"lando Adopted Franco Uwu" No He Didn't. He Is Only Three Years Older. That Man Is Not A Father. He Wants

hoy mas que nunca

Sleepyhead

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: sometimes race weekends can be so tiring that words escape you, but that has never been a problem for your doting boyfriend

Based on this request

You walk down the paddock path, utterly exhausted after a long day at the track. Your eyelids feel like lead weights and you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Charles has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, practically carrying your limp body as you lean into him for support.

“Tired, mon petit chou?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You just let out a little grunt in response, too drained to even form words.

As you round the corner, Logan Sargeant spots the two of you and rushes over with a big grin. “Hey guys! How’s it going?”

Charles gives him a polite smile. “Hello, mate. We’re doing well, just a bit tired after such a busy day.”

Logan turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of … mad or something.”

You blink slowly at him, your brain taking its time to process his words. Mad? Why would you be mad? You just shake your head minutely, rubbing your cheek against Charles’ shoulder.

“Oh no, she’s not angry,” Charles explains with a little chuckle. “This is just how she gets when she’s really tired. She goes all quiet and doesn’t speak. Her body language is the only way to read her moods then.”

“Yeah, and right now she’s giving off major sleepy kitten vibes,” Oscar’s voice chimes in as he joins the little group with Lando beside him. “Lando gets the exact same way when he’s exhausted. He turns into a limp noodle that I have to carry around.”

Lando huffs indignantly. “Hey! I do not!”

“Yes you do,” Oscar laughs. “Remember that time in Monza last year? You were falling asleep on your feet after the race.”

Lando rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But only sometimes!”

You let their playful banter wash over you, your heavy eyelids sliding shut as you nestle further into Charles’ embrace. You feel so safe and comforted in his arms, his solid warmth enveloping you.

“Alright, I think it’s time we got you back to the hotel for some rest,” Charles murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Say goodnight to the boys.”

You manage a tiny wave at Logan, Oscar, and Lando before allowing Charles to steer you down the paddock towards the exit. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly.

“Goodnight you two! Get some sleep!” Oscar calls after you.

Once you reach the car, Charles helps you into the passenger seat, buckling you in gently before jogging around to the driver’s side. You’re asleep before he even starts the engine, finally giving in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

The sound of a car door opening rouses you from your slumber sometime later. You slowly blink your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Charles’ hand is tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mon amour, we’re at the hotel. Let’s get you up to our room, hmm?”

You nod drowsily, allowing him to unbuckle you and help you out of the car. He pulls you into his side, one arm securely around your waist as you walk unsteadily towards the hotel entrance. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover what you feel for this man by your side.

Once in the elevator, Charles shifts to face you fully, those warm green eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You did so well today. I’m so proud of you for working so hard. Let’s get you nice and warm in bed now.”

You give him a tired little smile, nuzzling your face against his chest. He chuckles softly, squeezing you tighter.

Eventually you make it to the hotel room, Charles guiding you straight to the plush king bed. He helps you out of your clothes until you’re down to your underwear, then pulls back the covers for you to slip between the soft sheets. A happy sigh slips from your lips when your head hits the pillow. Charles presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep well, mon cœur. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers, laying down beside you.

You immediately curl into his side, draping an arm over his stomach as you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, making you feel so small yet so incredibly cherished. With Charles holding you snugly against his chest, you drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When consciousness returns, the first thing that registers is the solid warmth of Charles’ body pressed against yours. His leg is hooked over yours, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. There’s a pleasant ache to your limbs, the satisfying kind that comes from a good rest after a long day. You shift slightly, causing Charles to stir awake.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, his sexy morning voice making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You tilt your head up to meet his sleepy but adoring gaze, suddenly drowning in those green pools. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, rubbing your nose against his.

Charles breaks into a dazzling grin, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that steals your breath away. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek tenderly.

“Did you sleep well? Feeling more rested now?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, smiling lazily. “Sleeping in your arms is the best.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t agree more. I love holding you close like this.”

Your heart swells three sizes as he gazes at you with such naked affection. This man loves you so fiercely, so completely. You can see it in his every look, his every touch. He treasures you in a way you never thought possible. Feeling brave, you let the words sitting heavily on your tongue finally slip out.

“Je t’aime, Charles … mon amour.”

His smile turns blinding, happier than you’ve ever seen it. “I love you too, with all my heart,” he breathes, pulling you in for another lingering kiss.

You melt into the embrace, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you feel for this incredible man into the kiss. Nothing has ever felt so right, so perfect than being here in his arms. As Charles strokes your cheek and deepens the kiss, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll always feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved by this extraordinary man.

i am always waiting for this fic AND IM HAVING THE DRAMA AND KISSES I NEEDED

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (THREE)

masterlist | promptlist | previous part

Here is part three! And I'm honestly so proud of this chapter! I think it turned out awesome lol <3

↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳warnings: awkward encounters, truth or dare (trust me lol) , jealousy, alcohol, drinking games, talking about feelings ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

*a few days later*

As you stood in the bathroom, tying your hair into a ponytail, the familiar scent of the devil himself filled the small space. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Charles had a way of entering a room without saying a word but still commanding all the air in it. He closed the distance between you two, silently taking his place by the sink next to you, reaching into the cupboard for his hair products.

You bit back a groan, focusing on your reflection. There was nothing inherently wrong with him being there—but him standing this close stirred feelings you desperately wanted to push aside. His presence was overwhelming, in that maddening, familiar way.

Your usual coping mechanism kicked in: sarcasm, sharp enough to keep him at arm’s length.

"Fixing your hair won’t fix your attitude, you know that, right?" you sassed, not entirely sure why you felt the need to say anything.

Charles scoffed, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. His gaze was intense, steady—always knowing too much. "There’s no attitude that needs fixing," he huffed, washing his hands and drying them on the towel with deliberate slowness. "Besides, some people actually put effort into how they present themselves..."

Your head snapped toward him. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of saying I look like shit?"

He rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Are you honestly this delusional?"

You threw your hands in the air. "Well, apparently, I am! Because that insult was completely unnecessary." You crossed your arms, leaning back against the sink with a challenging glare.

Charles shrugged, unfazed. "First of all, you started it. I didn’t do anything until you found it necessary to attack me." His voice lowered slightly, holding that aggravating calmness. "And besides… you and I both know that wasn’t an insult."

You narrowed your eyes. "How was it not an insult? You basically said I don’t put effort into how I look."

He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Before you could register what was happening, his hands were on either side of you, gripping the edge of the sink. His chest hovered just inches from yours, effectively trapping you in place. His cologne wrapped around you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips before snapping back, locking onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

"Chérie, don’t act like you’re unaware that I think you’re hot," he whispered, voice low and rough. "You don’t need the effort."

Your heart thudded violently in your chest. For a split second, your gaze dropped to his lips—damn it. Realizing your mistake, you forced your eyes away, breathing through the sudden rush of heat.

You steeled yourself and met his gaze again. "Charles, quit playing games and get out of my face," you said through clenched teeth, though your voice wavered ever so slightly.

His eyes swept over you one last time, lingering on how you were still pressed against the sink, tension radiating between you like a live wire. His jaw clenched.

What the hell is he thinking?

Charles shifted back slightly, but something held him there, still too close for comfort. He exhaled sharply, as if wrestling with himself.

"What changed?" he asked quietly, voice strained.

Your brows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed, shoulders tense. "What did I do that made you hate me so much?" His voice softened, tinged with something dangerously close to regret. "What changed?"

Before you could answer—or even begin to process what to say—someone cleared their throat at the doorway.

Charles jumped back like he’d been burned, stumbling a step before retreating to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You turned your head sharply, locking eyes with Arthur, who stood leaning against the doorframe with a massive, knowing grin.

"I came to ask if you’re ready for game night," Arthur said casually, though his smirk betrayed every innocent intention.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax. "Yeah, coming," you muttered, pushing off the sink and brushing past him.

But before you crossed the threshold, something tugged at you. You rested your hand on the doorframe, glancing back at Charles. His head lifted, eyes locking onto yours with a silent intensity.

"As for what changed?" you said quietly, voice sharper than you intended. "The fact that you have no idea says enough, Charles."

With that, you walked out, catching up to Arthur as he fell into step beside you, still grinning like an idiot.

He glanced sideways at you, suppressing a laugh. "You two really have a thing for getting caught in bathrooms together, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t start."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, let’s just say... I did put my money on you two hooking up this holiday, but I didn’t expect you to get that intimate that fast."

"First of all, nothing happened," you snapped, face heating. "And second, it wasn’t what it looked like."

"That’s what they all say," Arthur teased. "But to me, it looked like my brother had you pinned against the sink pretty damn convincingly."

You groaned. "He did not have me pinned—"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Because you being pressed against the sink while he boxed you in with his hands definitely looked like pinning from where I was standing."

"Fine," you admitted, throwing your hands up. "It looked exactly like that, but it was not for the reason you so desperately hope it was. So shut your mouth before I call your mom and tell her what happened to her couch." you said, referring to the time you caught Arthur and his former girlfriend having sex on his mom's new couch.

Arthur’s grin dropped instantly, his hands shooting up in mock surrender. "Alright, relax, no need for threats!" he laughed, shaking his head as the two of you headed downstairs.

As you and Arthur walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

"I’m still putting my money on it, though," Arthur added with a mischievous grin, his voice light but teasing.

Before you could respond, Dennis looked up from where he was lounging on the couch, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Putting your money on what?"

Arthur didn’t miss a beat. "That she’ll hook up with Charles before the end of this trip," he declared confidently, shooting you a knowing smirk.

Dennis let out a deep chuckle, sitting up straighter. "Oh, definitely. There’s no doubt in that," he agreed, his tone playfully conspiratorial.

You groaned dramatically, throwing your hands in the air. "Seriously? You’re both delusional."

Arthur shrugged. "Just calling it like we see it. The tension could be cut with a knife."

Dennis nodded sagely, as if offering expert commentary. "It’s practically inevitable."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at Dennis, who dodged it with practiced ease, laughing.

"You two are ridiculous," you muttered, fighting back a smile as they continued to exchange amused glances like co-conspirators.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆₊⁺

Tonight, the sky outside was pitch black, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance as the group gathered in the living room. Sprawled across the plush couches, each of you with a drink in hand, the night carried an air of relaxed intimacy. The warm light of the room and the subtle buzz of alcohol created the perfect atmosphere for a game that was bound to stir up some chaos.

It was Inès who first suggested it, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned forward, waving her drink for emphasis. “Okay,” she announced, her grin widening. “Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

There was a mix of groans and laughs, but no one protested. As the alcohol worked its magic, the group quickly fell into the rhythm of the game, starting with tame questions.

“Alright,” Inès began, her tone playful. “Never have I ever made out at work.”

A beat of silence followed before all the boys raised their glasses almost simultaneously, their movements earning a round of laughter.

“I should’ve guessed,” you said, shaking your head as they took their sips.

The game continued, the questions growing more personal but still lighthearted. Dennis asked if anyone had ever called in sick to work when they weren’t actually sick, which prompted a unanimous drink from nearly everyone. Joris, with his usual antics, asked if anyone had ever gotten so drunk they couldn’t remember anything, earning another flurry of laughter as most of the group took a sip.

Then Kika piped up, her eyes sparkling as she leaned back against Pierre with a devilish grin. “Okay, my turn,” she announced, her voice dripping with amusement. “Never have I ever made out with my brother’s or sister’s best friend.”

The room broke into a chorus of gasps and giggles as everyone’s eyes darted around, scanning for raised glasses other than the obvious ones. Pierre groaned, shaking his head with a laugh as he lifted his drink and took a sip.

“You just want to get your boyfriend drunk, don't you?” Dennis teased Kika, his grin widening as he, too, raised his glass and took a sip.

Kika laughed, and looked at Pierre, who shot Dennis a playful smirk. “You did too, I see?”

Dennis chuckled, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, can't deny that.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, her gaze flitting around the room. “Alright, anyone else want to confess?”

You stayed silent, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you watched the game unfold. The question might not have been directed at you specifically, but the implications swirling around the room were impossible to ignore, clearly an indirect question to see if you actually ever made out with Charles, which bummer to them, you didn't.

The game was already proving to be far more chaotic than you’d anticipated. The group sat sprawled out on the plush couches in the villa’s living room, drinks in hand and laughter filling the air. You’d already survived a few rounds of lighthearted questions—some borderline embarrassing—but when Dennis sat forward, his mischievous grin spelled trouble.

“Okay,” Dennis announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Y’all ask boring questions. Let’s spice this up.” He took a dramatic pause, letting the tension build before smirking. “Never have I ever gotten off to the thought of someone in this room… since we arrived here.”

A ripple of laughter broke out immediately. Kika, sitting snugly next to Pierre, was the first to respond, raising her glass with a playful roll of her eyes. “Well, I think I better drink, because let’s be honest—no one would believe me if I said no, considering my boyfriend is literally right here.”

Pierre nudged her with a grin, clearly unbothered by her admission as he sipped from his own glass. “As if the feeling isn’t mutual,” he teased, earning another round of laughter.

Across the room, Gigi tried to be subtle, lifting her glass for a quick sip, but Dennis’ sharp eyes caught her immediately. “Oh, I saw that, Gi!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Gigi flushed crimson, glaring at him. “Shut up, Dennis,” she shot back, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her. “Don’t turn all the attention on me. I’m not the only one who drank!” She gestured toward a few others who had lifted their glasses.

“Oh, I’m not pretending I didn’t,” Dennis said casually, raising his glass again for emphasis. “Because I have zero shame” His eyes flicked toward you for the briefest moment, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, silently hoping to stay under the radar. But your attempt at blending into the background only seemed to make you more conspicuous.

“Don’t act all shy now, Gasly,” Dennis teased, his tone smug. His eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “I saw you take a sip. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Care to enlighten us who the lucky one is?”

Your cheeks burned as every pair of eyes turned toward you. You scrambled to think of a response, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you forced a laugh, raising an eyebrow at Dennis. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you quipped, your voice surprisingly steady despite the heat in your face.

The group erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing comments, but before the attention could shift completely, Arthur piped up from where he was seated beside Charles.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, his grin widening as he leaned forward. “We’ve all been so focused on you three, but is no one going to mention the fact that two other people drank as well?” His eyes darted pointedly toward Charles and Joris, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Hmm, I wonder who those drinks were about.”

Charles stiffened slightly beside him, his jaw tightening as he tried to play it cool. “Don’t drag me into this,” he muttered, taking another sip of his drink as if to distract himself.

“Too late, mate,” Arthur shot back with a grin, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You drank. That means you’ve got to own up to it.”

Joris, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smug grin of his own. “Yeah, Charles, don’t be shy. Who’s the lucky one, huh?”

Charles rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch and trying to appear nonchalant. “Not a chance,” he said simply, though the tips of his ears betrayed a faint redness.

You couldn’t help but glance at him briefly, your curiosity piqued. Did he…? No, there was no way. You quickly shoved the thought aside, but the idea lingered annoyingly in the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, Charles’ thoughts were anything but composed. When you’d taken a sip earlier, his stomach had twisted uncomfortably. At first, he’d assumed it was Dennis—the way Dennis was always teasing you, always so close—but then another thought crept in, one that made his pulse quicken. What if it wasn’t Dennis?

The idea of it being about him sent a conflicting mix of emotions surging through him—hope, doubt, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Joris’ subtle kick to his shin until it made contact.

“Stop staring,” Joris whispered, smirking at his friend. “You’re making it obvious.”

Charles snapped out of his reverie, glaring at Joris. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat.

Arthur, ever the opportunist, caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this now?” he asked, clearly amused. “Charles getting a little distracted?”

“Leave him alone,” Joris said with a grin, though his tone was far from serious. “Poor guy’s got enough on his plate already.”

“Oh, definitely not, he's pestered me long enough about things, payback time” Arthur said, his laugh echoing over the group’s chatter as Charles groaned, clearly regretting his choice to participate

The laughter hadn’t fully settled when Paul leaned forward with a mischievous grin, his drink loosely dangling in one hand. He glanced between you and Charles, his tone teasing as he spoke.

“So, Y/n, didn’t you mention something about the walls here being thin?” Paul asked, clearly enjoying the tension he was stirring. “Hope Charles has been a quiet neighbor. Otherwise, you probably heard everything. Poor Y/n.”

The room erupted into laughter, Dennis and Arthur practically doubling over. Kika smirked, nudging Pierre, who groaned, already sensing where the conversation was heading.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Paul, his jaw tightening slightly before he forced a smirk onto his face. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he shot back. “If I had to… handle things, I’d make sure no one heard a damn thing. Either that or I’d do it somewhere more private.”

The laughter grew louder, Dennis nearly choking on his drink. “Good to know you’ve got a strategy, mate,” he teased, wiping his mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel heat creeping up your neck at the implication. The idea of Charles trying to stay quiet, and worse, the thought of actually overhearing him, made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to unpack. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t hear anything,” you retorted, forcing a grin to hide your flustered state. “Because if I did, I’d probably have hearing damage.”

Charles turned to you, his smirk sharpening as he shot back, “As if I’d want to get off with you right outside my room.”

The room went silent for half a beat before Dennis, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward with a wicked grin. “No,” he said, drawing out the word for effect. “Because you’d prefer her in the room, wouldn’t you?”

The laughter that followed was deafening. Dennis clinked his glass with Paul’s, who was shaking his head but laughing just as hard. Charles, on the other hand, turned beet red, his face almost matching the color of his drink.

You weren’t any better, your face burning as you buried it in your hands. “Dennis, I swear to God,” you muttered, though your voice was muffled by the roar of the group.

Pierre groaned, his expression one of pure disgust as he rubbed his temples. “Okay, are you done? Because we are so not dragging my baby sister into Charles’ dirty fantasies.”

Arthur, always ready to escalate things, grinned and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have to drag her into anything, Pierre,” he joked. “Charles probably already does that himself.”

The laughter doubled, filling the room with chaos as you and Charles sat frozen in mortification. Kika had tears streaming down her face from laughing, while Joris clapped a hand on Charles’ shoulder, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Pierre glared at the group, clearly over it. “I don’t even want to know,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Can we just move on before I lose my mind?”

The group slowly settled, though the smirks and giggles lingered as someone suggested the next round of the game. But despite the conversation moving on, you couldn’t help but feel Charles’ gaze flick toward you now and then, and you hated how much your heart raced when it did.

Meanwhile, Charles couldn’t stop replaying Dennis’ comment in his head. The idea of you in his room—or worse, of you thinking about him in that way—had lodged itself in his mind, refusing to budge. He shook his head, trying to focus on the game, but it was no use.

Neither of you wanted to admit it, but the seed of thought had been planted, and it was impossible to ignore.

The game moved on, the attention shifting away from Charles and you for the moment, but the tension hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. Charles stole another glance at you, his thoughts still tangled in the what-ifs. And as for you? You couldn’t help but wonder if you were indeed the one that had made him drink in the first place.

It was Joris who leaned forward next, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Alright, never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

The room buzzed with anticipation as everyone exchanged curious glances. Inès was the first to raise her glass and take a drink, earning a few cheers and teasing remarks. But it was the way both you and Arthur looked at each other, simultaneously bursting into laughter, that drew all the attention. Without hesitation, the two of you clinked your glasses together dramatically and downed your drinks in one go.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his perplexed expression giving him away. “Wait—you and Y/n kissed?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the two of you, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Arthur let out a laugh, leaning back casually. “Jealous much?” he shot back, his grin widening when he saw the flicker of annoyance cross Charles’ face.

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off with a chuckle. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

Despite his brother’s reassurance, Charles still looked a little dumbfounded, his confusion—and something else he wouldn’t name—lingering. Kika, always one to stir the pot, leaned forward with a smirk. “Okay, I’m curious now. What’s the story?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you waved a hand dismissively. “There’s not much of a story, honestly. Happened a few times. We were both hopeless and single, and we figured, why not? It was just for fun. Turns out we were terrible at it.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, still grinning. “Massive failure. Zero chemistry. The kiss sucked, and we both agreed never to try again.”

“And the other times?” Kika pressed, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“Oh, just Truth or Dare,” you replied with a shrug. “Happened once or twice when we were younger. Nothing serious. More like a punishment than a kiss, honestly.”

The room erupted into laughter, with Inès nearly choking on her drink as she laughed the hardest. “I can so picture your disgusted faces,” she managed between giggles.

As the laughter died down, Inès perked up, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Speaking of Truth or Dare,” she said, her grin widening, “we should switch to that. Way more interesting than this.”

The group exchanged glances, a ripple of excitement building at the prospect of what chaos Truth or Dare might bring. You couldn’t help but glance at Charles, whose expression was still unreadable, though his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long before he looked away. Whatever this next game would bring, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any less intense.

The questions escalated slowly, moving from tame confessions to more suggestive dares. Someone dared Dennis to prank call his ex, which he executed flawlessly, much to everyone’s amusement. Gigi had to show the last text she sent to Joris, blushing furiously as everyone gathered around to read it. Pierre, naturally, had been dared to whisper something filthy to Kika, who doubled over laughing and refused to tell anyone what he’d said.

Then it was Paul’s turn, and his eyes gleamed as he scanned the room, finally landing on you. “Y/n,” he called out with a grin. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Paul’s grin widened, and the others leaned in, already sensing mischief. “I dare you to kiss Charles.”

The room went dead silent, every eye darting toward you.

You froze for a beat before scoffing loudly. “God, no”

“Oh, come on,” Dennis teased, smirking at you. “A dare is a dare”

“No, ew!” you shot back, shaking your head emphatically. “Anyone else in the world rather than him. I’d rather stick my tongue inside a trash can than kiss him.”

The tension seemed to settle, the group already laughing at your dramatic protests, until Charles’ voice cut through. Low, clipped, and tinged with something that sounded like a challenge.

“That’s not what you told me when you were sixteen.”

The room froze. Even the laughter died instantly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned, your pulse roaring in your ears. His words hit like a slap, and you could see the regret flicker in his eyes almost immediately.

“That was a low blow, Charles,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

Pierre leaned back with a grimace, gesturing to the group. “Guess it’s better to call this game quits, non?”

But you weren’t about to let it go. Swallowing the knot of hurt lodged in your throat, you stood, fixing your gaze on your brother. “No need to,” you said firmly. “Dennis is right, a dare is a dare.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what was about to happen, but you didn’t stop. The anger bubbling inside you had morphed into something else—something that demanded revenge.

You marched over to where Charles sat, his eyes widening as you closed the distance. Without a word, you reached down, lifting his chin with your thumb, forcing him to look at you.

His breath hitched, his lips parting slightly, but before he could speak, you crushed your mouth against his.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was heated, full of anger and defiance. His lips were warm and soft against yours, but the sharp inhale he took before his hands moved to your waist betrayed how caught off guard he was.

Charles froze for a split second, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. But when your tongue brushed against his lips, seeking entrance, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his hand sliding behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His pulse was racing, heat surging through his veins, and he struggled to keep himself in check.

Your hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You knew exactly what you were doing as your palm settled over the bulge in his jeans, giving it a playful squeeze.

He let out a strangled sound, his body reacting instinctively, and you pulled back just enough to whisper, “I might’ve had a crush on you back when I was too delusional to see you for who you really are, but at least I’m not the one sitting here, a 27-year-old guy, getting hard because he had to kiss his best friend’s baby sister during a game.”

The room erupted. Dennis and Joris were practically howling with laughter, clapping each other on the back. Gigi and Kika exchanged wide-eyed glances before bursting into giggles. Even Arthur had his head in his hands, laughing despite himself.

Charles, on the other hand, looked utterly mortified. His face was beet red, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“Poor Charles,” Dennis teased, grinning wickedly. “Bet that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.”

Another wave of laughter erupted, leaving Charles sitting in stunned silence. Finally, Charles downed the rest of his drink in one go, standing abruptly. “I need air,” he muttered before making his way out of the room and into the garden.

He pushed open the glass doors that led to the terrace, the cool night air hitting his flushed face like a balm. The stars glittered overhead, but he barely noticed them as he sank into one of the patio chairs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His heart was still pounding in his chest, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your hand had trailed down his chest, resting on him with enough boldness to completely disarm him. And your words—sharp, cutting, and delivered with such venom—they were like a slap in the face.

He groaned softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. What the hell had he been thinking, making that comment about you at sixteen? He’d known it was cruel the second the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. His insecurities, his regret, his jealousy—it all spilled out in the worst way possible.

The sound of the sliding door opening made him glance up. Arthur stepped out, holding two fresh beers in his hands. Without a word, he handed one to Charles and took the seat next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the distant crash of waves and the faint hum of cicadas. Finally, Arthur broke the quiet.

“You’re a dickhead,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his beer.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “I know.”

Arthur turned to him, his expression softening slightly. “That comment, mate—it was out of line. You really hurt her with that one.”

Charles sighed, staring at the bottle in his hand. “I know,” he said again, his voice quieter this time. “I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was, and that’s the problem.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just…” Charles paused, struggling to find the right words. “She makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. And then when she said all that stuff about how she’d rather kiss a trash can or anyone else but me…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—reacted. Like an idiot.”

Arthur studied his brother for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “You know, it’s okay to feel things. But lashing out like that? That’s not how you handle it. You deserved what she did to you after that comment. Hell, if it were me, I’d have punched you.”

Charles chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, well, she went for humiliation instead. And it worked.”

Arthur grinned. “Oh, it definitely worked. She got you good. But seriously, Charles, what’s your deal with her? One minute you’re at each other’s throats, and the next, you’re looking at her like…” He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words.

Charles sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She gets under my skin. Always has. And for the longest time, I told myself it was just because she’s Pierre’s sister, and I shouldn’t feel anything for her.” He paused, his voice softening. “But I do. I have for a few years now.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re in love with her.”

Charles didn’t answer, but the silence spoke volumes.

Arthur let out a long breath, tapping the neck of his beer bottle thoughtfully. “You’ve got to stop letting that eat you alive, mate. Either you tell her how you feel, or you let it go. This whole act of yours, pretending you’re indifferent while secretly wanting her? It’s not working. It’s just making things worse—for both of you.”

“I know,” Charles said quietly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates me now. And maybe she has a reason to.”

Arthur gave him a pointed look. “She doesn’t hate you, Charles. She’s angry, sure. And maybe a bit hurt. But hate? No. If she really hated you, she wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Charles frowned, replaying the kiss in his mind. The anger, the passion—it had been overwhelming, intoxicating. But there had been something else beneath it, something he couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted finally.

Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Start by apologizing. And I don’t mean a half-assed apology. Really apologize, Charles. Own up to your shit. Then maybe, just maybe, you can start fixing things.”

Charles nodded slowly, the weight of his brother’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it was too late to fix things with you, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that it might not be.

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taglist: @vroomvro0mferrari @fishyfishersticks @prttylight @tempo-rary-fix @suns3treading @a-beaverhausen @formula1fordisaster @janeh22 @leclercdream @sageskiesf1 @ch16les @emryb @vyctorya @asmoothoperator @dilfsaresohot @freyathehuntress @sarx164

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.”

_________________________________________

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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♡

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Night Routine

hii could you write something about lewis very fluffy?? idk like their morning together or their night routine 🤍 from @prttylight 

lewis hamilton x gf!reader

The intoxicating smell of fresh herbs blending together for dinner greets Lewis as he arrives home after a long day of meetings. Shrugging off his coat, he rounds the hallway corner, stopping to lean against the entryway and watching you.

You are unaware of his presence, having missed the sound of the door opening and closing, too busy listening to a podcast while making soup for dinner. He watches you for a bit before coming up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and startling you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Hi, Lew,” you reply, turning to smile up at him. “How was your day?”

“Busy,” he answers simply. “How was yours?”

You shrug, turning back to the pot in front of you. “Productive, for the most part.”

“Good,” he mumbles against your neck, not wanting to let go. Lewis is a very clingy man, especially behind closed doors.

“Why don’t you go change? Dinner will be ready when you’re back,” you suggest, and he reluctantly lets go, heading into the bedroom.

He returns just as you’re ladling the soup into bowls and setting them on the table.

As Lewis sits down, you can’t help but notice how his eyes light up at the sight of the steaming bowls in front of him. He reaches for your hand across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“This looks amazing, love. Thank you,” he says, his voice warm with appreciation.

You smile back, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. “You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”

As you both begin to eat, Lewis tells you more about his day, the meetings he had, and the plans for the upcoming race weekend. You listen intently, offering words of encouragement and support. It’s these quiet moments together that you cherish the most, away from the cameras and the public eye.

After dinner, Lewis insists on doing the dishes, shooing you away to relax. You curl up on the couch with a book but find yourself watching him instead, admiring the focus and concentration he has for something so simple. Your eyes trail from his face to his toned body, and you get lost in the view, only pulled back to reality when you hear him clear his throat.

“You’re staring,” he muses, and you smirk.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you tease, and he lets out a small laugh.

He grabs his own book off the shelf and joins you in the living room. You sit up to make space for him, and he pulls a pillow onto his lap so you can lie back down comfortably.

He interrupts your reading every so often to tell you about something interesting he’s come across, and you’re amused by how excited he gets. Once it gets later in the night, you yawn, and Lewis immediately closes his book.

“Shower, then bed?” he suggests, and you nod sleepily.

You follow him into the bathroom, stripping off your clothes as he gets the shower ready.

The warm water cascades over your bodies as you step into the shower together. Lewis gently massages shampoo into your hair, his fingers working out the tension from the day. You lean into his touch, sighing contentedly.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you comply. He begins to wash your back, his strong hands kneading your muscles. You can’t help but let out a soft moan of pleasure.

“Feel good?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Mmhmm,” you respond, too relaxed to form words.

After rinsing off, you return the favor, washing Lewis’s back. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch.

Once clean, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in fluffy towels. Lewis pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, staring deeply into your eyes.

“I love you too, and I love nights like these,” you reply softly.

You dry off and change into comfortable pajamas, Lewis opting for just a pair of sweatpants.

In the bedroom, you climb into bed, immediately snuggling close to Lewis as he wraps an arm around you. He traces lazy patterns on your skin with his fingertips, the gentle touch soothing you toward sleep.

Could you write something for cl16 where it’s Halloween and they do Gomez and morticia couples costumes. Love your work

CL16 — death and kisses

ty so much for the resqust! sorry if I made any mistake, english is not my first language

You were sitting on your desk trying to make the best smoky eye of your life, already dressed with your long black dress you were feeling kinda nervous. The high heels, the party, and being there with Charles.

It hadn't been long since you two started dating. And this type of thing was kind of a new experience.

“ Mon cœuer! Are you ready ” Charles exclaimed from the bathroom. He opened the door with his suit and sword posing “ Because I am ”

You laughed watching him by the mirror.

“ Well, look at you. Very very charming, Charles ” You smiled trying to not move too much. Your boyfriend got close to you with slow steps, staying at your side. He didn't say anything and you stared at the mirror. “What? Something is wrong?

Charles denied it with his head.

“ You look delightful dear ” You tried to hide the pink in your cheeks at his words. Charles couldn't stop watching your face and you, all of you. His heart started racing and he was hoping all the time that you could know how he felt about you. “ One day you’re going to kill me, mon cœur”

You smiled at him, putting down the brush.

“ Oh, really? ”

Charles returned the smile sitting with you.

“ It would be my pleasure to die for you, dear” He murmured against your lips. It took you a moment to crash their lips together in a slow kiss, Charles He slid his hand down your bare back until he reached your waist.

“ Your acting is very good, love” you said when the kiss broke with your breaths mixing.

“ There is no acting, everything is about you”

NO HAY SUFICIENTE GENTE HABLANDO SOBRE LAS NUEVAS REGLAS DE LA DICTADURA FIA LITERALMENTE NO VAN A PODER HABLAR DE NADA Y SI LO HACEN LOS VAN A SANCIONAR ECONOMICAMNETE Y TAMBIEN SACARLES PUNTOS ☠️. DONDE ESTA LA CENTRAL DE LA FIA HAY QUE HACER UN PIQUETE

im SURE Anakin likes to be hugged, and I would love to hug him.

⊹ pretty pretty list

🫕 Searching Mutuals !

argentina + español 🇦🇷

learning english and french

Requests: Open! ( f1: carlos sainz, lando norris x franco colapinto, seb vettel )

tap more to mastelist

──── ୨ৎ ────

Formula 1

— Charles Leclerc

⊹ Death and Kisses

⊹ Love in sickness and wins

— Carlos Sainz

⊹ Destino

— Sebastian Vettel

⊹ Better driver

Star Wars

— Anakin Skywalker

⊹ Reader Doesn't Eat Properly

⊹ Someone Tried to Rape Reader

⊹ Someone Tried to Rape Reader Part. 2

⊹ Shy Reader

⊹ Home

— Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

⊹ Writing Challenge (01 AU)

how do you say ultraderecha in english? I need to express my hate properly