ears, he filled every inch of your mouth. His hips rutted against your chin, your own hands gripping his muscled thighs to keep balance.

“So pretty, look at you, taking all this dick. Such a slut for your stepbrother.”

You felt him stiffen, thick white streams coating your tongue as he came. He didn’t let up, your body being held down on the massage bed opposite. His cock was already ready to take you again, the lace fabric covering you now shredded at your feet.

“You’re gonna let me fuck this pussy yeah? Fill it up with me? Only mine, right?”

A thunderous clap sounded, a calloused hand making contact with the skin of your backside. You yelped at the sharp sting his rings left behind, your core only getting wetter. Lewis had sheathed himself inside you in one brutal push of his hips, the stretch of his cock borderline painful. He was huge, long and thick, the biggest you’d had.

“So fucking tight, fuck! Daddy stretching you out good baby?”

Skin hitting skin filled the compact room, you whined and moaned at the rough pace he’d set. Your tender walls pulsed as you quickly came, the intensity of your orgasm sending stars across your vision. Lewis bit at the skin of your shoulder as he spilled into you for the second time. His heavy body collapsed on to yours, squashing you into the cold leather of the bed below.

“This is mine, you got that? Only I’m allowed to fuck you.”

Rough words that sent heat blooming through you once more.

Roscoe meeting your child for the first time and him being really protective

𝐃𝐨𝐠'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 ❘❘ 𝘓𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘯

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader

warnings: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy and birth.

word count: 1.05K

a/n: None of my work is proofread, English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy this anon! I absolutely adore Roscoe🤍

Life.

It was such a simple word that held so much meaning.

You and Lewis had been married for three years, before that you had been his partner for four years. You loved him, you loved his lifestyle as crazy as it seemed, and you loved Roscoe.

You were in no hurry to have children, you wanted to have kids, but you weren't actively trying. So when you had taken a test one day you were both happy about the news. You had your worries about becoming a new mother, but nothing prepared you for Lewis' worries.

It was a break for Lewis, both of you were in your bed, the baby had started kicking the week prior, but you didn't want him to know he missed it. His arms were wrapped around your middle, his head resting on your chest while rubbing up and down your bump.

Roscoe on the other side of you, his head resting on your thigh snoozing away, ever since you found out you were pregnant even before you were sure Roscoe had been glued to your side. Both your boys loved the bump.

"I'm scared."

Pulling your focus away from the pregnancy book you were reading you placed your hand on his back rubbing your hand up and down slowly.

"Scared of what, baby?"

"Of missing our baby's birth. I don't want to miss this."

Putting the book down on the other side of you, your free hand pulling his face up to you. You could see the genuine fear and concern in his eyes.

"Bubs, listen to me. You won't miss it you will be here, and if our little one is early then they'll be just like her dad who is always early."

From that night you would remind him every single day that he had nothing to worry about. You had your trusted bodyguard with you, and you were thankful that your little one had waited.

Twelve hours of labor and pain had brought your little one screaming her lungs out into the world, the sound dying down the moment she was placed on your chest. Your tears streaming down your face and sweat sticking to your forehead, and Lewis still looked at you like you created the entire world, because to him you did.

Sierra Mae Hamilton was his world and she was perfect.

When she was taken to be cleaned and checked he had turned to you giving you so much love whispering to you how much you meant to him and how much he loved you.

When it came to holding his princess his shirt was long gone sat in the chair next to your bed while having the sleeping baby close to him. His hands covered her entire body while he just watched her lovingly. His little girl. You could see the tears reflecting in his eyes with the light shining.

"I love you and your mummy so much, princess. I can't wait for Roscoe to meet you."

You were kept in the hospital for a day before being discharged with your healthy baby girl, ready to go home and get a routine. Lewis had informed your families all of them having a short few minutes of face time to see your daughter.

You had agreed that spending the first two weeks by yourself and getting used to being parents was the best for you. On your way home you sat next to your daughter's car seat who was snoozing with her little elephant stuffy Toto had given to Lewis on the last race of the season.

"Do you think Roscoe will be okay with her?"

"He'll be fine, my love. He loves people, and he's loved her since before we even knew we were expecting."

Sending you a reassuring smile you saw in the mirror that you returned happily. When arriving home Lewis was out of the car and opening your door, taking your hand and putting his arm around you pressing a kiss to your lips. While he grabbed your bags out of the back you walked around taking out the car seat.

Settling in the lounge on the comfortable sofa wincing at the slight pain you held your arms out for baby Sierra. Lewis placed her in your arms while pressing a kiss to her head. Looking at you with expectant eyes you nodded at him with a small smile.

You could hear your husband talking to your first baby, the patter of Roscoe's paws alerting you that they were close. Looking up from the tiny baby you smiled at your husband who took her from your arms.

"Roscoe, meet your little sister."

Roscoe moved closer sniffing her tiny hand that stretched out from underneath the blanket, feeling his cold nose her eyes opening and looking around. A yawn escaped her small lips, Roscoe moving ever closer to the unfamiliar being.

You tried to hold back your tears, but the emotion was far too much to handle for you, and your hormones were still not back to normal. Looking at your family and realising how lucky you were.

Almost three months after the birth of your angel you were on cloud nine. Lewis was the most amazing dad to her, he loved her, and even though she now got more attention than you did you didn't care.

It was a day to have family and friends over who were yet to meet her, you had finally been ready to let people come around, some of the drivers and their significant others joining. You were in the kitchen arranging the snack board the window looking out onto the backyard where everyone was.

George was holding Sierra a look of awe on his face, just as he went to kiss her little cheek Roscoe let out a bark disturbing the baby. You walked out wiping your hands on the cloth and made your way over to him

"Roscoe, no, we've talked about this bud. Sorry, Georgie, he's a little protective over her. Still follows me around everywhere."

"It's not all bad. A grid full of uncles, a second family at Mercedes, a protector, and a seven-time world champion as a dad. She's won the lottery."

Chuckling you nodded your head, looking at Lewis who has now taken her from George's arms and sitting down on the grass next to Roscoe. The young Mercedes driver wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"Yeah, she does have it all. She's a princess after all."

Tag List: @ifancycharlesleclerc @luv4gasly @hungryhungarian @moutnz @honethatty12 @ally4and33 @kii-003

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE PART OF THE TAG LIST!

can u please write something abt stealing jude’s hoodies or just wearing his clothes in general 🫠

this has been in my inbox since DECEMBER and i was clearing it out so i just thought i’d post a little something since i’ve had a lot of people ask

this is kinda short and shit but anyway <3

it had become a somewhat subconscious habit at this point. reaching into jude's wardrobe, fingers automatically finding a piece of clothing that was definitely his, whether it be a shirt, a hoodie, sometimes even a pair of his joggers, and slipping it on without even a seconds thought. you'd stopped asking forever ago, had simply adopted the attitude that his clothes were yours so much so that now you sometimes did forget which things didn't belong to you.

not that jude minded, there was nothing he adored more than seeing you kitted out in his things. his tummy turned to mush and the smile on his face almost hurt whenever he spotted you in one of his hoodies, finger tips just peaking out from the sleeves. he liked it even more when you worked the hoodie he was already wearing, off him, fingers tugging at the hem, pulling and giggling until he was slipping it over his head. before he even had the chance to get excited you were undressing him for other reasons, you were pulling it on yourself, head popping out from the hole with that devious grin, chin tipping down so you could tuck your nose away in the collar and breathe him in.

"how do you keep them so soft?" jude would roll his eyes, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his chest, defeated to the fact he'd most likely lose the hoodie for a while. he'd get it back eventually, when it had lost his scent and it's softness, when you found something else of his you liked more and then the cycle would continue.

your tendency to never wear your own things meant jude wasn't at all surprised when you met him at the airport after his flight back to dortmund, your entire outfit one he was certain he'd wore only days before leaving you. he knew for sure the blue hoodie was his, it was relatively new and he distinctly remembered your chastising tone over how much it had cost. the joggers too he was certain belonged in his drawer, grey and a little washed out, rolled a few times at your ankles to make them fit. despite the distance still between you he had a sneaky feeling that the blue socks on your feet were his too, his head shaking as his lips tilted into a smile.

it was almost 3am and he could tell you were tired, face soft and a little clouded with sleep as though you'd not long since woke up, your body bouncing lazily on the balls of your feet. you hadn't spotted him yet, too busy watching a family reunite with their dad, a hand written card most definitely done by the two little boys being waved in the air.

"you've never shown up with one of those for me." his voice startled you, your look of shock turning quickly to a grin, eyes lighting up as the sleepy expression cleared instantly. you practically launched yourself at him, arms around his neck, face tucked away against his throat and his soft "umph" of surprise vibrated through you. a giggled apology was pressed into his skin, lips warm and comforting. "missed me?"

"maybe just a little." jude dropped his bag to the floor beside you so he could wind his arms around your waist, his head turning so he could press a kiss to the side of yours. he grinned into your hair.

"only a little?"

"mhm."

"you sure? because i'm kind of thinking you've tried to clone me." you untucked your face from the crook of his neck, head tilted back to meet his gaze, brows drawn together in confusion. one of his hands came up and tugged at the drawstring of the hoodie you were wearing, his smirk growing. "i'm sure this belongs to me."

you glanced down, brows smoothing over, lips parting and jude was certain you hadn't even realised what exactly you were wearing. he brushed his fingertips beneath the waistband of the joggers, blew out a breathy laugh when your eyes snapped back to his. "these as well are from my drawer and i'm sure those are a pair of socks your nan got me for christmas." you shuffled your feet and sent him a sheepish smile.

"they're the first things i grabbed."

"yeah?"

"i didn't even realise."

"i think you just missed me too much."

"they were at the top of the laundry pile."

"you can admit it, don't go all shy on me, baby." jude watched your eye roll and grinned, dipped his head to kiss you for the first time, soft and sweet before nudging your nose. his smile only grew wider when you tried to chase his mouth for more, lips turning pouty when he dodged your attempted kisses. "i bet you've raided my entire wardrobe haven't you?"

“have not.”

“what’re you wearing under these?” again the very tips on his fingers dipped into the back of your joggers and he watched your nose scrunch adorably, gaze shifting away from his. you dropped your arms from around his neck and instead pushed them around his waist, pressing into him until your chin was pressed into the front of his shirt. jude grinned and switched positions with you, his arms resting loose over your shoulders.

“your clothes are so much comfier than mine.”

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he cupped your jaw, ducked down and tilted your mouth up to slot softly over his. he kissed you slow, languid drags of his lips against yours until the both of you were breathless. he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, the tip of your nose, forehead last before grinning. he pulled the hood up over your head and twisted the drawstrings around fingers, pulled tight until your face was hidden behind the material.

you groaned loudly, swatted at his chest when he again kissed your nose through the little gap.

“you’re also lucky i think it’s cute when you wear my clothes otherwise you’d owe me thousands for theft.”

~ After Hours ~

18+ IT’S SMUT. PURE FILTH.

Lewis Hamilton x reader x Marcus Rashford;

You couldn’t keep your eyes from him as he sauntered up to where you were standing. You ran your gaze over his tall and lean frame as he shook hands with Lewis, not zoning back in until Lewis introduced you. Lewis was enjoying your flustered nature, your tongue feeling dry in your mouth. He knew about your soft spot for the Manchester United player. He’d definitely not be letting this go. You hung out with the man for most of the evening, laughing and all becoming tipsy from the free champagne on offer. Lewis watched as Marcus took an interest in you too, his mind forming a plan to get you some alone time together.

“Marcus is gonna crash with us, you ready to go.”

The air sizzled as you exited the hotel bathroom, two pairs of inky brown eyes meeting yours as you looked up from fussing with your dress. The tension was stiflingly thick, heat crawling over your skin from the predatory gazes on your body. You’d missed the hushed whispers, the sultry shared smirks. Lewis took your hand in his, guiding you to perch between them. A ringed hand landed on your upper thigh, a feather like glide over the expanse of your soft flesh. Lewis moved first, his lips meeting yours as the man behind you continued to explore between your thighs. The dark coloured silk of your dress brushed your skin, falling to your feet in a waterfall of fabric. Two sets of hands gripped your skin, calloused fingers marking you. They took you apart with their fingers and tongues, making you slick enough for what they had in store. Each time you got close to the edge they’d stop, taunting you as you begged for a release.

“You gonna be a good girl for us?”

You took Lewis in your hands, a slow hypnotic rhythm moving up and down his cock. You bit your bottom lip hard as you felt Marcus slide along your soaked core. The mirror at the end of the bed showing the arch of your back as you bent over Lewis’ thick thighs, Marcus’ broad frame kneeling behind you.

“So pretty baby, looking so good stuffed full.”

Both men were big, the slight burn as you stretched around Marcus making a muffled whine escape you. Lewis moved your mouth over him as you felt your hips being pulled back onto Marcus. The tip of Lewis’ cock hitting the back of your throat and the feel of your walls being stretch around the man behind quickly sent you into your first orgasm. The teasing touches you had endured previously making your tender pussy already over stimulated. Each thrust moved in tandem, you could feel every push and pull deep inside you.

“You gotta take everything we give you sweetie. Want you to show Marcus how beautiful you look when you come.”

They took turns in filling you up, the taste of Lewis’ come still lingering on your taste buds as Marcus’ dripped from you, sticking to your inner thighs and onto the sheets below. They softly praised you, cleaned you up gently once you’d collapsed in an exhausted but satiated heap. Your erotic after party seeping into delectable dreams.

I feel dirty and a bit weird now but enjoy! 💜

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.