CARAT!

Count down to Forever | LN4

Lando Norris X Reader (Requested)

Summary: [SOULMATE AU] Lando meets his soulmate, and it's perfect, she's perfect.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Lando with self doubts, Oscar being the voice of reason—in a very Oscar way, Cliche meet cute. Fluffy.

"I have faith in what I see, now I know I have met....an angel.. in person, and she looks perfect"

Lando sat in his driver’s room, staring at the timer on his left wrist. The ticking of the seconds was quiet, almost like a whisper, but it was loud in his ears, as if time was calling his name.

Lando knew what it meant, of course. He knew soulmates existed, and everyone had a different type of bond.

Oscar and his soulmate shared a red string of fate, something so visible and tangible that no one could ever doubt it. And no one has, anyone who has seen the pair grow up together, knows that they are meant for each other.

Lando thinks he should feel jealous, maybe.

Carlos and his soulmate had a mutual pain bond, where if one felt pain, the other did too. When one had a permanent injury, the other also suffered the same. Lando couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like.

At least Carlos doesn't have to feel periods, or maybe he does, Lando hasn't asked him that question, and Carlos had never brought it up.

Max and his soulmate? Well, they had each other’s initials on their skin, marking them in a way that felt simple but perfect for them.

Lando knew there were many kinds of soul bonds, but his own was… different.

It was a countdown.

It had appeared the day after he hit puberty, like a flash of ink on his skin. At first, it was just a random number of years, days, and hours. It seemed distant, like something that wouldn’t matter for a long while. But as the years passed, the timer slowly ticked down.

From years to months, and now, it was finally in days. The timer was counting down to the moment he would meet her, the one person who had the power to change his life forever. The one who would match his soul in a way that no one else ever could.

13 hours, 23 minutes, 56 seconds.

That was the time remaining.

Lando took a deep breath, staring at the timer, watching the numbers tick down. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he was meeting her.

It felt so damn close. It was so damn close.

He considered his countdown to be both reassuring and frustrating at the same time.

Of course, he couldn’t say it was painful when Carlos’ soulmate probably went to sleep with an appendix one day and woke up without it, thanks to their bond. Lando could only imagine how deeply unsettling that must be.

Or how nerve-wracking it still must be for Charles—who hasn't found his soulmate yet, to listen carefully to make sure no one says the words written on his shoulder blade. Lando thought that sounded like a nightmare.

His timer, though, felt like a quiet kind of pressure. A soft, constant reminder that something was coming.

Something big. Something important.

At first, it had given him comfort. Back when the number of years was still high and the days counted in thousands, Lando thought it was a blessing. His soulmate would see him when he was at his best—when he’d finally grown into himself, maybe a little more mature. Maybe even, just maybe, worthy of her.

But now, seeing the days ticking away, he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore.

It had been years since he hit puberty. So many years, in fact, that the timer on his wrist had gone from a comforting countdown to a constant source of anxiety. The numbers were finally down to the wire, and Lando couldn’t help but feel jittery about it.

He had spent the past year staring at it, unable to focus on anything else.

Every time he remembered how much time he had left, his stomach churned, his nerves tightening. Everyone noticed it too. The nervous energy had been building up, and now, with only a day left, it was impossible to ignore.

Lando was really excited to meet his soulmate. He truly was. But if he was being honest with himself, he was also fucking terrified. Everyone knew it didn’t always work out the way you wanted it to.

He had seen relationships fall apart. He had seen people struggle with the weight of their soul bonds. And Lando was scared—scared his soulmate wouldn’t want him.

He was scared that when he finally met her, she might look at him and decide he wasn’t worth the wait.

He tried to push the thought aside, to drown it out with logic.

Why would she not want Lando Norris? Famous F1 driver, all-around golden retriever? He grinned at the thought of himself as a “golden retriever.” It was a joke his friends liked to throw around.

It made him laugh, but there was a bitter edge to it, too. That side of him, the more confident part of himself, knew the truth: He was a catch. He’d grown into his own, his place in the world as an F1 driver becoming clearer by the day. He had fans, he had respect, and he had a group of friends who genuinely cared about him. He was doing okay.

But there was another part of him, a smaller, quieter voice that still whispered in the back of his mind. It was the voice that made him second-guess himself, the voice that asked: What if she doesn’t like Lando?

Not Lando Norris, but Lando.

Lando, who needed time to warm up to people. Lando, who could be awkward and uncouth at first, stumbling over his words or trying too hard to make someone laugh. Lando, who wasn’t always the life of the party, and sometimes just needed his own space to recharge. Lando, who had panic attacks and random bursts of energy that he couldn’t always control. Lando, who had an insistent need for physical touch like a touch-starved child, always craving affection, even in the smallest of ways. It made him feel vulnerable.

Would she want to know him, all of him?

He barely noticed when the door cracked open.

“Lando,” his trainer called, leaning against the doorframe. “Zak wants you in the team meeting. Now.”

Lando blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. “Right. Yeah. Coming.”

He forced himself up, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands as if that would help the nervous energy buzzing under his skin. He grabbed a water bottle, took a sip he didn’t really need, and made his way to the meeting room.

Inside, the usual suspects were already seated—Zak, the engineers, strategists, a few mechanics, and of course, Oscar, who glanced up when Lando entered.

Zak barely looked up before launching into the meeting. “Alright, boys. Let’s talk strategy.”

Lando dropped into his chair, hands on the table, trying to look engaged as Zak ran through tire strategies, pit stop timings, and race simulations. But he couldn’t focus. His leg bounced under the table. His fingers tapped against his thigh. He shifted in his seat every few minutes. He could feel the countdown, hear it in his head, ticking away like a bomb waiting to go off.

Across the table, Oscar squinted at him.

Lando ignored him, staring at the strategy notes in front of him, pretending to listen as an engineer explained something about tire degradation.

___________________________

Oscar waits until the room clears out before speaking. “Alright,” he says, leveling Lando with a look. “What’s going on?”

Lando exhales sharply, staring down at the numbers on his wrist. “The countdown ends tomorrow.”

Oscar blinks. “Your soulmate timer?”

Lando nods. “Yeah.”

Oscar is quiet for a moment, considering him. “You nervous?”

Lando scoffs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Mate, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

Oscar’s voice is calm, steady. “Why?”

Lando looks at him, incredulous. “Because—what if she doesn’t like me? What if she meets me and decides I’m not worth it? What if she—”

Oscar cuts him off, tone matter-of-fact. “What if she does?”

Lando falters.

Oscar tilts his head. “What if she’s nervous too? What if she’s worried you won’t like her?”

Lando hadn’t thought of that. He’s spent so long worrying about being enough that it never occurred to him that she might be feeling the same.

Oscar shrugs. “You’re Lando. You’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re also... you.” He gives Lando a pointed look. “And if she’s meant for you, she’ll see that.”

Lando exhales, some of the anxiety in his chest loosening. He nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”

Oscar pats his shoulder once. “Good. Now, stop acting like a nervous wreck. It’s weird.”

Lando laughs as he watches Oscar walk towards his soulmate, who was visiting him before they both travel to Melbourne together for a mini holiday before the season starts.

Lando wonders if he'll have someone like that.

Well, you'll find out tomorrow mate

And isn't that a thought to keep you up all night.

___________________________

Lando sat in the McLaren garage, arms crossed, leg bouncing so hard it was shaking the whole chair. His eyes kept flicking to the countdown on his wrist—1 hour and 57 minutes.

He hadn't slept. He couldn't. He was running on adrenaline, nerves, and whatever was left of his sanity.

Oscar, sitting across from him, had been watching in silence for a while now. Finally, he sighed. “You look awful.”

“Thanks, Osc” Lando muttered.

“No, really,” Charlotte added as she walked past, then doubled back to take in the full disaster that was Lando Norris. “You look like you fought sleep and..lost.”

“I didn’t fight,” Lando grumbled. “Just… didn’t sleep at all.”

Zak, who had been reviewing data, finally looked up. “Why?”

Oscar barely waited a second before answering. “He’s meeting his soulmate today.”

Silence. Then, understanding.

“Ohhh,” Zak said.

“Oh,” Charlotte echoed.

“Yeah,” one of the strategists, Alex, nodded. “Fair enough.”

Lando groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Charlotte said immediately.

Zak hummed. “If I had to meet the person destined to put up with me forever, I’d be nervous too.”

Charlotte snorted. “Mate, you’ve been married for years.”

Zak shrugged. “Doesn’t mean she’s not still stuck with me.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah, but at least you didn’t look like this when you met her.” he motioned towards Lando's... well, everything.

Lando scowled. “I hate you all.”

Oscar, looking entirely too entertained, leaned back in his chair. “You know, we’ve all been where you are. Well, except me, ‘cause I’ve known since I was a kid.”

Lando shot him a glare. “Not helpful.”

Oscar ignored him. “But everyone else? Yeah. Zak, Charlotte, the others—they all went through it. And guess what?”

Lando sighed. “What?”

“It works out,” Oscar said simply. “So stop stressing. Just be you.”

Lando exhaled, the weight in his chest easing just a little.

Zak clapped his hands. “Right. Now that we’ve reassured our nervous wreck of a driver—go eat or drink something. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Charlotte smirked. “Yeah, would be pretty embarrassing if you collapsed before even meeting her.”

Lando groaned. “I really hate you all.”

But for the first time that day, he actually felt a little better.

________________________

Lando stood, his eyes glued to the countdown timer on his wrist. Seconds seemed to stretch and warp before his eyes, the clock counting down with an unrelenting precision.

Six... Five... Four...

The food court at McLaren’s Bahrain base was alive with chatter, but everything around him felt like background noise.

He had no coffee now. It had long since been abandoned on the table. It had stopped working its magic hours ago. Lando only had his timer, and the ever-decreasing seconds were all that seemed to matter. He took a slow, steadying breath, trying to focus.

Two... One...

Zero.

And then, before he could even think to breathe or move, something—no, someone—suddenly collided into him. It was so quick, so unexpected, that Lando didn’t have time to react, to step aside or brace himself.

The impact surprised him with the force of it. Her papers—dozens of them—exploded into the air around them like snowflakes, swirling in a chaotic dance before they settled to the ground.

Lando instinctively reached out, his hands finding her waist, his fingers wrapping around her as he steadied her in his arms.

The moment felt like it was happening in slow motion, every second suspended in time.

He caught her. Like a movie scene, the way he pulled her against him, his heart leaping in his chest. She was there, right in front of him—her warmth against him, her breath soft against his skin.

His chest tightened. Perfect.

It wasn’t just a word. It was everything. She was everything.

For a few seconds, the world around him disappeared, and he simply held her there, feeling the pulse of her in his arms, the beat of his heart syncing with hers. Lando knew, without a doubt, that this was it.

This was her. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, for what felt like forever, and everything in the world seemed to make sense for the first time.

Then, reality hit. He was still holding her. His heart raced, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment.

He had to let go. Right?

But his hands lingered on her waist as if they didn’t want to let go. He could feel the heat of her body, the slight tremor in her touch, and in that second, he realized she was just as affected.

Her touch felt like coming home.

“Oh—uh... sorry, I... didn’t mean to...” Lando’s voice was breathless, his usual confidence faltering in the face of everything he’d ever wanted. He slowly released her, stepping back a fraction, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to let her go entirely.

She smiled then, a soft, knowing smile. It was shy but warm. There was a hint of excitement in her eyes—something that matched the fluttering in his chest.

They stood there, neither of them speaking for a moment, as if the weight of the moment was too much to fully comprehend just yet.

Her gaze met his, and he could see the same wonder in her eyes. She didn’t seem like she was in a rush to leave either.

The silence between them hung for just a moment, and then Lando awkwardly scratched the back of his head, still not quite sure what to say.

“I'm Lando,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “Nice to meet you... soulmate.”

She took a small step back and gave him another soft smile, her cheeks tinged with a light blush.

“Nice to finally meet you, Lando,” she said, her tone just as shy but equally sincere. “It’s Y/N.”

“Do you wanna get some coffee?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I thought you were just coming out?”

Lando chuckled, the sound genuine, his nerves easing with her playful tone. “No, well, I mean, yeah, but...I could use another one.”

There was no way in hell he was letting a moment like this slip away. Not when he was standing here with her, his soulmate, the person he’d been waiting for.

Y/n smiled, nodding. “I could definitely use one.”

And just like that, the wait was over.

There were no more numbers to stare at, no more nerves twisting in his stomach. It was just the two of them, standing in a world that felt just a little bit smaller, just a little bit brighter.

The start of something. Something he was finally ready for.

The start to his forever.

______________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Thank you @prttylight for requesting this little piece, I hope I did justice to your request, once again, thank you so much for requesting, it was a wonderful writing.

AND ONCE AGAIN, TO ANYONE WHO MISSED THE MEMO, REQUESTS ARE VERY MUCH OPEN, PLEASE SEND IN SOME.

Jules♡

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gosh these days im so in love with charles xavier

I would like to write a fanfic of mu qing x reader because I only know two and I WANT MORE.

Favourite Moments | LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Girlfriend!Reader (Requested)

Summary: Lewis comes home to see that his girlfriend is sick, now it's his turn to take care of her.

Warning(s): Mild Language, sick!reader, no hurt just comfort, bathing together, no funny business, caring Lewis, fluffy.

"When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change..."

The apartment was too quiet.

Lewis had been expecting the usual enthusiastic welcome—maybe even a playful scolding for taking so long to come home.

Instead, the only thing that greeted him was an eerie silence. His brows pulled together as he set his bag down, eyes scanning the space.

The living room wasn’t a disaster, but it was....off.

A blanket was thrown haphazardly over the couch, an empty tea mug sat on the coffee table, and a bowl of half-eaten soup rested on the counter.

It wasn’t messy—just… abandoned.

A sense of unease crept in.

“Y/N?” he called, his voice cutting through the quiet. No response.

His frown deepened as he strode toward their bedroom. Pushing the door open, he found her—curled up beneath a mountain of blankets, completely still.

For a split second, worry flared in his chest.

Then—

A loud, completely ungraceful snore ripped through the air.

Lewis blinked before a quiet chuckle escaped him. “Oh, baby…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

He stepped closer, crouching beside the bed. As he pulled the blanket down slightly to get a look at her, his amusement quickly faded.

Her nose was red, her face slightly sweaty, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. She looked exhausted, even in sleep.

Lewis reached out, pressing the back of his fingers against her cheek—only to frown at the heat radiating off her skin.

“Damn,” he muttered, concern knitting his brows together.

Without hesitation, he pulled the thick blanket away, murmuring, “You’re gonna overheat yourself under here, love.”

He lets out a soft breath as his eyes landed on the photo frame clutched in her hands.

It was of them—Silverstone, last year. His victory, his home race, his moment of pure joy. But what made the picture so special wasn’t just the win.

It was her. The way she had looked at him, pride and love radiating from her eyes as she clung to him in the post-race celebrations. She had always been his biggest supporter, his constant.

And now, she lay here, sick and alone, clutching that memory like it was the only thing keeping her together.

His heart squeezed, torn between overwhelming love and guilt. She must have been missing him—enough to hold onto this while she slept.

He should have been here sooner.

But first, he needed to make sure she was okay.

Gently, he brushed his fingers over her cheek and murmured, “Love… wake up for me.”

She stirred, brows scrunching slightly before her eyes cracked open. A sleepy groan escaped her, and when she finally focused on him, her voice was raspy.

“Lewis…?”

Lewis smiled softly, taking in her messy hair, flushed cheeks, and tired eyes. “Hey, my pretty girl.”

Y/N blinked at him, then scoffed weakly. “I do not feel pretty right now.” She barely finished speaking before her nose wrinkled—achoo!

Lewis chuckled just as she groaned, rubbing at her nose. “God bless me,” she muttered just in time for another sneeze to wrack her frame. “Ugh.”

“Bless you, baby,” he said, amused as he reached for a tissue and handed it to her.

She sniffled, still pouting slightly, and Lewis shook his head fondly before helping her sit up. He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead, letting his lips linger.

“You know,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet her sleepy gaze, “you’re always the most gorgeous woman on earth to me. Some fever isn’t gonna change that.”

Her lips twitched tiredly, and Lewis felt warmth bloom in his chest.

She had been there for him through everything. The highs, the lows, the endless travel, the exhausting race weekends.

Now, it was his turn.

He cupped her cheek, stroking it gently. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He sighed as Y/N shook her head weakly. “Lew, you really don’t have to. I’m okay. I already took some medicine.”

He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And when did you take it?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then muttered, “Sometime…”

Lewis smirked. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

As he adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, his eyes caught onto something that made his heart squeeze.

The oversized pajama top she was wearing—it was his.

And not just any of his clothes, but the one he’d worn the night before he left for the factory a week ago.

A slow, fond smile spread across his lips. “Babe… is that my shirt?”

Y/N blinked sleepily, looking down as if she hadn’t realized. “Mmm.”

His grin widened. “You wore it ‘cause it smells like me, didn’t you?”

She hesitated, then mumbled, “Maybe.”

Lewis chuckled softly, warmth blooming in his chest. She really had been missing him.

But his amusement faded when another thought struck him. “Okay, and… when was the last time you took a shower?”

Silence.

Lewis crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Babe.”

More silence.

He fought back a laugh as understanding dawned on him. “Y/N…”

She groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. “Ugh, I knew you were gonna ask that.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, amused. “You need to clean up, baby.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers. “But it’s cold.”

Lewis gave her a pointed look. “You do know you can turn the water temperature up, right?”

She blinked. “Oh. Right. I forgot that.”

This time, he actually laughed, and she whined, flopping against the pillows. “Not fair! I’m sick! My brain isn’t working properly!”

Lewis grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “You’re adorable.”

She huffed but didn’t argue.

But then his gaze darkened slightly as another thought crossed his mind. “Alright, when’s the last time you ate properly?”

Silence.

His stomach sank. “Y/N.”

She winced. “I… ate soup?”

His jaw tightened. “When?”

Another wince. “Like..maybe yesterday morning?” she mumbled.

Lewis straightened, running a hand down his face. “Babe, it’s the afternoon. You’re telling me you went all of yesterday and this morning without food?”

“I—I wasn’t hungry…” she tried, but even she knew it was a weak excuse.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Y/N, you can’t just—bloody hell.” His tone softened, his shoulders slumping as he reached for her hand.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more attentive. I should’ve checked in more than just texts. You haven’t eaten in almost two days, and you’ve been taking medicine on an empty stomach?”

She gave him a small, reassuring smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Lew. I promise.”

He hummed in response, though the guilt gnawed at him.

“I have been drinking lots of water,” she added quickly, trying to ease his worry.

Lewis narrowed his eyes. “Mhm. And by ‘water,’ you mean…?”

“…Coffee?”

He groaned. “Y/NNN.”

“Just water is boring, Lewis” she pouted.

Lewis sighed, but the look on her face—flushed cheeks, tired eyes, a small pout—made his heart clench.

Even sick, she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

But she immediately pulled away, making his brows furrow. “What—”

“I’m sick, Lewis,” she said, giving him a tired but exasperated look. “You’re gonna get sick too.”

He blinked before letting out a small chuckle. “Oh, babe…” He cupped her face gently.

Lewis’s smile turned mischievous. “You really think that’s gonna stop me?”

Y/N barely had time to react before his lips were on hers. Soft, lingering, full of warmth.

She let out a tiny gasp, caught off guard, but Lewis only deepened the kiss slightly, savoring the feeling of her against him.

Even with her chapped lips, even with the slight fever burning off her skin, he wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything.

When he finally pulled back, he grinned at her dazed expression. “See? Still perfect.”

She blinked up at him, lips parted. “You’re so—”

“Devoted? Charming? The best boyfriend ever?” he teased.

She groaned. “I was gonna say stupid.”

Lewis just chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stupid in love, maybe.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Nooo, that was so cringe, Lewis. Why are you like this?”

Lewis just grinned, pressing another quick peck to her lips. “What’s actually cringe is the fact that my girlfriend hasn’t showered properly for a week.”

Her head shot up immediately. “It’s only been three days!” she protested, glaring at him.

He smirked. “You’re just proving my point, love.”

Before she could throw another protest his way, her hand blindly grabbed a pillow and chucked it straight at his face.

Lewis blinked as the soft fabric hit him square on, falling to the side. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to her, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

Y/N was glaring at him, arms crossed, lips pursed in defiance.

But all he could think was how she looked like an adorable, grumpy little kitten.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he mused, just as her eyes narrowed suspiciously—

Before she could react, Lewis slid his hands under her and, with zero effort, lifted her up into his arms.

She let out a startled yelp. “LEWIS!”

He smirked, carrying her bridal-style toward the bathroom like she weighed nothing. “Right. I’m going to run you a bath.”

Y/N squirmed in his hold, her hands gripping onto his shoulders. “Lewis, oh my god, put me down!”

He only grinned, ignoring her protests as he stepped into the bathroom, gently setting her down on the counter. “Mmm....nope.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “I can do this myself, you know.”

Lewis turned to the bathtub, twisting the knobs to run warm water.

“I know you can. But I also know you’ll probably just sit in here, sigh dramatically, and then give up after five minutes because you’re too tired.”

Y/N gasped. “I—okay, maybe. But that’s not the point!”

Lewis chuckled, turning back to her, his eyes softening. “Let me take care of you, let me carry you around, let me pamper you love, please.”

She bit her lip, cheeks still flushed—probably from the fever, but also, maybe, from the way he was looking at her.

Gently, Lewis reached for the hem of her oversized pajama top—his shirt—and began tugging it up. “Arms up, baby,” he murmured.

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted her arms, letting him pull it off.

The fabric slid over her head, and Lewis couldn’t help but smile as he caught a faint whiff of his own scent lingering on it. She really had been missing him.

His hands moved to the waistband of her pajama shorts, and his fingers brushed against her warm skin as he pulled them down.

His touch was careful, unhurried, full of tenderness rather than anything else.

Y/N shivered slightly—not from cold, but from the way he handled her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Lewis pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder before stepping back to check the bath.

He swirled his hand in the water, making sure it was the perfect warmth. “Alright, in you go.”

Y/N, still groggy but utterly wrapped in his care, slid off the counter and into the water. The warmth immediately made her sigh, her body relaxing.

Lewis knelt beside the tub, reaching for a cup to gently pour water over her shoulders. “Better?” he asked softly.

She let out a small hum, leaning her head back slightly. “Much.”

Lewis smiled, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. “Good. You just sit back and let me do the work, okay?”

Lewis didn’t stop at just running her a bath of course.

Without hesitation, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside before unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them.

Y/N blinked, her sleepy gaze sharpening slightly as she watched him. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Lewis smirked, stepping into the tub behind her. His muscles relaxed instantly as the warm water enveloped him, and he let out a quiet sigh before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest.

“As i said, I'm taking care of my girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. “Like she always takes care of me.”

Y/N melted against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t fight it—not really. Maybe she was too tired to, or maybe she just liked being held like this.

Lewis closed his eyes for a second, just breathing her in, before reaching for the soap.

As he lathered it in his hands and began to gently wash her arms, he couldn’t help but think back to all the times she had done this for him.

When he came home after brutal races, drained to the bone, his mind weighed down with the heaviness of bad weekends. When his body ached, when exhaustion clawed at him, when self-doubt threatened to creep in—she had always been there.

Running a bath for him. Massaging his tense shoulders. Holding him when he needed it, even when he didn’t say a word.

She had always known exactly what he needed.

Now, it was his turn.

“You’re always so good to me, baby,” he murmured as he ran the soapy water over her shoulders, his fingers kneading gently.

Y/N let out a small sound, barely awake, but he felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

Lewis smiled, trailing his hands down her arms. “So caring. So tender when I need it.” His voice was soft, full of admiration. “You’re my rock, love.”

She let out a tiny whimper, clearly flustered. “Lewis…”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her temple. “What? Just telling my girl the truth.”

She huffed, but he could feel her heartbeat against him, steady and warm.

Y/N shifted slightly in his arms, turning her head just enough to give him a pointed look. “No funny business, Lewis.”

Lewis chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Baby, I know how to get you all hot and bothered,” he teased, nuzzling into her neck.

“But this? This is not the time. I don’t want you to sneeze of all things when I’m inside you. That’s a major mood killer.”

She groaned dramatically before splashing water back at him in protest.

“Oi!” He laughed, shaking his head as the warm droplets hit his face. “See, now that’s just rude.”

She smirked sleepily. “Serves you right.”

Lewis only grinned as he reached for the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into his palm. “Alright, alright, no funny business. Just me looking after the most important woman in my life.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, lathering the shampoo with gentle, slow movements. His fingertips pressed into her scalp, massaging in small, soothing circles.

Y/N let out a small sigh, melting into his touch.

Lewis smiled to himself. “Feels nice, huh?”

She hummed in response, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “That’s my girl.”

Lewis gently scooped a small cup full of water and poured it over her hair, watching as the suds slid down her long, damp strands.

The shampoo washed away in soft streams of water, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the way her skin glistened, the way she melted under his care.

“You’ve always been there for me, you know?” he murmured softly, his voice sincere.

“When I’m sick, when I’m exhausted, when I feel like I can’t go on… you’re always the one to look after me, to make sure I’m okay.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his hands in her hair. She smiled softly. “I do what I can.”

He smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. “Yeah, you do more than that. You’re always so damn good to me, my love.”

As he rinsed the soap off her body, his touch was slow, methodical.

He made sure every part of her was cleaned, moving down her arms, her sides, careful not to make her feel uncomfortable, just focused on how she deserved this kind of attention.

“You know, when I’m away, racing, and I’m exhausted… I miss this. I miss you. I miss the way you make everything better, without even trying.”

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, her heart fluttering slightly. She looked up at him, but he was focused on rinsing the soap off, so she just watched him with soft affection.

“I'm not kidding when i say that you’ve always been my rock,” he continued, his hands now massaging the soap over her back. “When I don’t have the energy to pick myself up, it’s you. You’re the one who makes me feel like I can keep going.”

Her heart warmed, and she found herself flushing slightly under the tenderness in his words. “I don’t mind doing any of that,” she whispered softly. “I just want you to be okay.”

Lewis smiled at that, his fingers working carefully as he finished rinsing the soap off her body.

He then reached for the conditioner, lathering it through her hair gently.

His touch was light, not hurried, as if savoring every moment of getting to do this for her. “You deserve so much, Y/N. So much more than I can give. But I’ll do my best to make sure you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

She was quiet, her heart full, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. It made her eyes sting with emotion, though she blinked it away. “You don’t have to do anything, Lew. I just… I love you.”

He rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “I love you more than you know.” his voice sounded a bit raw as he says it, and he clears his throat as y/n smiles softly at him.

His heart aches in the best way possible because of course, of course she knows how he's feeling at the moment.

Thank you for bringing her to my life, god.

Lewis helped Y/N out of the tub, supporting her gently as she stood. The water had gone lukewarm, and he could feel the slight shiver in her as her feet met the cold tiles. With a soft chuckle, he scooped her up in his arms again.

She shivered slightly, letting out a small squeal when he set her down on the big counter, her legs dangling off the edge.

"My ass is freezing!" she complained, her bare skin immediately feeling the cold of the counter.

Lewis laughed, wrapping a towel around his waist as he reached for another towel to dry her hair. “You're being dramatic,” he teased.

She pouted, not having much energy to argue back, as she let him gently rub the towel through her wet hair.

When he took the towel away, she shook her head furiously like a dog, sending water droplets flying everywhere.

Lewis chuckled and gave her a playful smirk. "You're no better than Roscoe, you know that?"

Y/N squinted at him. "What does that mean?"

"Just reminded me of him,” he said with a grin, “Shaking water all over the place like it’s his job."

She laughed softly at that. Lewis smiled, giving her another fond look. “Speaking of Roscoe, where is he?”

“He's in the guest room," Y/N explained. "I didn’t want him messing with anything since I couldn’t clean up. But he's a good boy. He knows how to behave most of the time. He’s probably asleep after coming for cuddles last night.”

Lewis smiled, feeling warmth in his chest. "Thanks for looking after him. I know he’s got you wrapped around his little paw."

Y/N just shrugged, her expression soft. "He's my baby, too. Of course, I'm going to look after him, even when I'm sick."

He laughed, then gently wrapped a bathrobe around her and then himself, before lifting her up once more. "Alright, let's get you into the bedroom. You’re freezing."

_______________________

Lewis placed Y/N gently on the vanity chair, her fluffy bathrobe pooling around her as she leaned back against him. Standing behind her, he reached into one of the drawers, pulling out the hair dryer. He flicked the switch—nothing.

Frowning, he turned it toward her, the nozzle aimed at the back of her head, and smacked the back of it a few times.

With a sudden whoosh, it roared to life, sending a gust of hot air straight to her head and blowing all her damp hair forward.

Y/N let out a startled squeal, her laughter bubbling up immediately. “Lewis! Oh my god!” she exclaimed through giggles, trying to push her hair back.

He started laughing too, his chest shaking against her back. “Well, at least we know it works,” he said, still amused.

She tried to glare at him through the mess of hair but ended up laughing even more. “You did that on purpose!”

“Me? Never,” he said, grinning as he finally angled the dryer properly and ran his fingers through her hair to smooth it down.

She let out a content sigh as he worked, but after a moment, she said, “I don’t need the whole salon treatment. I can style it and put products in later.”

Lewis hummed thoughtfully, still running his fingers through her strands as he dried them. “Or... you could let me braid it.”

She tilted her head up to look at him in the mirror, raising a skeptical brow. “You? Braid my hair?”

He smirked. “Don’t underestimate me, baby. I’ve got skills.”

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Oh, this I have to see.”

Y/N hummed softly as Lewis ran his fingers through her hair, parting it into sections.

The warmth of the hair dryer had left a comforting heat lingering on her scalp, and his touch was gentle as he worked.

Lewis recognized the melody almost instantly. His lips curled into a small smile as he listened, fingers moving carefully to weave the strands together.

Then, without thinking, he started singing along, his voice soft and low.

Y/N’s humming stuttered for a moment before she smiled. “You know this song?”

“Of course,” Lewis murmured, focusing on the braid. “You sing it all the time.”

She chuckled, leaning back into him a little more. “Guess you do pay attention.”

“Always,” he said simply.

The room was quiet except for their voices, blending together in an easy harmony. It wasn’t perfect—sometimes she hummed where he sang, and sometimes he mumbled lyrics he wasn’t entirely sure of—but it was theirs. The kind of peaceful moment that didn’t need to be anything more.

Lewis glanced at their reflection in the mirror. Y/N, warm and relaxed in her robe, her head tilted slightly as she let him braid her hair, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but content.

And him, standing behind her, their robes soft against each other, hands weaving through her strands with a care that spoke louder than words.

He smiled to himself.

This is home.

A sudden, loud growl interrupted Lewis’s thoughts, and he blinked before realizing exactly where it had come from.

Y/N’s face turned red instantly.

Lewis burst out laughing. “Oh My god, babe—”

“Shut up,” she whined, burying her face in her hands. “I’m hungry, okay? It’s not funny to laugh at your starving girlfriend.”

He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head. “You’re right. It’s not funny at all.” But the way his shoulders still shook betrayed him.

She huffed.

After finishing up her braid, he gently pulled the end to tighten it before admiring his work. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/N reached up, running her fingers along the plait, and gave him a small nod. “I’ll give you an 8 out of 10.”

“Eight?” he gasped dramatically. “That was at least a nine point five.”

She giggled, but before she could argue, Lewis slipped his arms under her and lifted her off the chair.

She gasped a little in surprise, her hands flying to his shoulders.

He lived for that sound.

“Why are we leaving the room?” she asked, her voice suspicious as he carried her towards the door.

Lewis smirked. “Because I need to feed my girl.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly before she gestured between them. “Lewis. We are both naked under these.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So what baby, who’s gonna see us?”

She grumbled something under her breath but didn’t protest as he carried her straight to the kitchen, setting her down gently on the counter. The cold surface made her shiver, but she said nothing as she watched him move around, grabbing ingredients.

She pulled her robe tighter around herself. “You’re really making soup from scratch?”

Lewis glanced over his shoulder with a playful grin. “Only the best for you, love.”

As Lewis moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and setting up the pot, he felt Y/N’s gaze on him.

When he glanced at her, she was just sitting there, legs swinging slightly, watching him with the softest, most adoring smile.

It did something to his heart.

It wasn’t the first time she’d looked at him like that, but every single time, it hit him just as hard. Like falling in love all over again.

His hands stilled. A sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over him.

Without a word, he turned and walked back to her, stepping between her legs, wrapping his arms around her waist, and burying his face into the curve of her neck.

His hold on her was firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid to let go.

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden embrace. “Lewis? Baby?” she murmured, tilting her head slightly to look at him. “What’s happening, my love?”

He just held her tighter, his breath warm against her skin. “I just love you,” he whispered, voice rough, almost raw. “A lot.”

There was no hesitation from her. No questioning or teasing. She simply wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in just as tightly.

Her lips pressed gently to the top of his head, "I love you more than words can express" her voice was soft, tender and all he needed in that moment.

Lewis exhaled, his body relaxing against her.

This was home. This was safety. This was her.

Just as Lewis was sinking into the warmth of her embrace, feeling like he could stay there forever—

Y/N suddenly sneezed right into his hair.

He froze.

She sniffled. “Oh my god.”

And then Lewis laughed, the deep, joyful sound echoing through the kitchen. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his grin wide. “Really, baby?”

She groaned, covering her face. “I told you I was sick.”

Still chuckling, he wiped at his hair dramatically. “Yeah, but we were having a moment.”

She pouted, sniffling again. “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

Lewis shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Nah,” he murmured, smiling against her skin. “Still gonna be one of my favorite moments.”

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Wrote this because I'm in the ER ( fainted), and I have literally nothing to do, the reports will come later, so I'm just waiting, and I saw this request form an anon, and I was like, why not, anon requested for it to be a slightly open kind of ending. Hope you all liked this. Idk what's wrong with me, but hopefully it's all good and nothing too horrible.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower @sunshine-and-midnight-rain @maxswhore33 @glow-ish @lazybot @weekendlusting @milky-rose2

wreckage - charles leclerc (3/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : as charles fights for his life, his wife faces the hardest decision: let go or fight for him. a small miracle gives hope for recovery.

୨ৎ : genre : emotional fiction, very... very... emotional, again ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1676

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say that the hardest part of love is knowing when to let go. The decision to hold on is easy—it’s the decision to release, to trust that the other person will be okay without you, that’s the hard part.

You’ve been sitting in the sterile, white hospital room for hours, each minute feeling like a year. Charles’s body is hooked up to so many machines, monitors flashing with numbers that seem foreign to you. His face, once so full of life, now looks pale, bruised, and still. They told you to prepare yourself for the worst, but you haven’t let yourself believe it. Not yet.

Not while there's still hope.

You’re not even sure what you're hoping for anymore. Some miracle, maybe. But deep down, you know the odds. They’ve been giving you the numbers—stats you can’t quite process, numbers you can’t make sense of. His condition is critical, and they’ve told you, over and over again, that his survival chances are slim. His organs are struggling, his internal injuries severe. The brain scans were grim at first, showing little to no activity.

But you can’t let yourself fall into that darkness. Not yet.

The room feels too cold, too empty.

"How are his stats?" you ask quietly, though you already know the answer.

The nurse glances at you, her face trying to remain neutral. "Not good. His heart rate’s been fluctuating. His oxygen levels aren’t improving, either. We’re doing what we can, but his body’s fighting against us." She hesitates, looking back at the monitors. "We’re not sure how much longer we can keep him stable."

You nod, feeling the weight of every word, but you can’t give up. Not yet.

Minutes turn into hours. You stay by his side, holding his hand, whispering to him. Every time you speak, you tell him how much you love him, how much you need him to come back. You’re not sure if he can hear you, but it doesn’t matter. You need him to know.

And then, just as you’re beginning to feel the overwhelming weight of your decision, something unexpected happens.

The steady beep of the heart monitor suddenly begins to accelerate, growing faster and faster. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. Something’s wrong.

The nurse rushes over, her face pale as she watches the monitor. "His heart rate’s spiking," she mutters. "It’s too fast. His blood pressure’s dropping."

The room erupts into action as doctors rush in, all moving in synchronized chaos. You’re shoved aside as they begin adjusting the equipment, calling out orders, but your mind goes blank. You try to focus, but it feels like everything is spinning.

"His stats are crashing," one doctor says, his voice tense. "We need to stabilize him now."

"Is it time?" you ask, barely able to speak over the noise. "Should we—"

But before you can finish, a loud, sharp sound cuts through the room—the unmistakable alarm of a failing heartbeat. The doctor turns toward you, his eyes filled with grim determination. "I’m afraid we’ve reached the point where his body might not be able to hold on much longer."

Your breath hitches in your throat. Everything feels like it’s slipping away. You squeeze Charles’s hand tighter, as if willing him to come back to you.

But then, as if the universe is playing some cruel game, the chaos calms, just for a moment.

The alarms start to fade into silence, and the doctor presses his fingers to the side of Charles’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Your heart lurches, praying for any sign of life. The seconds feel like hours.

Suddenly, the doctor looks up, his eyes widening. "Wait… there’s something." He leans in, checking the monitors again. "His blood pressure’s stabilizing. His heart rate’s slowing down to a more normal rhythm."

You barely dare to breathe, your eyes never leaving Charles’s face.

The nurse who’s been working on him moves closer, shaking her head in disbelief. "It’s like he’s coming back."

You don’t know what to think. The last few minutes have felt like an eternity, and now, you’re afraid to believe it. "What’s happening?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

The doctor looks up at you, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes. "It seems like he’s fighting. His body’s responding… it’s too early to say for sure, but this is a good sign."

You stare at Charles, trying to process the sudden shift. Is this the miracle you’ve been waiting for, or just another false hope?

The minutes stretch on, and then, just as you begin to allow yourself a small breath of relief, the monitor lets out another shrill, jagged alarm—the unmistakable sound of a fatal arrhythmia. A shocking wave of panic shoots through you as the machine flashes with an erratic, spiking rhythm.

"V-fib!" The doctor shouts, his voice urgent. "We’re losing him. Get the defibrillator ready."

The nurse scrambles to prepare the machine, and you feel your stomach drop out. This can't be happening. Not now.

"Charles!" you whisper, gripping his hand harder, your eyes welling up. "Please."

The doctors are already on him, paddles in hand, but it feels like time is standing still. Your eyes dart from the monitors to Charles’s face, feeling as if your heart has stopped with his. Then, the shock.

The force of the defibrillator sends a jolt through his chest, and the monitor flickers. Nothing.

You close your eyes briefly, bracing for the worst.

"Again," the doctor orders, and another round of defibrillation. This time, there’s a slight blip, a change. It’s not much, but it’s something.

The doctor presses the paddles down once more, adjusting the settings. "One more time. We need him back."

The seconds stretch as they try again, and then finally, the heart monitor begins to beat again—slowly, but steadily.

"Heartbeat stable," the nurse breathes.

Your breath escapes your lips in a shaky exhale. You look at Charles again, feeling a rush of relief flood through you as the panic of the past few minutes settles into a wary calm. But it’s still not over. His fight isn’t done.

Just as you think the worst is behind you, Charles’s mother bursts into the room, her eyes frantic as she surveys the scene. Her voice cracks as she calls out his name, "Charles!"

You feel a flash of guilt. You should’ve called her sooner, but there had been no time. The doctors had been focused, and you’d been too overwhelmed to think clearly.

You step aside, giving her space, but you can’t look away from the man you love, still unconscious, his body fighting to survive.

The doctor steps over to you both. "We’re stabilizing him, but we’re not out of the woods yet. We need to make some decisions."

Charles’s mother looks at you, her face pale with concern. She reaches for your hand. "Whatever it is… I trust you. You’re his wife, and you know him better than anyone. What do you think we should do?"

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. He’s… he’s still fighting. But we’ve been here for so long, and I don’t know how much longer we can wait."

Her gaze softens. "You don’t have to do this alone. I trust you. We’re a family. We make these decisions together." She squeezes your hand tightly. "But if you think there’s still a chance for him, then we have to keep fighting too."

You look back at Charles, uncertainty and fear clouding your judgment. How do you even begin to make this decision? His body is failing him, but his heart—his spirit—is still trying.

"Let’s give him more time," you decide, your voice shaking with fear but firm with resolve. "But if his chances are too slim… if we’re just keeping him alive on machines, then we need to think about letting him go."

The doctor nods solemnly. "We’ll run more tests. But if things don’t improve soon, we may need to consider other options."

As the minutes pass, the machines continue to monitor Charles’s every movement, every breath, and the room remains tense, every decision weighed in silence. But then, something begins to shift.

"His blood pressure’s coming back up," the nurse announces quietly. "And… there’s more brain activity. His oxygen levels are improving too."

You feel like you might be dreaming. "Is this really happening?"

The doctor steps forward, shaking his head in disbelief. "I’ve never seen anything like this. His vitals are stabilizing. I think… I think he’s fighting."

"Fighting?" you ask, still not quite believing what you’re hearing.

The nurse, who’s been checking his monitors, speaks softly, her voice a little hopeful. "He knows you’re here. I think he’s holding on for you."

And in that moment, you realize: you’re not alone in this fight. Charles is fighting for you too.

The room fills with a cautious optimism, but the road ahead is still uncertain. Will he wake up? Will his organs continue to improve?

Only time will tell.

Then, the unthinkable happens.

"His breathing," the nurse says, voice shaky, "it’s improving. He’s trying to breathe on his own. We can extubate him. He doesn't need the tube anymore."

You stare, wide-eyed, as they carefully begin the process of removing the intubation tube, your heart in your throat.

Everything changes in a moment.

There’s still a long way to go, but for the first time in hours, you feel a flicker of hope.

He’s still here. And he’s fighting.

But you know deep down that the next few days will be critical.

You stand there, feeling like you’ve crossed a line between despair and hope. But Charles has always been a fighter. And if he’s fighting, so will you.

For him. For the life you built together. For love.

You look down at him, and the smallest of smiles begins to tug at your lips.

Maybe… just maybe… he’ll make it through.

And for now, that's enough.

taglist: @emryb , @htpssgavi , @aleatorio1234 , @ayap4paya , @prttylight , @meadhbhcavanagh , @iluvnewtie , @hiireadstuff , @armystay89 , comment to be added

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

si el bebé es de franco es para hacer la mejor obra de teatro del mundo

last night I was watching esperanza mia (an argentinian show) and the plot is so good for a fic

ੈ✩‧₊˚ HOW DO YOU TURN THIS THING OFF? — LN4

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: fans love when you make appearances in landos streams. it’s usually because he doesn’t know where something is, and the internet goes crazy over their favorite certified himbo. on one stream, you get a taste of your own medicine when lando tasks you with turning the live feed off, and fans get a little more of an insight into your relationship

genre: established relationship, humour

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just tweeted

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user2 just made a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 406,409 others

landonorris dinner date then stream, be there or be square, 6pm

view all comments

maxfewtrell did she have to show you how to use a knife and fork too?

yourusername i definitely had to show him how to fill my wine glass up when it was empty

user PUT Y/N ON THE STREAM WE WANT MORE Y/N

user if he comes on in a dress shirt i’m Dead

user oh they’ve all definitely seen the thread😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 108,654 others

yourusername this time it was my own stupidity that let the secret out. and i didn’t have to show him how to propose! he did it all on his own accord!

view all comments

user YOU’RE SUCH AN ICON

user only lando and y/n could accidentally expose their own engagement

user THE CAPTION😭😭 she really has kept him alive all these years huh

user ‘i wouldn’t want to think of a life without you anyway’ now if that’s not meant to be than what is

landonorris i love you

landonorris really quick whilst we’re at it,,, where tf do we keep the spare phone chargers?

yourusername oh.. oh baby. i’ll be home in 5

————

a/n: hELLO! so the snippet from this got over 200 notes and i couldn’t wait to post it because you all loved it so much!

for the rest of my wips, check out the wip game linked in my pinned post!!

all of your feedback over the last few days has made me so happy sjdjsjs, any thoughts please feel free to send i am having so much fun creating for you guys. i seriously appreciate every like comment ask and follow!! anon emojis are now listed in my bio so if you wanna chat a bunch, have a look at what’s free !

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan

Te llevo para que me lleves | Franco Colapinto

summary: Después de ganar su primera carrera en Fórmula 1, Franco le regala a Agus su casco.

pairing: franco colapinto x (fem)! singer agus luciani

wattpad: jinetacromadette

Era una tarde soleada en Monza, y Franco acababa de conseguir su primera victoria en Fórmula 1. Estaba empapado de champaña, con esa sonrisa que parecía iluminar cualquier lugar al que fuera. Cuando salimos del circuito, me llevó a un rincón más tranquilo, lejos de la multitud.

—Tengo algo para vos —me dijo, todavía con el pelo revuelto y los ojos brillando de emoción.

—¿Qué? ¿La botella de champán? Porque ya la vaciaste. —Reí, intentando disimular que su mirada siempre me hacía sentir un poco más torpe de lo normal.

Franco negó con la cabeza y, de repente, apareció con el casco en las manos. Lo miré, confundida.

—¿Te lo sostengo? —le dije, tratando de entender qué estaba haciendo.

Él rió, esa risa suya tan natural.

—No, amor. Te lo estoy dando a vos.

Me quedé muda. Lo giré en mis manos y me di cuenta de los detalles que había puesto en él: una bandera argentina, pequeños símbolos que representaban cosas nuestras —como una estrella fugaz que habíamos visto juntos en uno de esos viajes de madrugada—, y ahí, en un rincón del casco, las iniciales AL.

—¿AL? —le pregunté, aunque el nudo en la garganta ya me daba la respuesta.

—Vos sos Agus Luciani. Y porque este casco no solo me protegió a mí en la pista, sino que tiene todo lo que soy. Y ahora también tiene lo más importante. Tiene amor. Y vos sos mi amor.

Intenté no llorar. Juro que intenté. Pero era Franco, y todo lo que hacía tenía esa mezcla de intensidad y amor que siempre me desarmaba.

—No puedo aceptarlo —le dije, aunque ya lo estaba abrazando como si fuera mi mayor tesoro.

—Sí, podés. Y lo vas a aceptar, porque ya sos dueña de mi corazón. Me parece justo que también seas dueña de mi casco. Ya es tuyo. Como lo soy yo.

✦ Minhyuk y Moonbin

Pedido N° 2: Park Minhyuk y Moon Bin 

Extencion: 3.2k 

Tags: stepbrothers, angst pero happy ending, malentendidos por todas partes 

also in ao3

Moon Bin había tomado la decisión de irse de su casa a los diecinueve años, su madre no entendía su decisión tan repentina, pero no lo detuvo. Su padrastro ni siquiera opino, su relación no era mala, al contrario, le tenía mucho cariño sin embargo habían hecho un trato silencioso en el que ninguno se entrometía en las decisiones del otro y eso funcionó. 

Vivir con Dongmin tampoco había sido fácil, porque en el momento que acordaron lo de irse a vivir juntos, Bin se había olvidado que su amigo salía con Sanha; quien era una pulga de la cual no podía deshacerse ni con el peor de los venenos. Y eso, lo hizo sentir aún más solo.  

Diez años después, Bin con un trabajo estable y departamento propio, se dio cuenta de que no importara cuanto se alejara e intentara engañarse a sí mismo, la única persona por la que podría dejar todo, era la única que incluso si suplicara, jamás le correspondería. 

Es por eso que la silueta de Park Minhyuk apareció en las oficinas de Marketing junto al jefe Bam, él quiso esconderse en su oficina y llorar por horas, realmente pensó que lo había superado aunque sea un poco. Que tan equivocado se encontraba, cuando los latidos de su corazón revivieron luego de años en calma el calor de su cuerpo se hizo evidente, y sus subordinados parece que también lo notaron. 

—Señor Moon, ¿se encuentra bien? 

—Si, prepárense—casi que se lo dijo así mismo—Ahí viene el Sr. Bam. 

En ese momento, el Sr. Bam acompañado de la figura pequeña de Park Minhyuk, apareció frente a él. Todos en la sala se pararon e hicieron una reverencia hacia el CEO, quien presentó al acompañante como colaborador para el proyecto artístico. Ese es el momento en el que sus ojos se encontraron, la mirada brillante con un rastro de sorpresa de Hyuk exalto al rubio quien solo pudo desviar la mirada hacia su jefe.  

—Sr. Moon Bin, por favor cuide de Minhyuk—el presidente posó una mano sobre el pelinegro quien sonreía ocultando la decepción por la reacción de Bin—que su popularidad no lo engañe, es de los mejores artistas que he visto. 

—No lo dudo—no lo pensó, las palabras se le escaparon y se arrepintió, el tono con el que lo dijo se sintió tan personal que una punzada de dolor lo atravesó. El Señor Bam se fue más rápido de lo que Bin deseo, y pronto Minhyuk, MoonBin y los subordinados se encontraban solos. 

—Sigan trabajando en el proyecto, organizaré unos temas con el Sr. Park—ordenó Bin llevando a Hyuk fuera de la sala de reuniones—No holgazaneen. 

El trayecto hacia la oficina de MoonBin fue silencioso, en realidad el rubio temía que si empezaba una conversación que está tornara una dirección que no podría soportar. Sabía que era el culpable de esta incomodidad, culpable de su propio sufrimiento. 

Park Minhyuk quien era el único hijo de su padrastro, pelo y ojos negros, estatura mediana y hombros pequeños. Crecieron juntos, fueron a la escuela juntos, compartieron habitación por años y hasta que se fue de la casa, fueron mejores amigos. Minhyuk lo contacto cientos de veces; navidad, su cumpleaños, año nuevo o simplemente porque quería verlo, siempre dijo estar ocupado. 

Moon Bin se refugió en el estudio, y ahora en el trabajo. Sin embargo, no importaba cuantos kilómetros hubiera de distancia, en el fondo, su cabeza rondaba sobre preguntas de Minhyuk. Y ahora muchas de ellas, estaban siendo respondidas. El cabello pelinegro estaba por los hombros totalmente alisado, sus expresiones eran más maduras, su figura se notaba tonificada y los jeans rotos con la remera negra le quedaban tan bien que lloraría. 

—Lo siento, no sabia que estaba trabajando aquí—y como si lo hubieran golpeado con agua, la voz de Minhyuk lo saca de su trance. Minhyuk lo mira, no fijamente—Bin, ¿quieres que renuncie al proyecto? Estoy seguro…

—No tienes que disculparte, hyung—interrumpe rápidamente Bin y mueve sus brazos nerviosamente, se siente extraño—No hay razón para renunciar. 

Es un segundo de silencio. 

—¿No estás molesto?—cuestionó el pelinegro. 

—¿Eh? ¿Por qué lo estaría?—Bin abre la puerta de su oficina manteniéndola para que entre su hyung quien agradeció con la cabeza. Cuando la puerta se cierra, repentinamente se sienten demasiado cerca. 

—Bueno…—Minhyuk se rasca la nuca—no debe ser agradable tener que trabajar con alguien que odias. 

Antes de que siquiera pudiera procesarlo.

—Es decir, no dudo que tú puedas soportar a cualquier persona sin importar que tanto lo odies, ya que eres un gran trabajador. 

—Hyung, yo no te odio—Bin se acercó con el ceño fruncido—¿Quién te dijo algo así, hyung?

Minhyuk pestañeó un par de veces y respondió. 

—Bin, tu me lo dijiste—el pelinegro retrocedió un paso ante el cuerpo enorme del menor ¿en qué momento creció tanto? sus hombros eran mucho más anchos y sin duda que aumento unos centímetros de altura—El día que me llamaste, en la madrugada, ¿lo recuerdas?

No, no lo recordaba, en absoluto. Estaba tan confundido que su cabeza empezaba a doler. 

No importaba cuanto forzara su memoria, ningun recuerdo venía a su cabeza, incluso le costaba imaginarse a sí mismo diciéndole esas palabras a su hyung. 

—Hyung, en serio, no te odio—a Bin le tembló la voz por el desespero. 

—¿Es así? Es un alivio entonces—contestó el mayor sonriendo—, Ya que nunca quieres reunirte conmigo, tus palabras ya eran una explicación a tus acciones. 

Moon Bin trago el nudo que se formaba en su garganta. 

—Mis acciones no tienen nada que ver con esas palabras—Bin se alejó del mayor fingiendo que buscaba algo en su escritorio—Hyung es una persona que aprecio mucho. 

Parecía que Minhyuk no escuchó la última frase ya que no hubo respuesta alguna. Luego de eso le dijo que se pusiera cómodo, y en sus carpetas Minhyuk fue sacando las propuestas que tenía para el proyecto; como era esperarse de su hyung, todo era maravilloso, desde pequeño que el pelinegro desarrolló sus habilidades con el dibujo y con un poco de recelo recuerda al Bin pequeño que constantemente le pedía que le regalara dibujos. El Moon Bin que acostumbraba apoyarse en su hyung, su diferencia era solo de un año, pero Minhyuk actuó como un hermano mayor a pesar de no tener una relación sanguínea. Quizás fue por eso que cuando descubrió sus sentimientos se aterró tanto, Park Minhyuk lo veía como un hermano. 

Luego de terminar su jornada laboral, en la que no pudo concentrarse, Minhyuk lo invitó a comer pero dijo que ya tenía planes con Dongmin. Lo cual no era del todo mentira porque por más que ya no vivieran juntos, eran vecinos y Sanha, como dijo antes, era una pulga de la cual no podía deshacerse. 

—¿Por qué estás tan deprimido, Hyung?

—No quiero hablar de eso—murmuró Bin contra la almohada del sofá. 

Sanha suspiro malhumorado. 

—Si vas a estar de malas repartiendo esas malas energías, vete a tu habitación a hundirte en tu propia miseria—Sanha lo estaba echando, de su propia casa. 

—Y-a en serio, Bin—Dongmin vino dándole una palmadita en la cabeza—¿Qué pasa? 

Moon Bin se incorporó con agotamiento en su cuerpo. 

—Park Minhyuk, ese es mi problema.  

Oh. 

—Minhyuk hyung no es tu problema—contestó con los brazos cruzados Sanha, el defensor número uno del pelinegro—Tu problema es que te guste tu hermanastro.

—¡Ex-hermanastro!—exclamó Moon Bin. Porque sí, hace ya cuatro años que la madre de Bin y el Sr. Park se habían separado, aunque según había visto la última vez que fue a visitar a su madre estos seguían siendo igual de pegados. No cabía duda que fueron mejores amigos toda la vida y que incluso su separación romántica no podía romper su amistad, los envidiaba. 

Dongmin y Sanha se quedaron toda la noche viendo películas mientras que Bin ni siquiera podía fingir que la estaba pasando mal, eventualmente se quedó dormido y cuando despertó la pareja ya no estaba ahí. Era de madrugada, el cielo estaba tapado de niebla y una leve llovizna golpeaba contra el ventanal del departamento, sentado en la silla de su cocina hundió su cabeza en sus manos. Se le salía el corazón, todos los años que aguanto se le venían abajo, tanto esfuerzo por mantener su vida en equilibrio, un ser con tanto poder en su vida lo derrumbaba todo. Se sentía mal, como si su cuerpo estuviera sosteniendo rocas, rocas pesadas que le quemaban. 

Un ataque de tos lo golpeó con fuerza, puso su mano en su boca y con la otra agarró su garganta, ardía. Sus ojos fruncidos se abrieron enfocando la vista, la mesada cubierta de pétalos pequeños y lilas. Pensó que estaba alucinando sin embargo el tacto contra ellas era suave, eran reales. Pronto la tos volvió y con ellos mantuvo la mirada abierta, y si, lo que sospechaba. Los pétalos salían de su garganta. 

✦

Moon Bin no fue a trabajar, los días estaban lluviosos, y cada día la tos estaba peor. Su cama era cómoda, sin embargo no llegaba a tapar el frío que sentía. Intentaba levantarse para mantener su cuerpo activo, era más difícil de lo que había supuesto, llegar a la cocina ahora era un verdadero triunfo. 

Dongmin y Sanha, se ofrecieron a cuidarlo del resfriado que decía tener, no importaba cuanto lo pidieran, no los iba a dejar. Ya sabía que no era un resfriado común, lo averiguo, no era ni más ni menos que la enfermedad de Hanahaki producida por un amor no correspondido y que, hasta el día, no tenía cura. Estaba agotado, su pecho dolía de lo mucho que tosía y su cabeza no podía alejarse de los mechones negros, ya llevaba varios días ausentado al trabajo se preguntaba si Minhyuk seguía preparando diseños para el proyecto. Suspiro. 

Espero que no se esté sobre exigiendo.  

Minhyuk siempre era maravilloso, en los últimos años evitó analizar las cualidades del pelinegro sin embargo ahora era inevitable. Sus recuerdos más vividos eran de adolescentes; es decir, siempre se llevaron bien, siempre jugaron juntos y siempre fueron una familia, pero a partir de su preadolescencia fue diferente. Ellos no solo eran hermanastros, eran amigos, estudiaban juntos, veían películas juntos, se quejaban de sus padres y se escapaban de casa juntos. Y fue cuando sus sentimientos florecieron. 

La primera vez que tomaron alcohol juntos eran realmente jóvenes, Moon Bin estaba por cumplir los diecisiete años y su hyung estaba a semanas de irse a la Universidad de Arte. Esa noche, con unos pocos tragos de alcohol en sangre, se dio cuenta lo mucho que le gustaba Minhyuk. No amor de familia, no, gustar gustar. Un amor que le cubría el pecho, y le hacía temblar las manos. Se sintió tan culpable, tan enfermo, que ni siquiera volvió a mirar a los ojos a su Hyung temiendo que notara sus sentimientos. 

Fue una sorpresa para su familia la nueva actitud del joven Bin, evitaba a su hermanastro a toda costa, cuando venía de vacaciones de la universidad él se iba a la casa de sus amigos, cuando no podía ir a la casa de sus amigos fingía estar ocupado y se quedaba en su habitación. Todo el grupo familiar pensó que los hermanos inseparables se pelearon, y Minhyuk quien no entendía en absoluto como Bin se volvió tan arisco, tenía ganas de llorar; estaba claro que no era una fase de su adolescencia, Moon Bin lo estaba evitando sino como se explicaría que asistía a todas las reuniones familiares a las que él no iba. 

Cuando comprendió que estaba siendo una molestia para Moon Bin, no dudó en darle su espacio. Intentó evitar ir a las fiestas de Navidad y Año nuevo, sin embargo la Señora Moon siempre insistía en que fuera, le daban ganar de vomitar de los nervios con la cara de disgusto de Bin. Se sentía terrible. 

Y fue peor cuando se enteró de que Moon Bin se había ido de la casa, fue su padre quien llamó pero sabía que la pregunta que le hizo fue por los sollozos de la Señora Moon. 

—Hyuk, ¿realmente te peleaste con Bin? 

Sabía que no, sin embargo las acciones de su hermanastro eran tan extrañas que le hacían doler el corazón. 

Para las siguientes vacaciones, el cuerpo de Hyuk estaba cansado solo de pensar en ir a casa. Sin embargo fue a pedido de su padre. En esas vacaciones fue que se enteró que se separaron, y Hyuk realmente se sintió como un hijo de padres divorciados, ellos que siempre se habían querido tanto… No podía entenderlo. La respuesta de su padre fue pues eso mismo tendría que decir yo de Bin y tú. La señora Moon y su padre se rieron y trataron como siempre, y eso fue un alivio. 

Cuando pasó por la habitación antigua de Bin sintió el vacío de la casa, era indiscutible que su presencia era añorable. ¿Hace cuanto que el rubio no venía a ver a su madre? Probablemente, meses y… era su culpa. 

Antes de que una gota se derramara, la señora Moon lo encontró parado en el pasillo con una expresión tan deplorable que le dio vergüenza la rapidez con la fue abrazado. 

—Lo siento tanto, en serio—los mocos no le dejaron hablar—no sé, no sé que le hice. 

Con una sonrisa y acariciando su espalda. 

—Bin te quiere tanto que no sabe cómo expresarlo. 

Esas fueron las palabras de la Señora Moon sin embargo parecían tan equivocadas la noche que Minhyuk llegó a su casa luego de una larga exposición en uno de los museos de Seúl. Su casa era pequeña pero suficiente, tenía una buena vista para inspirarse y a diferencia de la mayoría, no tenía ruidos urbanos. Es por eso que el tono del celular lo sorprendió tanto, contestó impactado por el nombre en la pantalla. En los primeros segundos nadie contestó. 

—¿Hola? 

—Hyung, realmente odio que seas mi hermano. 

La voz inconfundible de Moon Bin se escuchó, y Minhyuk sentía que se quedaba sin aire. 

El pelinegro recuerda esa noche muy vivida. Y aunque Moon Bin le negó sus propias palabras hace solo unos días, no era normal que desapareciera en el momento exacto en el que se encuentran, irritado por la situación Minhyuk va a enfrentarlo. Si Moon Bin se niega a volver al trabajo, entonces él tendrá que ir a su casa. 

En cuanto llegó a la puerta del departamento con un poquito de ayuda de Sanha—quien volvió con Dongmin luego de abrirle la puerta del edificio—, tocó la puerta, nadie respondió. Siguió insistiendo, pensó que la puerta se caería de lo fuerte que estaba golpeando sin embargo cuando se le ocurrió la probabilidad de que el menor no estuviera en casa Moon Bin apareció frente a él, pálido, el pelo caído y ojeras negras por debajo de los ojos. Fue tan diferente a la imagen que tuvo de él la última vez que incluso dudo que este fuera el propio Bin. 

—¿Minhyuk?—sintió que le secaba la garganta—¿Qué haces-?

Inmediatamente una contracción en su abdomen se hizo presente y su cuerpo flaqueo haciéndolo terminar en cuclillas mientras tosía fuertemente. El pelinegro se arrodilló junto a Bin apoyando su mano en la espalda y cerrando la puerta en el camino. Pronto los pétalos salieron por su boca y aunque intentó tapar su boca, fue muy tarde. 

—¿Hanahaki?—preguntó el pelinegro, no necesitaba una respuesta, sabía lo que era. La enfermedad del amor no correspondido, no le pareció ver raro a alguien con esta enfermedad, le pareció raro que Moon Bin la tuviera—Llamaré una ambulancia, espera. 

—No, hyung—el menor agarró su muñeca deteniéndolo—en serio, no te preocupes. ¿Viniste por algo del proyecto?

Moon Bin con una fuerza interior que sacó de la vergüenza que le daba mostrarse así frente a su hyung. 

—¿Qué? Vine porque estaba preocupado—explico el pelinegro—faltaste muchos días al trabajo. 

Moon Bin se apoyó en el sofá sabiendo que no podría durar mucho parado. 

—No hay porqué preocuparse, hyung—sonrió. 

—Moon Bin, ¿me estás malditamente jodiendo?—fue la primera vez que escucho a su Hyung maldecir de esa manera—Tienes hanahaki. 

—Lo sé, hyung. 

A pasos duros MInhyuk se acercó al sofá, arrodillándose en el piso y enfocando su mirada en el rubio. 

—Dime quien es—fuerte y claro, y Bin sintio que iba a empezar a paniquear.

—¿Qué? Hyung, no vale la pena, en serio. 

Minhyuk frunció las cejas y agarró la mano del rubio. 

—Sea quien sea, le haré entender lo que se está perdiendo por no salir con alguien como tú. 

La mirada del menor se oscureció. 

—¿Quién sea, hyung? ¿En serio?—la voz se profundizó y Hyuk asintió con seguridad—¿Incluso si eres tú? 

Minhyuk asintió un poco confundido. 

—Claro, lo haré, sea quien sea. 

Moon Bin lo miro como si fuera un tonto, porque realmente lo estaba pesando. Con un suspiro, seguido de una risa amarga se alejó de la mano de su Hyung para agarrar sus pelos entre los dedos de sus manos. 

—Hyung, ¿eres estúpido?

Minhyuk no quiso parecerlo aunque no entendía por qué repentinamente lo estaban insultando, aunque rápidamente tuvo una conclusión. 

—Oh…—el pelinegro bajó la mirada y asintió hacia sí mismo, apretando sus labios abrazo a Bin—Debió ser muy difícil… No sé cómo aguantaste para convivir tanto con la pareja de Dongmin si tanto te gustaba. 

Moon Bin agarró de los hombros a su hyung como si fuera veneno, y se paró de su lugar con una repulsión que Minhyuk no pudo entender hasta que las palabras retumbaron en el departamento. 

—¡No es Dongmin quien, Dios Hyung!—la rabia consumía al menor—¡Eres tú, hyung, tú me gustas! 

Volvió a tirarse en el sofá con tanta vergüenza que ocultó su cara entre sus palmas. 

—oh…—fue lo único que escucho venir del mayor, y sentía que el mundo se le venía abajo, la tos se hizo presente con sus pétalos ya característicos. Unas cuantas lágrimas acompañaron y nuevamente su Hyung estaba tocando su espalda, su toque quemaba pero ya no tenía corazón para alejarse—Bin, hay algo que quiero preguntarte. 

La voz fue suave y golpeó contra su oído como un cariño. 

—Dime Hyung. 

Fueron unos segundos de silencio en los que Minhyuk pensó en cómo decirlo. 

—¿Yo cuando te rechace? 

—Hyung nunca me consideró una opción, no había necesidad de preguntarlo para saber su respuesta—contesto entrecortadamente. 

—No supongas por tu mismo, quiero que me lo preguntes—pidió de manera firme el mayor, lo único que se le ocurrió al rubio fue pensar en cuanto más quería avergonzarlo, no sacó su cabeza de sus manos y se quedó hasta ahí hasta que las manos del mayor agarraron su cabeza levantándola, los dedos de su hyung apretaron en las mejillas mientras que tenían una distancia mínima entre ellos—No vuelvas a suponer. 

Los labios de Minhyuk lo atacaron, eran suaves y los primeros segundos Bin pensó que había muerto, que era solo un sueño luego del fin. No lo era, llevó su agarre a la cintura del pelinegro, el corazón golpeando contra su pecho, la piel entre sus dedos, era demasiado real. 

—Hyung…—separaron sus labios con sus respiraciones agitadas—Yo, me gustas mucho, en serio. 

Minhyuk río. 

—A mí también me gustas mucho—beso la mejilla del otro—Y por si estás suponiendo cosas raras, esto no es un rechazo. 

Moon Bin sintió que el peso en su pecho se aliviaba.